3

-North-

THE ROOMis tidy in ten. it's possibly the fastest I've ever moved, which is no easy feat considering I'm on all fours with a sizable dildo up my ass. Guess I just needed the right motivation. When I'm done I kneel by the bed, since sitting seems like a bad idea, and try not to touch my caged cock.

Mal returns fresh and clean, and after a quick inspection of the room, he bends me over the side of the bed and fucks me again, this time with my cage off. The ball gag barely stifles the ridiculous noises that he forces out of me as he works my cock in tandem with his thrusts. I'm already so close to the edge that it's pathetic how fast I come. He slams into me once, twice, and then I'm crying out as my body constricts and my wet heat spills between my belly and the bedsheet.

Afterward, Mal takes me to the shower. I'm expecting him to stand to the side like he usually does while he washes me down, with his sleeves rolled up and the water soaking the front of his shirt. I let the water run over my face, and when I open my eyes again Mal is peeling his clothes off. All of them. I stare, transfixed, as he reveals his body, his chest and shoulders, stomach, and abs, then slides his pants and briefs down his long legs, until he's standing completely naked in front of me. I blink water out of my eyes. What's happening? Is this real?

Despite my best efforts, it's impossible not to outright stare, mouth agape, as he steps into the shower next to me.

This has never happened before. Mal has never been fully naked in front of me, and fuck me, it's a sight to see. He's like a Greek god, long, lean, and built with smooth muscles.

I don't say anything, just silently step over to make room for him, even though the whole team could fit in this shower. He stands stiffly, his eyes cast down as water cascades along his body, running in rivulets over the lines of his muscles, and beading on his eyelashes. My mouth's hanging so wide open I'm surprised I don't drown.

After a while, my brain reconnects to the rest of my body.

"Didn't you literally just have a shower?" I ask, because I can't think of a single thing to say.

"You got me dirty again," he mutters.

I can't argue with that. Not that I want to, with his fully naked body so close to me.

He starts cleaning me, lathering shower gel between his hands and gently working it into the skin of my stomach, ass, and thighs.

He ducks down to work my legs and I stare at the top of his head and try not to get a boner again so soon. This is hot, but I don't want to jinx it.

After the shower, Mal fixes us breakfast. It's grits today, but at least I don't have to suffer through that healthy sludge drink. Just thinking about it makes me gag.

He has his grits plain, like a true psychopath, but he puts out honey and a bowl of sliced fruit for me. I pile it on.

This scene, us here like this, is so close to the fantasy I have of us in my head as a fully-fledged couple, and now for the first time, I actually believe we can get there. We can make this work. We just need a little longer to allow Mal to fully inch out of his shell. Like an adorable little bad-tempered hermit crab.

"Sorry about the room being such a mess," I say around a mouthful of honey, fruits, and grits. "I don't want it to seem like I expect you to tidy up after me."

He shrugs. "I don't really mind, but I had to find something to punish you for. You've been doing so well I'm running out of reasons, and I can't have you getting too cocky." He smirks and spoons grits into his mouth.

My mouth drops open. He stopped tidying just so he'd have a reason to punish me. "You sneaky bastard."

He spoons another load into his mouth and swallows, smug. "Don't act like you didn't like it."

I snort.

He keeps telling me how well I'm doing, and I want to tell him that he's been doing great too. Ever since the night he interrupted my date and marked my body—I shiver at the memory—he's changed. It's like a switch inside him somewhere has flipped and now he isn't trying to hide from me, not like before. And I can see how much effort it takes him sometimes.

But I know if I say that he'll go all stiff and awkward, and right now I'm enjoying the way his body drapes so lazily in his chair and over the countertop, all loose and relaxed from coming twice already.

Why is it that Mal can do all kinds of filthy things to me without blinking an eye, but say something nice to him and he shuts down?

One of the things that's different now is that when I ask him a question he actually tries to answer it. I don't push him if he's struggling, but I still take advantage of it every opportunity I get. And this morning I'm back on my bullshit.

I polish off another spoonful, dripping with so much honey it makes my teeth hurt, and wave the spoon at him.

"So, are you gay? Bi?"

He blinks, caught off guard by my sudden tangent, but recovers quickly with a grimace. His face says it all; oh great, welcome to twenty questions with Mal again.

"I'm gay," he says.

For some reason, the thought of him being with other guys is worse than him being with girls. I guess I want to feel special. I want to be the exception to his rule like he was for me.

"What was your last boyfriend like?" I say, trying to sound nonchalant despite the jealousy tightening my stomach.

He looks down at his bowl, stirring the grits. "I've never had a boyfriend."

"What? A total hottie like you?"

He shrugs, his top straining over his shoulders. "I don't need that kind of thing," he says. "I like to keep things easy."

I can't help snorting at that.

"Right. So is this easy?" I say, because it's been anything but. This is the most stressful, complicated relationship I've ever had with anyone.

"No. But also, yes." He clears his throat and stares into his bowl like the pale sludge in it is the most interesting thing in the room. "It's too easy being with you. I'm not used to it being like this."

Oh. My heart. Without thinking, I reach over and tip his head toward me. I lean in and stop an inch away from his face. This is our routine now. I wait for him to take the last step and come to me.

He draws a deep breath, closes his eyes, and kisses me. It's long and deep and hungry, his lips trembling like he's trying to hold himself back. To not lose himself. I feel for him, but to be honest, I fucking love it too. The fact that I can make his vise like grip waver with something so simple.

When he finishes, I murmur against his lips, "I can make it a bit harder for you if you want. You horrible asshole."

He snorts as he goes back to his breakfast, his lips are pink and swollen, and his cheeks have a red tinge. I lick my lips, satisfied with myself.

We eat in comfortable silence for a while until a thought occurs to me.

"Oh, the guys on the team are doing a social on Friday," I say.

He eyes me. "What kind?"

"I think it's a bar crawl." I know it's a bar crawl.

"Sounds horrible," he says. "But you can go if you want. Take it as a reward for good behavior."

I scrape my spoon around the edge of my bowl. "Actually, I was thinking it'd be fun for both of us to go."

"Both of us?"

"Yeah."

"Together?"

"Not like, as a couple." I'm still not sure how to go about coming out to everyone, and I'm definitely not into anyone finding out exactly what is going on between me and Mal. Even though I'm pretty sure not all of them are straight, the guys might look at me differently if they knew I liked being tied up and fucked into oblivion. And I'm not ready for that. I'm not like Mal, I care what people think of me. Call me vain, but I can't help it.

He gives me a long-ass look. "I don't do socials. I don't do bar crawls."

"Oh, come on, it'll be fun! And I think it'd be good for you to hang out with the guys a bit, let them see you're not that scary."

His eyes narrow, and then he fits his hand around my jaw, tilts my head up, and leans into my face.

"What makes you think I'm not scary?"

I gulp.

How many times can you fuck in one morning? Asking for a friend.