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They got a shitty table again. Not next to the kitchen at least, not that bad—like that terrible day that only got saved by seeing that dumbass waiter spill spaghetti all over himself—but not good either, not what a repeat paying customer should be able to expect. It’s tucked away in the corner, shoved off to the side as if they’re trash.
They should not be treated like this. It’s offensive, really.
Mac rolls his eyes. „You’re making like, way too much of a deal out of this stupid table again, dude. It’s just a table.“
Dennis scoffs. „It’s not about the table, it’s about what the table implies. We‘ve been here every month for how long now? You would expect that at some point they understand that maybe customers that reliably pay the revolting prices for their, honestly, mediocre food, should not get the shittiest goddamn table in the entire restaurant.“ Dennis's voice has taken on the sharp edge it gets when he’s especially annoyed.
He’s talking himself into a rage, wind up toy pulling its own crank. Mac knows that what gets Dennis to bluster the quickest is feeling like he‘s not being respected.
He intercepts. „Well, we don’t have the shittiest table in the restaurant. Remember?“. He points at the other corner, next to the kitchen door, where they sat that one time the waiter spilled spaghetti all over himself (which was really funny.)
Dennis squints his eyes. „Is that chair still wobbly? Didn’t they switch it out? Did they actually go and switch the wobbly one back in? How is this business possibly staying afloat with service like this?“ Mac looks closer and indeed, the chair seems to be wobbling a bit.
But his diversion has worked. Dennis has calmed down a bit. Mac refrains from commenting on the fact they still come back here every month, which is probably helping the whole financial situation.
Dennis furrows his brows, but it’s more to make a point than out of genuine anger.
„We still should have gotten a better table.“
Mac nods. „Yeah.“
He isn’t exactly sure what made this one so bad again.
It’s not even monthly dinner, just a random meal they’re having with Charlie. Charlie who’s late, which is to be expected. He texted something about Goblins in the toilet, which was kind of confusing—because since when do Charlie and Frank have a toilet and not just a bucket?—but it’s Charlie, which means neither of them has any chance at making sense of the whole thing anyways.
They still tried, of course. Mac’s best guess was that the Goblins in the toilet are the reason they use the bucket and this is addressing a long unsolved problem. Dennis's is that Charlie and Frank huffed a shit ton of paint and are hallucinating again.
It’s annoying that Charlie isn’t there yet, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’s stood them up. Thankfully, they can always order for him already. Charlie likes his food cold.
For some reason.
It does mean that the seat across them sits empty for now. Mac doesn’t really mind, though. Not getting to look at Dennis is a bummer, but being able to feel him next to Mac more than makes up for it.
They order, but Mac keeps fumbling with his menu. Dennis doesn’t say anything, not while the waiter is there, but the minute they’re alone again, he hones in.
„What is it?“ Dennis asks, annoyance already creeping into his voice.
Whatever this is, it’s best snuffed out immediately, because Mac has that glint in his eye, the one he always gets when he‘s about to propose something incredibly stupid.
„I just had an amazing idea.“ Mac beams, obviously incredibly pleased with himself and about to prove Dennis right any second now.
Dennis sighs. „Which is?“
Mac looks around, secretively, as if to make sure nobody was listening. As if anybody was paying any attention whatsoever to them in this insultingly noisy restaurant. As if they would be able to.
Mac leans over, drawing in close, and closer still, until his mouth is right next to Dennis's ear.
„I want to fuck you.“
Dennis blinks.
Mac’s grin spreads even wider, lecherous, almost, except that it‘s Mac, who doesn’t get lecherous. That's Dennis's job. „I want to fuck you, right here“, Mac whispers. „Jerk you off, too.“
Mac licks his lips, more nervous than seductive.
Dennis's eyes almost bulge out of his head, but he can feel his cheeks grow hotter anyways. „Do you mean like, under the table?“
Mac, back upright by now, bites his lip, nods nervously. Whatever temporarily possessed him is gone, but not entirely. Still glinting beneath the surface. Which is really, really hot.
Dennis's breath hitches. They’ve never done anything in public before. Not together. Is Mac being serious? Dennis looks over but all he can parse from Mac's expression is that he’s needy. Which isn’t something he’d even have to look for to know.
It does not seem like Mac’s joking.
Dennis shakes his head. „No way. We‘ll get kicked out. Or banned or something.“ (Try sued.)
