Rowan holds his cock at the base, pumps himself once, and rubs the tip along Mal’s outstretched tongue, watching as Mal’s eyes flutter closed at the taste. His lips close around the head, ready to suck, but Rowan drags his cock to the side, watching rapt as Mal’s cheek bulges before it pops out the side of his mouth. He feels the hot puff of air as Mal exhales, but it’s cut short when Rowan sticks his cock back in. A groan vibrates through Mal’s lips as Rowan repeats the action, growing stronger as Mal sucks a little harder each time his mouth is filled.

And God, when Rowan finally relents and stops teasing both Mal and himself and presses his cock deeper inside, it’s as good as he remembered. Better even, now that they’re alone and there’s only the sounds of Rowan’s steady breaths and the wet slurp of Mal working his cock with his lips and tongue. He looks so fucking perfect with his lips stretched wide and eyes scrunched tight and…

… oh.

Oh, that’s not right. Rowan shifts his hand from where it has been resting, easily nestled into Mal’s hair, and cups his cheek, runs his thumb across his temple.

“Look at me,” he says, voice even.

And when Mal’s eyes flutter open and he looks up at Rowan through his dark lashes, lips tight around his cock and still languidly sucking, well, Rowan can’t help but tell him how good he looks.

“Fuckin’ perfect like this.”

Mal hums around him, the vibrations tingling through the head of his dick and making Rowan’s breath hitch. And the little shit must love that, using his tongue to push Rowan’s cock against the side of his mouth so that Rowan can feel it bulging through his cheek, which, okay, fuck.

Rowan dips his head back for a second, long enough to get his bearings as Mal works him over expertly. He’s forced to look down at him again when he feels a hand curl around his shaft and Mal’s mouth pull off a few inches.

Prying Mal’s fingers off and pushing them away with a flick of his wrist, Rowan tells him, “Said I wanted your mouth, not your hand.”

He thrusts back in the few inches that he’d slipped out, feeling the back of Mal’s throat close around the tip of his cock and the sputtering choke that follows. Mal’s hands jerk up involuntarily and clutch at Rowan’s thighs.

“Keep ’em in your lap,” Rowan says, voice stern. And when he pulls them back down, hovering over his dick, Rowan adds, “But don’t fuckin’ touch yourself,” for good measure. Mal’s fingers clench, but he dutifully places a palm on each thigh.

Rowan feels more than hears Mal’s slight whimper at the direction, little more than a tingling sensation around the head of his cock. Then Mal gets to work in earnest, dutifully sucking him down, head bobbing and hands clawing into his thighs, little red crescents forming in his skin from Mal’s blunt nails. Rowan lets him work on his own for a long few minutes, growing harder with each passing second and each dribble of spit that runs down Mal’s chin.