Garret J. Foss (cant_touchthis) wrote in tiberiusswann, @ 2010-10-10 17:35:00 |
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Entry tags: | garret, malakai |
Sunday August 17th 2008
Who: Malakai and Garret
What: Waking up
Where: Mal's apartment
When: Sunday morning
Rating: NSFW
The bed was deliciously warm and comfortable, and the blanket caressed every bit of Garret's nude form. He had lost the towel that was loosely wrapped around him very early in the night, the damp terrycloth kicked somewhere down by his feet. Finally rousing after a twelve hour slumber, the pathfinder opened his blue eyes, looking up at the ceiling, blinking sleep away. For a moment he wondered where he was, but remembered after a moment. He was in Mal's apartment, and last night had been awful, but sleeping beside the hound had been just wonderful. Soothing, and safe, warm and sexy. Mal's body was perfectly shaped and a dream to sleep beside. Garret had felt like he'd been the one being protected, and usually he was the one doing the protecting.
Sitting up, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, yawning loudly. God he felt rested, but still totally exhausted. And lonely. "Mal?" he called out, throat dry and voice scratchy.
Mal had woken up earlier in the morning with a sleep-happy Garret wrapped around him. Not on or next to, wrapped around. After somehow disentangling himself without waking him, Mal dressed and moved to the bathroom, checking on the blood-soaked clothes he’d let sit overnight in water. It seemed to be working, so Mal would add it to his laundry later that day. No need for Garret to worry about it. Moving to the kitchen, he pulled out the crepe batter from the fridge, letting it warm up a bit while he sliced fruits and pulled out various toppings. A pan was set on the stove to heat, and then the batter went down one ladle at a time.
Mal had mostly finished when he heard Garret waking up. Slipping the newest crepe under the warm towel with the rest, he poured out the last of the batter, waiting for Garret to smell breakfast and come to the kitchen.
---
As expected, Garret got no response. He would not have put it past the hound to simply leave, either assuming that Garret needed the alone time or just needing to go about his day, without considering that waking up alone was one of the worst feelings in the world. Shoulders slumping a little, the pathfinder swept his hair back off his forehead, blowing out a deep breath. He supposed that he should get dressed and go, maybe head to the infirmary and check on Rorie, maybe see how Finn was doing. Or he could go home, call his boyfriend later from the apartment, tell him he needed to change clothing. Ugh, just the thought of having to put that bloody uniform on again was enough to make his stomach turn.
Closing his eyes, Garret drew in a deep breath... and smelled something lovely. Slowly, a small smile spread over his lips. Mal was here, and he was cooking. Slipping from the bed with new vigor, Garret raided the hellhound's drawers for a pair of pajama pants (and they were softer than a baby duck's ass, seriously), slipped them on and padded barefoot into the kitchen. The man was shirtless as he was the night before, in the same pants as last night, standing over a stove. Making crepes. Garret paused in the doorway, just looked over Mal, his heart warming at the sight. "Hey," he said softly, leaning against the doorframe, sleepy blue eyes smiling.
---
Mal didn’t even bother to glance over his shoulder to know that Garret was there. He’d not only heard him tromping about the bedroom and rustling through the drawers, but he could smell him over the vanilla and cinnamon flavoring the air. “Good morning. How’d you sleep?” Flipping the last crepe, he waited thirty seconds before adding it to the pile and bringing it to the table. It was already set for two and laid out with sliced bananas, strawberries, blueberries, syrup, yogurt, nutella and butter. Orange juice was in a short glass next to each plate. “Hungry?”
Not bothering to wait, Malakai took a seat in his normal chair, watching Garret hold up the doorway.
---
There was almost nothing about Mal that didn’t suprise Garret at some point. As he stood there, watching the man cook, he couldn’t even think of the proper word for the moment. He was... awestruck? Touched? Delighted? Nothing seemed right. It almost felt like the first time he’d seen Rorie from across the hotel room, saw the younger man in his grey pinstripe vest and his tie, and he’d looked so beautiful and it had made it hard for Garret to speak. This was kind of like that, only just a touch different. At that time, he hadn’t known Rorie much, didn’t know what to expect. But he did know Mal, and he knew what to expect from the hound, and this wasn’t it. He didn’t really know what this was.
He took his seat, not saying anything yet. This felt like he was still dreaming. He was still in shock, that had to be it. And Malakai wasn’t completely without emotion, maybe. He knew Garret needed a little less... abrasion than the hound normally delivered. Still, Garret hadn’t expected this kind of tenderness and consideration. He sipped his juice, grabbing his fork to stab a banana slice. “I slept fine,” he said finally. “Better than I expected. Thanks for letting me stay. And for not waking me, although you could have, I wouldn’t have minded.” There was just something that felt off, something he couldn’t put his finger on. Something nagging in his brain.
---
Malakai had intended to make breakfast for himself as he usually did. It was a simple matter the night before to add a couple more ingredients to the mix to double it. Just as it was easy to slice a couple bananas as it was two, and double the strawberries. He had a dishwasher, so he didn’t care how many dishes were used. In his mind, it was no big deal.
“Good. I’m glad you slept well.” Malakai spread some Nutella on his first crepe, then loaded it with bananas, a drizzle of honey and wrapped up the whole thing like a breakfast burrito. “You’re welcome here whenever, you know that. Not like I could keep you out anyways.” People being able to phase through objects made privacy difficult, but Mal didn’t mind Garret. “Besides,” he added, a twinkle in his eye. “I knew you couldn’t stay away very long.” It probably wasn’t the right tack to take, attempting a joke after a rough night, but he’d try and see how it went.
---
It took a minute, but Garret finally realized what it was that was off. This wasn’t a morning after staying with a friend. This was a “morning after” moment. This was the ritual before the walk of shame. Garret smiled to himself a little, spreading Nutella on his own crepe, trying to keep his smirk to a minimum. He would keep out of Mal’s space, if the man requested it, but it was good to know that he didn’t have to exercise control, since he was pretty terrible at it. And speaking of...
Luckily for Mal, the joke was well received, with a bright grin and a chagrined shake of the head. “I guess not,” he confessed, spreading a few strawberries on his plate, folding up the edges of his crepe toward the center, like a turnover. “Not that either of us can say we didn’t know who’d win the war. I could vanish forever and you probably wouldn’t notice.” He hadn’t said it coldly, or with any indication that the statement bothered him. And why should it? It was probably true. Mal liked Garret, yes, but he was still just a human, like many he had known before. And since Mal had never mentioned any other human, or really anyone, from his past that he missed, it seemed only logical that Garret would be faded to the background as time went on. He didn’t like it, but Garret didn’t like false hope even more.