Mac bats his eyelashes. „So you’re scared of being banned from Guigino’s? Dennis Reynolds, worried about being banned from Guigino’s.“
Dennis bites his lip. Mac really knows just what buttons to push. But it works, goddamnit it works. Dennis crumples up the cotton serviette, nervously, then smooths it out again. The creases are still there. Mac is really good at this. It makes Dennis feel painfully transparent, like a man ripped wide open.
Under the table Dennis can feel fingers tracing his crotch, petulantly almost. In a moment of weakness he looks over at Mac and he’s put on those fucking puppydog eyes, that pout, that whole stupid expression that always manages to worm itself under Dennis’s skin somehow, soften his edges. Mellow him out.
„Please, Den.“
That does it.
„Alright, fine.“ Dennis sighs, glancing around to see if anyone’s paying them any undue attention „But be discreet, yeah?“
Mac McDonald is many things, but discreet has never been one of them.
Dennis tries strategically placing the tablecloth over his lap, to make things at least a bit more subtle. Public indecency laws are bullshit, but they still exist, and neither of them can afford to get anywhere within the vicinity of a courtroom.
Mac slinks down in his seat, clumsily opening the buckle with both hands. This is why Dennis should take the lead on things like that, he doesn’t need both hands to open a belt buckle. For someone who’s been uncloseted for so long by now, Mac is shockingly unskilled, at least when it comes to delicate things. He’s all brutish strength and raw unfiltered power, which Dennis doesn’t really mind, usually, but in this case, it doesn’t exactly help. Even Mac’s hands are built better for slapping rather than caressing, but that’s something Dennis still has to convince him of.
When Dennis can feel the first tug on the zipper, he strategically drags his chair back the slightest bit, to mask the noise. Mac looks at him weirdly, but that’s only because he doesn’t even know how to spell subtle. Literally, Dennis saw him write it as supple once. That’s an entirely different word.
Dennis's thoughts are cut off by Mac’s fingers sneaking through the zipper, gliding along lace. The hand freezes, and Dennis looks at Mac, the way his eyes light up like he’s just seen Jesus Christ personally rise from his grave right in front of him, and yeah this is why he lets Mac do the things he does sometimes, this is why he puts up with his bullshit.
The panties—very tasteful—were supposed to be a surprise for later, but for Mac to find out this way is fine, too. For Mac to keep thinking about it the entire rest of the evening, nothing but Dennis on his brain and the way his pretty cock will look pushing against the lace.
It takes Mac a few seconds but then he’s moving again, dragging his fingers only lightly, but the material amplifies the friction and Dennis realizes that maybe this wasn’t the best idea after all, because Jesus, the lace rubbing against his cock feels really fucking good, and from the glint in Mac’s eye, Dennis knows that he knows too.
Dennis can kind of feel it getting to him now. It’s not even the things Mac’s doing necessarily, it’s more that he is, right here in this crowded restaurant where. With all these people watching, all these people around them.
The tablecloth feels transparent on his lap.
Technically, no one can see. Dennis knows that. He knows that nobody can see Mac, what he’s doing, but there’s still a racing in his chest, a prickling on his skin. Someone might see. Someone might. Mac isn’t subtle, and the tablecloth could slip, or maybe someone drops something and while picking it up their gaze wanders around—
Dennis has to grip onto the table to steady himself, and tries not to linger on the satisfied glint in Mac’s eye. Asshole.
It’s exciting, knowing that they might be found out. It’s also exciting how little Mac seems to care.
Maybe it’s just his stupidity, or maybe it’s something else, something more ravenous. Mac who’s hungry, Mac who can’t wait to touch Dennis even for a single second, so he has to do it with all these people watching, not even caring if they’re found out.
Mac who would throw Dennis to the floor in the middle of the restaurant and fuck him right then and there if there weren’t laws against public indecency in place.
Dennis feels Mac brush against him again, and he feels it, feels it rushing up in him, and he knows that Mac feels it too, can read it on Dennis's face, plain as day. The time for teasing is over already and they haven’t even gotten their food yet. Dennis bites back his shame and looks at Mac, pleadingly. He’s going to kick his ass for this later.
Mac leans down low, glowering, and he’s an animal suddenly, that penetrating gaze that makes Dennis feel completely stripped down to the bone.
