Work Text:
Dennis doesn't knock, he rarely ever does. The lights are out in Mac's room, except for the bedside lamp with its meager orange glow.
Mac is lying on the bed barefoot, still in his filthy clothes. It does little to make his room more uninviting - with the rumpled bedsheet barely covering the stained mattress and the myriad of bloodied Jesus-es on every wall.
Mac's holding a book in front of his face, but it will take more to convince Dennis he is actually reading it. Mac lowers it to reveal his frowning face. About six deep folds cut into his forehead, and Dennis can only think, Jeez, he’s gonna age so poorly. Graciously, he doesn’t tell him that.
He simply stares as Mac’s frown slowly transforms into something best described as a pout. Another moment passes, and Mac cocks an eyebrow, releasing some more of the extreme tension on his forehead.
Dennis bites down on the inside of his cheek and narrows his eyes. Like hell, is he saying sorry, fuck Mac. Fuck his silent treatment, fuck his pouting, fuck his injuries-
Mac scoffs and turns his thin nose up at him, before burying it back in the book.
Dennis is quick to turn on his heel, wanting more than anything to slam the door but leaving it a crack open. No yelling follows him, which is surprising. Mac hasn't even made to get up and shut the door himself when Dennis returns with the kit and a glass of water a minute later. He doesn't close the door, for whatever reason enjoying the square of bright light spilling inside from the living room.
One big brown eye, the one under the split eyebrow, peaks behind the side of the book and follows Dennis as he makes his way into the room. When he tosses the kit on the bed, the eye disappears back behind the cover. Dennis rolls his eyes so hard they hurt.
Mac is lying somewhat diagonally, so Dennis sits to the one side of Mac's legs where there's more space. Unfortunately, there's less sheet. He doesn't bother to try and tug some from underneath Mac.
Instead, he grabs the book, a Bible, big surprise, by its spine and lowers it to Mac's chest. Mac meets his eye and for a second there's a slack, unguarded expression on his face. It swiftly melts away as he takes a better look at Dennis. Whatever he sees, makes him sneer. Dennis feels his own mouth is pinched, so he licks at his lips.
Maybe Mac was hoping to see some mirror bruises on Dennis's face, but that’s on him, he should know his best friend better than that. Dennis had thrown the cash in the mugger's face and ran the other way, coming home unscathed, if a little out of breath.
He had all but discarded the tracksuit jacket somewhere and washed his hands before winding up in front of Mac's door.
Currently his roommate is lying almost flat on the bed with his neck curved to a surely uncomfortable degree. He's too low to drink from the glass Dennis holds at a halfway point between them, but Dennis patiently waits for him to sit up. Waits for him to take a move. To lean forward. Mac just looks at him from under his brows.
Dennis states back down at him until he can't take it anymore. He takes a sip from the water himself and shifts forward to leave the glass on the bedside table. The mattress groans and bucks at his advances. Mac's whole body falls sidewise into the dip created by Dennis's weight. Mac's thigh presses into his and Mac visibly flinches.
Dennis takes the laying Bible from his chest and sets it down by the water, without looking at his half-lit face. Mac doesn't voice his protests, if he has any.
Another shift in the mattress as Dennis reaches back for the kit and Mac finally props himself up on an elbow. His eyes are half lidded and eyebrows slightly raised. Trying way too hard to seem above it all. He cocks his head and rests a cheek on his shoulder, going as far as to start drumming his fingers of his other hand on his torso. Aiming for unfazed when the poser's a worse actor than Dee. His tank has ridden up a notch and exposes a sliver of pale stomach. It looks soft.
Dennis grabs at the hem and relishes in the hitch of Mac's breathing. He'd try to blame it on pain but Dennis is being oh so careful as he unpeels the tank's ruined fabric from Mac's scraped skin. He peers down to examine the damage in the low orangey light.
But Mac sits up straighter, tugging the tank down over his belly in the meantime. The two of them end up more or less face to face, Dennis no longer looking down on Mac. They stare at one another until Dennis realizes Mac will not speak up or make a move. He blindly grabs the wetted cloth from the kit and brings it to Mac's face, who flinches at the contact.
