Work Text:
03:43 p.m.
On a Monday
When Dennis walked into Paddy's, the screaming-over-each-other sound was as deafening as usual. Mac was behind the bar grabbing a couple beers while Charlie was standing behind him, face red as he screeched.
“Dude, there's no way, there’s just no way—” Charlie's voice scratched Dennis’ ears in utter disbelief.
“Of course I could.” Mac reached out his arm towards Dennis as he got closer, offering him a beer without even acknowledging he had arrived. Dennis accepted the frosted bottle and couldn't help but notice Mac took the warm one for himself. “And if you thought about it for more than two seconds without screaming you would agree I could—”
“Could what?” Dennis grabbed a seat and took a sip of the cold beer, already amused by the argument.
“Just listen to this, man, you won't believe this-” Charlie laughed in a twisted anger. He was throwing his hands in the air as if the entire room was gathering around to listen to him, despite the fact they were the only three people there. “Mac is trying to tell me he thinks he could get into either one of our pants.”
Dennis chuckled and waited for Mac to say Charlie had gotten it all wrong, but he didn't. Mac just raised his beer towards a confident grin, cocky, even—a very unusual color on him. It sparked Dennis’ interest.
“I stand by it-”
“You're an idiot,” Charlie interrupted.
“You are both idiots, which is why I don't doubt Mac could sack Charlie,” Dennis loudly took his turn speaking, leaving Charlie mumbling to himself, “but how exactly do you think you could possibly pull me?”
Dennis shot a playful look at Mac, waiting for him to glance back. He didn't. Rude, Dennis thought, adjusting himself on the stool. Mac just kept smirking at how annoyed Charlie was getting. This really was a very unusual color on him. Dennis tried not to get uncomfortable with how little attention he was getting as Mac played into Charlie's big gestures, acting as if the entire state was taking sides in whether or not he could pull it off.
“Well, Dennis, you see,” Mac raised his beer, looking around the bar as if he was delivering a speech. “Men are easy creatures. If you know a thing or two about a guy, you already got him in bed. That's the difference between men and women: chicks are ready for your schemes, but dudes are never prepared for mine.”
“Oh, really?” Dennis scoffed, “You would scheme your way into my pants?”
Mac locked eyes with Dennis, fucking finally, with a delighted look and a glint of challenge in his eyes.
“If I wanted to, in a second.” Mac smiled back, mischievously innocent, puppy-eyed as he always had been. It had only now occurred to Dennis that maybe Mac wasn't as naive as he looked. Maybe, just maybe, he knew just the way to raise his eyebrows, soften his gaze and make everyone believe that he was the one eating their act up, and not the other way around.
“I'd like to see that.” Charlie screamed, snapping Dennis back into the conversation. “Oh, look at him, Mr. Man—Mr. Sexy Man—lure us away!”
“Sounds tempting dude, but knowing I could is enough for me” Mac seemed to genuinely try to shut the conversation down. But it had just gotten interesting.
“You are so full of shit, Mac.” Dennis insisted. “You could never get me to sleep with you.”
“Are you—are you kidding?” Mac stumbled on his words, mockingly. “With the amount of intel I have on you? I could get you naked in under ten minutes, dude. But I won't.” He looked Dennis up and down, cautious about his next words. “You're not my type.”
Dennis was taken aback by the statement. At least Charlie looks just as shocked.
“Not your type?” Dennis’ laughed in a pathetic attempt to hide how offended he was by that idea. “What is that supposed to mean?
“You're just not my type, man, you're too—” Mac looked down at his feet, proud about Dennis’ reaction to his teasing. “—I mean you're not very—” Or was Mac a bit awkward about this, now? “—God, Dennis, you just don't—” Dennis was thrown off by how self-assured Mac seemed just moments ago, he couldn't seem to read him anymore. Was this him being coy or smug? “—you know what? Nevermind.”
“What do you mean, nevermind?” Dennis, on the other hand, was not being clever about hiding how this made him feel. “Fuck off, how am I not your type?”
“Dude, just move past it, okay?” Mac still wouldn't look at Dennis. Fuck, let me see what you're thinking. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“It's too late for that, man” Charlie kept popping into the conversation. Well, to be fair, Dennis kept forgetting he was there too.
“I promise, you don't wanna know, okay? Just—just forget I said anything, alright?”
“You're not getting out of this, Mac.”
