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He grabs the masturbator, slicks it with lube and brings it to the very tip of Mal’s cock, teasing the edge of it at his head. Mal’s hips fly forward, instantly trying to get more of himself into the toy, a gasped moan escaping his lips.

His abs flex and strain as his hips undulate in the desperate attempt to fuck deeper into the toy. It’s like his body can’t decide between shifting his hips back onto the prostate massager and forward into the masturbator, making him twitch wildly and rock forward and backward with little coordination. It’s the hottest fucking thing Rowan’s ever seen. If he could spend the rest of his life watching Mal in the throes of pleasure, he’d do so in a heartbeat.

Rowan works the masturbator over Mal’s cock in torturously slow pumps, deliberately ignoring Mal’s moans and bitten-off pleas for more. He throws in the occasional twist, tightening his grip around the toy as he eases it toward the tip of Mal’s cock.

In no time, Mal’s babbling.

“Rowan… gonna come—”

“Don’t,” Rowan orders. “If you come, I’m not stopping.”

Mal whines, eyes screwed shut as he fights through what must be the overwhelming pleasure from the massager inside him and the masturbator working quicker and quicker over his cock.

“Fu-fuck! Gonna…!”

Rowan pulls away the masturbator immediately, watching as Mal’s body shudders from the sudden lack of stimulation.

“Fuck!” Mal whines, hips thrusting against nothing.

Rowan presses him firmly against the cross as Mal’s cock twitches in the air. A few excruciatingly slow moments pass as Mal’s body calms down and his eyes blink back open.

“Good,” Rowan praises, trailing a hand down the side of his cheek.

Rowan tugs the fabric of the jockstrap to the side, exposing Mal’s balls. He retrieves the vibrator from the table, turns the wand to the lowest setting, and nestles the head behind Mal’s tight balls.

The buzz dulls as it touches Mal’s sensitive skin, making him jump.

“Ohhh!” he gasps.

A few sessions with Rowan had changed Mal’s initial stance on vibrators. Now he’s whimpering freely, taking everything that Rowan’s giving him and all but begging for more.

Rowan works the masturbator back over Mal’s cock, setting up a languid pace. In no time, Mal’s shaking again, body a trembling mess as Rowan speeds up the masturbator. His cockhead pokes out through the opening with each pump, slick and pink and making Rowan’s mouth water with the need to taste.

He trails the vibrator across Mal’s perineum, not quite touching his hole but practically feeling it clench in anticipation.

Mal nearly comes again when Rowan places the vibrator under the tip of Mal’s cock, pumping away with the masturbator at the same time. But he doesn’t because he’s so good for him. Rowan can tell how badly he wants to come—muscles taut and quivering, breath heaving with every touch of the vibrator and every pump of the masturbator.

He brings him to the edge three more times, pulling away when he hears the telltale gasping moan that signals that Mal’s about to come.

“That’s it, baby. I want one more.”

“Can’t, Rowan…,” Mal whispers.

“I know you can. One more.”

“ Nnng ….”

Rowan cranks the speed of the vibrator and prostate massager up as high as they’ll go, the sound audible even over Mal’s ragged breaths and the slick sounds of men jerking off behind them. He strokes the masturbator furiously, vibrator trailing around his cockhead and over his balls and back to his hole.

Mal’s hoarse moan rises in a crescendo that spikes Rowan’s heart rate through the roof.

“Fu-fuck…!”

“Don’t come,” Rowan warns.

“ Please …,” Mal begs.

“I said no . Don’t disappoint me.”

Rowan works him faster, until the point where it looks like Mal might actually combust if he’s teased any more. He can see his fingers and toes curl in his peripheral vision, and he finally lets up as Mal’s stomach clenches violently.

“Fuuuuck!”

“That’s it. So fuckin’ perfect.”

He withdraws and turns off all the toys and dumps them on the table. Rowan cups Mal’s chin in his hand, turning his face toward him, whispering low in his ear.

