Rowan wraps his free hand around the base of Malcolm’s cock, tight enough to stave off the orgasm he can sense building from the rippling of his walls.

“It’s Rowan. That’s the only thing that’s gonna let you come on my cock tonight.”

He strokes Malcolm but keeps his grip tight, right to the edge of what he knows is painful.

“I can feel how fuckin’ close you are. Cock dripping over my fingers. Slutty ass tightening around me. Didn’t think you’d still be able to clench after all the cock you took tonight.”

“Fuck me, si—”

Breathy, but monotone.

And while the instant switch from cursing him out to near begging is insanely hot, it’s not what Rowan wants. Judging by the lungfuls of air Malcolm is gulping down as Rowan slows his hips more, angling up to brush against his prostate, not what he wants either.

“Name’s not sir.”

“M—”

Rowan grips him tighter around the base, stills his hips to a torturously slow crawl.

“I said no. My name or I pass you off to one’a these fuckin’ pussies and let them try to make you come.”

It’s a bluff. A boldfaced lie. Rowan doesn’t trust any of these people to treat Malcolm as well as he knows he can, as well as he already has tonight, and they’ve hardly exchanged any words in the mere hours they’ve known each other.

But the threat is enough.

Malcolm’s voice is low, barely audible over the pants and groans and slick sounds of men jerking off around them. If his head wasn’t dipped back onto Rowan’s shoulder, Rowan might have missed it altogether.

But it’s there.

He hears it.

“Rowan….”

A tiny rasp of a thing, whispered in one single syllable rather than two. And God if it isn’t the hottest fucking thing he’s heard in his life.

“Again.”

Rowan speeds up his hips, loosens his grip on Malcolm’s cock and pumps him in time with his thrusts, angling up to hit his prostate on every stroke.

His name comes easier this time. Louder. Breathier. Properly, with two syllables.

“Rowan.”

He pistons into Malcolm, driving his full length into Malcolm’s ass hard enough to bruise his cheeks and Rowan’s hips alike. The cock in his hand twitches as he strokes and twists and flicks his fingers over the tip.

“That’s it. Again.”

“Rowan, please—”

He thought it’d be harder to get him begging, whimpering his name in pure desperation, but really, it wasn’t difficult at all. Like he’d been waiting for someone to make him do it. Doesn’t beg for anyone, my ass, Rowan thinks.

Everything is a blur, all of Rowan’s senses going into overdrive as he gives everything he has to the man in front of him. He can feel him shaking, vibrating under his ministrations, muscles taut like a bowstring poised to snap the second it’s touched the right way.

“Once more. Then you can come.”

That way.