Dennis' glare finally seemed to get to Mac. He threw his head back in a heavy exhale.
“Fuck, fine.” Mac squeezed his eyes shut, pressed his lips together and tensed up his shoulders. I win, Dennis figured, relieved.
Mac’s hands were tucked into his pants pocket and the sleeves of his t-shirt were pushed all the way up. Dennis guessed he could see what guys saw in Mac. Tensed up like that, you could really see how toned his arms were. Maybe that's why other guys fell for his schemes, but Dennis was confident he had always seen right through him.
“Fine. If you really wanna know… I need some courage.”
He then locked his gaze with Dennis again. With those damn puppy eyes.
“If you buy me a drink, I just might tell you.”
Fuck. That settled it. Mac knew how to play his part a lot better than Dennis had ever noticed. Dennis was reading through him like one reads through a brick wall.
“Oh, shit, dude!” Charlie smacked his hands against Mac's back. “That's a good scheme, man, holy shit—”
“How is that a good scheme?” Dennis fought back, refusing to let them both see how easily manipulated he had actually been. “I'm not buying you shit. Also, we're in our own bar, moron—”
“Just play along, you fucking asshole, alright?” Mac got two shot glasses and a bottle of whisky from behind the bar, and hovered the bottle just high enough for the liquor not to pour out. “Jesus. Do you want to know or not?”
Dennis sucked the inside of his cheeks, sour, defeated. He watched Charlie and Mac waiting on his next step.
“Fine, whatever, goddamnit, I'll buy you your stupid drink.” Dennis huffed. Mac happily poured them two shots and slid one across the bar to him. “Fucking idiot.”
They clinked the shot glasses against each other and swallowed the entire thing, not breaking eye contact once. Dennis held back from making a face, feeling the whisky burning down his throat, searching for something in Mac's expression that could suggest a hint of the same vulnerability. He had always been able to handle his liquor.
“I wouldn't try to sleep with you, Dennis,” Mac honored his word, “because I don't think you have it in you.”
Dennis opened his mouth ever so slightly, but stayed silent for a beat. Charlie, who only spent this long in silence if he had mentally checked out from a conversation, seemed to be deeply focused, eagerly waiting for the snowball that had just been dropped to inevitably turn into an avalanche.
“How does that help me at all?” Dennis unwillingly swallowed his pride and decided to play dumb, hoping (and failing) to get more out of Mac before sounding too defensive. “What the fuck even is it?”
“I don't know, man, but you don’t have it.” Mac had finished his beer by now and turned his back to Dennis to grab another. “You don't have what it takes to do me.”
Dennis’ heart started pounding. He had the overwhelming feeling that this was not a typical argument. He was used to yelling all kinds of nonsense at Mac and forgetting about it twenty minutes later. This was different. This was determining. But he didn't know exactly what was being determined between them.
“I could do you.” Dennis felt lightheaded. He was losing control of what he was saying.
“You just seem like you'd be forgettable.”
“I would be the best sex you've ever had.” His words were shooting out of his mouth before his mind could grasp or stop them.
“That I guarantee you could not do.”
“I could do anything.” Dennis was so annoyed, he's so fucking annoying, it was taking him all his self control to keep his hands to himself. He wasn't sure what might have happened had he let his arms bolt towards Mac like they wanted to.
“Really, Dennis? You think you could pleasure me?”
“I could make you cum over and over again until you forgot your name.” Dennis could feel his heart beating on his temples. His words were pouring out of him, unfiltered, drunken by the burning malice the whisky had left in his throat.
“Oh…” Mac slipped back from dismissive to pure. That stupid, calculated look on his face was starting to drive Dennis mad.
“I could make you forget everything you ever thought you knew about yourself, about me, about sex, Mac, and I could teach you everything from scratch.” Dennis hadn't realized he was on the edge of his seat, palms on the counter as he leaned closer to Mac across the bar. “I could tear you down and build you up and I could do it while you beg for it. I— I could—fuck that, I can fuck you better than anyone has ever fucked anyone before.”
Dennis noticed he was almost panting. He gulped as if he could swallow the words back into him. Fuck, that was too much. Where the fuck had all that come from? How could Mac press his buttons like that so easily? And could he always have done it?
Mac’s breathing was also a bit heavier, but he was subtly biting down on his bottom lip, as if he was holding back. His wide eyes fixed on Dennis, waiting for him to be done, patient. In control. How the fuck was he in control?