---
Mal knew that what Garret said was true, so why then did it bother him to hear it? Maybe because he was one of the first to truly get to know him, or not take advantage of him. He wasn’t sure, but it caused him to stare at his breakfast in thought for a moment. It wasn’t enough to ruin his appetite, but enough to distract from it. Taking a bite of his wrap, Mal let the chocolate hazelnut spread melt in his mouth. So good.
Needing to get back into the jovial mood, Mal let a twinkle come into his eyes as he teased. “Admit it. You just love me for my body.” He wasn’t going to think about what Garret said last night. He wasn’t.
---
Garret didn’t notice that Mal had paused, because Mal was always quiet. The hound was reserved, taking deep thought before speaking, considering things carefully. If Garret worried every time there was a pause before Mal spoke, he’d do nothing but worry.
Cutting off a bite sized piece of crepe with his fork, Garret scoffed, and scoffed hard, at Mal’s statement. “Uh, you’re the one in love with me,” he informed the other man. “Remember? I totally respect you for your mind, baby.” He gave Mal a wink, taking a bite of his crepe concoction and humming a little in delight. “But your undying devotion for me? It is definitely for my body. And my obedience...” He grabbed his orange juice glass, peering up at Mal over the rim before adding in a sultry tone, “Master.”
---
A little shiver echoed down his spine as Mal’s eyes flashed red for a moment before he could control himself. He was suddenly hungry, and not for breakfast. Garret always seemed to know just which buttons to push. “Careful there, pup,” Mal grinned. “I’ve got all day and no place to be.” It would be a relatively simple matter to cuff Garret to the headboard and make him beg.
“Either way, that wasn’t what you said last night.” Alright, so he was going to bring it up. He was curious and wanted to know the reasoning behind it. Was it just because Garret was in shock, making it something he’d say to anyone? Mal doubted it, but he wanted to know. Though, knowing Garret like he did, the pathfinder would find some way to wiggle out of admitting it and turn it around like it meant nothing.
---
Garret half purred, half chuckled. He loved it when Malakai called him “pup”. It was cute, almost like a pet name. Mal was cute so rarely. Unfortunately, Garret probably did have someplace to be today. He'd need to check in on Rorie, call him at the very least. And he would need clothing. It would probably not be in his best interest to goad Mal into dominance right now, although that sudden flash of red in the man's eyes was pretty priceless.
The statement, or accusation, or whatever it was, made Garret pause, brow furrowed in thought. What had he said last night? He'd been half asleep when the big L word had come out, and he didn't remember saying it. He remembered confessing to murder, and Mal reassuring him that he'd done what he needed to do. He remembered asking Mal to shift form, and he remembered asking him why he wasn't under the blankets, and he remembered Mal being warm and he'd told the man that he smelled delicious. But none of that was really out of the ordinary. None of that really pertained to the subject at hand. "What did I say last night?" he finally asked, clearly not coming to the conclusion himself.
---
Mal watched the expressions flit over Garret’s face. Confusion stood out the most. Did he really not remember? Shock seemed to be the answer then. There was no real reason for it. That suited him just fine. Shaking his head, Mal smiled. “Nothing important.” Grabbing his breakfast, he finished off the first crepe and reach for a second. Hmm, berries and yogurt for this one. Focusing his attention on his plate, he loaded up the crepe.
---
The answer of “nothing” was one of the least satisfying in the entire world. Garret frowned further, this time in displeasure and not in confusion. The only time he said things he didn't remember was when he was drinking, and he hadn't been drinking last night. Maybe he should have been, but he hadn't been. Maybe he'd talked in his sleep? Lloyd said he did sometimes, but again, usually when he was drunk. Or when he was trying to stay awake. "What was it?" he insisted, now starting to become concerned for his sanity. Last night had been traumatizing (or maybe it would've been to a lesser man), and if his brain was starting to slip, he wanted to know what his subconscious was spilling out.
---
Oh this was too much fun. Having Garret sit in his kitchen, breakfast under his hands and sweated about two words he said last night in his sleep-deprived state. Priceless. Calmly, Mal cut a hefty bite and ate it, chewing slowly and watching Garret squirm. Maybe this was a bit more fun than tying him up. Not much, but a bit. Finishing, he took a sip of his juice, sitting back in his chair.
“Two words.” He was sure it would’ve been three if Garret’d had the energy last night. But that wasn’t an issue. Right now, the man was across from Mal, still not getting answers. The hellhound smiled.
---
Oh, it was just so obvious how much Malakai was loving this. Garret narrowed his eyes, putting down his fork and crossing his arms, mirroring Mal as he sat back in his seat. Two words? How very unhelpful. "They weren't perhaps 'fuck you', were they?" he grumbled. Maybe he hadn't actually said anything, and he was just being toyed with. He wouldn't put it past the hound.
Huffing out a sigh, Garret picked up his fork again, stabbing another banana slice.
"I must've said you were fat," he concluded, not actually believing that was it but knowing he was probably never going to guess. "Which is why you needed reassurance that I love you for your body. Aren't you a little old for a midlife crisis?" Petty shot? Maybe.
---
“Aw, come now, Garret,” Malakai teased. “If you’d said ‘fuck you’ last night I would’ve happily fucked you.” It was obvious the man couldn’t resist him. Sipping his juice quite casually, he listened to Garret ramble. It was rather cute, the way he could just go on and dig himself into a hole, not realizing it.
“I don’t need any reassurances from you this morning. I got it last night.” And that was as much as Malakai was going to say. Let him stew over that for a bit.
---
It took a moment, a longer moment than it should have (because Garret hadn't had coffee yet), but finally the little brain light bulb clicked. And then Garret frowned again. He'd told Mal that he loved him? Well that wasn't at all what he'd have guessed. Ever. In a million years.
"Oh," he said simply, poking around at his crepe a bit. He looked up at Mal, who seemed amused more than anything. That expression pretty much said it all. He found Garret funny, his silly little human emotions just so quaint. Oh well. Garret would've been a fool to expect more from the guy. He took another bite of his breakfast, letting his gaze fall to the plate in thought.
---
Sure, Mal was amused. Who wouldn’t be at this situation? Garret was looking for the answer, and his face showed clearly the moment he figured it out. Watching it happen was funny. Human emotions in general were funny. For a couple thousand years, Malakai had only dealt with the darker side of life, or death as it were. There wasn’t much room for love when you were chasing down a soul running from the afterlife. Hellhounds didn’t experience love. Demons held none for them, so they didn’t know what it was. Admiration, loyalty, desire, all those were well known. Mal knew love went above and beyond that, but he didn’t understand it.
