What does he like? He’s tempted to say Everything you did earlier was fuckin’ perfect. And it was, but he wants to be more specific.

“I’m into pretty much all the things you are, in terms of toys and kinks and shit. Nothing extreme or gross. I like being in control, obviously, but only if it’s earned. I like when my partner puts up a bit of a fight. But I get off hardest on making my partner feel good.”

“Lotta people say that.”

“I’m not a lotta people.”

“Tch. Can say that again,” Mal says, a flash of teeth peeking through the corner of his upturned lips.

That was probably a compliment. Mal seems the type to give indirect compliments like that rather than straightforward ones, and Rowan’s completely okay with it. It lets him know he’s not alone in his… whatever he’s feeling toward the other man.

“How do you feel about edging and orgasm denial?” Rowan asks, and he swears he can see Mal’s pupils dilate.

“Love it.”

Fuckin’ perfect.

“Cool. That’s good. Kinda one of my favorite things.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“So you like longer sessions, then?”

“Uh, how long do you consider long?” Rowan asks.

“Few hours,” Mal replies. “Club limit’s four hours, though.”

“I’m good going for that long. I have decent stamina.”

Mal huffs a small laugh. “Yeah, unlike everyone else tonight. Think that Van Damme guy lasted, like, five thrusts.”

Rowan’s lips curl into a smile. He doesn’t really like shitting on people, but the other men who were part of the gangbang were pretty terrible across the board for a long list of reasons.

“Yeah. Kinda surprising for an exclusive club. Thought people’d be better.”

“You’d be surprised,” Mal muses. He pops a stray home fry into his mouth, and Rowan has no idea where he’s putting all that food. “Thought you were gonna deck that blond kid at the end.”

“I don’t like sharing.”

It’s the wrong thing to say, judging by the quick pulse of Mal’s eyebrows toward his nose.

“To be clear,” Mal says, steeling his face. “We ain’t exclusive. Either way. I’m good with barebacking for everything as long as we’re both clean, but if one of us fucks someone else before our next test, we use condoms. That good with you?”

“Yeah, of course. Sorry, didn’t mean it like that.”

He is okay with it. Really. Though even as high as his sex drive is, it’s unlikely that Rowan’s going to want to fuck anyone else, knowing what’s—who’s—going to be waiting for him come Saturday.

Feeling like their discussion is coming to an end, Rowan closes his Notes app and swipes to his contacts, asking, “What’s your number?”

Mal tells him, and Rowan enters each digit silently yet punctuated by the rapid staccato of his heart. He types out Mal’s first name, realizing as he does that Mal knows his last name, but not vice versa. “Hey, what’s your last name?”