Page 49 of The Menagerie
“And you know what, Mal?” Rowan asks as he scissors his fingers, spreading them wide to help stretch Mal’s rim and inner walls. He lets the question dangle in the air, lets Mal ruminate on it for a minute as he works him open, delving deep inside.
Finally, when he senses Mal is nearly ready for another finger, Rowan crooks his two fingers up and spears them directly into Mal’s prostate, with a swell of pride as he finds his mark perfectly and rips a keening moan from Mal’s throat.
A loud “Hah!”turns into a low “Ohhhh!”as he presses harder into the sensitive gland.
Rowan barely contains a moan of his own as he promises, “I’m gonna fuckin’ruinyou for everyone else.”
And Mal’s whine grows impossibly louder as Rowan continues petting over his prostate in long, firm strokes that he knows would drive anyone wild. “Yeah. Wanna hear you,” he croons.
With his free hand, Rowan tugs down the fabric of the jockstrap covering Mal’s cock, the material damp from how much he’s been leaking. And fuck ifthatisn’t the hottest thing. He pulls out Mal’s cock and balls, feeling the weight of him in his hand as he pumps him, firmly but rhythmically, in time with the press of his fingers against Mal’s prostate.
It’s a weird angle, but Malmewlsand twitches in his hand and—
“Fu-fuck, I’m gonna—”
Rowan pulls his fingertips away and tightens his hand around Mal’s cock, not wanting him to come so soon. Though he can’t deny how hot it is that Mal has nearly come from a brief prostate massage and hand job. Can’t deny howhardit makes him thinking of edging Mal one day, milking his prostate until he’s leaking all over himself and ready to blow, only to be denied that pleasure over and over.
Fuck.
But for now, he asks, “You wanna come now?” and resumes his fingering, steering clear of Mal’s prostate.
Mal’s back heaves once, twice. “N-not yet.”
As much as he’d like to, Rowan’s not gonna tease him anymore. He slips in a third finger, stretching him thoroughly and letting himself enjoy the feeling of the tight heat around his fingers. The heat of him in his hand, precome leaking from his tip nearly down to the fucking floor, a shiny gossamer trail proving how turned on Mal is right now.
Rowan could stand to fit in another finger, knowing how big he is compared to most guys, but he’s greedy.
Selfish.
A pretty shit quality for a Dom, and Rowan will work on that later, but he’s beendyingto get inside Mal again, like an addict awaiting his next fix, and it should bother him, it shouldworry the fuck outta him, but he’s hard as a rock and he doesn’t care.
Rowan rises up, gripping and spreading Mal’s asscheeks as he does and rutting his still-clothed, hard bulge against him, not caring that lube and his own spit smear on the front of his jeans.
With both hands, he grips Mal’s biceps and hauls him up, back once again pressed to Rowan’s chest, eliciting a sharp inhale from Mal.
And as hot as the faux restraints are, Rowan wants him fully naked. He pushes the scrunched-up fabric of Mal’s shirt down his arms and lets the garment drop to the floor.
With Mal completely naked, Rowan takes the opportunity to run his hands up Mal’s sides, over his abs and pecs and back down across the subtle indents of his rib cage. Exploring him. Normally, he’d spend as much time as he wanted feeling him up, but he’s all too aware that even that can be seen as too intimate, which isn’t what they’re here for.
Maybe one day they can dip into that territory—once they’ve known each other for longer than a week, that is—but for now Rowan makes his appreciation of Mal’s body known with two quick loops, a squeeze here and there, a raking of blunt fingernails against his skin. And then he’s done. But before he stops, he can’t help but notice the way Mal’s head has started to dip back, a breathy rush of air escaping his lips, particularly when Rowan had brushed over his nipples.
The fact that Mal evidently has sensitive nipples sends a surge of heat to Rowan’s dick, and he files that knowledge away for later. He’d already suspected as much from the gangbang, but the confirmation of it now is a welcome fact.
Rowan spins him in place, less rough than he had been initially, but still firm in his movements. Mal shifts easily, and once they are face-to-face, Rowan tells him, “Undress me.”
Mal smirks and raises an eyebrow. “Can’t do that yourself, Fire—”
Rowan threads his fingers in Mal’s hair and tugs his head back, forcing him to look even further up at him.
“You wanna try that again?” Rowan asks rhetorically, eyes narrowed, watching with laser focus as Mal swallows, Adam’s apple more pronounced than ever with his neck craned back.
Then there’s that tiny nod of his head again, and in one quick motion, Mal’s fingers come up to start unbuttoning Rowan’s shirt, working from the top down. He pushes the fabric off Rowan’s shoulders, lets the garment fall to the floor along with Mal’s own clothes, then reaches for the hem of Rowan’s tank top.
“Pick it up,” Rowan orders.
Mal pauses, glancing up at Rowan with a questioning look, eyes widening when he sees that Rowan’s serious. Slowly, he dips in place, keeping eye contact as he retrieves Rowan’s shirt from the floor.
“Fold it and put it on the bed.”
