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“Fuckin’ finally,” Malcolm says. “Someone better get somethin’ in my ass before I start to get bitchy.”

“What d’you mean start ?” Tats calls out, making a few of the other men laugh.

“Sounds like you’re volunteering for the class.”

“Stick that ass up for me and I just might.”

Malcolm makes a tch sound, but arches his back and pushes his ass out to form a sinuous curve, the fabric of his briefs stretched tight across each cheek. And fuck, Rowan’s been trying to get a good look at his ass all night, only getting glimpses of it from the side while he was picking people or when he was kneeling and blowing them.

But God if it isn’t perfect, even clothed. Muscular with a touch of softness, like the rest of him. And when Tats slaps one cheek and pulls the fabric halfway down the back of his thighs, it’s even better, smooth and round with dimples on his lower back and on the sides of each cheek.

Cupcake climbs on the bed in front of Malcolm and slaps his cheek with his cock once, twice, until Malcolm opens and sucks him down. The two Tweedles climb on either side of him, jerking off until Malcolm switches his attention to each of them in turn, supporting himself on one arm so he can stroke one of them while he blows another. His coordination is unreal; Rowan doesn’t think even he could navigate so much dick. The rest of the men circle around the bed, half watching in front and half in back of Malcolm, all jerking off, some making out with one another. It’s hot, but Rowan really doesn’t give a fuck about any except one.

His attention snaps back to where Tats is now digging his fingers into Malcolm’s ass, whose skin turns white as Tats spreads his cheeks. Rowan has to get closer. He jumps on the bed next to Tats in time to see him run the pad of his thumb over Malcolm’s pink hole, and fuck, it’s so smooth—the faintest bit of peach fuzz on his ass. He’s glad it doesn’t look like he waxes or shaves, though, because Rowan’s always been more attracted to guys with body hair.

“Beautiful,” Tats says, stroking over Malcolm’s hole with his fingers.

Rowan watches it twitch at the contact, feeling his own dick twitch at the sight. He pulls Malcolm’s briefs the rest of the way down, tugging at the fabric when they reach his knees to pull them off completely and fling them to the floor.

“Lick him,” Rowan says. He’d much rather do it himself, but he can be patient.

Tats does as instructed, tongue shooting out to lave over Malcolm’s hole in one long stripe.

“ Mmf !” The whine must come from Malcolm, but with two dicks in his mouth, it’s muffled.

“No talking with your mouth full,” someone says from the front of the bed.

“Fuck you, Tweedle Dum,” Malcolm answers, voice hoarse. “Wouldn’t hafta if you’d actually use that dick of your— hnnnn !”

Rowan can’t see, but he assumes some combination of a dick being shoved down Malcolm’s throat and Tats burying his face between his cheeks has something to do with the cut-off goading.

Rowan lies on his side to finally get a good look at Malcolm’s cock, hard and already leaking precome. He doesn’t wanna call it cute , because he’s pretty sure Malcolm would deck him if he did. It’s on the smaller side of average, but it’s thick , and shit, he needs to taste it.

“Hey, lemme get under him,” Rowan says to Tats.

“I want to taste his ass,” The Rock look-alike says right after.

Tats pulls off to let Rowan slide underneath Malcolm’s hips. It’s an awkward position with Malcolm’s short legs, but he makes it work.

“You good if I straddle you, man?” The Rock asks Rowan.

“Yeah.”

The older man takes the okay and straddles Rowan around his waist, thick thighs encompassing him and hard cock draped over Rowan’s stomach. A bolt of heat shoots through him at being surrounded like this, reminding him that soon he’s likely going to be buried inside Malcolm at the same time as someone else. He can’t wait.

Craning his neck, he finally gets a good look at Malcolm’s hip tattoos—vining ivy with thorns on either side of his sculpted V. And the artwork is beautiful, but he’s much more interested in his cock. He sucks the tip into his mouth and gets a startled jerk of Malcolm’s hips in response, one hand resting on Malcolm’s thigh to stop him from fucking into his mouth any farther. With his free hand, he cups Malcolm’s balls, rolling them in his palm as a dribble of precome seeps out onto his tongue.

It’s sweet, like he’s been chugging pineapple juice all week or something. Rowan wouldn’t put it past him for something like this. He sucks harder. By now the whimpers are flowing freely from above him, faintly audible over the groans and slick sounds of people jerking off around them.

