Page 33

They’re quiet for a few minutes while they eat their food.

“Does this… change anything?” Rowan asks.

“What?”

“Any of that, I mean. Does it change stuff between us?” Rowan’s almost afraid to ask, noticing how quiet his own voice has become.

But Mal answers right away. “Course not, man. Already said you were the best Dom I’ve ever had. Doubt you’re the first one to have mental health issues I didn’t know about, either.”

“Okay. Good.” Rowan can’t help the slow smile that spreads across his face.

There’s a rhythmic tapping on the table that Rowan belatedly notices comes from Mal’s fingers anxiously tapping away.

“I’m dyslexic,” Mal blurts out.

For a moment, Rowan’s stunned. “Huh? Really?”

“Yep. Can’t read for shit on paper. Takes me forever. The letters all get jumbled around.”

Something clicks in Rowan’s brain. “Is that why you do audiobooks and work with numbers mostly?”

“Yeah. Makes it easier. I can read shit on a screen just fine, but something about having a piece of paper in front’a me is like I’m havin’ a fuckin’ seizure.”

Mal’s admission softens the blow of Rowan’s own admission. He didn’t need to tell him something personal like that. Something that doesn’t really affect their scenes together—like all the other times Mal’s told him about his family or his past—but he did. Just to, presumably, make Rowan feel better.

It warms his heart far more than the still-steaming omelet ever could.

“Genetics suck,” Rowan empathizes.

Mal clinks his coffee mug gently against Rowan’s before taking a slow sip. “Yeah, they do.”

Rowan smiles and takes a sip of his own coffee.

There’s a comfortable silence between the two of them, only the soft music of the jukebox and the scraping of their utensils on their plates filling the air. Mal’s the one to break the silence, asking the question that Rowan’s been waiting for him to ask since they came here.

“Do you think you’ll be good to start scening again, or do you need some time off?”

“Maybe not tonight, but for next week I’ll be fine.”

“You sure? We don’t have to jump back into anything.”

Mal’s concern warms Rowan’s belly, but it isn’t necessary. He’s ready. Maybe not for anything extreme yet, but—

“I was thinking….” Rowan says. “Wondering if you wanted to switch things up for next time.”

“Switch things up how?”

“Having you top. Ease us back into things, y’know?”

Mal appears stunned, his mouth hanging open a fraction. He snaps it shut, visibly swallowing, throat bobbing prettily.

“Y-yeah. Hell yeah.”

And maybe it doesn’t make sense, diverging from their norm on the first session together again, but Rowan wants it. Make sure that Mal knows he’s in control after Steven, even under the guise of giving it up to Rowan. To give up a tiny bit of control himself. Take some of the pressure off.

But mostly, he wants to feel Mal like that. He’s been thinking about it nearly constantly the past few weeks, each time he thrusts into Mal’s ass or wraps his hands or lips around his thick cock. Picturing Mal sliding into him, filling him up, coming inside him . He wants to feel something again, and he wants that something to be Mal.

SATURDAY FINALLY rolls around. He’s mostly back to normal, only a lingering sluggishness paired with a slight buzzing under his skin from the adjusted meds, but he feels good.

Feels ready .

The butterflies in Rowan’s stomach must be migrating, because he can feel them fluttering rapidly all throughout his body.

It’s been a long time since he’s bottomed. He can’t even remember when , exactly, only that he didn’t enjoy it all that much. Part of him is worried that this time will be no different, but a bigger part of him tells him that it’s going to be different simply because this is Mal .

Mal, who he…. Loves. Fuck, it still doesn’t seem real. Still feels weird as hell to admit that, even to himself. And to think that a week ago, he’d been feeling sorry for himself and thought Mal didn’t even like him back. Now here he is, fully admitting his feelings. Accepting his feelings too. He thinks about it as he takes probably the longest and most thorough shower of his life before leaving, only teasing himself the slightest bit, but not fully prepping himself. He wants to save that for when he’s with Mal.

AT THE club, he finds Mal already at the bar, half a beer sitting in front of him. Rowan’s usually always the earlier of the two, Mal typically showing up either on time or a few minutes late to their sessions.

When he meets his eyes, he looks eager. Giddy .

“You ready to do this, Savaryn?” Rowan asks, taking a swig of Mal’s beer.

“Damn straight, Campbell.”

Mal’s nearly vibrating out of his skin by the time they make it to the Gold Room, slamming the door behind him and locking it as soon as the latch clicks shut. He hurries over to the bed and dumps out his bag unceremoniously and with a fervor Rowan hasn’t seen him with even when they first started scening.

