Tats does as instructed, tongue shooting out to lave over Malcolm’s hole in one long stripe.

“Mmf!” The whine must come from Malcolm, but with two dicks in his mouth, it’s muffled.

“No talking with your mouth full,” someone says from the front of the bed.

“Fuck you, Tweedle Dum,” Malcolm answers, voice hoarse. “Wouldn’t hafta if you’d actually use that dick of your—hnnnn!”

Rowan can’t see, but he assumes some combination of a dick being shoved down Malcolm’s throat and Tats burying his face between his cheeks has something to do with the cut-off goading.

Rowan lies on his side to finally get a good look at Malcolm’s cock, hard and already leaking precome. He doesn’t wanna call it cute, because he’s pretty sure Malcolm would deck him if he did. It’s on the smaller side of average, but it’s thick, and shit, he needs to taste it.

“Hey, lemme get under him,” Rowan says to Tats.

“I want to taste his ass,” The Rock look-alike says right after.

Tats pulls off to let Rowan slide underneath Malcolm’s hips. It’s an awkward position with Malcolm’s short legs, but he makes it work.

“You good if I straddle you, man?” The Rock asks Rowan.

“Yeah.”

The older man takes the okay and straddles Rowan around his waist, thick thighs encompassing him and hard cock draped over Rowan’s stomach. A bolt of heat shoots through him at being surrounded like this, reminding him that soon he’s likely going to be buried inside Malcolm at the same time as someone else. He can’t wait.

Craning his neck, he finally gets a good look at Malcolm’s hip tattoos—vining ivy with thorns on either side of his sculpted V. And the artwork is beautiful, but he’s much more interested in his cock. He sucks the tip into his mouth and gets a startled jerk of Malcolm’s hips in response, one hand resting on Malcolm’s thigh to stop him from fucking into his mouth any farther. With his free hand, he cups Malcolm’s balls, rolling them in his palm as a dribble of precome seeps out onto his tongue.

It’s sweet, like he’s been chugging pineapple juice all week or something. Rowan wouldn’t put it past him for something like this. He sucks harder. By now the whimpers are flowing freely from above him, faintly audible over the groans and slick sounds of people jerking off around them.

Rowan feels the bed dip as the men in front of Malcolm change places, but he can’t tell who joins.

“Someone get some lube,” The Rock says.

Rowan takes that as his cue to reach under and tap him on the thigh so he can shimmy out from underneath. Because as much as he’d like to keep sucking Malcolm’s dick until he’s squirming above him, there’s no way he’s going to miss something entering his ass for the first time.