“Then prove it.” Mac muttered.
Dennis felt his chest rise and lower a bit more evenly. This is all a challenge. Mac was just proving a fucking point. And Dennis played his part like a perfect asshole. Fuck, he would never live this down.
“I don't want to.” Dennis answered.
“Good. Me neither.” Mac had won. Worst part was, he fucking knew it.
They stared each other down with eyes half closed for a couple more breaths. Mac still had a glint of arrogance in his eyes that Dennis could just smack off.
“Whoa…” Oh, shit. Dennis had forgotten about Charlie, again. “Dude… that was awesome—Oh my God, man, you completely fucked him over—dude, oh my God, how—how did you do that? He was begging for you to let him fuck you, dude, you gotta teach me how to do that, man, holy shit—”
Mac diverted his attention back to Charlie, still entertained. Dennis was left a mess. He stopped listening to whatever they were saying as his vision lost focus from looking at Mac for too long.
Had Mac always been able to take control over him like that?
And why had he never done it?
* * *
2:00 a.m.
On a Tuesday
Dennis, of course, couldn't sleep. Mac and him hadn't talked about what happened. When they closed up the bar and got home, they each went to their bedrooms without talking much, like always. That's just how it goes when you work with the same person you live with. But tonight, tonight Dennis thought Mac would have something to say once they were alone. Nope, nothing. Just good night, Dennis, and off he went, like a fucking sociopath.
Dennis jolted up from his bed without thinking. Don't think, just don't fucking think. He marched over to Mac's room and banged on his door non stop.
After about a minute, Mac opened the door, barely awake. He was in a pair of old black sweatpants and an even older graphic tee. His hair was an absolute disaster. His eyes were puffy, narrow and most definitely confused. Dennis thought he looked even better now than he did that afternoon. Fuck, his own hair was probably a mess too right now. That’s what I get for not thinking.
“You were just saying that, right?” Dennis blurted out. He couldn’t hold it in any longer.
“What…” Mac rubbed his eyes, as if to check if he was actually awake or not.
“Earlier. Today. You said I didn't have it in me. That I couldn't fuck you.” Dennis didn't care anymore. About control, about looks, all of the things he held sacred were slipping through his fingers—all he wanted, truly wanted, was that answer. The rest could come back to haunt him as soon as he had it. “You were just saying that, right?”
“Dennis,” Mac opened his eyes completely for the first time. “Are you still thinking about that?”
Dennis couldn't decide where to look. Mac's eyes, Mac's hair, Mac's clothes, Mac was infesting his thoughts, his sight, he couldn't look away and he couldn't look at all of him at once.
“Yeah,” Dennis answered, a bit exasperated.
Mac was leaning against the door, his eyes even lower than his usual height. He looked up at Dennis, who just now realized he was standing much closer than he intended to.
“Do you think you could?” Mac asked sincerely.
“I—I don't… Fuck, Mac, I don't know.” The anxiety Dennis had been simmering made his chest feel like it was about to implode.
Mac's eyes looking up at him. So innocent. Again.
“Do you want me to show you how?”
They shared a beat of silence. A single second of full honesty in having nothing to say to that. And then Dennis launched himself into Mac.
He grabbed Mac's face with both hands and pressed his body against him. You got me. Before Dennis closed his eyes he could see that Mac's were still open in wonder. No need to look so fucking clueless anymore.
Dennis pulled Mac in for a kiss, slamming the door behind them with his back. Mac's lips were softer than he expected. Not that he had thought about it, of course. It was just… surprising. Mac started reacting back. His mouth dropped open, allowing their tongues to clash.
With each kiss, Mac was getting rougher. His mouth pressing in harder, his arms tightening around Dennis, who caught himself moaning faintly. He could feel Mac's mouth widening with a smile in response. Mac's hands grabbed Dennis’ waist as he guided them away from the door. They didn't need to look at where they were going. When they got to the foot of the bed, Mac tossed Dennis down into the mattress—God, he's strong—and took his shirt off in a swift move.
It all seemed so seamless, almost choreographed. Like Mac had done it a hundred times before, or at least thought about it a thousand times. With his shirt off, Dennis could see Mac really was fit. Much more than he remembered. Under the moonlight creeping in from the window, a soft glow covered Mac's chest, a bit of sweat that made everything undeniably real. It still didn't seem real—how could that moment be real when Mac seemed to hold the power?