“What’s got you so excited?” Rowan asks with amusement, picking up the cuffs from the pile of stuff on the bed.

“I’m pent up, man. Haven’t had anything but my right hand in weeks. ”

The confession warms Rowan’s belly as the words reach his ears. Mal hadn’t slept with anyone else in the time that Rowan had been depressed and they’d chosen to take another week off. It shouldn’t mean much, but it does , and Rowan feels as tingly as Mal looks.

“Let’s change that then, hmm?” Rowan responds, inspecting the plug Mal has brought with him.

Apparently he doesn’t want to be empty even when he’s topping. That’s plenty fine by Rowan. The plug is made of smooth black silicone, shaped like a dildo, on the long and thin side—at least compared to Rowan. The base tapers to a thin stem then flares out wide, forming a sturdy base that’s sure to keep it in place.

“Strip yourself, then undress me,” Rowan tells Mal, wasting no time exchanging pleasantries.

Mal complies, nearly ripping off his shirt and shimmying out of his jeans at lightning pace. He nearly forgets to remove his boots first, the fabric of his jeans catching on his ankles before he dips down to hastily unlace them and kick them off toward the bed. His tight black briefs come off last, his already hard cock bobbing free as soon as the material slides over the tip.

“Good,” Rowan tells him, though he’s sure his hungry eyes on Mal’s body say it all.

When Mal steps toward him, Rowan can feel the heat of his body in the small space between them even through his clothes.

Mal sets to work undressing Rowan with a much greater sense of precision and grace than he’d done with his own clothing, folding each piece and placing it on the bed without being asked, like he’s done every time he’s undressed Rowan.

Now fully naked, Rowan sits on the edge of the bed, drawing his long legs up and spreading them wide. In this position, he feels so exposed , but more turned on than he can even put into words.

“On your knees,” Rowan tells him.

Mal dips down obediently, landing on his pile of clothes on the floor.

“You’re gonna open me up. You can choose: mouth or hands. But you only get to use one, understood?”

Mal makes a small, pained sound like the thought of being restricted to only his mouth or his hands kills him, but he nods anyway.

“What am I gonna tell you?” Rowan demands.

“Words,” Mal says, head bowed slightly and voice breathy. “I understand.”

“Good, get to it.”

Rowan dips his head back to stare at the ceiling lights. There’s a brief, anticipation-laced moment where Rowan drops his upper body to the bed and doesn’t feel anything at all, waiting with his legs spread before Mal.

Then the soft tickle of Mal’s hair against Rowan’s inner thigh. A hot breath against his hole. Lips pressing off to the side of where he wants them. Rowan knew he’d choose his mouth. Mal’s got an oral fixation that any partner would kill or die for.

Mal starts out tentatively, a small kitten lick with the tip of his tongue over Rowan’s hole. Teasing, testing. After the first lick, Mal moans against him and digs in more firmly, tongue lapping feverishly. It sends an electric jolt up Rowan’s spine.

As Mal’s eager tongue opens him up, Rowan groans. He can’t remember the last time someone rimmed him. It might have only happened once, and he was undoubtedly too coked out to even recognize it was happening, let alone enjoy it. But Mal’s mouth is delicious, smooth and hot and so goddamn talented that Rowan feels himself melting into the bed, legs jelly and threatening to flop down off the edge.

He feels Mal’s hand squeeze his asscheek, then a thick finger slide into his hole alongside Mal’s tongue.

Rowan barely stops himself from moaning, from gasping at the stretch, before remembering the rules he’d put in place. “That better not be your hands I’m feeling, Mal. You know the rules.”

Mal’s fingers slink away, and Rowan instantly misses the stretch. He probably needs it, given that it’s been forever and a day since he last bottomed, but Rowan wants to feel the burn of Mal opening him up with his cock. Needs to feel something again after too long feeling nothing. Rowan reaches back, grabs the bottle of lube from the pile on the bed, and shoves it down toward Mal.

“Let’s put those hands to use, hmm? Finger yourself. Make sure you’re nice and open for your toy.”

Mal pulls away from Rowan’s hole, his heat leaving as a rush of cool air makes Rowan’s hole pucker.

“I didn’t say you could stop,” Rowan tells him, pulling him back in with his heel. “Keep going.”

Mal moans, going back to work without a fuss, his tongue hot on Rowan’s skin. The moment Mal breaches himself with his fingers, Rowan can feel it. There’s a little stutter of his tongue before he delves inside completely, fucking his tongue into Rowan’s hole undoubtedly at the same pace as he’s fucking himself.