"Ouch! Dude, stop! Stop it, I don't want-"
"Stay still, goddamnit!" Dennis' voice is lead-heavy in the previously quiet room. A command following Mac's pathetic whining. He obeys, he rarely doesn't when push comes to final shove. Dennis rewards him by being gentle with the cloth, slowly cleaning the dried blood in the cut across his eyebrow. After a beat, he adds in a quiet murmur, "I'm almost done."
Mac drops his eyes closed. Dennis swipes over his forehead for good measure, then shifts his focus on really getting the scabs on his cheekbone and on the side of his nose clean but he can barely see in the near-darkness. He directs Mac's chin to the side with a finger and moves so he himself isn’t in the way of the lamp's meager light.
That's better. He backs off a bit to examine Mac's face and finds him staring petulantly. Lips slightly pursed, caked blood in one corner. There's no way Dennis is going over his mouth twice. He turns to get a cotton pad and douses it in alcohol.
"You're a horrible friend," Mac says evenly.
He sounds less like a kicked puppy and more like Dennis' bitch-ass friend. Dennis shifts, meeting Mac's eyes briefly before lowering his, in what he hopes comes across as an apologetical manner. He sees Mac's chest start to puff out with vindication so he moves immediately. Taking hold of Mac's shoulder and with his other hand pressing the pad just under Mac's bottom lip. Mac winces again and tries to get away. Dennis' hand moves up his shoulder to grab at the back of his neck. Mac startles, then freezes, wide-eyed with his mouth hanging open, not unlike a kitten carried by the scruff of its neck. Dennis moves the pad back and forth, moving Mac's fleshy bottom lip with it. Something wets his fingers, the alcohol maybe or Mac's spit. Dennis swallows. Mac closes his mouth.
"Sorry." Dennis mumbles and sees how Mac, so to say, shuts the blinds of his face, tucks his heart further up his sleeve. Well, a sleeve-metaphor might not be the best suited for Mac, but the point is: he narrows his eyes, a muscle jerks in his cheek. His lips are dry, slightly chapped, he must be focusing on not licking them. Dennis runs the pad over the lower one and sees the alcohol shimmer on it momentarily.
"Hey, this type's for rubbing, not drinking." Dennis tries to smile at him. No reaction. He presses the pad with more intent and some fresh blood spurts out. Mac looks to the ceiling and sucks air through his teeth. Dennis blows over his lip on instinct. Widens his eyes at the realization of what he'd just done and to who, but blinks a bunch of times to regain his natural unfazed expression. Not that Mac looks down at him, he's scrunched his eyes closed.
Dennis soaks up the blood with the pad. It's not much but it's an angry color and he doesn't want to be touching Mac's mouth anymore. Dennis swipes under his lip one last time and goes racking through the kit for some painkillers and the tube of ointment.
"I wouldn't have bet against you." Once again Mac speaks only when Dennis has his back to him.
"And you would've lost our money." Dennis answers mid-turn. He gestures down at himself, at his t-shirt and the tracksuit bottoms matching with Mac's, both hanging loosely off of his slim body. But Mac doesn't trail his eyes over Dennis' body, he starts yelling at him instead:
"Oh, now it's our money, huh?! And you've lost it anyway! Admit it already, you weren't gonna tell me!"
Honestly, Dennis doesn't want to fight right now, but he can't help saying it as it is.
"As if you wouldn't use whatever I was gonna buy."
"That's not what this is about!"
"What is it then?"
"Me having my ass handed to me."
"I'm making up for it."
"Oh, please-"
"Pop one of those." He shoves an ibuprofen between Mac's lips, fingers catching on his bottom lip, coming away wet again. Mac is looking at him in a way he can't handle, so he shifts his focus to the glass of water. Keeping his eyes solely on it, he places it in Mac's hands.
Mac drinks some but then he coughs and sits up straighter against the headboard. Dennis squeezes some antibacterial ointment on his fingers. He doesn't look at Mac when he says, "Besides, you look pretty badass right now."
Doesn't watch his bobbing Adam's apple as he swallows and asks in a weirdly strangled little voice, "I do?"