He’d spent most of the night staying away, trying to figure out what had prompted Garret to say something like that. Here it was past dawn and Mal was no closer to an answer than when he’d started. Just like he didn’t know what to do about it. Garret was sweet, a fun companion, an excellent bedmate and intriguing conversation. Beyond that? Even the hellhound didn’t know what to do. Time to start exploring. “Don’t look so down about it. It’s alright if you didn’t mean it.” Mal smiled, playing it light, though some little part of him wanted it to be true. Wanted to be loved.
---
Maybe it wasn’t really woth thinking about. After all, Mal certainly wouldn’t reciprocate any kind of feeling more complex than “you’re tolerable and aesthetically pleasing”. So really, Garret had nothing to think about. It wasn't like he was in love with him anyway, right?
Right?
Shaking his head a little, he took a bite of the crepe, the savory smooth flavors almost completely ignored. This was a startling revelation. When the hell had this happened? Lost in thought a moment, he didn't register Mal had spoken until a few seconds later. Looking at him, he met the hound’s blue eye with his own, for once completely sincere in his expression. “Except I did mean it,” he told him plainly. "But don't worry about it. I'm not asking anything different from you than I usually do." With a reassuring smile, Garret turned his attention back to his plate, slicing off pieces with the side of his fork.
---
Huh, so this was not at all how Mal had expected the morning to go. And not he had to figured out what to do. Garret said he didn’t expect anything else from him, but from what Mal had witnessed over the years, love demanded people change. Well, he wasn’t a human and by damn he wasn’t changing unless he wanted to.
Which brought up the next question. Mal had noticed that humans had multiple levels of ‘love’. Where did Garret place this? Where did that place Rorie? As curious as he was, he wasn’t going to ask and come off as needy. Giving a nod as the only response, he tucked into his breakfast, using the time to think.
---
Garret wished that Mal hadn't brought it up, that he hadn't said it to begin with, that when the hound offered it as a joke Garret had just played along, kept sincerity out of it. Now things were quiet, and despite how much of a pokerface Mal seemed to think he had, there was a flash of suprise and puzzlement in those eyes. Now he was thinking about it. There was nothing to think about. He didn't expect or even want anything of the other man. He had Rorie after all, and... and this was going to be complicated if they let it.
"What kind of detergent do you use?" he asked suddenly. "These pants are fucking soft, I feel like I'm sitting on kittens."
---
Mal nearly jerked his head up at the sudden change in topic. Detergent? He was oddly grateful for the change, it gave him something else to think about. “Like everything else, a special blend of mine.” Not really. It was more a combination of Downy and Tide along with those pants just being incredibly old. Wearing ‘em out was the best way to make clothes soft.
“You can borrow some of my clothes when you need to get dressed. I’ll have yours done by this afternoon.” He didn’t know what Garret’s plans were, but he needed to do some housecleaning. Laundry, dishes and finding the few dust bunnies under the sofa. Thank Hades there was no reason for him to touch water.
---
There was no need for things to get weird between them, and Garret would make sure that they didn't. He liked that things were casual with Mal, that they didn't get emotional and heavy and severe. That was one of the guy's major selling points. That and his abs, it was like running your hands over a fucking statue. "Your 'special blend', eh? Must be why my tongue feels so soft after you visit..." He chuckled to himself, feeling better now. See, this was easy, nothing to it. No need to complicate.
The fact that Mal was washing Garret's clothing was just so damn sweet. He smiled fondly at the hound, tilting his head slightly. "Awwwww!" he cooed, getting up to walk over to Mal and throw his arms around the man's shoulders, hugging him tightly. "You washed my clothes!" he crooned sappily. "That's soooo sweeeeeeet!" He planted kisses all over Mal's face, forehead, cheeks, neck, one on the tip of his nose.
---
Okay, that wasn’t at all the reaction Mal was expecting. Laughing and pushing Garret away, failing miserably it seemed, he told him, “I haven’t washed ‘em yet! They’re just soaking in the sink. You want wet drawers, go get ‘em yourself.” Seriously, what was it about Garret that just made him so damned cute and likable? It made Mal sick, but he couldn’t help it. Finally managing to push him away without hurting him, Mal pushed out of his chair, getting up to make coffee. He had a feeling he was going to need caffeine to keep his hands busy.
---
If Mal had bothered to wonder aloud what it was about Garret that made him so likeable, the pathfinder would have had an immediate answer. It was his boyish charm and roguish good looks. At least, that was the answer he'd concocted over the years.
Letting himself be pushed away, because no other force could do it, Garret plopped back down in his own seat, finishing his crepe in a few bites. Hrm, well he could do his own wash, and then stain them because he had no idea how to get blood out of things (that's what his maid had been for, and after that that's what laundry services had been for), or he could kick back and enjoy watching Mal be all domesticated. Oh, maybe he'd bake something! Sexy. The thought of the hound in a little frilly apron made him drool just a bit.
Forgoing a second crepe, Garret spooned various amounts of strawberry, banana, yogurt and berries onto his plate, mixing them into a flat parfait lump. Eh, maybe some more nutella, for zest. "So what's your plans for today?" he called over to Mal, taking a bite of his mess. It was damn delicious. "More importantly, when am I being evicted?"
---
Over the years, Mal had learned to get so many different stains out of clothes, it was ridiculous. The only one he couldn’t fix was scorch marks, which generally meant he ended up buying a lot of clothes. Sure, he had a lot of money saved up over the years, in several countries, but a person doesn’t get that way buying clothes every few days.
If Garret would suggest something he liked, Mal would probably make it, if he had the ingredients on hand. It may have been odd, but the hound liked to cook. He ate raw meat, so anything beyond that was a delicacy. Humans could put together so many different flavors and textures, and with his nose, it was a heavenly overload. Hmm, he should talk to Cassie soon about starting up both those cooking lessons and the private ones.
Starting the coffee, Mal moved back to the table, picking up a third crepe. With his high metabolism, he had a voracious appetite. Eating half a dozen crepes in a single sitting was nothing to him. This one he smeared with butter and a drizzle of maple syrup. “No real plans today except for laundry. You can stay however long you want.” Though the longer Garret stayed, the greater the risk of finding himself pantless and cuffed to the bed, the electric bands on him again. Mal smirked at the image, eyes darkening as he watched Garret. This could work.
