Mal merely grumbles something in the back of his throat in response, a brat even with his mouth full. Rowan swings his leg around and shoves at Mal’s lower back with his heel, pressing him farther down onto his cock.

Mal sputters and chokes, swallowing around Rowan’s cock, driven deep into his throat, the spasming muscles sending a spike of pleasure through Rowan.

“Mmm, fuck, that’s better.”

As soon as Mal widens his stance and pulls back enough to catch his breath with a fucked-out sounding groan, all bets are off. Rowan grips Mal’s hair tight, guiding his mouth as he fucks up into it. And Mal rolls with it, mouth suctioning impossibly tighter around him, hot and wet and perfect.

Rowan wants nothing more than to scrunch his eyes shut and get lost in the feeling, but he can’t keep his eyes off Mal. Not only because he needs to make sure he’s still okay. But also because his cheeks are flushed and his hair is sweaty and he’s absolutely fucking gorgeous. Rowan brushes his thumb across his cheek, willing him to look up at him.

Eyes bright and shiny and—

That telltale heat swoops through Rowan as he sees the first prickles of tears in Mal’s eyes.

Still waitin’ for you to make me cry. What Mal had said at the gangbang. Except he didn’t think it would happen so soon. But it’s not enough. He wants the tears to fall.

He thrusts deeper, pulling Mal’s nose flush with his pelvis, cock sliding down the back of his throat.

A muffled cough, then—there.

The first tear, a perfect fat drop pooling at the inner corner of his left eye. It catches the light as it rolls over the lower lid and runs down Mal’s flushed cheek, leaving a pearlescent streak in its wake before it disappears beneath his chin. The next drop pools and falls quickly, rolling off Mal’s sharp nose and landing in Rowan’s pubic hair—mixing with Mal’s spit and Rowan’s sweat.

It’s filthy, and Rowan’s so fucking hard and about to burst with the need to come.

“Look at me,” he says, voice a rasped whisper.

Mal pulls back off his cock an inch or two to crane his neck up enough for his golden eyes to lock onto Rowan’s, and Rowan feels the breath leave his lungs in a swift whoosh that has him inhaling sharply.

And fuck, he’s beautiful, like Rowan knew he would be. Eyes wet and shining and starting to turn red around the rims, but pupils still blown wide—a testament to how turned on he is. How much he loves this. Perfect.

“There you go,” Rowan tells him, unable to hide the reverence in his voice. Unwilling too. “Knew you’d look fucking perfect crying on my cock.”