Dennis’s sweat drips on his face ten minutes into their barebacking session. Neither of them really prefer anal, but they are at a loss for what else to do. Absolutely nothing is making them cum. They reach the edge and then - it’s gone.
Mac runs his fingers through Dennis’s hair sweeping it away from his face.
“Gross, dude. You’re sweating all over me.”
Dennis glares at him. “Sex is supposed to be sweaty, asshole. Clearly you haven’t been doing it right until now.” He thrusts again, half hard, into Mac’s ass, and then beats his fist on the bed. “Goddamn it! Why can’t I cum?”
“Maybe dicks don’t work in Hell,” Mac says. “Maybe nobody can cum ever again.”
Dennis gives him a furious look, as though he wants to spit some sort of insult at Mac, but his face crumples instead. He’s too tired; he pulls out. Dennis rests his forehead on Mac’s chest and moans, “Noooooo,” in a long, low voice like an animal.Mac tangles his fingers in Dennis’s hair. He’s not crying, not exactly. It’s an inhuman sound of despair, fitting with their inhuman sense of being. Dennis is ice cold in his arms despite the copious amounts of sweat all over his body.
After a long time, he looks up into Mac’s eyes, a devious gleam in his own. “I have an idea,” he says. “Something I read on the Internet when we were, you know…”
“Alive?” Mac supplies.
“Yeah, whatever. I read that sometimes…sometimes people choke each other during sex and it’s like getting off when they can’t breathe.” His voice has taken a distant tone. There are things he’s not saying, secret desires, secret doings outside of vague internet searches that took place on Earth.
Mac doesn’t want to know about any of that. He feigns innocence and takes the bait.
“Well. I’m really goddamn tired of this boner so sure, whatever. Choke me,” he says casually as though whatever is left of his heart isn’t racing. He extends his neck, giving full access for Dennis’s thin fingers to constrict his entire throat. Dennis looks at him, flustered like a virgin.
“Uh yeah. Ok. Choking. We are doing this now.” He swallows audibly, then lowers his palms to the base of Mac’s throat. Maybe a normal couple would establish a safe word or some sort of ‘red light/green light’ system for this scene. Mac doesn’t want to, doesn’t care. He has no faith that Dennis won’t kill him during this scene, but deadly runs of project badass: hell edition have shown him that he can’t die. If (When, he thinks, and shivers) Dennis kills him, he will just regenerate as good as new.
Well, as good as it gets in hell.Mac covers Dennis’s hands with his own. “I’m ready whenever you are.”
Dennis just breathes and breathes, fingers moving in minuscule increments. At this rate, he’s going to hyperventilate before Mac gets choked. He pushes down on Dennis’s hands. “Don’t be a pussy dude. This was your idea. Just choke me.”
“Just needed to set the scene,” Dennis mumbles. His eyes are glassy, unreadable. He closes his fingers around Mac’s throat, and squeezes. And squeezes. And…fuck, Mac can’t breathe. He can’t -
Dennis looks at him as though Mac is a beautiful revelation as spots form behind his eyes. “You’re so good for me, Mac,” he whispers. “This is so good.”
Mac’s body is twitching now, on the verge of passing out. Dennis kisses him softly, and Mac is gone. He’s floating in interstellar space, dark blue light surrounding him and healing the purple bruises on his neck.
Death is drowning, always drowning, so he comes back to his shell of a life with a wet cough that’s stolen away by dry heat. Dennis’s face, torn between satisfaction and horror, transforms into a look of punch-drunk delight. He kisses Mac’s chin, his jugular, his Adam’s apple, and breathes and breathes and breaths.
“Thank you,” he says into Mac’s neck, a rare utterance. Mac’s heart flutters when it shouldn’t, but he has twenty years of that for reference. He rubs the back of Dennis’s neck and just breathes.