---
Since Rorie ate like a pregnant woman as well, Garret thought little of Mal digging into a third crepe. It actually looked delicious, and Garret debated grabbing a bite for himself, if Mal didn’t literally bite his hands off.
"Such a good little housewife," he mused, wondering what that sudden dark look on Mal's face was all about. Maybe he was thinking about naughty, dirty things. What a fun thought. Perhaps Garret would just hide out here today, stay under the covers on Mal's bed and never come out. It was kind of an appealing thought. He loved Rorie, a lot more than was probably healthy for this stage of their relationship, but he knew that he would have to help Rorie through this hard time, and he wasn't sure he was up to the task. Not yet. "You should bake me something," he announced, getting up from his chair to walk behind the hound, arms wrapping themselves around the shorter man, chin resting on his shoulder. "Like a pie. Or cookies. Something cute, and domestic." He pressed a small kiss to the side of Mal's neck, humming a little, evilly. "And maybe you should do it in your underwear."
---
If Garret were to stay in the apartment, there would be no hiding under the covers. Oh no, everything would be boldly displayed. That was an appealing thought. Mal loved that Garret submitted to him, let him take total control. He wondered where the edge was, if there was one. It was fun trying to find it.
Eating his crepe one handed, Mal started work on the next one, listening idly to the chatter. This was loaded with honey, strawberries and bananas, a thin spread of yogurt over the top for tang. “I’m not domestic. I’m a wild and feral beast.” He was completely calm, so Garret couldn’t tell if it was a joke or not. “And I’m not baking in my underwear. Shirtless, sure.” Hmm, what did he have on hand to make? There were some apples in the fridge he’d been wanting to use recently. Maybe he’d do a cinnamon apple and cranberry loaf. That would be good and would take care of tomorrow’s breakfast. Now with a plan, Mal took another bite of his crepe, only a couple more left.
---
Chuckling a little, Garret tightened his grip on Mal. He knew that he was probably being very sincere, but that didn't change Garret's ambitions. If he could get Mal to actually bake him something in his underwear, then Garret would be the ultimate victor. “How about a cute, frilly apron? I’m sure you have one laying around...” He kissed down his neck a few times, nails digging into the skin on Mal’s bare stomach. “My sweet little feral beast.”
---
Mal shook his head, polishing off the wrap he held and licking syrup from his fingers. “Nope. No apron.” It was taking a bit of effort, but he was holding himself back from reacting to Garret’s kissing. He’d learned it was the perfect way to make him continue, just ignore him. Though the nails against his stomach made the muscles tighten and quiver lightly in reflex.
Casually picking up his fork, Mal folded the edges of the crepe over the fruit and cut off a bite. Some of the fruit slid to the plate, but that was alright. It was still good. “How many times do I have to remind you I’m not sweet?”
---
Much like Mal, Garret like challenge. And being ignored was a surefire way to get him to try harder, although he knew Mal well enough to know that he was definitely enjoying the attention, he was just acting like he wasn't. Which suited Garret fine. He was willing to let Mal be in control.
"Oh, I disagree," he murmured, one hand moving up Mal's chest, the other sliding down the inside of his arm, grabbing his wrist. "You taste very, very sweet to me." He pressed Mal back against his chest, entwining his fingers with the hound's, his mouth slowly tracing up to the shell of his ear, nipping gently.
---
It was handy that Garret left his fork hand free. Eating his bite, Mal was starting to have to work to focus. Not much, but enough. He let his fingers wrap around Garret’s. It was a sweet move, one he normally wouldn’t do, but the pathfinder took his hands first, so it was fair.
“Oh do I now?” Mal glanced at the food still on the table, imagining pouring thin rivulets over Garret and slowly licking them up. Sounded tasty. The mouth on his ear made him catch his breath, and Mal quickly fixed his breathing, wondering if Garret noticed. Or was he too busy with his tongue? The man seemed to really want to be tied up today.
---
Garret was paying attention to everything Mal was doing, every breath, every pause in his movements, all of it. He liked knowing the effect he had on Mal, knowing that he could make someone so strong and self assured weak in the knees. "Mmm hmm," he moaned, softly, pressing himself against Mal. The hand on Mal's chest slid up to caress his throat, tilting his chin up so Garret's mouth could kiss down his neck, breathing in his scent deeply. "You smell delicious," he purred, closing his eyes as his lips tasted every inch of the hound's neck. "I can't believe I spent all night beside you and didn't taste you..."
Sighing, Garret turned Mal around in his arms, both hands cupping the man's face. "You've been so kind to me," he murmured, leaning close enough for his lips to touch Mal's, brush over them with each word he spoke. "Taking me in, making me breakfast... surely there's something I can do to repay you?"
---
Mal leaned his head back at Garret’s touch, letting the man’s mouth wander where it will. He was definitely enjoying it and had no intention of making him stop. He could feel the hard body pressed behind him, smell the start of Garret’s arousal, the subtle shift in his body temperature. “You were worn out last night.” Mal was developing a soft spot. He wasn’t sure he liked it. It wasn’t part of the character he’d chosen. Hmm, maybe he’d have to fix that.
Letting himself be turned, he stood still, enjoying the touching, the kissing. “I could probably think of a few things.” Garret owed him nothing. Mal was just doing what he’d do for any staff or student who needed a safe place. He came here to teach and to protect. Garret was a friend who needed a place to be, and Mal provided it. There wasn’t much to pay back. Now if Mal hadn’t liked Garret, he’d be milking this for all it was worth. As it was, he didn’t care. “You’re welcome to get creative.” He wondered just what Garret had up his sleeve.
---
Whether or not Garret had been capable of sex last night was not the point. He was just suprised that he hadn't even thought about it. That in itself was miraculous, considering that any time Garret was with Malakai he thought about sex. They had never had an encounter that didn't end in orgasm one way or another.
"Oh," he murmured, "letting me take charge, huh? That's new." Garret didn't let Mal give him a reply, sarcastic or not, instead kissing him softly, teeth scraping over the man's bottom lip. "Maybe... I could do the dishes," he mused, letting a hand move from Mal's face to caress his neck, nails tracing down his chest, over his stomach, across his waist to rest on his hip, the tips of a few fingers peeking their way beneath the waistband of his pajama bottoms. "Or laundry, you said you needed that done..." His tongue traced over Mal's lips, pushing its way past his teeth, swirling in the heat and taste of the hound's mouth.
