Smut, Gen, Angst, Fluff, Anything, Everything. PFL era, Post war, Pre Canon, AU, whichever Brackets or Prose whatever you're comfortable with Tag and go, baby!
Not too hot and bothered yet, nope. Gonna- go through his stretches. Yeah. Settle up on a mat and start going through his yoga poses, twisting and contorting little by little.
You, sir, are a shit. No, he is not hitting the bag any harder than usual. That's just how hard he normally hits. There is not to be any jumping today, not in that way. He'll stick to his guns.
Stretching and twisting and holding his yoga poses, grinning a little when Mal starts hitting the bag harder than usual. Apparently flexibility did it for him.
"You're trying to start something." Fine. Break time. Let him just be over here, closer to you, sweaty and with his head back and neck exposed guzzling down some water he may or may not let some splash down his front.
Braced like this it's easier for him to ignore the distraction presented by a slick, sexy Malcolm. It's also easy to bend and bend and bend until he's arched into a bridge, feet flat against the floor, abdomen taut with the effort.
"You looked like you needed cooling down." Mmhm. He was totally helping, see? "I'll be on a bike if you need me." Over there, you know, way over thataway.
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It's cold, bro.
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