For a second, he’s tempted to pause. To check in and make sure he didn’t cross a line. To be soft.

But the way Mal’s fingers dig into Rowan’s hips at the band of his boxer briefs, knuckle tattoos vibrant against his pale skin, makes him reconsider.

Want you to be rough with me, Mal’s text echoes in his head.

“You done bein’ a fuckin’ brat, or do you actually want me to fuck a fake pussy instead of your ass?” Rowan asks.

A beat, then two. Mal doesn’t respond.

A sharp tug at the roots of his hair. “That would be one of the times I want you to answer.”

A pause then “No.” Grumbled. Annoyed.

Two can play at that game.

“No you’re not done bein’ a brat, or no you don’t want me to fuck the toy?”

Rowan can practically feel the resentment radiating from Mal as his muscles tense beneath him. So different from the near embarrassment he’d shown a few moments ago at being addressed by name. Yet now Mal answers, “Don’t want you to fuck the toy,” through gritted teeth.

“’S what I thought.” Rowan huffs out a low laugh, cupping Mal’s chin with his thumb and pointer finger and tilting his head up to meet his eyes. “That mean you’ll be good for me?”

And, yeah, okay, a small part of him does wish that Mal would be good and do everything he says. But a much larger, harder part of himself wants him to keep going. Wants him to keep being the petty, whiny, mouthy brat that he is when he’s naked and make Rowan work for it.

But he can’t let him know that. Not right now at least.

In lieu of a verbal response, Mal nods against his fingers, curtly, clipped almost, if that’s possible with a gesture. Rowan takes it as a win.

“Good. ’Cause I missed this greedy fuckin’ mouth of yours,” Rowan tells him, dragging his thumb along Mal’s lower lip. Mal cranes his neck to follow the trail of Rowan’s hand, until he sucks the digit into his mouth, tonguing over Rowan’s first knuckle. “Yeah. Want you to get my dick nice and wet, just like that.” He lets him suck on it for a few seconds more before pulling it out of his mouth and wiping his thumb on the side of Mal’s cheek. “Got a job to finish first, though.”

At once, Mal’s fingers tug Rowan’s jeans the rest of the way down his legs, waiting for Rowan to step out of them before folding and placing them on the bed.

He curls his hands into Rowan’s briefs and tugs them down, Rowan’s cock bobbing out and hanging hard between his legs. In a flash his briefs are with the rest of his clothes, and Mal’s eye level with Rowan’s cock and looking hungry, eyes half lidded. Mal drops his jaw and presses his tongue against his bottom lip, inviting Rowan inside.