---
Malakai chuckled against Garret’s mouth. The pathfinder was offering to be domestic? Now that was rich. It’d be worth forgoing the sex to watch that crazy endeavor. Of course, with a tongue in his mouth, he couldn’t say anything about it one way or the other. Mal wasn’t intending to let Garret take total control, but having a little bit, enough to play with, wasn’t such a bad thing. Like now. He was close to having his pants off and they were both enjoying it.
Mal pressed his tongue against the one invading his mouth. Using his teeth, he bit down gently, keeping it trapped while he sucked on it, giving Garret a pretty good idea what he’d be like if something else was in his mouth. Something longer, thicker.
---
There was no delusion, even in someone like Garret, that he actually had any control right now. After all, who was it that had come running to Mal when he wanted to feel safe? And who, like an idiot freshman in college, had admitted to loving him? And who was standing here now, weak in the knees and grabbing onto the other man just to keep on his feet? Certainly not Malakai.
Whimpering gently, Garret pressing his growing hardness against the other man's hips, the hand resting there clawing into him. Mal tasted like yogurt and berries and sweetness and salty sex, like the perfect comfort food combination with just a little extra spice to keep you from getting settled. Breaking forcibly from the kiss, Garret gasped for air, panting while the hand on Mal's face moved to tangle in his dark locks. “Fuck,” he breathed.
---
Mal let his hands grip the counter behind him. It was to maintain the appearance of control. If he gripped Garret that hard, there would be definite bruises, not to mention the man would gloat for getting under the hellhound’s skin. As it was, the counter wasn’t even going to be cracked.
Letting Garret pull away, Mal settled into his cock, self-assured grin. “Yeah, I suppose we could do that too, if you convince me.” He was just so much fun to tease. Mal’s nostrils flared as he took in the scent of breakfast, the musk rising from the two of them, and Garret’s spicy-sweet odor. Sex with Garret was always an assault on the senses and Mal loved every moment of it. Just to torment them both, Mal thrust his hips forward, already well past the half hard point.
---
As enticing and overwhelming as the moment was, Garret could not help but notice that Mal wasn't touching him. In fact, he seemed to be making a point not to. Maybe he was just doing it for the same reason he did everything, to drive Garret crazy. Well it was working. The pathfinder couldn't help but wonder why Mal wasn't running his hands over Garret's bare chest, gripping his hips to make that hard thrust of his thick cock all the more noticeable. Not that it needed to be. As it was, Garret pressed against it, melting into the other man, crying out in a gasp. "H-how could I convince you?" he panted, licking his lips. The hand on Mal's waist moved beneath the waistband fully, fingers running over the hot skin on his hip and thigh before taking a grasp on Mal's cock, stroking it gently, squeezing just a bit. "What if I say please?" Garret whispered against the hound's mouth. If this didn't make Mal touch him, try to feel every inch of him, he wasn't sure what would.
---
Mal knew Garret liked being touched. Hell, they both reveled in it, so Mal wanted to drive Garret to the edge, keeping his hands off as long as he could. That way when he finally stroked his fingers over Garret, the man would all but melt. It was a devious plan, one that would work, but only if Mal could restrain himself long enough.
Closing his eyes on a gasp, Mal growled softly, arching into Garret’s hand, using the counter to help support his weight. “Don’t you usually beg?” Mal nipped the other man’s lip, drawing it into his mouth to suck on, releasing it slowly, teeth dragging over the tip.
---
If Mal wanted Garret melting, well, he'd certainly get it. The teeth on his lips, the innocent danger of it, made him actually sink just a little, knees giving out a moment. "Oh, fuck," he whimpered, absolute putty in the man's hands. Metaphorically, anyway. Mal still wouldn't touch him. "Do you want me to beg?" he asked, which was a dumb question because they both knew that Mal would just love it if he did. And he liked it when Mal was happy. Seeing that smile on his face was just... mmm. No words.
Slowly sinking to his knees, Garret kissed a featherlight trail down Mal's neck, chest, stomach, meanwhile still stroking him, his free hand pulling those damn pants off his body and out of the way. "Let me touch you," he murmured between kisses. "Let me kiss you, taste you..." Peering up at Mal, those baby blues pleading, Garret licked the very tip of the hound's cock, just a small flick of the tongue. "Please, Master."
---
Mal didn’t even bother to answer the question. Garret knew the answer and, like a good boy, dropped to his knees and begged. The growl rumbled low and happy in his chest, vibrating against tight abs and stomach. He kept his eyes open, watching that flash of pink against his cock. The counter cracked under his grip, his knuckles white from the effort of keeping his hands there.
Instead of giving a verbal answer, Mal reached for Garret with one hand, stroking through his hair and pressing his cock against his mouth, letting him taste. He didn’t trust his voice right now. This was just intense, and not what he’d expected for the morning. Malakai had thought Garret would give an awkward excuse and immediately rush out to see Rorie. That he was here, now, on his knees....fuck. Empowering.
---
With a deep, yet airy moan, Garret took the head of Mal's gorgeous cock into his mouth, sucking on it like it would deliver eternal life. He closed his eyes, savoring the feel, the taste, the heat and the scent. This wasn't how he had planned the morning either. He hadn't planned for anything. Truth be told, Garret hadn't expected Mal to remain home while he was there. He'd expected space he wouldn't want, loneliness upon awakening. This was so much better.
His one hand still ran up and down the shaft, stroking Mal eagerly but gently. The other hand was holding into his thigh, massaging the skin gently, kneading his flesh just to stay occupied, stay focused. Slowly, Garret took more of Mal into his mouth, lips tight around him as he moved back and forth over him, taking in a little more each time.
---
Mal wasn’t going to leave his apartment just because someone else was there. If Garret had wanted space, he wouldn’t have shown up in Malakai’s bathroom to begin with. And even if he had wanted space this morning, Garret knew how to unlock a door, or phase through it as the case may be. Neither of those situations necessitated Mal leaving, and he wouldn’t have anyways.
Fingers threading into Garret’s hair, Mal tugged him a little further down. This was torture. Exquisite, blissful torture. Mal wanted to feel Garret’s throat working around him, tongue stroking the shaft. He was getting it, inch by slow agonizing inch. “Fuck,” he breathed. Deliberately, Mal had to flex his fingers to loosen his grip off the counter. No sense in paying for a new one. “Shit, Garret,” Mal moaned, feeling both tongue and hand hit spots at the same time, making him buck forward, a shiver down his spine.
