And as much as he craves Mal’s moans, it’s been too long since Rowan’s heard his voice. Fuck, an hour? Fifteen minutes, maybe? He’s lost all track of time, relying solely on the alarm on his phone to alert him if they’re close to overstaying their time limit. He stuffs the last two beads into Mal’s ass, toying with the loop at the end and circling it around his hole before rounding to Mal’s front, carefully unclasping the gag from behind his head. Soft hair sweaty under his fingertips.

As the gag comes free, slick with spit, Rowan cups his cheeks, gingerly rubs at the redness on the sides of mouth from the bite of the gag’s leather strap.

“So good for me, Mal. Tell me how it feels.”

“Full….”

“Yeah? What else?”

Rowan pets over his shoulders, feeling the coils of rope one after another under his hands like speed bumps interrupting the smooth expanse of Mal’s arms.

“Feels… fuck….” Mal’s voice is raspy as he clears his throat. “Feels like I’m floating.”

Mal’s very much not floating. Not with forty feet of rope securing his limbs, anyway. He’s well and truly rigged in place, unable to even push back the slightest bit against Rowan’s prying hands. But fuck if that doesn’t go straight to Rowan’s dick—getting Mal right where he wants him, knowing that he wants to be there as badly as Rowan wants him there.

Every time Rowan gets Mal into that headspace—gives him that the safe, secure, floaty feeling—it’s a direct shot of dopamine straight to his brain. There have been very few sessions that he’s failed to get him there, something that Rowan prides himself on. It’s the ultimate high that Rowan seeks out as much for Mal as for himself.

“Gonna fuck you like this,” Rowan tells him, stroking his cheek. “And you’re gonna sit here and take it like I know you can. You gonna be good?”

“So good, wanna be good….”

“You are, Mal. Always.”

The beads come out one by one, a slow and steady pull that has Mal’s hole stretching wide and clenching shut over and over. When they’re all out, Rowan smooths his palm over Mal’s hole, spread wide for him and twitching at the contact.

“Please…,” Mal whines.

It’s amazing how far he’s come. From adamantly refusing to beg for anyone, now freely begging for Rowan’s cock without prompting and at the tiniest hint of contact.

He’s so fucking good.

“Shh…,” Rowan coos. “Thought you wanted to be good for me?”

“I do.”

“And you know I’m always gonna take care of you, right?”

“Right.”

Smack!

“Hhn!”

Mal’s asscheek vibrates and reddens with the force of Rowan’s hand on him.

“So quit beggin’ for it like I’m not gonna fuck you in five seconds.”

With that, he slides into Mal’s waiting hole, matching groans bouncing off the walls. The sight of Mal bound before him drives Rowan’s hips forward, slow at first, then gaining speed with the breathy moans pouring from Mal’s lips.