“Can I kiss you in front of them? Show them how good you are for me? That you’re mine?”

They’d already talked about it, but—

“Y-yeah,” Mal breathes.

And Rowan slots his mouth over Mal’s, slipping his tongue inside in a filthy, sensual kiss that makes him throb and Mal’s knees buckle. Rowan grips under his ass, supporting his weight as he takes him apart with his lips and tongue. There’s a groan somewhere behind them and a gasp or two, but Rowan ignores everything but the feeling of Mal’s talented lips on his own, giving as good as he gets.

When they part, a thin trail of spit connects their lips, Mal’s jaw slack and his eyes hazy and lidded. Rowan wipes the spit away with his thumb, running it along Mal’s lower lip and feeling Mal shudder slightly beneath him.

“So good for me, Mal,” Rowan tells him in a low voice that only he can hear.

Mal gives another full-body shudder at the use of his name. Here, he’s used to being Malcolm. He’s been going by his full name here since he joined almost eight years ago, and earned a lucrative reputation under it. Rowan doesn’t care what other people call him. Because with Rowan, he’s always been Mal . Something that none of these assholes watching him and getting off to him will ever have.

But at the same time, he loves showing Mal off. Loves showing how fucking good and gorgeous his boyfriend is, even if no one here knows that they’re anything beyond Dom and sub to one another. He knows that he’s the one going home to Mal nearly every night. He’s the one who gets all sides of Mal, beyond this hypersexual, physical side. He gets the quiet moments, the funny moments, the joyful and sad moments alike. He gets all of Mal, and he wouldn’t trade him for anything.

Fuck. He needs him, and he wants him , so badly it makes his chest ache.

Rowan bends to swiftly uncuff Mal’s ankles. His own cock is so fucking hard and straining against his jeans that he feels like he might actually explode if he doesn’t get inside Mal right now.

He rips his shirt off, tossing it to the side before unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans and pulling his cock out through the slit in his briefs. With a cursory slicking of lube, he grips Mal by the underside of his asscheeks, hoisting him into the air.

Mal yelps, eyes flying to Rowan’s, widening a fraction before slipping halfway closed in a heated gaze that makes Rowan’s cock throb where it’s sliding against the back of Mal’s balls. With a quick check to make sure Mal’s weight is fully supported and he’s not hanging by his wrists, Rowan shifts his hips and in one swift motion, slides up and into him.

The inferno of Mal’s body is a welcome relief to the chill running down his spine caused by Mal’s loud groan. He gives him a moment to adjust before pulling out and fucking back in, a sharp thrust that creates a low slap ! that’s swallowed by the men and the music in the background.

As he fucks into Mal, he sends a quick prayer that the cross is as thoroughly mounted as it looks. His pace builds and builds and builds, a lewd crescendo that pulls moan after moan after moan from Mal’s lips, voice hoarse with the strain.

The chain connecting Mal’s nipple clamps rattles with the strain of Rowan fucking Mal, hitting Rowan in the chest periodically. A cool burst of metal on his heated skin. In his arms, Mal’s a moaning wreck. Rowan knows how much he enjoys being manhandled, and this is right up his alley. He clenches tight around him, milking Rowan’s cock with every drop down.

Time ticks by too slowly and too fast all at once as Rowan loses himself in the feeling of Mal surrounding him. His arms begin to strain under Mal’s weight, but he pushes the pain aside, focusing entirely on the spot where they’re connected.

At this point the rest of the club is drowned out along with the ache in his arms. His mind zones in on his boyfriend, and Rowan pushes his body to its breaking point to give it to him harder, faster, better , pouring every ounce of strength and love into each thrust.

“Fuck, Rowan…,” Mal moans. “G-gonna… need to…. Please let me come….”

Rowan knows he wants a hand around his cock. But he also knows that he can’t do that for him without dropping him. So he presses closer, Mal’s cock trapped between their bodies and dripping with precome and lube and sweat.

