Swallowing, he pushes the bile and his thoughts back where they belong.

“Couldn’t even wait for me to prep you,” Rowan says. “That how bad you wanted my cock tonight?”

“What can I say? Thought you’d screw around and waste my time.”

“Have I ever wasted your time, Mal?”

“Seems like you’re doin’ it right now.”

“Pft,” Rowan scoffs. He grips the base of the plug and tugs until he feels the pressure of the widest part catch on Mal’s rim.

“Nng….”

“You want me to fuck you right now? Pull out this plug, use you, then bounce?”

Mal lets out a soft, barely-there moan, like he might actually want that after all.

“Huh?” Rowan insists, twisting the plug back in and pushing hard when it’s fully seated. “Fuck you till I’m satisfied and to hell with everything else? Answer me.”

A pause, then “No.”

It’s begrudging and too brusque, but sincere. Not good enough.

“No, what?”

Mal shoves his ass back against Rowan’s hand where it’s roughly tugging and twisting and pushing his plug.

“Don’t want ya to stop.”

“Uh-huh. ’S what I thought.”

Rowan releases Mal long enough to dip lower and shove his pants and briefs the rest of the way down, then slap the outside of his thigh to get him to toe his shoes off.

Fully naked and with his upper half pressed into the bed, Mal’s a fucking sight to behold. Rowan can still see the faint pink lines of the ropes serpentining over his arms and shoulders, and he wants to get him all tied up again.

Reaching forward to grab the cuffs from beside Mal, he can’t help but grind his clothed cock again into Mal’s bare ass, pressing the plug deeper inside and making Mal gasp.

“Front or back?” Rowan asks lowly.

Mal was only in the shibari rig for an hour or so, but Rowan wants to give him the option of resting his arms if he needs it.

“Back.”

The subtle rocking of Mal’s hips has Rowan’s hand cracking down hard against his left asscheek.

“Fuck!”

He wrenches one arm back, holding it in place against Mal’s lower back. But Mal holds his other arm above his head. “Give me your other hand.”

Slowly, Mal shifts his arm backward, elbow barely passing his rib cage, but when Rowan reaches for it, Mal yanks it away with a grin that Rowan can see even in profile.

Smack!

Rowan’s palm stings from the force of the slap across Mal’s ass, directly over the plug. The groan ripped from Mal’s throat is cut off as Rowan yanks him to standing, back flush to Rowan’s chest and one hand still pressed between them. His fingers dig into Mal’s bicep, then trail along his chest, up his neck, and grasp the sides of his jaw to bring his ear directly to Rowan’s lips.