„We should go to the Bathroom.“ Mac’s voice is low, raspy. The slightest bit smug, which, again, Dennis will definitely kick his ass for later.
But right now he just nods, flustered. They should.
Before Charlie gets here.
Dennis had expected Mac to push him against the stall, fuck the soul out of him right then and there, quick and dirty. He did not expect the dildo. It’s one of the fucking dick mold ones, the ones they’ve had done ages ago, more as a joke than anything else, but gotten a surprising amount of use out of since. It’s Mac's, because of course it is. Dennis could recognize the topography of veins in his sleep.
He points, brain gone blank. „Did you have that hidden in your pants the entire time?“
Mac nods, blushing bashfully. How can he blush after pulling a dildo out of his pants in a public restroom? It‘s frustrating, the fact that Mac pulls it off somehow, giant droopy puppy eyes and lashes like a goddamn baby cow.
„So it wasn’t a spontaneous idea.“
Mac grins, shrugs. „Just a little white lie to get you in the mood. I know you like spontaneity.“ Mac’s fingers trail along the silicone, and Dennis fumes, because, yeah, he does like spontaneity. Likes being surprised. Probably wouldn’t have been won over so easily if he knew this had been premeditated. When did Mac become such a sneaky bastard? Or has he always been and Dennis has just never noticed?
„Do you seriously expect me to fuck myself with a dildo in the bathroom at Guigino’s?“ Dennis whisper-yells. People might be listening, but he still has to make his frustration heard.
„No, of course not," Mac says coyly. He holds the dildo out on both hands like an offering, balancing its weight from hand to hand. „I just want you to put it in.“
Dennis blinks, and the AC hums. Somewhere in the kitchen someone drops a plate.
Dennis know that Mac is about to say something about fucking spaghetti any minute now, about how he hopes there was spaghetti on that plate so there’s spaghetti all over the waiter now and they have to go see, but he doesn’t.
Mac doesn’t say anything about any spaghetti.
Instead, he steps closer and Dennis can really see his eyes now, the hazy glow they have.
There are no thoughts about spaghetti in there. None at all.
„Dennis, we both know what you were thinking when you put those panties on earlier.„
Dennis swallows because, yeah, probably. Yeah. Probably.
Mac draws his hand along Dennis's arm in a motion that would be casual in any circumstances other than this. If there wasn’t a silicone replica of Mac’s dick flopping in his other hand, held between them.
„You can’t pretend like it didn’t do anything to you, the thought of all those people around you not having a single idea what you’re wearing. No idea my dick is inside you.“.
Mac is even closer now, and they’re almost nose to nose now, Mac the only thing in Dennis's vision, the only thing that exists, the glimmer in his eyes, the slight nervous tremble in his frame that almost betrays him and makes him look so much more human and Mac.
Mac bats his eyelashes again, those stupid fucking Disney princess eyelashes that Dennis couldn’t get if he went through an entire tube of mascara.
„I know you want this, Den .“
„In front of Charlie?“, Dennis croaks, despising himself for the wobble in his voice.
Mac licks his lips, hungry, and Dennis remembers how dogs always have the ability to sink their teeth in, too. They just choose not to, most of the time.
„In front of Charlie.“
The blush on Dennis's cheeks spreads like a rash. He hates how much he loves it when Mac gets like this. Dennis clenches his fist, then lets it droop. Bites his bottom lip. Looks at the silicon dick, then at Mac‘s face, then at the silicon dick again. Then at Mac‘s face, dumb, hopeful puppy eyes blown wide open, painfully earnest.
God damn it.
Five minutes later they’re back at the table just in time to see their dinner arrive, and Dennis has to pretend he isn’t currently stuffed full of 10 inches of silicone modeled into an exact replica of Mac’s dick. Fucker.
Mac grins, devilish grin, all teeth but somehow still not mean spirited, in that certain way only he manages to. „I told you I‘d be fucking you under the table.“
It takes Dennis every bit of restraint to not stab Mac’s eye out with his fork.
Instead, he prods at his food.
It’s not exactly easy for him to concentrate on his meal right now. Logically he knows no one will know, how could they, but somehow, no matter how irrational, there’s this thought in his head, about something like a giant blinking arrow on his back saying „I have a dildo in my ass right now. I also really like it.“
Mac is such a gigantic piece of shit. He’s the worst. He’s also incredibly sexy like this.