"Mhmm." Dennis can't form an actual word as he gets closer. He brushes a strand of Mac's hair out of the way and touches his ointment-covered fingertip to his split eyebrow. Mac’s chest expands on a harsh inhale. And Dennis deludes himself that the spiked heartbeat in his ears is Mac's, not his own. He touches the side of Mac's nose spreading some ointment there. His finger is almost dry when he touches the corner of Mac's lip again, but he's careful not to draw any more blood. Careful not to look Mac in the eye as he continues:
"Yeah, you do. Anyone that looks at you, will instantly know what a badass you are."
Suddenly, Mac twists his whole body around to put the glass back on the bedside table, as if he can’t do it with his non-dominant hand. It creates some distance between them. Dennis screws the cap on and puts the tube of ointment back in the kit. Mac is sort of just looking down at himself, flexing his biceps and pecs. The compliment must placate him because the moment Dennis reaches for the hem of his tank again, Mac immediately raises both arms. As he works it over Mac’s head, Dennis catches a whiff of his sweat mixed with cheap deodorant. He balls the tank and throws it to the floor.
Mac's torso is really not so bad, better than his face at any rate. There are some bruises over his ribs and the skin of his shoulders is scraped but nothing deep, nothing permanent.
He's thin, almost as much as Dennis, and he's not even half as crazy as Charlie, why'd he agree on fighting. Dennis almost feels bad for suggesting it. Either way Mac makes the beat-up look work. He just might get laid with the right backstory to explain the injuries, and not just with a chick Dennis has already D.E.N.N.I.S.-ed. But with anyone.
Mac's nipples are hard before Dennis touches his skin with the cloth. And he gasps once he does. Dennis cleans the scab on his shoulder, then the one on his pec. As he presses the cloth, water rivulets drip down Mac's stomach. Some pool in his belly-button and over-flow further down to wet the waistband of his sweatpants. Dennis fights off a smile, and he doesn't even know what he's smiling about. If Mac notices and asks, Dennis will have to make fun of him somehow to explain it away.
Finished with the cloth, Dennis quickly prepares a new cotton pad and grabs the ointment. He drops the tube in Mac's lap and sits closer to the headboard. He goes over the same superficial injuries with the pad, if a bit quicker to spare Mac the burn of the alcohol. When he works the one on his pec, he rests his hand in the middle of Mac's chest, feels his heartbeat underneath. It's beating fast.
Dennis doesn't dare look up to Mac's face, that might be enough to scare him off. But he watches the muscles in his upper body spasm involuntarily. He knows Mac is barely breathing, he's close enough to feel a huff of breath if it were to hit him in the face. He supposes Mac might be hard, but his sweatpants are dark, and so is the room.
The ointment tube is right there in Mac’s lap, in the crook of his tight. But it's white and visible even in the low light, so Dennis doesn't tease and pretend to feel for it. He simply takes it. Mac shudders all the same.
At this point Dennis has to make a crucial decision: he has to choose between controlling his budding smile or growing erection. He no longer has enough concentration for both at once.
He keeps his face neutral as he rubs a generous amount of ointment into Mac's slightly scabbed pec. Two fingers draw slow circles, inching towards Mac's perked nipple.
Dennis finally looks up at him. His eyes might as well be a speeding car's flashlights, judging by the terrified look on Mac's face. Dennis wants to see him crumble. All he has to do is merely brush against Mac's nipple. He takes in the way Mac's eyebrows shoot up and knot together, the way his eyelids drop and lips part. Dennis curses the bedside lamp once again because there very well might be blush on Mac's cheeks, but he can't make it out.
He rolls the bud between his fingers momentarily before trailing his hand to the middle of Mac's chest. He could lay his palm flat over his heart and ask Mac what he's so excited about, but that would ruin everything before he's had his fun. Instead, he caresses down, tumbling at the dark hair that starts at Mac's bellybutton and continues below his waistband. Mac squares his shoulders, frowns a little. Dennis gets the feeling he just might cup his dick protectively.
"Den- Dennis, wha- what are you doing, man?"
Dennis breaks eye contact in a last attempt not to roll his eyes. He comes to notice his fingers have hooked in Mac's waistband.
