Mal’s hoarse moan rises in a crescendo that spikes Rowan’s heart rate through the roof.

“Fu-fuck…!”

“Don’t come,” Rowan warns.

“Please…,” Mal begs.

“I said no. Don’t disappoint me.”

Rowan works him faster, until the point where it looks like Mal might actually combust if he’s teased any more. He can see his fingers and toes curl in his peripheral vision, and he finally lets up as Mal’s stomach clenches violently.

“Fuuuuck!”

“That’s it. So fuckin’ perfect.”

He withdraws and turns off all the toys and dumps them on the table. Rowan cups Mal’s chin in his hand, turning his face toward him, whispering low in his ear.

“Can I kiss you in front of them? Show them how good you are for me? That you’re mine?”

They’d already talked about it, but—

“Y-yeah,” Mal breathes.

And Rowan slots his mouth over Mal’s, slipping his tongue inside in a filthy, sensual kiss that makes him throb and Mal’s knees buckle. Rowan grips under his ass, supporting his weight as he takes him apart with his lips and tongue. There’s a groan somewhere behind them and a gasp or two, but Rowan ignores everything but the feeling of Mal’s talented lips on his own, giving as good as he gets.

When they part, a thin trail of spit connects their lips, Mal’s jaw slack and his eyes hazy and lidded. Rowan wipes the spit away with his thumb, running it along Mal’s lower lip and feeling Mal shudder slightly beneath him.

“So good for me, Mal,” Rowan tells him in a low voice that only he can hear.

Mal gives another full-body shudder at the use of his name. Here, he’s used to being Malcolm. He’s been going by his full name here since he joined almost eight years ago, and earned a lucrative reputation under it. Rowan doesn’t care what other people call him. Because with Rowan, he’s always been Mal. Something that none of these assholes watching him and getting off to him will ever have.

But at the same time, he loves showing Mal off. Loves showing how fucking good and gorgeous his boyfriend is, even if no one here knows that they’re anything beyond Dom and sub to one another. He knows that he’s the one going home to Mal nearly every night. He’s the one who gets all sides of Mal, beyond this hypersexual, physical side. He gets the quiet moments, the funny moments, the joyful and sad moments alike. He gets all of Mal, and he wouldn’t trade him for anything.

Fuck. He needs him, and he wants him, so badly it makes his chest ache.