And then, almost as if he heard his name called, Mac leans over, all conspiratory.
„How are you holding up?“
Dennis fumes, but quietly. He’s not going to give Mac the satisfaction of knowing how much this is getting to him. Not if he can help it.
„Doing just fine, thank you.“ Dennis bites back, taking a demonstrative bite of his food. Just as he’s contemplating the flavor profile, he feels Mac‘s hand again, sending ripples through his body. The lightest, most feathery touch, but it registers like the only thing Dennis can feel right now. Mac’s touch and the dildo up his ass. Mac’s cock.
And this is through denim. Fuck.
The chatter of conversation all around him feels like a low buzzing in Dennis's skull.
None of these people have any idea what they’re doing.
Only Mac does, this shared secret they have. It’s like they’re the only two people in this entire room, everything else just background noise.
And it’s good.
Why the fuck does it have to be this good?
Why does Mac have to be so good at this, at knowing what it is Dennis wants?
It‘s really fucking unfair.
Mac‘s hand brushes his, just casual enough to be on accident but Mac knows what he’s doing, the glint in his eyes tells enough, and Dennis clenches instinctively. He wishes Mac hadn’t noticed, but of course he did. Because he watches Dennis like a hawk, like he’s the only real thing in the room. The only real thing in the world.
It always dances between titillating, humiliating and grounding, but right now, somehow it’s all three.
Their fingers lace together under the table naturally, like they were meant to do this, meant to slot together just like that.
Mac gives a slight squeeze.
„I know you can do this.“
He says it so sweetly, so encouraging, that it hits just the spot. Dennis gnashes his teeth together. He wants to rip out Mac‘s jugular.
But even more than that, he wants to jam his tongue down his throat.
„Everything alright, sir?“ Dennis and Mac both freeze. It’s the waiter, interrupting their special moment together.
Dennis only glares, pointedly, because he doesn’t exactly trust his voice right now.
„Uh, yeah, all good.“ Mac answers for both of them.
The waiter nods but he doesn’t leave, just keeps staring at them weirdly.
Dennis wants to choke him out, snap his spindly neck, but Mac steps in again.
„It’s all good here.“, he repeats, voice gone vicious now, and Dennis thinks about tackling him to the floor and fucking right then and there, about what the consequences would be. It’s almost worth it. Almost.
The waiter looks from Mac to Dennis and then from Dennis to Mac. From Mac, pissed off but otherwise normal, casual, if maybe a bit flushed, to Dennis who‘s an absolute blushing splotchy mess right now. Then sighs.
„Uh, yeah, apologies for the interruption.“
The waiter turns on his heel and walks away. This is above his pay grade. Even if that guy does look like he‘s possibly about to have a heart attack or something. Flushed skin, palpitations, the way he’s seen him twitch in his seat. It’s symptoms he recognizes, he’s pretty sure, but then again that first aid class was many years ago. And that guy is a huge piece of shit. Neither he or his partner ever tip. Except for that time the one guy groped him.
He might also just be a tweaker, or something.
God, this job has made such a cynic of him. Customer service does tend to do that. One of these days, he’ll finally quit.
But today is not that day.
Dennis is shifting in his seat, uncomfortable. It’s embarrassing how much the fact that people are watching, people could find out is doing for him.
How the fuck did Mac know this? Then again, he always seems to draw intense satisfaction from finding out what Dennis wants before even he himself knows.
But when Mac is in control he’s never cruel. He wants, he wants a lot, he’s fucked up in the same way Dennis is, that unfillable hole deep down inside gnawing away at his innards, but he‘s still gentle with Dennis in a way that reassures him that Mac won’t let things get too far. Won’t let him break. Because ultimately, Mac does care, care a lot.
And that's when Dennis has the upper hand again, in the emotional department, their day to day lives. When he can get Mac to do the shopping or his laundry or probably even to jump off a cliff for Dennis if he asked him too, all with the same eager expression and tone, Am I doing it right? Am I doing it right? Am I doing it right?
Ultimately Dennis knows that Mac needs him way too much to let him shatter and that's why he can trust him with this. Because he knows that Mac only gets off when Dennis gets off, no matter how flustered he is.
Bending to Mac‘s will is ultimately a selfish act, but they’re both selfish. Maybe that's why they fit together so well.
