With a still-wildly fluttering heart, Rowan realizes this is the first time he’s seen Mal in the daylight. And fuck, his eyes are impossibly gold. Honey and caramel and all sorts of other things coming to mind. He remembers seeing them for the first time at the gangbang—finding the color so vibrant even in the dimness of the club. But in the sunlight, they shine. He’s dressed mostly the same as he always is—tight black jeans and a maroon shirt that has Rowan staring as much as Addison has been, though this is far from the first time he’s seen him.

“Hey,” Mal greets, casual as ever, as if he hadn’t shown up unannounced to Rowan’s work.

“What’re you doing here?”

Mal rolls his eyes. “Nice to see you too.”

“Uh, this is Addison. My coworker,” Rowan says, gesturing to the woman on his left and nearly hitting her in the shoulder as he does.

“Nice to meet you…?”

“Hey. Mal.”

“I’m gonna go—” Addison starts, thumbing vaguely in the direction behind her.

“See ya,” Rowan cuts her off, thankful that she didn’t ask to hang around. But as she leaves, the realization that Mal has met, however briefly, someone in Rowan’s life outside of the club rattles around in his brain.

When Addison disappears into the station, Rowan asks, “How’d you know where I work?”

“Only one station this side of town.”

“Gotcha.”

There’s a beat of silence, the two of them taking in each other’s appearance as if they’re seeing each other for the first time.

“Here,” Mal says, handing him a large brown paper bag, the top folded over neatly, concealing the contents.

Rowan’s eyebrows knit together as he takes the bag, opens it and peeks inside, instantly snapping it shut when he sees the rope Mal promised he’d bring him, two bundles of neatly coiled black hemp.

“Oh, thanks. You didn’t need to come all the way here, though. Could’ve waited till Saturday.”

Mal bites his lip. “Yeah, well. Said I’d give it to ya. Practice on yourself if you want, just not on anyone else.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, but Rowan doesn’t miss the slight apprehension in his voice or the way he glances quickly to the ground. Scuffles his shoe a bit.

“What do you mean ‘anyone else’?”

“Anyone else you sleep with.”

“Mal, I’m not sleeping with anyone else.”

He makes sure to mirror Mal’s wording and not say “seeing” someone else. Because he and Mal aren’t. Seeing each other, that is. But they are. Sleeping with each other, that is. They’re just fuckin’.

For a brief moment, Mal looks quietly pleased, but says, “You could, though.”

Rowan shrugs. “So can you.”