“And now what?” Mac interrupted Dennis’ spiraling mind as if he was reading it.
And there it was. Another glimpse of a terrifying awareness Dennis had never noticed.
Mac knew more than a thing or two about him, he knew that by now Dennis would have started to feel out of control. The question, so meticulous, was Mac loosening his grip on the situation and offering Dennis some of it back. That is, if Dennis ever did have any grip over Mac at all.
“Now I'm gonna prove you wrong.” Dennis took the chance to play along. He sounded assertive, but he felt leashed by Mac's hypnotizing guidance.
Mac leaned over on the bed and kissed him again. “I can't wait.” He teased. He crawled up on top of Dennis, his calloused hands travelling all over, slipping delicately under his shirt, asking permission to feel his skin. Dennis gripped his own shirt in the intention of taking it off, but Mac was faster to undress him. His hands were rough against his smooth waist, grabbing onto him like a sailor. Dennis felt obscenely small.
Mac grabbed Dennis tightly and hurled him over, lying on his back while Dennis laid on top of him. He was putting him in his place. Dennis was being overpowered into dominating. They were both pretending he was in charge.
Dennis’ legs hugged Mac's body as he stood his chest up on his forearms. Mac’s dark hair fell flawlessly messy over his forehead and his kisses were intertwined with sinful smiles. He looked like a man.
Dennis had never been with a man before. But Mac looked up at him with a depraved chasteness to his eyes, begging to be taken advantage of. Those eyes, those goddamn trusting and fearful eyes, they drove Dennis insane. He felt like there was nothing else in the world, no men or women, no Mac or Dennis, even, all there was was the way Mac looked at him.
Dennis felt pressure building up under him. As he lowered onto Mac, he realized he was sitting on top of his crotch. He could feel the outline of Mac's erection against him. He pulled away from the kisses, resting his forehead on top of Mac's and lightly scratching his fingertips down his chest, in a torturous pace. Mac breathing failed when he realized what Dennis had started. As Dennis’ fingers touched him over his pants, weightless, mean about it, Mac moaned and tossed his head back. Just like he did in the bar.
The tension in his eyes, his mouth, his shoulders, his whole body was being controlled by the breeze of Dennis’ touch, fingers brushing feathery on the cloth. Dennis was the one to tighten Mac and he would be the one to loosen him.
He slipped his fingers into Mac's sweatpants. The waistband was loose enough for Dennis to quickly realize there was no other layer between his hand and Mac's cock. No turning back now. He glided his hand and gently wrapped his fingers around Mac.
“Oh my God—” Mac whispered to himself, in a raspy, breathy voice that made Dennis' own cock twitch.
He had seen Mac's dick before, of course. He had never felt it, though, and that was a lot different. He lowered the sweatpants to Mac's ankles. As he slowly jerked Mac off, he grazed his thumb over the tip — prompting a subtle but beautiful squirm out of Mac — and spread a bead of precum to help his hand flow. He thought about how heavy it seemed on his hand, how thick, definitely thicker than his, anyway.
The gentle pumping seemed to relax Mac a bit more. He lifted his head back up to look at Dennis and shot him a dizzying smile. He looked almost… proud.
“You're doing so, so good—” Mac breathed, and bit down on his puffy lip, glowing pink from the violent kisses.
The praise fluttered in his gut. Something about how comfortable Mac was getting made Dennis feel at ease, too. There was a warm, almost cozy atmosphere underlining the entire situation.
But when Dennis was at ease, he wasn't warm.
A spark of cruelty broke into him. He remembered what his goal for the day was: he wanted to ruin Mac.
He wanted to win.
“Yeah?” He faked asking for reassurance.
“Oh, so good—oh, fuck—”
As soon as Mac started answering, Dennis picked up the pace. His hand was moving viciously, applying a tinge of delirious pressure. He was determined to turn the warmth Mac was handing him into a steamy hot mess. Turn Mac into a steamy hot mess. Mac rolled his eyes back and opened his mouth, bottom lip trembling with the overwhelming and sudden wave of pleasure. Dennis watched every little twitch on Mac's face, intoxicated by the idea of being the one to blame for each one.
It really was easy, after all. From the way he was positioned on top of Mac, the movement wasn't too different from when he pleasured himself. He kept jerking and squeezing exactly how he liked it. If it was good enough for him, it would be good enough for Mac. And it seemed to be doing the trick.