Rowan feels the bed dip as the men in front of Malcolm change places, but he can’t tell who joins.

“Someone get some lube,” The Rock says.

Rowan takes that as his cue to reach under and tap him on the thigh so he can shimmy out from underneath. Because as much as he’d like to keep sucking Malcolm’s dick until he’s squirming above him, there’s no way he’s going to miss something entering his ass for the first time.

In the few seconds it takes him to switch from lying to kneeling beside him, the Japanese guy—Tweedle Dee? Dum? Rowan has no clue—has taken up position behind Malcolm, bottle of lube in hand. He squirts some onto his palm, warming it between his hands briefly before unceremoniously slathering it over Malcolm’s hole.

“Hurry the fuck up and get in me,” Malcolm barks.

“So impatient,” the man responds, sinking in one long, slim finger. “What, is four hours not enough time for you to spend getting fucked that you’ve gotta rush through it?”

“Ah! Don’t see anyone here rushin’ shit .”

“Hm. How’s this for rushing?”

He sinks in two more fingers, and Malcolm’s hole swallows them like it’s nothing. He must have prepped beforehand, at least somewhat, because someone taking three fingers with only a bit of rimming beforehand can be a pretty tall order unless they get fucked constantly.

Oh, but that’s a nice thought. Malcolm being ready to get fucked at a moment’s notice. Fucked by Rowan specifically. He files the image away for later.

“Better,” Malcolm replies. “But not enough by a long shot.”

Rowan’s torn between wanting to hear every noise he makes and wanting him to shut the hell up and stop being a greedy brat and take what everyone here wants to give him. He settles on the latter. Malcolm is starting to say something else while he’s being fingered open when Rowan brings his hand up and slaps him hard on his left asscheek, the flesh warm under his hand.

“Fuck!” Malcolm cries out.

“Unless you wanna get split in half, you’ll fuckin’ wait till we get you ready,” Rowan tells him.

“Fuckin’—”

Slap!

“— nnnng !”

Rowan smooths his hand over the reddening skin, feels the goose bumps pebble up underneath his fingers and the not-so-subtle hitching of Malcolm’s hips back against his touch. Looking for more. And that tiny movement is something Rowan’s going to be thinking about for the rest of his life.

He slides his hand down Malcolm’s crack and presses his middle finger in alongside the other man’s three fingers, drawing a gasp from Malcolm. And it’s tight as he tugs on the rim, definitely not stretched enough to take Rowan’s cock right now, but some of the others? Absolutely.

At Malcolm’s demand for “More, fuck,” Rowan sinks in his ring finger, opening him up along with the other man, who spits into his open hole between their fingers, slicking the way as they stretch him.

“Think he’s ready to take the first dick tonight?” someone from up front asks.

“Hell yeah,” someone from behind replies.

“I got dibs,” Shortstop says, climbing onto the bed from where he’d been standing on the side, lazily making out with the frat boy, Leg Day. His dick is pretty average in length, thickest around the middle, but his balls are large and hang low between his legs.

“’Bout time,” Malcolm grumbles.

He pulls off the cocks he’s been sucking and jerking and sits back on his heels. No sooner than his ass touches his ankles, he’s flipped over onto his back and yanked down to the edge of the bed.

Shortstop slides up behind Malcolm’s spread legs, lubing his cock with one hand and fingering Malcolm with the other.

“Ready, baby?” he asks, rubbing the head of his cock over Malcolm’s hole.

“Call me baby again ’n you’ll be fuckin’ your hand tonight.”

Rowan snorts.

“You got it, man.”

With that, the man presses his dick in slow, but Rowan’s eyes snap to Malcolm’s face and sees his eyes roll back before they flutter closed. Like he’s a junkie getting a desperately needed fix after going through the beginnings of withdrawal. He bites his bottom lip, his two front teeth the slightest bit longer than the rest of them, and Rowan shouldn’t find it cute, not when Malcolm’s flushed and getting fucked open, but he does.

“Fuuuuck that’s good,” Malcolm moans.

Rowan can’t be bothered to figure out who’s speaking when the men around him spew all sorts of filth about how Malcolm looks, but he finds it hard to disagree with any of them.

“Look at how good he takes dick.”

“C’mon, fuck him, he’s been desperate for it all night.”

“Can’t let his mouth and hands go to waste.”

