“Never like that. It used to a lot when I first got into this shit ’cause I didn’t know any better, and when I did know, didn’t wanna admit I needed anything… soft or whatever. But it hadn’t happened in years till that night. Felt like garbage all week.”

Rowan’s hit with a memory, a flash of clarity. Him meeting Mal at the club for the first time after the gangbang. Rowan asking how his week was. Mal taking a long time to answer with a simple, “Okay” or “Fine” or whatever he’d actually said. It nearly breaks Rowan’s heart that he had waited this long to tell him the truth, but he’s glad he trusts him enough now to tell him.

“What was different about that time? I thought you’d done scenes like that before.”

“I did. That time it was kinda… jarring, I guess, gettin’ used by a bunch’a strangers, then havin’ you be all soft and shit. Messed with my head.”

The admission hits him in the face like an icy splash of water. An unbidden wakeup call that has a chill running down his chest and dripping off his limbs.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, Mal. I had no idea. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I know. Not your fault. It wasn’t until the next morning anyway. When I was alone.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Didn’t wanna freak you out, I guess. Kinda some heavy shit to drop on someone right away.”

“Maybe, but that’s what we both signed up for.”

“Yeah,” Mal sighs, the phone crackling with grainy static. “I know I shoulda communicated it, even though we just met.”

“So it was only me being too gentle right after that caused it?”

“Not entirely. I guess I realized I liked havin’ you touch me ’n wanted more of it. Even though we agreed to meet up, still couldn’t get it outta my head that I’d never see you again, so it made the drop worse.”

It’s a punch to the gut and a kiss on the lips at the same time.

“When we met up the week after, were you still feeling the same way?”

“Till I saw you again.”

Rowan laughs softly, hoping that Mal doesn’t take it for unkindness. “Dunno how to feel about being both the cause and the cure for you dropping.”

Thankfully, Mal snorts in response. “Got a knack, man.”

There’s a muffled rustling on the other end of the line, like Mal’s changing positions. Rowan imagines him lounging on his own couch, settling in after a long day at work. He wonders if Mal has a home-office setup or if he uses a laptop at the kitchen table. He wonders if Mal has a kitchen table.

“Why bring it up now?” Rowan asks, still absentmindedly wondering about Mal’s home setup.