As much as Rowan loves heaving Mal around like a rag doll, having him perfectly still and unable to move is as much of a turn-on. He loses himself in the sensation, in the heat, in the bliss that is Mal’s body, and lets himself drown in the din of slick skin and guttural groans.

And Mal may not be able to press back into him like he usually does, but it doesn’t stop him from clenching around him, milking Rowan’s cock for all it’s worth. He’d once called himself the “world’s best bottom,” and Rowan swears he’s right. Like he’s sucking Rowan’s soul out through his goddamn dick, and it makes him grip Mal’s hips harder and pound into him faster.

Too soon, he’s nearing his end, the room all but spinning and his body throbbing head to toe.

“Gonna fill you up.”

“Yeah, yeah….”

“Wanna feel you come on my cock first.”

“Can’t… need—”

Smack! Smack!

“C’mon, Mal. I know I’m hittin’ that spot. Focus.”

“Nngg….”

Rowan slows down his thrusts, grinding his hips in tight circles and drawing back only an inch or two before drilling back in, working Mal’s prostate.

“Fuck!”

“Know you can do it. Wanted to be good for me, ’member?”

“Yeah… want to… more, please….”

“I got you.”

Rowan gives him everything. And in a dozen more thrusts, Mal’s moaning beautifully, a crescendo from a soft mumble to a near shout as he spasms around Rowan’s cock.

“Fuckin’ perfect, Mal, God….”

And Rowan’s right there with him, emptying inside Mal, body bowstring taut as he milks his release. The pleasure courses through him in waves, in time with the rhythmic pulsing of Mal’s walls around him, perfectly in sync.

He pulls out slowly, watching in wonder as Mal’s open hole winks at him and a dribble of Rowan’s own come trickles out and drips onto the bench below.

Fuck. It’s almost enough to get him hard again. If there’s anyone able to make Rowan’s body defy biology, it’s definitely Mal.

Rowan grabs a damp cloth from the supply table and gingerly wipes the come and lube from between Mal’s cheeks and thighs and the come from his cock where it’s softening among his pubes. Something Mal’s only really allowed him to do the past two months or so, after their more intense scenes, and Rowan takes the job and the gesture seriously, wiping thoroughly yet gently.

Rowan unties Mal like he’s unwrapping a gift. Gingerly and with a precision that frees him quickly and efficiently. He flings each coil of rope over the bench, not bothering to wind it yet as he guides Mal to standing, then leads him to the bed. It’s clear his legs are shaky from disuse, but he manages to stay upright and lies flat on his back on the leather bed.