The guy fucking him picks up the pace, hips slapping lewdly, punctuated only by Malcolm’s sharp pants. Until the Shirley Temple guy straddles his shoulders and pushes his cock into his mouth, the sounds now little more than muffled whimpers. The Van Damme and The Rock look-alikes kneel on either side, and Rowan can’t see clearly from where he is, but he sees Malcolm’s arms move, and the men throw their heads back, evidently both being jerked off simultaneously.

And fuck if that isn’t the hottest thing ever.

Rowan’s watched a lot of porn. Been to a lot of clubs. Fucked a lot of people. But he never realized how loud sex could be, especially in as large a group as this. Moans and grunts and skin slapping and Yeah s and Fuck yeah s and That’s it s fill the air in a filthy cacophony of noise that equally turns Rowan on and annoys him.

Annoys only because he wants to hear more of Malcolm. His sweet little gasps and breathy moans as he’s being filled from both ends. And Rowan doesn’t know how sensitive Malcolm is, but he dips his head to Malcolm’s chest and sucks a pert nipple into his mouth, the sharp inhale he hears over the din answer enough. He tweaks and pinches Malcolm’s other nipple, alternating between teasing it and squeezing his pec, reveling in how nicely it fits in his hand.

In seemingly no time at all, Shortstop gasps, “’M gonna come. Fuck, man, can I come in you?”

Malcolm pushes the guy out of his mouth. “You fuckin’ better.”

“Shit, shit, shit —” he gasps, Rowan lifting his head up from Malcolm’s chest to see the man’s hips stutter as he comes with a long groan.

“Fuck yeah, fill him up.”

“First of many tonight!”

“Best cumdump in all’a Boston.”

As all the men around them chime in, the white guy Malcolm had dubbed Tweedle Dum (or Dee) grunts from the side of the bed, furiously jerking his cock as he comes on the leather pad.

Malcolm must see it, and he doesn’t sound happy about it. “ Jesus . If you ain’t gonna fuck me, at least jerk off on me.”

The guy has the decency to look sheepish. “Sorry, man. You’re fuckin’ hot.”

“No shit, Sherlock. Better get it up again before the night’s over.”

Cupcake laughs low. “Don’t wanna disappoint the cumslut. Nine loads just won’t do it. My turn next.”

He shifts around on the bed, the other man pulling out as Cupcake gets in place. He tugs Malcolm farther down the bed until his ass is right on the edge and throws his legs over his shoulders. With no hesitation, he pushes inside, Rowan noting that his cock is significantly bigger than the last guy’s.

Still not bigger than his, though.

And still not too big for Malcolm’s apparently very greedy ass to handle.

Cupcake sets a faster pace than the last guy, and Malcolm responds instantly, back arching off the bed, eyebrows and toes scrunching.

“Mmm, fuck, like that.”

Rowan makes a mental note that Malcolm likes fast and hard .

The guy fucking Malcolm clearly knows how to use his dick, but his stamina is limited to short bursts every minute or so, and even as an almost exclusive top, Rowan can tell that it’s not doing anything for Malcolm after a short while.

With little warning, he pulls out with a gasp, apparently not wanting to finish yet. “Shit, that was good.”

“For you maybe,” Malcolm mutters under his breath.

“You wanna go?” the Japanese guy who fingered Malcolm earlier asks Rowan.

“Not yet.”

He does, but he wants to wait. Wants to see what everyone else has to offer before he steps in. Because cocky as it is, he knows he can make Malcolm fall apart on his dick.

The other guy shrugs and climbs onto the bed, nudging Malcolm to roll over onto his stomach and move up until his head is near the edge of the bed. He straddles the back of Malcolm’s thighs as he pushes into him in one quick motion, punching out a gasp from him. Rowan rounds to the front of the bed and takes advantage of Malcolm’s open mouth by shoving his dick in. It’s been neglected for far too long.

“ Mmf !” Malcolm pants but immediately sets to work. It’s as good as the first time, maybe even better due to him being fucked from behind and driven deeper onto Rowan’s dick with each thrust.

The guy currently fucking him changes position so he’s almost planking above Malcolm, and drives his full body weight onto him with each thrust, the slap of skin loud and sharp as a whipcrack.

“Now that’s more like it,” someone says.

“Look at that fucking ass jiggle,” someone else calls out.

Malcolm’s eyes are closed as he blows Rowan, but Rowan can tell from the way they’re squeezed tight that Malcolm’s enjoying himself. Though with his response to the first two guys who fucked him compared to when he’d taken Rowan’s dick in his mouth the first time, it’s hard to tell what he’s getting off on more right now.