Mac smiled when he got horny, Dennis realized. The corners of his open mouth twitched, unfolding into an unbelievable smile, so devious, so immaculate, how the fuck could a man look so tempting and so holy at the same time? Dennis was mesmerized by it. So mesmerized, in fact, he wasn't paying attention to how fast his hand was moving anymore.
“Dennis—wait, I—” Mac exhaled, his whole body starting to curl and shake. Dennis pulled the breaks, going back to a gentle, provocative rhythm, stopping Mac before he finished. “Fuck… Fuck, Dennis, oh my God… Oh my God…”
Dennis liked the feeling of denying Mac his orgasm. The meanness was inebriating. As Mac attempted to catch his breath, Dennis dove his head next to him. He felt ready to tear him down.
“God, Mac?” He mocked, brushing against Mac's ear. “Is that what this is?” He kissed Mac's neck, making his way up to his earlobe.
Mac moaned and turned his head away from Dennis, ashamed at the mention of God. Dennis grabbed his face, hot and flushed, and whipped his head around, forcing eye contact between them. Those eyes.
“While I do this,” Dennis said into Mac's mouth, “I want you to think about something.”
Dennis let Mac's face go and started crawling back. He could feel Mac's cock sliding up his chest as he made his way down as intensely as he could feel Mac's entranced gaze over him, whimpering softly with anticipation.
“Is this God’s will,” He grabbed Mac's cock and laid a tender kiss on the tip, “Or is it mine?”
Dennis licked his way from the base of Mac's dick all the way up to the top again. Mac's whimpering turned into a guttural moan as he grabbed the sheets below them. Dennis could swear by the look on his face it was taking him every fiber of his being not to cum immediately.
Dennis wrapped his lips around the tip and worked his way down, sucking, licking and kissing like he had all the time in the world. He grabbed the base of Mac's shaft with one hand, too inexperienced to handle it all, but experienced enough to apply a very strategic pressure every now and then. A stream of endless “God” and “Dennis” and “please” and “fuck” slipped uncontrolably out of Mac, incomprehensible at times, but perfectly tied together, like a cry, like a prayer.
After a couple minutes of it, Dennis suddenly grasped the concept of having Mac's dick in his mouth. Fuck, how was this so easy? How could it possibly feel as natural as it did? It felt right, like everything they had ever done together had always been leading to this. Was he just too stupid to have noticed until now?
Dennis looked up without taking Mac's cock out of his mouth. Mac had one hand in a fist over his eyes and the other pushing his hair back. When he felt Dennis’ movement shift, he lowered one of his hands by Dennis' cheek. His thumb gently caressed his face for a while. His fingers slowly intertwined with Dennis’ curls, caressing his hair before grasping it in a firm grip.
A wave of exhilarating pain travelled down from Dennis’ scalp. Mac finally looked down at him, tenderly, like he had nothing to do with that feeling. Like he didn't even know how hard he's holding on. He didn't soften his grip while guiding Dennis’ head up and down, bucking his hips up along the motion, fucking his face gently but firmly. Each thrust was a bit deeper, a bit harder, and Dennis closed his eyes, trying desperately to focus on making sure his mouth was open enough for him.
He could hear Mac's breathing get louder. He started thrusting up faster, seemingly forgetting about Dennis’ need for air. But Dennis didn't mind. He'd stay there forever if he could keep seeing the pleasure build on Mac’s face, the satisfaction of driving him near insanity pumping through his veins.
Unfortunately, it couldn't last forever. When Dennis felt a familiar twitching on Mac's legs, he pried away from him, fighting Mac's hold, leaving him unfulfilled once again. His dick fell onto his bare stomach, wet and throbbing.
“Oh no no no, Dennis—please…” Mac whined, panting like a dog. “Please, please… Fuck…”
His whole face scrunched with frustration, and his grip on Dennis’ hair tightened along with it. Dennis glided a single finger around his cock, tormenting Mac with the proximity.
Dennis was so sure of what he was doing. He felt immortal, like as long as he kept this going neither of them could ever leave. He wiped his chin with the back of his hand and landed a velvet kiss on Mac's thigh.
“Dennis—” Mac choked, licking his suddenly dry lips, “I need you to—you have to let me finish... Please, I—I can't…”
“Well, Mac,” Dennis raised his eyebrows, trying his best to mimic the way Mac batted his naive eyes at him, “I thought you were going to show me how.”
