He’s beautiful, perfect, gorgeous, and Rowan’s never wanted to keep kissing someone so badly in his entire fucking life, his lungs aching for the taste of him.

“Stay,” Mal whispers, lips still brushing against Rowan’s.

Rowan nods silently, pressing his forehead against Mal’s and letting his eyes drift shut as his lips find Mal’s once more.

IT’S EASY, navigating being in Mal’s space. Far easier than he thought it might be in the spare seconds he’d given to thinking about it between kissing Mal. They slip their briefs back on and pad barefoot across the plush carpet of the bedroom to the bathroom.

Side by side, they wash their hands and faces and wipe the come off of their stomachs. They brush their teeth in tandem—Rowan borrowing an extra toothbrush that Mal had stashed under the sink—like they’ve been doing it for years. Rowan takes his pills he always carries with him with a cup of tap water, completely unashamed of doing so in front of Mal for the first time.

It feels so good, so domestic, that it fills Rowan with amber and sunlight in a way that he’s never felt before.

Together they change the soiled sheets, working side by side so easily that Rowan’s heart soars with every corner they tuck in. It reminds Rowan of that first time they cleaned up the bed together after the gangbang—working as if they’ve been cohabiting each other’s space for years, not months.

They climb into bed, Rowan on the left and Mal on the right, again so natural and uncomplicated that Rowan questions why he was ever worried about them working out in the first place.

They face each other, talking about nothing important as their eyelids droop closed and the promise of sleep takes them. Mal leans forward, drawing Rowan into a simple kiss that makes Rowan melt.

Mal rolls onto his other side, letting Rowan wrap his arm around his waist and pull him close against his chest. Rowan feels him sigh before relaxing completely into the mattress, warm and pliable and the best thing Rowan’s ever felt in his arms.

Like that, they fall into a deep, peaceful sleep.

WHEN ROWAN wakes in the morning, it’s the warmest he’s ever felt.

For a brief moment, it doesn’t register why he feels this way, until he tries to turn over onto his side and is greeted with Mal’s peaceful face. Mal’s right arm is flung across Rowan’s stomach, curling protectively around his side. His face is nuzzled into Rowan’s shoulder, one cheek smooshed up so his lips are parted slightly, a thin wisp of drool in the corner. Hair ruffled within an inch of its life.

He’s by far the most beautiful thing Rowan’s ever seen, and he looks his fill to commit every part of this moment to memory.