“Gonna…. Rowan, I—”

“Yeah, yeah, come with me, Mal.”

It only takes the slightest clench of Mal’s hole around him to get Rowan emptying inside the condom with a groan, rhythm and composure completely shattered.

When Mal comes all over his own chest, the look on his face is nothing short of cathartic. Relieved in a way that Rowan can’t help but think has more to do with the simple fact of having an orgasm. And when he has to bite his bottom lip to keep a grin from spreading, Rowan’s chest glows golden.

WHEN ALL is said and done, they lie together on their backs, side by side on the bed. Rowan stares at the ceiling lights that bathe the room in cool white luminescence and make the gold pinstripes of the wallpaper shimmer. He lets himself catch his breath for a moment before propping himself up on one elbow, turning to Mal.

“How do you feel?”

“Mmm… good. Sore,” Mal answers quietly, eyes lightly closed.

Gently, Rowan lays a hand on Mal’s chest, the dip between his pecs molding perfectly to his fingers. As if he’ll startle him, he lets Mal get accustomed to his hand on his skin for a moment before gliding across his body, touch little more than a whisper across his skin.

Like last week, he’s afraid of making things awkward or, worse, letting his actions veer too close to romantic. But as Mal leans into his touch, all doubt flies out the window, and Rowan knows that he can’t let his budding feelings for Mal get in the way of proper aftercare. Mal needs softness after impact play. He told Rowan that during their initial talk, and unless that need changes, Rowan’s gotta do it. Even though this is the first scene they’ve done that has really required it, it’s not exactly a hardship.

In fact, it’s easy. So easy, even after the emotional sucker punch a couple of hours ago, that it should be concerning. But Mal’s sticky-warm skin has completely fucked Rowan up from the inside out, and each sweep of his hand over the planes of his chest and the curve of his hips and the swell of his biceps has a million tiny cracks forming and threatening to burst Rowan at the seams.

In hushed whispers that don’t even echo in the stark room, Rowan talks Mal down, by now a familiar process. Rowan’s heart swells, knowing that he’s done this enough times to even out Mal’s breathing in a matter of minutes.

Even then, with Mal lying still beside him, Rowan doesn’t stop the light touches. It feels good to be able to touch him like this—like he’s wanted to for the past few weeks but has never had an excuse to. He knows how intimate this is and how much more intimate it could be if there was anything more to their relationship than sex. For now he lets himself have this as long as Mal will let him.