Mac's eyes shot open, the fog of the arousal lifting upon hearing Dennis' taunter, assimilating those words. He let go of his hair and tossed both hands up to cover his own face, dazed. Dennis could still see a dumbfounded smile on his lips.
“Jesus Christ…” Mac sighed and chuckled in disbelief, “I did say that, didn't I?”
Dennis was still tracing his fingers across Mac's legs and stomach, taking notes on every spot that got an involuntary shiver out of him. Mac grinned at him, slowly getting back to his senses. Dennis grinned back.
“So,” Dennis tilted his neck, feeling his eyes darken. “You can teach me. Tell me what you want me to do. I'll do it all, everything you say. I'll be your disciple for the night.” He began sliding his fingers down towards Mac's ass, lightly, mean. “You get to prove your point.”
Mac's eyelids fluttered shut as his mouth slit open once more. The accumulated tension made him that much more sensitive to Dennis’ touch.
“Or you can admit defeat and let me fuck you senseless.”
With his eyes still closed, the corners of Mac's mouth sketched a twisted smile. What a pervert. He opened his eyes and looked up at Dennis from under his thick, black eyelashes, an affirmation written in that stare.
“What's it gonna be, Mac?” Dennis mocked, a cunning pout blossoming on his lips. He knew what Mac wanted him to do. Fuck, he knew what he wanted to do to Mac. Mac could not hold his depraved smirk as he tried to organize his thoughts. Dennis could see him trying so hard not to lose control now, after all this work, but there was no other way.
“Fuck you…” That was all Mac was able to hiss before Dennis slid his finger inside him, using all the spit he had been spreading around to glide right in. A strangled moan flowed out of Mac, and it seemed never-ending. While Dennis toyed with his finger, testing the depth, Mac's whine fluctuated between shallow and sharp, but he was unable to keep quiet.
Dennis felt divine. Few things in life seemed more satisfying than winning that argument while feeling Mac's body betray him. There was really only one he could think of—and he was about to do it. His own dick, neglected until now, was swollen and starting to hurt. He couldn't remember ever being harder. While he fingered Mac, he slid his free hand down his pants and unceremoniously whipped it out, stroking himself desperately.
He didn't want to feel it, necessarily. He wasn't trying to get himself off. His cock was the instrument he needed to prove himself to Mac. That's all he wanted from it. It was an extension of himself and something else entirely, all the mighty energy beaming out of him in that moment concentrated in a single place, all the luscious venom inside him pumping through it. He aligned himself with Mac's hole.
“Wait, Dennis—” Mac begged, realizing what was about to happen. “I—I can't take you like this…”
Fuck, Mac was right. Dennis felt a bit less godlike having forgotten that no matter how much he wanted this now, Mac wouldn't be wet for him. And then, that spark of cruelty cracked inside him again.
He lifted his palm to his mouth and spit, shooting a sharp and piercing gaze at Mac, unbothered by his amateur mistake. He then directed his open palm to Mac.
“Spit.” Dennis commended. Mac obeyed.
He retracted his hand and pumped himself a few more times, spreading both of their saliva in every single inch that was about to penetrate Mac, leaving him untouched for a while, watching, savoring. Dennis could feel him squirm in anticipation. So adorable. So pathetic.
Dennis bolted his hand up and slapped Mac across his face.
The sharp sound echoed through the room. Mac took a second to register the hit. His cheek was shining, the spit on Dennis’ hand sticking to his hair. A red hue bloomed slowly, displaying Dennis’ handprint perfectly.
Mac turned back slowly to meet Dennis’ thirsty gaze. His expression had changed. He was broken. That glint of arrogance finally gone. And what was left of him was absolute unrestrained devotion. They both forgot they were just pretending Dennis was in charge. Mac was, at last, completely controllable, just a docile puppy who hadn't yet learned how strong he actually was.
This was the Mac Dennis knew.
This was the Mac Dennis wanted to fuck.
When the limitless submission set in Mac's eyes, Dennis couldn't wait a second longer. He slipped the tip in. Mac moaned, but there were no words to his cries anymore, just a delicious, beastly yet deeply human sound. Dennis worked his way deeper, forgiving at first, allowing himself to indulge in each and every inch conquered.
