It seems to come out of left field, and Rowan’s sure the surprise shows on his face. “Guilty? No… why?”

“Not anxious or depressed or anythin’? Now or last week?” Mal presses.

Mal couldn’t possibly know about his depression, but even with the moments of uncertainty he’s felt so far being Mal’s Dom, Rowan knows that nothing he’s felt with him even comes close to those days of feeling like the absolute scum of the earth.

Rowan shakes his head. “Nope.”

Seemingly satisfied with his answer, Mal takes another bite of his sandwich, then speaks with his mouth full. “Wanted to make sure you weren’t droppin’.”

Oh. Right. He’d been so focused on Mal the past two sessions that Rowan hadn’t even considered the possibility of dropping himself. Of the two of them, it is more likely that the newbie would be more emotionally compromised after a scene than the seasoned pro.

Regardless, there’s a flutter in his chest at Mal’s concern.

“Oh,” Rowan says. “Kinda forgot that was a thing, honestly.”

“Less common than sub drop, but it happens.”

Mal meets his eyes, and the intensity that Rowan sees there turns the flutter into a full-on palpitation.

“You start feelin’ like that after our scene’s over, tell me. Or text me if it’s later in the week or somethin’,” Mal tells him, voice serious.

Rowan wants to say thank you and he wants to say I like learning this stuff with you and he wants to leap across the table and kiss the tiny fleck of mustard off the corner of Mal’s lip because sure, Rowan’s clinically mentally ill, but he’s also apparently fucking crazy and way too into this guy he’s basically only hooking up with.

What he says instead is nothing, and what he does is nod and take another bite of his grilled cheese.

Mal mirrors his nod, seemingly satisfied. “Anyway,” he says, “don’t be afraid to push me more’s all I’m sayin’. Gotta trust yourself that you’re not gonna fuck it up. But that’ll come with time. Already pretty damn good at it for a newbie.”

That same rush of tingling warmth he’s felt countless times tonight spreads through Rowan once more.

Mal was right. You can learn a lot of shit from books, and Rowan has so far, but nothing beats actual experience. And nothing feels better than hearing your sub say you did a good job. The irony isn’t lost on Rowan—that as the Dom, the one who’s supposed to take care of Mal and tell him he’s doing a good job, the opposite feels just as good.

A two-way street.

Chocolate sauce on pizza.

THEY WORK through their meals, snippets of meaningless conversation sprinkled in.