Still, this is something new, for both of them.
Even for Dennis.
There was that time in the movie theater, but that was different. It’s what virtually everybody does in movie theaters. The only people that haven’t gotten a handjob in a movie theater are either lying about it, or they can’t get a girl to agree to do it for them. Or a guy, maybe? Or Mac, maybe.
This is not the image Dennis needs in his head right now, and when he glances over to Mac he’s looking over too, goofy grin on his face, and it’s probably because of the whole situation going on that he’s grinning this way, but a part of Dennis brain he tries smothering down because it's absolutely not helpful right now, can’t help but read it as yeah i’ll do it, definitely. Why’d you wait this long to ask?
Fuck.
But beside all that, handjobs in movie theaters are still normalized, even if it’s a guy jerking off another guy. Or two guys jerking off each other, maybe.
Having a dildo up your ass in a crowded restaurant is different. Way different.
They’re almost done with their dinner—a very exciting dinner—by the time Charlie arrives, and fuck, that’s right, Charlie was supposed to be here, too. Dennis completely forgot about it, and even Mac seems surprised, but he still planned this whole thing, put that dildo (up his shirt? down his pants? up his butt?) before he even knew Charlie was late. Maybe this is some weird power-play thing, something about Mac asserting his dominance and claiming ownership, because he can’t stand Dennis forgetting for even a single second who he belongs to—
Charlie and Mac are both staring at him. Dennis blinks, dazed.
„Dude, were you even listening?“ Charlie asks, disappointment in his voice.
„I was telling you guys about the ghouls and the goblins!“
There’s paint splattered on Charlie's sweater, which works in favor of Dennis's theory.
He looks over at Mac, who simply shrugs.
„Yeah, the ghouls. Yeah.“ Dennis tries to smile but it probably comes out pained. Not that Charlie notices, already buried in his clammy spaghetti, almost fused together now. He really has to pull them apart with his fork to separate them, and it’s kind of morbidly fascinating. But also very gross.
„Perfect temperature. They really do a good job cooking them here and shit.“
Charlie looks up from his plate again.
„By the way, do you guys think we should get dessert? I kind of want dessert.“
„Sure, but Dennis has to eat up first.“. The smug grin can be heard in Mac’s voice already. Dennis doesn’t even have to look.
He stares down at his plate, still mostly full.
Mac is the worst person on earth. Dennis wants him so bad it’s physically painful.
„I can help you, man.“, Charlie interjects, helpfully (hungrily), but Mac shakes his head. „No. Dennis is going to finish.“ His voice has gone unusually authoritative, and Dennis squirms in his seat. He’s going to choke Mac to death and then piss on his grave.
Charlie furrows his eyes, looking from Mac to Dennis and then from Dennis to Mac again, then simply shrugs, and goes back to his food.
Dennis could kiss him on the mouth right then and there.
Which would drive Mac insane. Which would drive Mac insane.
And then there’s a way for Dennis to even the scales a bit, make it a bit harder on Mac, right then and there.
„Charlie, you’ve got a little, uh, something.“
Dennis's voice is smooth, sensual. It’s the one he uses to pick girls up, to seem sensitive. Well, when he used to.
Charlie looks up from his plate. There‘s a small bit of sauce in the corner of his mouth.
Dennis leans across the table, napkin in hand.
He can feel Mac tense up in his chair, hackles raised.
He’s so possessive. It’s nice to be wanted this much. It’s also fun to play with.
Gently, more gentle than he intended, really, but it just comes natural with Charlie, Dennis wipes Charlie's mouth, who just lets him do it, staying perfectly still.
Dennis purposefully lingers, just a bit. Just to drive Mac crazy. And, maybe, because being with Charlie is always kind of nice too, showing affection to him, it's nice and sweet and simple.
Because Charlie won’t second guess any of it and just be grateful, won’t still be mulling it over in his brain later, looking for reasons he might not have deserved it. Being nice to Mac can be exhausting sometimes, even if its still worth it most of the time.
Being with Charlie is still nice, too. Especially if it makes Mac jealous.
Two birds, one stone.
Charlie grins, „Thanks, man.“. Then he’s back at his spaghetti.
Meanwhile Mac‘s hand has disappeared beneath the table again, and Charlie is right there , and maybe this was not that good of an idea, after all.
