He bends down, tonguing over Mal’s clamped nipples, the metallic bite of the clamps cold on his tongue, but Mal’s flesh hot. Mal writhes underneath him, straining against his bonds. Rowan presses him back against the cross with a hand to his rib cage, nearly covering the entire length of his abdomen. Despite that Mal’s a full-grown man, it’ll never cease to make Rowan go fucking insane that he’s that much smaller than Rowan that his hand can span half of his torso.

He can feel Mal’s moan vibrate through his rib cage.

Rowan leans in, breathing in Mal’s scent deeply as he shakes against the cross, all sweat and musk and Mal. A smell he’ll never get tired of.

“Rowan,” Mal gasps, pulse hammering loud enough for Rowan to hear. “C’mon….”

“C’mon what?” Rowan replies, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Need more….”

“Funny that you think you’ve earned more already.”

Mal mewls, a frustrated, garbled sound in the back of his throat. Rowan tugs on his nipple clamps, drawing a gasp from the other man.

“You’ll get more when I say you get more.”

“Not fair…,” Mal complains, torn between pressing into Rowan’s hand and pulling away from the pain.

Smack!

Rowan slaps Mal’s outer thigh hard, skin blossoming red from the impact.

“Nng!”

“That’s enough whining.”

“I wouldn’t have to—”

Smack! Smack!

Two more sharp blows against his thigh, Rowan’s palm stinging with the force of the hits.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Rowan reaches back, pressing hard against the prostate massager and driving it deeper into Mal’s ass.

“Fuck!”

“That’s better.”

Mal moans again, hands balling into fists in his cuffs and teeth digging into his lower lip.

After a long while of teasing touches, Rowan takes pity on him, dipping his hand inside Mal’s jockstrap and releasing his cock from its confines. He’s so fucking hard, leaking profusely, and Rowan slicks up his hand and pumps him once, twice, spreading the precome around his cock.

He grabs the masturbator, slicks it with lube and brings it to the very tip of Mal’s cock, teasing the edge of it at his head. Mal’s hips fly forward, instantly trying to get more of himself into the toy, a gasped moan escaping his lips.

His abs flex and strain as his hips undulate in the desperate attempt to fuck deeper into the toy. It’s like his body can’t decide between shifting his hips back onto the prostate massager and forward into the masturbator, making him twitch wildly and rock forward and backward with little coordination. It’s the hottest fucking thing Rowan’s ever seen. If he could spend the rest of his life watching Mal in the throes of pleasure, he’d do so in a heartbeat.