“Yeah, course,” Mal assures him.

The moment lingers, a brief cooldown in the otherwise steamy atmosphere of Mal’s bedroom.

Any other time Mal has been gagged during their scenes—made unable to speak, anyway—they’ve used a clicker. But Mal didn’t want to use one tonight. Wanted to be able to fully let go and not have to worry about holding on to the thing during the scene. They’ve already talked about Mal tapping out—“I’ll fuckin’ smack you if I need to, man,” Mal had said—but Rowan wants to double-check. Wants to be sure that it’ll happen if it needs to happen.

He locks eyes with Mal, pupils already dilated in the dim, warm light cast only by the two bedside lamps, and finds nothing but excitement and sincerity. No doubt or anxiety or anything else that would give Rowan pause.

He blinks, breaking them out of the still moment and crashing back to reality. The reality that he’s going to get his hands around Mal’s throat for the first time. Rowan pushes Mal’s chest, watching with rapt attention as Mal falls gracefully backward and hits the bed with a soft whump. The bedding rustles underneath him, as soft and supple as Mal’s spread thighs. He’d been longing for the day he’d get Mal in an actual bed, and now that that day is here, he hardly knows what to do with himself.

So he settles on what he knows, crawling onto the bed after him and raking his hands up and down Mal’s legs and thighs, fingertips digging into the lace tattoo on his upper thigh, watching the skin turn from black and white to red and pink. If Rowan were trying to show Mal his love of him as a person through his love of his thighs, he’s sure it would come across and leave little doubt.

He teases Mal until every inch of his thighs and chest and arms and neck are flushed pink. Until his nipples are as hard as his cock. Until there’s a generous wet spot on the front of his briefs. Until his breathing is ragged and his voice is strained.

“Hurry the fuck up, man… I’m halfway to blowing already,” Mal whines after apparently too long.

Rowan smacks him hard on the inside of his thigh, the flesh jiggling underneath and turning a bright scarlet with the force of his handprint.

“Patience, Mal.”

But Rowan caves after only a few more minutes of exploring Mal’s body, mostly because he wants to get the show on the road as well. If he was a stronger man, he’d spend all night drawing sighs and whimpers from Mal’s lips.

With fingers hooked under the elastic waistband, he tugs Mal’s briefs over his hard cock and down his legs. Underwear gone, he shuffles closer between Mal’s spread legs, slotting his knees under Mal’s thighs. His cock is hard and flushed pink and dripping greedily from the tip onto his lower stomach, making the soft strands of pubic hair glisten with moisture. Rowan runs a finger through the precome and brings it to his lips.