The wolf is showing his teeth now, and they’re sharp.
Dennis needs them on his jugular like he needs air to breathe. Maybe even more so.
He bites down on his fork, the metallic taste like blood in his mouth. Fuck.
Charlie is back at eating, devouring his food with such voracity, it looks like he hasn’t eaten in days. Knowing it’s Charlie, it very well might be the only actual genuine food he’s had in some time. Cheese and cat food don’t really count.
Thankfully, it also means he isn’t paying much attention to the two of them, the way Dennis can’t help but squirm in his seat.
Still, there’s a chance he might notice, a chance he might find out.
Mac leans over, drawing in close to Dennis's ear.
„You love this, Den, I know you do“, he whispers.
Once again, Dennis fucking melts at the pet name, can’t help himself.
„You love having my cock inside you, everybody staring at you like that. And we both know why.“ Mac’s voice drops another octave, in the way he knows Dennis loves, the way that always sends a tingle down his spine.
„It’s because you’re such a slut.„
Dennis bites down on the inside of his cheek to not let any noises escape. That fucking word just gets to him, always. And Mac knows, that‘s why he uses it so sparsely, only dropping it at the most opportune moments. Maximizing the impact. Just like Mac knows he can drop a Den or a Baby in just the right whiny tone, with just the right expression to melt his defenses, he also knows he can drop the slut to instantly get his heart pumping in his chest, his cheeks painted dark crimson.
There’s the scrape of a chair on wood, and reality blinks back into focus. Charlie is done eating and on his feet already.
„Alright, I have to head out. Frank just texted me about some new ghouls. Very rare breeds. They’re hardy fuckers, he’s gonna need me to hold them down while he’s hosing them.“
„Yeah, sure. Bye Charlie“, Mac says, unsure. The fact that Mac, who basically grew up with Charlie, has no idea what’s going on with him either, is reassuring.
It seems like there won’t be dessert, after all. Dennis doesn’t really mind that part.
Still, he would be lying if he said he won’t miss Charlie, the tiny bit of extra adrenalin his proximity gives, and looking at Mac’s eyes, he knows he’s thinking the same. Mac loves showing off, getting to feel like he’s getting exclusive access to something precious—which works out perfectly, since Dennis loves the attention that comes with it.
There’s something very endearing in the way Mac grabs Dennis's ass when he knows Charlie‘s looking sometimes, and it’s equally endearing Mac thinks he doesn’t notice.
It’s only when Charlie has already disappeared out the restaurant door that they realize he didn’t leave any money.
They’re both flushed and flustered as the waiter—very rudely, for some reason, comes to take their plates away.
It’s over now, and there’s a pang of disappointment in Dennis's chest, but he made it, without ruining the panties he paid so much for. Without publicly humiliating himself. He’ll make Mac wear the leash and harness for this later. Maybe even the hood.
The waiter is already multiple tables away, when Mac yells.
„Waiter guy!“. He’s loud enough that some people at adjoining tables look over.
The waiter turns around, disgruntled look on his face.
Mac glances at Dennis, shit eating grin on his face, and it takes a few seconds for realization to sink in.
„I think I maybe want to order dessert today.„
Dennis almost lunges. With what intention, he isn’t exactly sure.
When the waiter comes back, pudding in hand, he looks even more pissed. The guy is incredibly unprofessional. How is he even still employed?
Mac takes his time eating. He’s really putting on a show, licking up the side of the spoon all suggestively. As if there aren’t people watching. Dennis thinks he can see an elderly woman from the table over look at them displeased for a moment.
But fuck, he doesn’t want Mac to stop. The fact that he doesn’t seem to care that people are watching makes it so hot, makes Mac so fucking sexy right now. Dennis wants to eat him alive.
That old bitch should mind her own business. Mac’s just licking his spoon, just enjoying dessert—and it hits Dennis again that if people knew what they were really doing, what has him fidgeting in his seat like that, fuck, that would be very bad. His heart is beating like crazy, racing in his chest.
„Mac“, Dennis knows he probably looks painfully needy right, incredibly pathetic, but he‘s burning up inside and he isn’t sure how much longer he can keep going.
Mac looks at him like it’s his first time looking at a sunrise. „Yeah.“ he nods, dumbly, all the way down to regular Mac again, normal Mac for whom awe seems to come as natural as breathing.