Like the first two, the third guy is quick to climax. With a whine, he pulls out and erupts onto Malcolm’s raised ass, several streaks of come dripping down his cheeks.

Should’ve fucked it back into him , Rowan thinks.

Malcolm pulls off Rowan’s dick, pushing himself up onto his elbows as he says, “Christ, anyone here actually know how to find a fuckin’ prostate?”

Rowan winces. Because it isn’t hard. Easier with fingers than a dick and easier when you get to know your partner better, but still absolutely doable. And isn’t the point of a gangbang to please the bottom? Either everyone here is selfish and sucks at fucking, or Malcolm really is as hard to please as everyone thinks.

He steps down from the bed and circles around to the side to watch. The Van Damme look-alike offers to jerk Rowan off, and he lets him. He’s the least attractive of the bunch to Rowan, but a hand’s a hand. He turns down his offer to make out.

While he’s getting jerked off, Rowan watches as each person takes turns fucking Malcolm. And Malcolm complains about or taunts every one of them.

Shirley Temple is next, fucking him lazily in missionary like he’s too afraid of hurting him.

“I remember my first time too,” Malcolm coos derisively.

The white Tweedle is next, fucking him doggy style. He keeps too loose a grip on Malcolm’s hips and doesn’t get enough power to pull him back hard enough on each thrust.

“Thought I’d at least have a coupl’a bruises tonight.”

Van Damme steps up after, having made his way around the circle sloppily making out with or jerking off most of the other members, and he fucks Malcolm on their sides, back to chest. Not the best position to be in for any kind of power fucking. With all the bravado he’d shown earlier, Rowan expected something impressive. But his fucking skills seem to be on par with his hand job skills—not all that great.

“Always been more of a Seagal fan, anyway,” Malcolm grumbles.

Van Damme is replaced by the frat boy, who struggles to keep up a steady rhythm as he takes Malcolm over the side of the bed.

“Not as easy as Fifty Shades makes it look, huh, Leg Day?”

None of them get Malcolm on top, which is a shame, because Rowan would bet he’d look amazing, thick thighs straining and abs flexing.

Disappointingly, every single one of them jackhammers into him for a minute or two, most coming and pulling out, others grasping the base of their dicks to stave off orgasm. From the look on Malcolm’s face—parted lips, jaw slack, knitted eyebrows, sweat beading on his temples—it’s clear that he’s enjoying himself, even with all the taunting and the bitching he’s doing.

But Rowan wants to see him fall apart completely, and the ferocity of that desire surprises him.

“Beg for my come,” the frat boy tells Malcolm when it’s clear he’s nearing his end. His voice is pitched lower, but it sounds utterly fake. Like he’s playing at being in charge. Not something he’s used to.

“I don’t beg for anyone , kid,” Malcolm snaps back.

Last up is the guy who looks like The Rock, and he’s undoubtedly the best of the lot. He flips Malcolm onto his back and pushes into him swiftly, then hooks his arms under his knees and hoists him up, making Malcolm wrap his arms around his neck for support.

Malcolm’s “Fuck yes, finally” sounds relieved as the man uses all those muscles to lift him up and drop him down on his dick over and over with a sharp slap slap slap.

It’s a good position, Malcolm clearly getting off on being manhandled as much as actually being fucked how he wants to be. Rowan feels the heat begin to pool in his belly and his cock harden fully for the first time in too long. Since it was last down Malcolm’s throat in fact.

He strokes himself, watching hungrily as Malcolm starts to sweat above the man, cock hard and bouncing between them.

But it doesn’t last. After a few meager minutes, the older man’s already nearing his end.

“Sh-shit, I’m coming,” he groans, hips jerking erratically and eyes squeezing closed as he lifts Malcolm up one final time and drops him down, clutching his asscheeks tightly as he empties inside him.

Rowan thinks he sees Malcolm sigh as he’s lowered back onto the bed.

“Can’t believe I actually pay for this shit,” he mumbles. “Anyone here able to last more than ten goddamn seconds?” he calls louder. “Or do I gotta resort to the toy wall like last time?”

There are a few grumbles of complaint, but no one speaks up.

And Rowan? Rowan’s had enough.

