#malcolm gallant

smut. dubcon (sorta..). reluctant assisted masturbation. thigh riding. every day I mourn that Malcolm is gay but not gay for me.

“no. nope. No fucking way.” Malcom’s lip curls into a disgusted sneer as he stares at you. “I shouldn’t even be here— fuck.”

“Please! Dammit, malcolm, I’ll do anything,” you beg, standing up from the bed. He walked in on you desperately trying to get yourself off on your fingers, tension built up from months without real sex. Worse, the most embarrassing thing was that you were still entirely horny even after being caught. “You don’t have to fuck me, just— help. Please.” You notice his breath hitch and you add, “it’s not like we can get in trouble for jerking off down here, those bitches in charge probably do it too.”

malcolm blinks. his eyes are so big and dark and glittery. and so fucking hot, but he’s been your gay best friend since childhood, it wasn’t like he was about to throw away his whole sexuality to get you off. ‘As a friend.’

But maybe he could do a little. To help. As a friend.

it’s clear he’s fighting himself when he finally drops his arms and kicks the door shut behind him with a sigh. “Fuck you,” he says softly, a tone that’s actually much kinder than it sounds because you know him so well. he’s happy to help. despite acting like a bitch about it. he takes off his jacket and makes triple sure the door is locked before he jerks his head sideways, saying, “I need to be in the chair, take your pants off.”

you don’t need to be told twice. you leap up from the bed and rush to take your pants off, panties soaked from your earlier coaxing, and you’re tempted to take them off too, but you don’t know what Malcolm even has planned. You look at him with those pleading eyes and he rolls his own, groaning. “fuck, you are always so needy. Take ‘em off and get the fuck over here already.”

you obey without question, watching him fiddle with his trouser buttons, and his eyes fall onto you, half lidded in clear annoyance. “I only do this shit for you, ya know,” he snaps. “also I am not letting you stain my designer pair of these.”

You beam at him, heart racing while your core heats up being half nude in front of your friend. he smiles smally and lets his pants drop to his knees before he sits down and pats his lap twice. “C’mon,” he urges. “I’m not your hooker, hurry up.”

you close the space between you and confusedly stand still in front of him, yelping in surprise when he grumbles and yanks you forward by the hips until your straddling his thigh, then pushes you to sit on it. “maybe you should be paying me by the hour…” he jokes quietly, his hands firm on your body.

you barely hear him, still trying to process the fact that you’re riding your best friend’s naked thigh. the heat of his skin against your slick cunt after literal months of zero sexual contact with anyone is indescribable. you hand instantly finds his shoulder to steady yourself, and he looks up at you with a smirk, like this is the most normal thing in the world for a couple of friends to do. “okay,” he starts, lifting his leg and you gasp sharply as you feel his muscular thigh flex against your spread cunt. “grind on me.”

“what?” you’re already breathless, dammit. Malcolm rolls his eyes again, letting out a low moan of irritation that only manages to make you wetter. he bounces his leg under you and you feel a flutter in your walls, trying to clench down around nothing.

“are you stupid, bitch?” he huffs. “I’m helping you. would you rather go fuck yourself on a pillow? grind. on. me.”

it’s crazy, and maybe this is why you’ve stayed friends with such an asshole all these years, but the sound of him berating you is like music. his voice is so buttery, so warm and sweet and laced with a poisonous edge you want to just drink it up.

so after just a second more of surprised hesitation, you obey. Hands on his shoulders to keep balance, you move backward before slowly pushing forward again, dragging your open cunt over the expanse of his lap. his thigh flexes beneath you, a firm and steady base to balance on, and you suck in a breath as you start a rhythm fucking yourself on his leg. you feel like a dog in heat, humping Malcolm with abandon while he rolls his eyes and tries to ignore your tiny sounds.

“Oh my GAWD, you’re obnoxious, you probably got no dick even before we ended up here, huh?” he teases you, only half serious. your hips stutter as you glare at him and he quirks a brow. “damn, okay, defiant, too. y’know what, honey? I don’t have time for this, so—”

“no, Malcolm, I’m sorry, don’t—!” you stammer to try and convince him to stay, but he’s not getting up. instead, your whole body arches as you feel his bejeweled hands come up to rest on your bare ass, gripping the flesh and yanking your forward. you gasp as your pussy slides across his flexed leg, making an audible slick sound, and your palm smacks over your gaping mouth as he fucks you on his thigh. his hands are strong, and so fucking soft, the cold metal of his rings digging brutally into your skin as he moves you up and down across his leg. you let out a little moan against your skin as the pressure starts to build in your core, heat flooding your womb.

“there ya go, bitch,” he smirks as you start to lose it, head falling back and hips moving with his urging hands. your cunt pulses and clenches down around nothing as you pick up speed, panting as you fuck yourself hard on his thigh. his muscle flexes again, knee lifting to grind up into your pussy and you keen at the sensation. your orgasm is a throbbing, messy crest of pleasure as you cry into your own palm and Malcolm shushes you in a hushed tone. you wish he’d praise you instead of telling you to shut the fuck up, but you’re desperate and you’ll take what you can get.

when you finally let him stand, still reeling from your release, he wipes his leg clean with a wet wipe and scolds you, “next time do it yourself like a man.”

you resist the urge to reach down and start trying for another one right now with the thought of what he just did for you… “I could suck you off in exchange,” you offer bluntly.

Malcolm stops before leaving, turning to face you and you think you may have convinced him with a fair trade. but he squints in disbelief and scoffs, “suck me off? oh honey, you wish.”

AMERICAN HORROR STORY: APOCALYPSE