In a flurry, Rowan unbuttons his shirt and flings the tails out of his way as he pulls out his cock through his jeans and coats himself in lube. He doesn’t bother asking Mal if he’s ready. Hell, Rowan’s been ready since last week.

But the urge to tease Mal some more is stronger than the urge to be inside him again. He presses his cock to his own belly, letting the weight of it fall down and slap at Mal’s hole, the slick sound like a gunshot in the quiet room.

“Unnhhh….”

Rowan grips himself around the base, slapping at Mal’s hole over and over until it’s pulsating wildly and the lube is nearly tacky.

“Fu-fuck…. C’mon, fuck me!” Mal whines, raising his upper body up off the bed as best he can.

Smack! Rowan slaps the side of his thigh once before shoving him back down, hand pressed tight to his mid back.

He knows better than to shove his cock straight in when Mal hasn’t been properly fucked yet tonight, even if some dark part of his mind is growling at him to take and that Mal would probably fucking love it.

Instead, he inhales, exhales, matching his own breath to the steady rise and fall of Mal’s back as he presses the tip inside, Mal’s hole swallowing it greedily like the beads earlier.

“Ohhhh, fuck….”

Inch by inch the tightness and the heat grows increasingly overwhelming, a droplet of sweat finally making an appearance, dripping down Rowan’s temple but doing jack shit to cool him. It’s hard to think that anything could quench the inferno threatening to engulf him—every tiny clench of Mal’s walls around him kindling in the fire.

Fully seated, he gives both himself and Mal a moment before starting a languid pace. A few thrusts to acclimate. When he feels Mal starting to get twitchy—hears his groans shift from breathy to impatient—he knows he needs to get a move on. And for once he fully agrees with him.

But he can’t resist the urge to watch his cock splitting him in half. He pries apart Mal’s cheeks, slick with lube. Hones in on the way his hole stretch-stretch-stretches to accommodate him as he fucks into him.

“Fuckin’ made to take my cock.”

“Don’t… unhh… fla-flatter yourself,” Mal breathes, fumbled words surely belying his true thoughts on the matter.

Rowan snaps his hips, driving into him hard.

“Not flattery if it’s true.”

He picks up his pace, settling into that hard-fast-good rhythm that they both crave. The sight of Mal face down on the bed, wrists cuffed behind him and unable to do anything but take whatever Rowan’s giving him spurs him on, and before he knows it, that heat is building inside him far too soon.

He slows again, forcing himself to focus on the tiny unh, unh, unh from Mal each time Rowan’s hips connect with his ass. But he wants to hear. Wants that push and pull that makes their fucking feel more like fighting in the best way.