There’s a slick squelching noise emanating from below, but Rowan has no idea if it’s coming from Mal’s fingers or tongue. Either way, it feels fucking incredible, hot and wet and making Rowan’s toes curl against the edge of the bed.

“That’s it, fuck, Mal. Should’a had you do this a long time ago.”

Mal hums against him, the vibration of his lips hitting Rowan just right. It makes him forget that he’s supposed to be doing something other than lying on his back with his legs spread in desperation.

They’ve got a plan. And that plan involves Rowan getting fucked.

“That’s enough.”

When Mal doesn’t pull back, Rowan yanks at his hair, missing the contact immediately as Mal’s jerked back with a wet gasp.

“Wanted to keep going,” Mal says, a dazed sound to his voice.

Rowan feels his eyes softening as he tugs Mal up between his legs. Brings a hand up to stroke at his cheek.

“I know. Did so good for me. But now I’m gonna sit on that thick cock of yours, ’kay?”

“Y-yeah. Yes.”

Rowan slips off the bed, his legs wobblier than he thought they’d be and his hole achingly empty with the loss of Mal’s tongue.

He guides Mal onto his back on the bed, cuffing his wrists gently and tugging them back behind his head. He fastens the cuffs to a hook underneath the bed, Mal’s hands resting delicately on the edge.

All stretched out for him, Mal is gorgeous. His abs and obliques and pecs pulled taut and on display, and Rowan knows he could spend the rest of his life running his hands and lips and tongue along each ridge and still never tire of it.

And fuck, Rowan loves him. He’s gonna bottom for someone he loves, and it feels like it might as well be the first time ever. His heart stutters in his chest.

Gingerly, he coaxes Mal’s legs up and slides the plug into his slick hole to keep him full. When the base nestles against Mal’s ass, he lets out a long, low moan, hips grinding down onto the bed in an attempt to work the plug deeper inside himself.

Rowan laughs. “Even when you’re topping you can’t resist being filled, huh?”

“Mmm…,” Mal hums.

Rowan teases the toy, pressing hard with his thumb and dragging in slow, languid circles, grinding the toy against Mal’s walls. Mal lets out a low groan that Rowan feels vibrating through his fingertips.

“Hmm,” Rowan muses. “Sounds to me like I should fuck you, you’re so desperate for it.”

“N-no! Wanna feel you….” Mal pants, squirming against his restraints.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah… been— fuck ! There!”

“Been what?”

“Been thinkin’ about it.”

“Tell me what you’ve been thinking about, Mal.”

Mal’s legs thrash wildly as Rowan starts pumping the plug in and out, each thrust a hard press that has Rowan’s own hole clenching.

“You,” Mal breathes.

Rowan laughs through his nose. “I’d hope so. What about me?”

While Mal strokes Rowan’s ego, Rowan toys with the plug in Mal’s ass, now twirling it in long, slow, sweeping arcs that drag across his hole.

“Your ass… fucking you… bet you’ll be— hnng !—be so tight.”

“Keep going.”

“Felt it on my tongue. So fucking tight…. Tasted so good….”

“It’s been a long time since anyone fucked me. Did’ja know that, Mal?”

“ Nnng … no.”

“Gonna make it so good for you. Sit right on your fat fuckin’ cock and ride you till you’re beggin’ me to come. That sound good?”

Mal’s moan is answer enough, but Rowan still feels a rush of pride and lust when he whimpers, “ Yes … so good….”

With one final push, Rowan nestles the plug all the way into Mal’s hole, making sure that it won’t fall out.

He meets Mal’s eyes, little more than thin slivers of gold that are nearly swallowed by blown black pupils. His cheeks are flushed a pretty pink color, and his dark brows are furrowed, probably from the pain of how hard he’s biting his lower lip.

Rowan swings a leg over Mal’s hips, straddling him and feeling his cock slide between his asscheeks. Mal’s thick and hot behind him, Rowan’s eyes fluttering at the contact. His belly swoops with a heady wave of desire, legs trembling as he reaches behind him to stroke Mal’s cock, spreading precome and lube from the bottle Mal had used earlier.

He rises up, locking eyes with Mal as he lines up and slowly, slowly starts sinking, legs shaking with the effort of not dropping straight down. As soon as the tip pops past Rowan’s rim, he sees stars, vision dotting white at the stretch. But it feels good , exactly what he needed after an exhausting couple of weeks. He sinks farther onto Mal’s cock and further into a blissed-out headspace that he barely registers when he’s fully seated, only noticing the sharp press of Mal’s hip bones against the back of his thighs.

“Fuck…,” he gasps, unable to stop himself.