“Do it, Mal. Know you can. Show me how good you are by coming untouched.”

Mal groans, a deep, low sound that has Rowan’s own orgasm nearly ringing the alarm bells in his brain, and in a dozen more thrusts, Mal’s coming, spurting between them and slicking their already damp skin.

His walls ripple around Rowan’s cock, sucking him in deeper as he quakes in his arms. Rowan chases the pleasure, fucking deep into Mal’s body with wanton abandon. It doesn’t take much. He’s so turned on by having Mal in his arms and dozens of eyes at his back that it takes only a handful more thrusts before Rowan’s spilling inside him, body tingling like a live wire.

“Fuck…,” he gasps, still thrusting with aborted half thrusts, the pleasure of Mal’s ass quickly slipping to overstimulation the longer he stays inside.

He forces himself to still as his cock softens, Mal long since gone slack in his arms. He slips out with a rush of come and lube no doubt trickling down Mal’s legs as he gingerly lowers him to the ground.

Once sure that Mal has his footing, Rowan unwinds himself from Mal’s body and tucks himself away, uncaring of the mess now staining the front of his jeans and his briefs. With a hand to the side of his face, Rowan drags Mal’s eyes to meet his own. Rowan kisses Mal one last time, staking his claim for all to see. A gentle peck on the lips, but lingering. Pouring his love into a single kiss that has his limbs shaking all over again, this time with the weight of something more. Mal’s eyes flutter open when they part, and there’s a small smile on his lips that makes Rowan’s heart thud painfully in his chest.

God, he’d kill for that smile.

Rowan uncuffs Mal gingerly but quickly, massaging each wrist and stimulating the blood flow in his arms as Mal lowers his arms from above his head. He places a gentle kiss on the palm of each hand. Mal wobbles a bit once he’s freed, Rowan catching him easily and holding him close to his chest until he regains his balance.

“Did so good for me, Mal. So fuckin’ perfect,” he whispers.

Rowan unclips the nipple clamps quickly, both at the same time, knowing by now that Mal prefers the Band-Aid method rather than a slow release when it comes to the clamps. After wearing them for so long, he knows that removing them hurts almost as much as the initial sting of putting them on. Knows, too, that Mal’s nipples will be sensitive for days after, a fact which he’s going to take full advantage of starting tomorrow night.

Once Mal is finally freed of the cross and all his toys, the crowd begins to disperse with satisfied murmurs. A bunch of happy customers, it seems. Rowan feels a tingling swell of pride in him.

Rowan and Mal clean up their belongings and wipe down the cross quickly, working in tandem. When they’re finished, Rowan leads them to the recovery room where Mal collapses onto the bed with a heavy, contented sigh. Rowan joins him, tugging Mal toward him and relishing in his body heat as Mal curls into his side.

He kisses the top of Mal’s head, whispering sweet nothings in his ear while he comes down. Mal hums lightly, reaching for Rowan’s hand and interlacing their fingers.

“Love you,” Mal whispers.

“Love you too,” Rowan replies, voice and heart light.

It feels good. Feels right, having Mal like this. Rowan is so lucky to have him.

They’ll settle down for a while, get their heart rates and minds back under control and wait for the rush of endorphins to subside. Then they’ll go home, cuddle up on the couch with some shitty movie on in the background and talk about nothing in particular. Eventually they’ll make their way to bed and fall asleep in each other’s arms.

A perfect ending to a perfect day. Rowan doesn’t think he’s off base saying he hopes it’ll be the ending of all their days for the rest of their lives. But for now, he’s happy with what they have.

They’ll always have the Menagerie.

It’ll be here when they need to get away, when they need to come home. It started as an impersonal place to lose themselves, but they never expected to find something else along the way. And now, they have so much more than a club.

They have each other.

And that’s worth its weight in gold.