„Yeah.“
They barely get into the bathroom stall—an entirely closed off room thankfully giving them some amount of privacy—before they’re tearing at each other's clothes, fumbling with buttons and zippers.
They can’t get their clothes off fast enough.
„I can’t believe you wore these for me, baby.“ Mac slips his hands under the waistband and pulls the piece of lacy fabric down, and Dennis almost purrs at the way it rubs along his cock just right, letting it bounce free.
“Fuck, Dennis, you were so loud.” Mac chokes the words out between kisses and they come out wet and sloppy. He works the dildo free, replacing it with his cock which slides in perfectly, which feels so right and good that Dennis has to bite his lip to keep a noise from spilling out that Mac would never let him live down.
„Everybody could hear you. They all know what a slut you are.“
Mac speeds up and Dennis gasps, hand gripping at the door behind him for support. “Fuck you.”
It‘s not a very good retort but it‘s all he can muster, and when Mac hits that spot again, just right, Dennis has to clamp a hand in front of his mouth because he does not put the slightest faith into any noise that would come out of it.
Mac’s in a fever, talking himself into it, frantically. „You’re such a slut, Dennis, you’re so wet for it. I can’t believe you did that.” and Dennis wants to bite back a retort that this was all Mac’s idea and Dennis only went along with him because he was feeling nice, but then Mac hits that spot again, just completely pounding into it, and Dennis's cock drags along the coarse materials of Mac‘s button up—the fancy one he’s worn just for the occasion—and it’s so overstimulating that everything coming out of his mouth is nonsensical and needy, more noises than words.
Mac is just rambling incoherent stuff in his ear by now, too, and Dennis catches a good and a baby and a perfect and it ripples through his body like a shockwave, each thrust a new spark. And Mac is drunk on it too, completely gone, rutting like an animal in heat. They can both feel it building up, cresting, and it’s like the air in the tiny cubicle they’re in swelters, when Mac finally reaches down to Dennis's twitching cock, so desperate for friction, and pumps it, quickly, and Dennis digs his nails into drywall, tearing five little holes as he cums.
The clench of it makes Mac cum, too, and Dennis feels himself being filled, being pumped full, warmth spreading inside him, making him feel real and human and cared for.
They both pause like that for a moment, flushed pink in the afterglow.
When Mac pulls out, the cum leaking from Dennis's hole drips a puddle onto the polished white tiles. They both catch their breath.
“That was good.” Dennis's voice is still wobbly.
Mac nods. ”Yeah”
His fingers thread into sweat-dampened curls, twirling them around.
“I knew it was an amazing idea.”
Dennis huffs, but he doesn’t have a retort. He’s too well fucked to be snappy, anyways. All mellowed out, just the way Mac likes it.
They breathe through a few more moments of intimacy, feeling the clammy cold of the AC drying their skin slowly sneak up on them.
“Dennis?”
Dennis glances up. “Yeah?”
„Did you also think the food was terrible today?“
Dennis perks up immediately. „Yeah! And that waiter, atrocious!“
They look at each other.
Mac squints. „It would almost not be right to pay.“
Dennis nods, eagerly. „It would be incentivizing bad behavior. We want to keep them up to standard, ensure they don’t get sloppy. Make sure its a one off mistake“
„Yeah,“ Mac nods, „yeah. Totally.“
They untangle from each other, both secretly delighting in the sound their sweaty skin makes when separating.
Mac looks at his phone. „That was Charlie. He says that next time he wants to be jerked off, too.“
They look at each other, then start grinning.
„That can be arranged, I think.“, Dennis says. Mac nods. He has two hands, after all.
They slip out the backdoor, Dennis thinking of the shower, Mac thinking of Dennis. And of how that was the best dessert he‘s had in his fucking life.
He‘s not thinking of the pudding.
The waiter looks at his watch, annoyed. How is it possible those obnoxious assholes still haven’t come back yet? The restaurant is closing and he needs to catch the bus.
The last guests leave and still, nothing.
They dine and dashed.
He has no idea how he’s going to explain this to his boss tomorrow, the customer complaints, the fact that they didn’t even pay for their meal. Why does it always fall to him to deal with this group of maniacs?
Dejected, he fumbles open the storage room. He‘s on cleaning duty today too, since they’re short staffed. At least he only has to do the toilets.
No more surprises today, thankfully.