Rowan knows all the signs of heart attacks in men—shortness of breath, the feeling of a heavy weight crushing your chest, dizziness, nausea—and he’s in great shape, but he’s not ruling it out as the cause for the stuttering tightness behind his ribs. He wants to do a stupid dance and shout Dear fucking God, Yes!, But all he can think to do is sit there gaping, and all he can think to say is: “But I don’t know where you live,” like Mal was going to make Rowan guess that information rather than giving him his address.

“Jesus Christ, Red,” Mal says, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger.

He pulls out his phone, types a quick message, and Rowan’s phone vibrates a few seconds later.

“Next week? Same time?” Mal’s tone sounds somehow both hopeful and fearful.

“Ye-yeah. Course.”

Rowan shoves a french fry in his mouth and can’t keep the smile off his face.

AS SOON as Rowan wakes the next morning, he takes his meds and Googles sexual asphyxiation.

He’s aware in theory how to do it safely, partly from having done it in the past, and partly from his training as a paramedic. Avoid the trachea, the larynx, and the hyoid bone and squeeze gently at the carotid arteries to slow the flow of blood to the brain. Always press on the sides of the neck, never the front. He’s done it a little bit with some partners in the past, but this is Mal, and Rowan doesn’t want to risk his well-being for anything.

There are dozens of articles on it, some sketchy and some legitimate. He opens a few tabs and begins reading: The history behind it, the cultural taboo around it, the inclusion (or exclusion) of it in some BDSM circles… there’s so much information. Some of it he can tell immediately is crap, reminding him of when Mal had sent him a list of BDSM books to read and warned him against stuff that was total bullshit.

He reads the copious warnings carefully. There are common side effects, including muscle weakness, loss of coordination, dizziness, and coughing, which can be expected if done for too long a period of time. Then there’s the chance for permanent brain damage, lung damage, artery damage, or even death in some cases (though most often when done to oneself). The list goes on and on and makes his head spin. He won’t lie, he is worried about the potential consequences, and those warnings should be a full-stop deterrent, but….