---
Malakai had a system, and Garret knew it well by now. When he was taunting, was able to make full sentences, that was when Garret had garnered his arousal. When it broke down to two or one word phrases, and most of them curses, that was when Mal had been hooked, there was no way he'd stop even if he threatened to. As he got closer to climax, he would trade in words for sounds, gutteral grunts and moans, growls and fierce hisses of want.
The soft push on his head made Garret whimper again, his throat threatening to gag but he took a deep breath, sustained himself. He had taught himself a long, long time ago how not to throw up. He hated it more than he hated crying, and you'd be hard pressed to see him do that either. With new gusto, Garret swallowed more of Mal into his throat, humming every so often to create vibration, until finally his lips were buried in the smooth, hairless skin at the hilt.
---
He didn’t realize there was a system. If Mal had known, he’d work harder to change it up. Still, that would require thought and he didn’t want to use any more brain power than necessary at the moment. All attention was focused on the man worshipping his lap. Garret always managed to make Mal feel like a God, all-powerful. He loved him...it. He loved it.
Pulling back a bit, he gave Garret a chance to breathe. If Mal was going to choke Garret, he’d rather it be with his hands and controlled. He wondered briefly if that was something the pathfinder had ever tried. Would he be interested? Grinning down at the top of Garret’s head, Mal chuckled lightly, breath still ragged. “You’re addicted to my cock, aren’t you?” Forming the question took effort, but it was worth it.
---
Garret was both grateful and disappointed that Mal pulled away, forced him to breathe, took that beautiful piece from him. But he drew in a deep, shuddering breath, certain that his heart was going to just burst and that would be the end of him. He looked up at Mal, trying to think of an answer for him. Addicted? Maybe, but maybe not. He could live without him, after all. For a few days at a time. But it wasn't like he thought about him, about this, all the time. Just... often. And when something reminded him of Mal. Which seemed to be a lot these days.
Getting to his feet, Garret took the hellhound's hands in his, looking down at them, the smooth palms and the strong knuckles. A man's hands. Malakai was just so goddamn masculine. Garret brought both hands to his mouth, kissing the knuckles, before looking into Mal's eyes, his own deep and penetrating. "Let me worship you properly," he said softly, walking backward toward the bedroom, pulling Mal along with him. "Show you my gratitude."
---
Garret had already proven that he couldn’t live without Mal. Hell, the bet was made a week ago and he’d already sent a ‘courier’ and stopped by himself. The AIM conversation from before he wasn’t counting, since it was necessary. If Garret had left this morning, then the game would still be on. But taking his hand and leading Mal to the bedroom, hell, blowing him in the kitchen, that was a clear loss.
Before leaving the kitchen, Mal turned off the coffeepot. No sense in burning decent coffee. “Alright. I think I can let you do that.” Linking his fingers with Garret’s, Mal let himself be led back to the bedroom, walking out of his boxers and pants along the way. Why was Garret just so fucking cute? Not to mention, he had a wonderful ass.
---
Normally, Garret would have just bent himself over the counter and begged Mal to take him there, to fuck him right next to their breakfast, to scatter dishes and pans and make a . mess while they gave in to wild abandon. But this time it felt... different. And while Garret himself had not wanted things to be different, they felt it just the same. Maybe it was just the way Mal was restraining himself so much, letting Garret take such a lead. He wasn't even giving orders like normal. Maybe Garret saying that he loved him had weirded him out, and now Mal didn't really know what was sensible to do and what wasn't. He didn't do human emotions, but he probably knew them inside out from observation. And most humans couldn't say the L word and not attach the emotion to every future action.
But as they both knew, Garret wasn't average. As he led Mal into the bedroom, looking over his newly nude form with hungry eyes, this had nothing to do with love or even friendship. It was just sex, heavy and intense. Turning Mal's back to the bed, Garret gently pushed him down onto it, crawling over him, kissing his chest lightly, tongue flicking over his nipples.
---
Mal didn’t mind Garret leading for the time being, because he knew he could take the control back at any moment. If Foss wanted to make up for ‘inconveniencing’ Mal last night, who was he to stop him? It’d be a fool to pull back from a man wanting to adore you. He didn’t notice any change in their relationship, whatever it was. Though it could be he was also avoiding looking for any differences. Garret said a big word and meant it. It wasn’t something that had been said to the hellhound before with sincerity, with the exception of Hades himself. And Garret was no demon. What did he get from this?
He let himself be pushed back to the bed, bouncing once on the mattress before settling. “Mmm,” he moaned softly, arching up against Garret’s mouth and tongue. Damn but he knew what to do with that mouth. It was handy, and a hell of a lot of fun having Garret for a lover.
---
Moving slowly, Garret kissed every inch of skin between Mal's stomach and chest, over both his shoulders, around the curve of his neck. His skin was warm, tender, soft, spicy, just a little salty. He could do this all day, just kiss him, just feel the man's body beneath his mouth. There was something so satisfying about it, he couldn't get enough. He paused at the hound's mouth, massaging the other man's lips with his own, his hands running down Mal's sides. "Beautiful," he murmured, reaching between them to grasp Mal's cock, running his thumb down the underside. "The noises you make, and the way you look... and knowing that you could hurt me, but you won't... or maybe you just don't.... yet."
---
Mal just laid back and relaxed under Garret’s hands and mouth. It was nice to just lay there and do nothing. Not have to think of anything, do anything. No expectations. Sighing, perfectly content, he focused on nothing but the sensations coming to him. Soft lips, quiet breaths, the lingering smell of coffee, vanilla and maple from breakfast, the warmth of the room and of Garret above him. So much to take in and the part he paid the most attention to was the man. Why was he still wearing pants?
Opening his eyes, Mal looked into bright blue ones, arching a brow of his. “I would if I thought you were into it. As it is, I can always go grab those bands again.” Mal tilted his mouth forward sucking and tugging Garret’s bottom lip. “The ones that made you squirm.” He wanted to use them again, on a higher setting. Something that felt like pulsating muscles around the cock.
---
Just hearing about those bands made Garret shiver, and not entirely in a good way. "Those things scare the hell outta me," he admitted, smiling. But if Mal had asked to use them, the pathfinder would have gone and gotten them. In his own way Garret was like a hound, wanting to please, wanting the attention and affection that came with a job well done. He wanted validation, plain and simple.
He kissed Mal, deeply, moaning softly into it. God, he felt like he could get off just doing this, something as simple and innocent as kissing. Maybe not quite so innocent, Malakai was naked and Garret was jerking him off, but still, it was high school compared to Garret's normal repertoire. A thought suddenly came to Garret, and he pulled away just enough to look in Mal's eyes. "Have you ever been dominated?" he asked. It wasn't an indication of an offer, or a proposal, not by any means. There was no hint that Garret might want to. Not that he didn't, but he knew better. Malakai was the alpha male here, he always had been.
