A sharp smack against Mal’s cheek has the other man yelping and instantly dipping his head, pink tongue darting out to catch the trail of spit trickling down the outside of Rowan’s thigh. It tickles, but Rowan tightens his quads to keep from quivering. The sight of Mal cleaning Rowan’s own spit off his thigh is enough to have his already hard cock straining in his briefs.

Pinching Mal’s jaw between his fingers, he forces him to look up. “Let me see.”

Mal’s mouth dips open, tongue pink and glistening with his own precome and Rowan’s spit.

“Fuckin’ filthy. You love this shit, huh?”

As best he can with his face in a vise between Rowan’s fingers, Mal nods.

Smack!

Rowan cracks his hand across Mal’s cheek, not nearly as hard as he’d been on his ass, but enough to have the other man gasping aloud.

“Words, Mal. Not gonna tell you again.”

“Yes….” It comes out a garbled whisper of a thing.

“Yes, what? Should know by now that one-word answers aren’t good enough.”

“Love it. ’M so fuckin’ hard,” he groans, hitching his hips forward and rutting his cock against Rowan’s thigh, another dribble of precome leaving a pearly streak.

Rowan tsks, collecting the tiny drop of fluid with two fingers and shoving them into Mal’s mouth. Mal’s surprised “Mmf!” is almost as satisfying as the hot tongue that curls around his fingers and sucks the droplet off.

“Filthy…,” Rowan comments, but it comes out as praise.

Relying solely on the strength of his arms in this position, he grabs Mal’s hips and shifts him away from Rowan’s lap, ass up and face down.

Rowan wastes no time in reaching for Mal’s plug and tugging gently. But Mal clenches around it, keeping it suctioned inside him.

Smack!

“You want me to fuck you or not?” Rowan scolds him, punctuating his question with another stinging spank. “’Cause I’m good just jerking off.”

“Bet you are,” Mal mumbles, evidently coming back to his snarkiness after the intensity of the last hour.

Rowan flicks the plug before giving it another tug. It doesn’t budge around Mal’s walls.

“Maybe go see if Jeremiah’s got a break coming up….”

It’s a petty, cheap shot, and he knows it. He knows, too, that Jeremiah very much isn’t DTF, for reasons Rowan doesn’t really understand as he found out earlier. But it’s enough to get Mal’s hole relaxing, and the plug slides out easily.

“Good,” he says, a small curl of pleasure at Mal’s obvious jealousy swirling in his gut.

Rowan takes a fistful of each asscheek, completely encompassing each and spreading them wide, revealing his slick and waiting hole.

He retrieves the condom from the edge of the bed and tears open the package, the crinkle loud in his ears. He takes off his briefs, rolls the condom on, and rubs the tip of his cock against Mal’s thigh—a quick acknowledgment that it’s on—before he slicks himself with a squirt of lube. As he slides in, the tight heat that engulfs him even through the condom dulls his earlier heartache and for a split second makes him forget about it entirely.