He wastes no time preparing a shake for breakfast—frozen fruits, handfuls of fresh spinach, protein powder, milk, and almonds all blended into a sweet drink that he chugs in between dressing in his running clothes.

When he leaves the house, he’s only intending to run a mile, maybe two, to get his blood flowing. But he gets lost in his thoughts, rows of apartments and houses passing by in a blur, giving way to small shops as his legs carry him on his longer route, and before he knows it, he’s hit five miles as his apartment building comes back into view.

It feels good.

Despite the heat and the sweat dripping from his temples when he’s back inside his apartment, he doesn’t bother to do more than splash some cool water on his face and run a wet cloth over his neck and shoulders. He’s planning on taking a much longer shower before he leaves tonight.

By lunchtime he’s already half hard in his sweats, but he forces himself to ignore it, not wanting to have trouble getting it up again tonight. It likely wouldn’t be an issue, but he’s not chancing it. Especially not for his and Mal’s first time alone.

Damn.

He’s gonna get to fuck him again in a few short hours.

The anticipation of it makes him feel like an eager teenager again. Idly, he wonders if he’s ever looked forward to seeing anyone as much as this. Not likely. Even in his past relationships, few and far between as they were, he remembers feeling like it was a chore to see his partner rather than a gift. Something to look forward to. Hopefully, it’s a good sign that that doesn’t seem to be the case with Mal, even if they’re only going to be fucking.

When he deems it late enough and he’s tired of pacing his living room and twiddling his thumbs, he showers thoroughly, styles his hair, and dresses similarly to last time, dark jeans but this time with a dark gray button-up shirt, leaving the top two buttons undone. He likes showing off the small patch of skin there with the soft curls of his chest hair peeking out through the lapels of the shirt and the low neck of the white tank top he’s wearing underneath. It makes him feel hot. Desirable. Like a goddamn adult man and not the barely legal waxed teen he’d been when he last frequented clubs like this.

The time passes by in a blur, and before he knows it, it’s seven twenty and he’s out the door.

It’s a bit earlier than necessary for him to get there and be ready to go by eight, but since Mal hasn’t texted him again and since he started the gangbang right at 8:00 p.m., Rowan wants to make sure he won’t be late.