Enough of everyone here being shit at fucking. Enough of waiting for his turn. Enough of Malcolm’s fuckin’ bratty attitude, justified as it may be. As soon as The Rock steps aside, Rowan spins Malcolm to face him, legs on either side of Rowan’s own, the smaller man looking up at him with a quirked eyebrow. He’s about to open his mouth, no doubt to say something shitty, when Rowan grabs the back of his skull, wrenching his head back so he’s forced to look up at him further.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Unsurprisingly to Rowan, he does. No one acts like this much of a brat during sex unless they want to be put in their place. And boy does Malcolm exude the desire to have the fight stripped out of him.

With his other hand, Rowan cups either side of Malcolm’s jaw, squeezing but not getting the reaction he wants. He squeezes again, harder, flesh turning white under his fingertips, but Malcolm doesn’t budge.

“Open.”

Malcolm’s lips finally part, hot breath tickling the webbing between Rowan’s thumb and index finger. Rowan gathers his spit on his tongue, opens his own mouth with a raised eyebrow in a silent question as he’d done earlier. Malcolm said no kissing, but with everything he’s had done to him tonight, everything he’s reacted most violently to, Rowan can say with near certainty that he’ll love this.

In response, his eyes widen and he nods, a tiny dip of his head against the tight grip of Rowan’s hands, but a yes all the same.

Perfect.

Rowan spits into his mouth, pushing in the few droplets that don’t make it with his fingers and pressing his jaw shut.

“Good. Keep that warm for me till I’m done with you.”

Malcolm’s whimper tells him everything he needs to know about how he feels about that.

Rowan pushes him back down onto the bed, the smaller man bouncing up an inch with the force of it, and tugs him by his thighs until he’s nestled perfectly against Rowan’s hips. And he wants to focus on the sight of his cock pushing into his sloppy hole, pink and open and leaking a steady stream of come from a half dozen other men, but more than that, he wants to watch Malcolm’s face.

Wants to see the look in his eyes when he realizes he’s about to be fucked properly for the first time tonight.

It doesn’t disappoint. As Rowan pushes into the tight heat, Malcolm’s eyes widen, his eyebrows shoot up, his nostrils flare, his chest heaves. His mouth stays firmly shut.

Good .

Despite having the largest cock in the room, Rowan doesn’t give him more than a moment to adjust as soon as he’s worked all nine inches into him. Because he knows full well that Malcolm is a size queen, and that he likes a bit of pain, and that he’s been ogling Rowan’s dick all night, eagerly sucking it down every time Rowan presented it to his waiting lips.

And finally being inside him?

Fucking heavenly.

He’s almost willing to take back the negative thoughts he’d had about everyone else coming so soon with Malcolm’s hole gripping him like a vise, but he doesn’t want this feeling to end. This heat radiating from his dick through his core and straight out to all his limbs, burning where his hands are wrapped around Malcolm’s sweaty thighs. He wants this moment to last forever.

Like he’s mentally frozen everyone else in the room, Rowan’s focus hones in on Malcolm’s face as he spreads the smaller man’s legs as wide as they’ll go on either side of Rowan’s own hips and clutches him around his waist. It’s not the best position for hard and fast fucking, but it’s perfect for hitting that sweet spot inside him that somehow everyone here has either completely missed or accidentally hit once or twice and never found again.

He tilts his hips down, pulls out, angles up a bit, and thrusts back in as hard as he can.

“Mmmmm-hm-hm-hmmm!” Malcolm cries out, loud despite his closed mouth.

It’s music to Rowan’s ears.

He sets a punishing pace and pumps into him, dragging Malcolm’s hips onto his cock for extra power on each thrust so he can wring as much pleasure out of the other man’s body as possible. Every thrust is punctuated with a “ Hmm !” or an “ Mmm !” and it’s fucking perfect. The best thing Rowan’s ever heard short of full-out moans, because he knows that with each muffled whimper, Malcolm is keeping Rowan’s spit locked inside.

He’s obeying .

And Rowan wants to reward him.

As good as he knows an endless assault on the prostate can be, he wants him to fully experience everything he has to offer. So he slides his hands under Malcolm’s low back and lifts his lower half off the bed, calves hooked over his shoulders and thighs pressed firmly to his chest.

He pulls out and fucks into him, hard, like everyone else should have been doing all goddamn night. More whimpers fill the air. It’s incredible how loud Malcolm can be, even with a closed mouth, even with dozens of other sounds competing for space in Rowan’s ears.

