The realization of how long they’ve been together—exaggerated or not—hits Rowan like a freight truck, and suddenly he’s not laughing anymore. That’s at least two years if the number is to be believed. Despite his own connection with Mal and their chemistry, Rowan feels himself shrivel a bit. But he shakes it off. Mal wanted him here for a reason. And Rowan owes it to him to at least pay attention and enjoy the show, as much as he’d rather be up there himself.

Mal fumbles with Steven’s pants, eventually working him free. Steven shuffles around so his back is facing Rowan and Mal is turned three-quarters of the way to him. Still perfectly in view. From the glimpse he’d gotten, he can tell that Steven’s cock is average. Nothing special in either the girth or length department. How a size queen like Mal got by with it is a mystery. Rowan knows for a fact that it’s not all in how you use it. Size does matter. Or maybe Mal became a size queen after Rowan. That thought sends a rejuvenating rush of possessive pride through Rowan that he doesn’t even try to shake off or ignore.

He’s so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t even notice Steven wrapping his cock and shoving it deep in Mal’s throat. He hadn’t even gotten fully undressed, his already undone slacks now shoved halfway down his thighs.

Rowan can’t lie that the sight of Mal sucking dick gets him going, even if he has to fight off the curl of jealousy in his belly. Mal’s a goddamn natural. Taking Steven deep, jaw slack and breathing raggedly through his nose as Steven fucks his mouth. His mouth was fucking—

“Made to suck cock,” Steven grunts.

For once, Rowan agrees with him.

He spreads his legs wider and palms himself, his growing erection in desperate need of attention. But he won’t take it out yet. As much a tease for himself as for Mal, whose eyes are glued to where Rowan’s hand strokes rhythmically over his bulge. Even with another man’s cock in his mouth, he’s still got all his attention focused on Rowan.

And fuck if that isn’t the hottest shit.

With a sharp hiss, Steven mutters, “Watch the teeth. You’re getting sloppy.”

As if Mal’s head game isn’t top tier, even if—hell, because—he gets filthy and sloppy with it when he really gets into it. Like he’s getting into it now. He adjusts his stance so he can get a better angle, legs spread wide and head dipped low, bobbing freely and with lewd slurping noises that go straight from Rowan’s ears to his dick. Rowan sees that Mal’s hard now, cock hanging heavy between his spread legs.

It’s torture to not jump up and suck his beautiful thick cock down, Steven be damned. He palms himself harder when Mal pulls off with a gasp, a thin trail of spit connecting his lower lip to the tip of Steven’s cock. It’s now that Rowan would pet his face and tell him how good he was.