Mal echoes the sentiment, arching his back lewdly off the bed and squirming so that his cock creates a maddening pressure against Rowan’s walls. And fuck, Rowan’s so full . His heart and his hole and holy shit does it feel good. The burn hits just right, a slow sizzle in his belly that spreads to his limbs. Rowan knows instantly that this is going to be better than every other time he’s bottomed, few and far between as those times were.

Because it’s Mal . Mal’s cock filling him up, Mal’s toned chest spread out beneath him, Mal’s cutoff whimpers filling the air and being swallowed straight into Rowan’s lungs with each shuddering breath.

“Rowan…,” Mal gasps, eyes wide like he’s straining to keep them open.

Rowan runs a hand up Mal’s chest, feeling each ridge of his abs beneath his fingertips.

“Tell me how it feels, Mal.”

“ Good … fuck. Feel so hot and tight. N-need….”

“Whaddya need?”

“Need you to move, please ….”

Rowan squeezes Mal’s pec, thumbing over one pert nipple and making Mal jolt up, cock driving impossibly deeper into him.

“Yeah? How bad d’you need it?”

Mal mewls. “So bad… feel so fuckin’ good.”

On shaking legs, Rowan rises up halfway, then grinds back down and feels the stretch all over again as Mal’s cock spears back into him. Rowan’s jaw drops, slack against his chest as he rises up farther and drops down with a lewd slap !

“Fuck, Mal… you’re hitting so deep. Can you feel it?”

“ Yeah , holy fuck….”

It’s unlike anything Rowan’s felt before. Satisfying and filling and ful filling in a way that he feels down to his goddamn bone marrow.

He picks up the pace, legs rising and falling and generating a slow but steady rhythm, occasionally rocking back and forth and grinding when the pressure of Mal’s cock inside him is too much to take. Finally, after what feels like ages, Rowan lets out an audible gasp, fingers clenching furiously around Mal’s waist as he grinds Mal’s cock against his prostate.

“Ohhh…,” Rowan moans. “Right there.”

“There?” Mal echoes desperately.

“Yeah, fuck…. Feels good.”

Mal groans, straining against his cuffs. “Wanna make you feel good.”

“You always do, Mal.”

Their eyes lock, and Rowan can’t help but run a hand across Mal’s cheek, melting at the way Mal nuzzles into it, eyes fluttering shut. It’s too intimate, and Rowan doesn’t want the contact to end. But he forces himself to, knowing that he can’t handle any more heartache from how badly he wants them to be more than what they are.

He shifts his efforts, focusing now on the feeling of Mal inside him. Rowan’s thighs are straining as he rides Mal to his heart’s content, filling him in all the right ways. It feels so fucking good, hitting Rowan deep and stretching him wide over and over as fast as his legs will let him. Nailing his prostate on every thrust and sending pulse after pulse of pleasure coursing through him.

Mal fucks up into Rowan as best as he can, short, stuttering hitches of his hips that meet Rowan’s ass each time he rises. It reminds him of the day Mal kissed him—how he’d been fucking up into the masturbator with wanton abandonment before collapsing down onto him. And God, Rowan wishes it would happen again. Wishes he could feel Mal’s lips for real and hold him close and kiss him breathless.

Breathless, like he’s getting now just thinking about it. His limbs are aching with exertion, but he feels the pleasure in the base of his spine, and he doesn’t want it to end anytime soon, but he’s getting close. He can tell by the quiver of Mal’s thighs beneath him that he’s nearing his end too.

“Rowan, please… wanna… need to touch you.”

Rowan dips forward, breath ghosting against Mal’s cheek as he reaches to unclasp Mal’s wrists from behind his head.

Immediately, Mal’s hands latch on to Rowan’s hips, nails digging into the skin in a way that makes Rowan’s belly curl with the possessiveness of it. They breathe into each other’s space, a bubble all their own that Rowan’s sure will pop if he exhales a little too hard, eyes locked and sparks crackling between them at the intensity of their gazes.

“Fu-fuck… gonna… Rowan, I need—”

“I got you,” Rowan says, hands raking up Mal’s chest, squeezing at his pecs and ghosting over his neck. Hips never losing rhythm. “No one’s come in me before. Wanna feel it. Feel you. You gonna give me what I want, Mal?”

“Yeah… wanna….”

He wasn’t sure he even would feel it. But as Mal spills inside him, he feels the warmth, the fullness with every pulse of Mal’s release, and it’s the hottest fucking thing that’s ever happened to him.

And when Rowan comes moments later, with a desperate cry as he releases across his fingers and Mal’s chest, it’s with one hand over Mal’s heart and the other around his throat.