While the fucking is good, great even, Malcolm’s dick has been almost completely ignored since Rowan blew him.

“Touch yourself,” Rowan tells him.

The reaction is instant. Malcolm’s right hand shoots straight to his dick, gathering the steady stream of precome leaking onto his stomach. Rowan watches his fingers, mesmerized by the THUG tattooed on his knuckles. Notes that he’s only gripping with three fingers, his ring and pinkie finger simply resting against the shaft as he works himself over. A twist right at the tip. A looser grip on the downstroke.

He catalogs it all, hoping that he’ll get a chance to put that knowledge to use either later tonight or in the future.

Somewhere to the side of the bed, he hears an “I’m gonna come!” and snaps his head to see the blond Shirley Temple guy jerking off furiously.

“Get up here and come on him,” Rowan growls.

Because somehow, no one’s come anywhere except inside or on top of Malcolm’s ass yet. And Rowan wants to see him filthy .

The guy obeys, hustling onto the bed in time to shoot his load over Malcolm’s stomach and cock with a deep moan.

But Malcolm’s is louder. His hand works faster over his cock, gripping tight, using the other man’s come to slick his motions. And Rowan pistons into him, matching his pace. He can feel the sweat starting to bead on his temples, but he’d rather combust than stop anytime soon.

He’s lost track of how long he’s been going. Several of the men have climbed on the bed, shoved their dicks in Malcolm’s face to take advantage of his free hole, only to have him forcefully turn his head away, lips sealed, and offer his hand instead.

So fucking good .

Apparently, all it takes to shut him up is a big dick and some spit.

“Someone come on his face,” Rowan says.

“Gladly,” Cupcake replies, joining them on the bed and hovering over Malcolm’s face, balls nearly touching his forehead as he jerks himself in quick motions. “Been wanting to do this all night.”

In a half dozen more tight strokes, he groans and empties himself over Malcolm’s pristine face, thick and so much that it’s really a shame he wasn’t better at fucking, because it’s undeniably hot. His come coats Malcolm’s cheeks and chin and lips, dribbling down his neck and pooling in the hollow of his throat as he lets out a keening whine, eyes rolling back in his head.

One by one, everyone who didn’t come earlier climbs on the bed and unloads on every part of Malcolm’s flushed body, his neck and chest and cock, covering his ink in ribbons of white that melt on his heated skin and drip onto the leather underneath him. And God, he’s gorgeous. Moaning each and every time someone releases on him. Moaning louder when Rowan fucks into him deep and squeezes his shaking thighs against his chest.

The quivering starts in his thighs and radiates out to the rest of him, his lower back and his core and his arms all vibrating violently, ass clenching furiously around Rowan’s cock. He has to be close. It’s a fucking wonder he hasn’t come already tonight, but Rowan wants to be the first to get him there. So he drops Malcolm’s legs down, Malcolm instantly wrapping them around Rowan’s waist as Rowan lowers his ass to the edge of the bed, and hoists him up by the back of his neck so they’re mere inches apart.

The angle is awkward—he has to squat down a bit to fuck him like this, thighs burning—but the heat from Malcolm’s body and the feeling of him sucking Rowan in deeper is worth it.

Rowan pulls him in close, wipes the residual come from his lips and chin with the hand not wrapped around the back of his neck.

“Show me,” he whispers.

This time Malcolm’s lips part immediately, giving Rowan a perfect view of the frothy spit filling his mouth. He could have swallowed Rowan’s spit. Easily. Could have generated his own to replace Rowan’s and he’d be none the wiser, but Rowan knows in his gut Malcolm didn’t. Knows that what he’s seeing is his own spit mixed with Malcolm’s, and fuck if that doesn’t almost make him come on the spot.

“ Good . Swallow it.”

With his mouth open, Malcolm’s tongue flattens against the roof of his mouth, and with a quick bob of his Adam’s apple, his mouth is empty. But better than that is the glazed-over look in his eyes. Rowan knows that look. Didn’t think he’d get to see it tonight, not really, because he’s been told that it’s hard to slip into sub mode with so many people around, so much distraction, but holy shit does it make Rowan impossibly harder.

Fuck , he thinks. This guy’s gonna be the death of me.

He wraps a hand around Malcolm’s cock and quickens his hips, wanting to reward him for being so fucking filthy. Malcolm pants in response.

“Now come for me.”

“ Hnnnnng !”