---
Malakai returned the smile, though his was darker and full of promises. “Yeah, but you got off with ‘em.” Turning his head slightly, he ran his tongue over Garret’s jawline. “Imagine all the things I could do with them.” Personally, Mal loved them, but then the electric shocks didn’t bother him quite as much. He had to turn it up pretty high to get the same buzzy feeling Garret had.
Reaching up with one hand, he tangled it in Garret’s hair, pulling their mouths together, flicking his tongue out. The other hand rove over his back and down to his hips, pressing up into his hands, against his own hardness. He growled softly when the kiss was ended, but waited patiently. The question wasn’t one he was expecting and his eyes flashed angrily for a moment before control reasserted itself. Speaking calmly, he answered, “Yeah. I have.” And that was all he’d say about it. By the hands of several demons Mal had been made to beg and crawl, been dominated, beaten and abused. Not all of his lovers were that rough, but some of the demons that stayed in hell had no mercy. Mal learned that the hard way.
---
The response was absolutely not what Garret had been expecting, and it made him pause, shrink back almost. Normally when Mal's eyes flashed that color it was because Garret was doing everything right. It was a predatory look, not an angry one. He probably couldn't fathom the kinds of things Mal had seen, had done, had had done to him. But that look... it wasn't a look Garret ever wanted to see again. "Oh," he said softly. He didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything, instead just kissed the man again, touching his face with his fingertips.
---
It wasn’t Mal’s intention to scare Garret. He sighed, closing his eyes and trying to focus back on what was going on now, in his bedroom. Soft hand around his cock, gripping lightly. Chest pressed against chest. He took a breath, taking in the scents. Fear and uncertainty, but there was still the arousal, the musk. The safety that was his home. This was a good place to be.
Opening his blue-grey eyes, he smiled at Garret’s blue ones, in a better mood again. Chuckling softly, he brushed his mouth over the other’s. “Don’t worry about it.” Taking some of the control back, Mal kissed down his jaw to his neck, nipping and licking there, arching his hips into the hand holding him, wanting the stroking to continue.
---
It was hard not to worry, not to think about what he'd just found out about Mal. It painted the man in a different light. He didn't seem so arrogant anymore, not as cocky so much as he was just... trying to take charge in a place where he could. Because, apparently, there were some places Mal could not. Even though Garret knew he was a hound, was a servant, he had never really thought of the other man as someone's slave. It was almost impossible to imagine him like that. Not to mention... how were you supposed to feel when someone you cared about had been hurt?
Closing his eyes, Garret sighed breathily, tilting his chin up so Mal could access more of his skin. He continued stroking him, a renewed sense of vigor overtaking him. "Mmm, fuck," he moaned, hand moving faster between them.
---
Mal wasn’t going to think about the consequences of what he’d admitted, how it would change the way Garret saw him. Right now, he had a horny man over him, one that he cared about. Shifting his position slightly, he managed to gain enough leverage to roll Garret to his back, rising above him. Mal loved the hand stroking him, but he wanted access to the body. Dragging his tongue up the length of Garret’s throat, Mal attached his mouth right at the base, digging his teeth in lightly and sucking softly. There was going to be a dark mark there, claiming him.
---
There were few people who could actually overpower Garret unless he wanted them to. [Of course, this theory was based on the notion that Garret, until recently, only slept with humans.] And while he was more than willing to submit to Mal, especially now, he couldn't have stopped the hound even if he'd tried. Wrapping an arm around the man's shoulders to keep from falling too quickly, Garret landed on the bed with a small cry escaping him, one that turned into a purring chuckle, then a sharp gasp as Mal sank his teeth into him, claiming him. Not as painful as when Hope had bitten his thigh, but not a tender little love bite either. As gentle as Mal could ever intend, he was still a hound, and they had powerful jaws.
Growling deeply, the hand that had been spread over Mal's back wound its way into his hair, tugging the locks sharply, but not hard enough to break the seal of his lips. "Shit," he hissed in pleasure, arching his back up into the other man, the hand on Mal's cock gripping tighter as he coaxed him closer to climax.
---
Mal didn’t want to get off yet. Oh no, not when the morning was just getting started. He imagined a thick collar around his neck, controlling him and holding off his release. No matter how Garret stroked, he wasn’t going to explode just yet.
He growled low and rich when his hair was pulled, digging in his teeth just a bit tighter, sucking harder at his neck. Bringing one hand between them, Mal slipped it inside Garret’s pants, running the tips of his fingers lightly over the thickness trapped inside. He let his hand continue down until he found a full, heavy sac covered in soft hair. Malakai squeezed gently, rolling them in his palm.
---
If Mal had been trying to distract Garret from trying to get him to cum, he was definitely succeeding. Garret's hand almost paused completely in its movements as Mal took hold of him, bit him harder, overwhelmed him in sensory stimulation. "Ow, fuck, fuck, fuck," he cried out, pressing himself up into Mal's body, writhing against him. He wanted to cum so, so badly... but he also didn't. He always came first, which normally would bother him but Mal was a fucking hellhound and he had an unfair stamina advantage over a human. So Garret had never gotten to appreciate the man's orgasm, not really.
"Stop," he panted, voice breathless and almost lost amongst a groan of pleasure. "Stop, please, oh fuck, shit, wow, oh fuck, Mal, please..."
---
As soon as Garret started to say stop, Mal backed off, using his tongue to lick the mark, soothing the pain with his hound’s mentality. His hand shifted up to wrap around his length, the only problem was the pants were still getting in the way. Leaning back, Mal shoved the pants over Garret’s hips, pushing them to his knees to be kicked off.
Mal let his hands trail up Garret’s thighs, watching him. Feeling mighty generous and playful, the hound dropped his head to Garret’s lap, giving his cock a long, slow lick from base to tip. Mmm, salty, sweet. A concentrated essence of the flavor that was uniquely Garret.
---
Catching his breath, panting, Garret was only too grateful that Mal had stopped when he'd begged him too. That man's hands were too good, it should be a crime. He wanted to tell him that he wanted to see Mal cum first, to watch his face, but before his hazy mind could find the words, the hound was slowly moving down Garret's body. He propped himself up on his elbows, watching intently, thinking that what he thought was about to happen could absolutely not be about to happen. Mal did not play bottom, not in any sense of the word, at least not to Garret. He'd seen him tasting Cherry's juices before, but that was different. She was a woman. He didn't know why it was different, it just was. Maybe because Cherry didn't have to compete for Alpha male status. So there was no way that Mal was going to do what it looked like he was, despite his tongue being out, and suddenly it was tracing up the underside of Garret's shaft and holy fuck it was so, so hot.