He bottomed out quickly. His hips crashing into Mac in an ever-ascending rhythm. He felt like he could hear, feel and taste every single bit of Mac, and that was the closest he had ever gotten to omnipresence. It really was Mac who made him feel like a God. What's a God with no worshippers? Maybe Mac had control, after all. A God would never say.
Dennis’ hands were grabbing Mac's waist so tightly his fingertips were getting white. Mac held onto his wrists with such brute force Dennis could have snapped, but he kept thrusting into him, willing to take that risk.
Mac started mumbling something closer to words. Dennis took it as a sign to finish him off. Without slowing down, he reached towards Mac's cock and stroked him along with the motion of his hips. Mac's expression melted into the feeling so aggressively Dennis thought he might start actually crying.
“It's okay, baby boy, you can take it…” Dennis was having too much fun torturing Mac to even realize what he had just called him.
“I can't, I can't—” Mac was able to whimper back.
Dennis was uncompromising with the cadence of his hand and hips while forcing all the suffering out of Mac he could possibly get. “Do you want to cum for me now?”
“Yes, please, yes, yes—Oh—” Before Mac even began answering, his dick was already throbbing and his whole body curled up into Dennis. That sight alone was enough for Dennis to feel himself getting closer to climax as well. He had never finished at the same time as anybody. The thought was so erotic it made him pick up the pace even more, losing himself completely into Mac, turning into an animal for those final seconds.
“You can cum now, Mac—” Dennis allowed, even though there was no turning back now.
Mac's jaw dropped open and his eyebrows contorted as he sat up closer, staring into Dennis’ eyes, a ruined man. Thick streams gushed out of him, coating his stomach and thighs, the first jet so powerful it landed on Dennis’ chest. Dennis moaned loudly into Mac's mouth as he felt himself filling him up, pumping into him with less and less power as their energy sat on top of each other.
When it was over, they were both much more out of breath than they had realized. Mac dropped his back down onto the bed and covered his face with his hands, exhausted, as Dennis slipped out of him. They existed like that for a while, sweaty, dirty, wheezing, touching, both of them serving as proof to each other that they were still there.
“Dennis?”
“Yeah?”
“That was fucking amazing.”
And with that appraisal, Dennis finally caught his breath. He looked up to the ceiling. Damn right it was.
“Mac?”
“...Yeah?”
“You have to clean yourself up.”
Mac looked up at Dennis in incredulity, almost offended, and then back at himself.
“Jesus Christ, man—I mean, yeah, I do, but have some manners…”
Mac opened up a drawer on the bedside table and pulled a rag out. It seemed to be clean, but Dennis didn't want to think about it too much. Mac wiped his body tidy and discarded the rag on the floor next to them.
“I gotta hit the shower, dude,” Mac sighed, standing up on his arms, sliding out of the bed.
“Wait—” Dennis interrupted him. He didn't know why.
Mac was at the edge of the bed, looking back at him. Fuck, why had Dennis interrupted him? What, was he expecting them to cuddle? Dennis cleared his throat, stalling for just a second.
“I, hm, I proved you wrong.” Was all he could think to say.
Mac smiled. Fuck, would Mac's smiles remind him of this, now?
“If anything, Dennis, you proved me right.”
Dennis was so stunned by Mac's words he suddenly felt very aware of the fact they were still naked.
“Excuse me? You just said that was fucking amazing—”
“That was never my point, though,” Mac's voice went up half an octave, defensive. “I said men were easy. And here you are, aren't you?”
Dennis blinked. Did a full breath cycle. So. Annoying.
“Mac. Are you telling me this was a scheme?”
Mac smirked at him. And there it was again. That glint of arrogance, ruining the angelical illusion. Goddamnit, had it really always been there?
“It wasn't just a scheme, if that's what you're asking.” Dennis wanted to follow up on whatever that meant, but Mac just kept talking. “You're the one bringing up winning and losing, and if that's on the table, I definitely won. I said I could bed you and I did.”
“And I said I could fuck your brains out and I did.”
Dennis wasn't convinced he had won anymore. But Mac could never find out.
“Alright, let's call it a tie, then.” Mac clapped his hands as if he were a judge smashing his hammer.
“I mean,” Dennis chuckled at the irony of the situation, “we did finish at the same time. That's a tie if I've ever seen one.”
“Dude—I know,” Mac gasped right back at him. “Holy shit, what was that? I mean, I think that means we're married now, right?”