Garret's fingers gripped the bedsheets, his head wanting to lean back but he refused to look away from the sight before him. "Oh, shit," he moaned, hips lifting just slightly into Mal's tongue, aching for more contact, to be engulfed by him.
---
Mal was bad at being good. Or rather, he was good at being bad. Glancing up, he locked gazes with Garret, keeping his tongue just far enough away from the cock in front of him that all he could do was ghost over it. Garret was fun, an excellent lover, and loved him. The hound in him wanted to adore Garret, pay him back. Curling his tongue, he slid it down over the thick shaft, turning his head to lick around all sides, never looking away. He didn’t know how far he’d take this right now, but hearing the man hiss, feeling his body clench was fucking sexy.
---
Mal was a master of torture, and it showed in Garret's expression. He wanted more, didn't want him to stop but it felt so, so good, he didn't think he could take much more of it. Lifting his hips eagerly, he wanted contact witht that tongue, to feel its broad softness on his aching member, to feel the heat of the hound's mouth all over him. He couldn't tear his eyes away for a moment, gasping as Mal finally made contact, purring when the tip curled around his shaft, groaning as he met the hound's eyes again. This was like porn, only better. This was so fucking sexy he didn't know how he had managed to last this long. "Please," he whispered, desperate, head finally falling back as it became too much to take. "Don't stop, please, don't..."
---
He managed to grin though his tongue was busy swirling around the hard shaft. Mal wondered just how much licking Garret could take before he exploded. Loving the taste, the feel of the silky soft skin against his tongue, Mal licked more, wanting more of the flavor. He dragged the full length of his tongue up to the tip, picking up a drop of fluid at the tip. Mal savored it, growling happily and licking around the head. He touched Garret with nothing more than his tongue, letting all the attention focus entirely in his lap. Teasingly, lightly, Mal brushed his lips over the tip, kissing.
---
The teasing was driving him mad, and Garret didn't think he could take any more. "Fuck, Mal, fuck, oh, fuck I want you..." Unable to stand it anymore, to just lay there and feel only his tongue, not moving or touching or being able to reciprocate at all, Garret pushed himself forward. Sitting up, he pulled Malakai up by his hair, slamming their mouths together in a hard kiss, growling against the man's lips. He couldn't just lay there, feeling that amount of pleasure and not be able to touch, kiss, lick, suck, do something to keep himself from completely exploding.
---
Mal was about to wrap his mouth around Garret, even had his lips open, breath flowing hot over his cock, ready to take him in. But he was distracted by impatient hands, tugging and pulling. Following the lead, Mal meshed his mouth with Garrets, sliding his tongue deep. He’d have to keep in mind that a few well-placed licks drove the pathfinder over the edge. “Want you,” he growled into the man’s mouth. Mal pressed his body firmly to Garret’s, chest to chest, cock to cock. He rocked his hips, rubbing their lengths together. Oh Hades, the friction. Sweet, hot and delicious.
---
Laying himself back onto the bed, pulling Mal down on top of him, Garret kicked his pajama bottoms off, letting them hang halfway off the bed while his legs wrapped around Mal. The friction Mal was making intensified, his own slick member running smooth over Malakai's, the heads brushing and sending a chill throughout Garret's body. "Oh," he cried out, an eager whimper, hands clawing at Mal's back as he ground against him, the heat building between them making Garret's skin slick with sweat. "I'm yours," he panted, meaning it in so many ways, more than he could fathom right now.
---
The sensations were nearly overwhelming. What was it that was making this time so much more profound? More intense? Mal didn’t know, and at that point, didn’t want to take the effort to figure it out.
Reaching between them, Mal wrapped a hand around both of their cocks, pressing the lengths firmly together and stroking. Oh sweet fuck. Having a human, man or woman, open beneath him was empowering. Having Garret open, giving himself over, that was downright addictive. Mal crushed his mouth against the other’s, kissing hard and hot. He had only a tenuous reign on his control. Too soon. It was too soon.
---
Breathing hard, panting against the kiss, hips bucking wildly, Garret clung to the other man. Whimpers and moans fell from his lips as Mal gripped them, touched them together, dominated. Garret let himself be taken over, was glad for it. There were other people, other men, that Garret could dominate. Mal wasn't one of them.
Pulling his head back, Garret looked into Mal's eyes, his lungs burning from breathlessness, hair falling over his forehead in strands. "Now," he whispered, pleaded, curling his body up until the head of Mal's cock was sitting at his entrance. "I wanna see you cum, feel it... fuck, Mal, please..." He pushed himself against the hound, grabbing his hip to guide him, sheer determination in his eyes.
---
Mal shuddered, trying to get control back. Collar. Collar it. Pull it back. Panting, gripping the sheets with his free hand, he looked up at Garret, feeling his cock slide in a bit. “Fuck, Garret,” he growled. Clenching his jaw, he asked tightly, “Want me to fuck you or cum?” One required more control which he could get given a moment or two. The other would happen a lot sooner than he wanted. While waiting for an answer, Mal pushed his hips forward, feeling the head of his cock slide in, a tight ring surrounding him.
---
It was just a little impossible to form an answer when what was happening to you felt so painful and so, so good at the same time. Garret cried out, practically screamed, as Mal's cock pushed forth into him, just slightly. It burned, and it felt like he was being stretched beyond limit, and without lubricant this could really do some damage. But he didn't care. The fiery sting drove him, made him want more. He was letting himself be consumed with it.
"Both!" he cried out, the hand gripping Mal's hip pulling him forward, his other hand tight in the man's hair. His back arched upward, breath hissing through clenched teeth as Mal drove further inside him. "Fuck me, cum inside me, don't hold back... wanna see... fuck, wanna see you... l-lose control..."
---
If Garret hadn’t wanted him to push in, he shouldn’t have put his ass in such an accessible position. Mal’s hips thrust forward another inch as he was pulled in. Garret did not want to see Mal lose control. That’s when people got hurt. But part of his control, he could probably do that. Just as soon as he was buried and the poor man stopped whimpering. Halting his forward movement, Mal tugged on Garret’s cock, pressing his thumb along the base and leaning over to lick his mouth, distracting him from the pain.