“Yeah, I'm pretty sure it does.” Dennis laughed. It was nice joking with Mac. Better than nice, even. That warm feeling was still there: this felt natural.
They enjoyed the look on each other's faces, a sense that things could never get awkward between them settling in.
“Rematch?” Mac invited, half-joking.
“You ruined it—“
“Shit—” Mac jumped out of the bed with a little jog towards the door.
“Go shower. You ruined it.”
“Yep—” Mac cringed and closed the door behind him.
Idiot.
The rematch would have to take place in Dennis’ room, of course. He needed video evidence to win the next round.
* * *
03:04 a.m.
On a Tuesday
What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck was all Mac could think while getting out of the bedroom, leaving Dennis behind. Why did he leave Dennis behind? It was his bedroom—Oh God, Dennis was naked on his bed. Dennis had been naked in his bed for a while now. What. The fuck.
He got in the bathroom and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror that made him stop on his tracks. His cheek still had Dennis’ handprint. He landed his own hand on top of the mark, noticing how much hotter it was than the rest of his face.
He admired it for a while, but soon got distracted by his own reflection. He stared at himself like he was telling an old friend unbelievable news. Smiling like a fool, unable to look away from Dennis's hand across his cheek.
What the fuck.
He stood under the shower before turning it on, letting a cold stream of water cool him off. His thoughts started aligning for the first time since being woken up by a very distraught Dennis over an hour earlier. He felt like he had been dreaming since.
It was unbelievable to him that Dennis had bought that hard into the you're-not-my-type act. As if Dennis could not be someone's type. As if he could care less about being Mac's type, of all people. Well, to be fair, of course it would have bothered him, that was given. Of course it would be funny to see him freak out a little. But Dennis shedding all of his defenses to prove Mac wrong? That was insane. And certainly not funny.
Mac was just trying to be a bitch. He was going to keep feeding Dennis shot after shot, dangling a proper explanation in front of him until he blacked out for some good old tea bagging. So stupid, such a dumb, meaningless joke. He knew he would get under Dennis’ skin, but God, how could he possibly think it would lead to this?
And then, Dennis said he'd make him cum over and over again and Mac genuinely thought he was going to die. Just thinking about the word “cum” slithering out of his tongue like that made his heart skip a beat again. He felt goosebumps traveling up his spine even under the warming jet from the showerhead as he remembered what he had answered to that. Prove it.
Prove it? Mac could throw up, he was so anxious about that reply, even now, after the fact. Where did it come from? How could he say that? And most importantly, how the fuck did it work?
Mac cut the water and stepped out, dripping into the never quite dry carpet. And to think he was so relieved Dennis hadn't cornered him all day to follow up on the conversation. When they got home Mac bolted into the bedroom, exhausted after a whole day of a racing heartbeat. He was tired of stopping himself from looking at Dennis, tired of crossing his legs and hiding his boner behind the bar, tired of shushing the voice in the back of his mind that said maybe there was something real there.
All of that. Just to learn Dennis had spent the day the same way.
Jesus Christ, we really are idiots.
Mac wrapped the towel around his waist and opened the bathroom door, the cold air clashing with the steam. He walked back into the bedroom, nervous about what would have changed now.
But Dennis was asleep. He had pulled his pants up and dropped into the pillow, facing the door. Mac smiled, allowing himself to fantasise about Dennis accidentally drifting off to sleep while waiting for him to come back. He walked over and pulled up the blanket, covering his bare chest.
God, he had never looked at Dennis quite like this. Was he really that stupid? Had this always been an option? Dennis had always made him feel good, better than anyone ever had. He could not think of a better life than getting to make Dennis happy every day. He loved Dennis. Still, somehow, it had never occurred to him he was in love.
Mac grabbed his pajamas from the floor. He had always spent every waking moment with Dennis, but he didn't want to push it by spending every sleeping moment besides him as well. As much as he wanted to. He'd gladly sleep on the couch knowing tomorrow his bed would smell like Dennis.
Mac glanced over him one last time before leaving and had the impulse to kiss his forehead. He bit his bottom lip. Was it appropriate? Cool? Weird? He dropped it. Not worth it. He would march over to the living room and wait for the tiredness to knock him out.
But, you know what?
I would have done it yesterday.
He ran back, kissed Dennis’ forehead and ran out before he could see if it had woken him up.
Nothing had changed.