"Your hips are bruised and I'm taking care of your injuries. Couldn't you tell?"
"I don't- ah!" Dennis interrupts him by grabbing them firmly. There is indeed some bruising over the juts of Mac's hip bones, just like there was on his ribs. It's only that Dennis couldn't tell. He can now, with Mac's verbal confirmation and with him finally allowing Dennis to pull his sweatpants down a bit. Now he can see the darker spots in Mac's pale skin.
Then his best friend surprises him by lifting his hips off the bed. Dennis doesn't hesitate to tug the sweats over the small swell of his ass. He doesn't stop there, lifting himself off the bed entirely to drag them down and off Mac's legs completely. He's successful only in turning them inside out as they get stuck around Mac's ankles. Dennis gets back on the bed, between Mac's legs this time and sets to untangle this mess. He's quick, he has to be in case Mac' brain catches on and he starts preaching about sin and eternal damnation and whatnot.
Mac almost kicks him in the face halfway through the process so Dennis stops. He tries not to sigh, holding Mac's bare foot, as he looks up. He expects turmoil, anger at the very least. What he sees is his best friend, more lying than sitting, his arms spread out on the bed, one leg propped up with the foot flat to the mattress, the other in Dennis' hands. He's definitely blushing, his face reddened but open, and he's naked, save for a pair of dark briefs. Yet he seems fairly relaxed, almost amused.
"Huh." Dennis lets it slip out. He’s puzzled. Mac twists his head to the side, facing away from the lamp's light, and offers an explanation:
"Tickles."
“Oh?” is all Dennis comes up with. Dropping his chin to his chest, he allows a smile as he untangles the sweatpants from Mac's ankle and throws them over his shoulder. He assesses their positions: him fully clothed between the legs of his best friend, and his best friend Mac, religious, homophobic Mac, sprawled out near-naked with another man!
Dennis’ palms are sweating. He racks the kit, grabs the by-now-dripping bag of half-melted ice, and shoves it at Mac, who jumps up at every icy drop that comes into contact with his exposed skin.
“Hold it to your face, should help with the bruising,” Dennis explains, tugging at Mac’s hand to make him take the bag. It’s like moving a doll's limbs - half-cooperative, but Mac gets the idea mid-shove and does as he’s been told.
Dennis moves down the bed and flops on his stomach. Mac’s face is obscured by the bag of ice, his tented underwear is in clear view. It’s pretty much the only thing in Dennis’ line of sight. He allows himself a single grind against the mattress to take the edge off of his own hard-on.
Mac's knees are scraped, Dennis notices. But he's on a different level of penance by now. He drums his fingers up Mac’s thighs, massaging, tickling, something in between. He rubs with his thumbs along the twin juts of Mac’s narrow hips, catching on the elastic of his briefs.
Above him, Mac sputters out something that sounds like it might be "Hey, uh, look, it's fine, you don't need to- to you know..."
But Dennis drowns him out, willing him to stay quiet once he trails off by repeating like a mantra in his mind: Don't speak, don't speak, don't speak, don't you say anything, Mac, I swear to God...
Before pulling at Mac's briefs, he looks up. It feels like putting his own neck in a guillotine. It's the make it or break it moment and he has no leg to stand on. No plausible deniability. He's lost the gay chicken now and if Mac-
Mac is holding the ice bag to the side of his jaw with both hands. Mac is looking at him a bit resigned, a bit expectant. Not too conflicted. Not violent. It's good enough for Dennis.
He pulls Mac's briefs down and his dick springs out. Dennis covers the smudge of Mac's horrendous shamrock tattoo with the palm of his hand, closes his other in a tight fist around the base of Mac's dick and his lips tentatively around the tip of it. Mac yelps. Then starts panting.
So what if Dennis would rather shove a dick down his throat than force an apology out of it, he's sure Mac much prefers getting a blowjob over hearing a measly "sorry". Dennis is not great at apologizing, at admitting faults or promising to be better. What he's great at is sex. He swirls his tongue experimentally and listens to Mac's labored breathing.
Sure, Dennis doesn't have a ton of experience with cocksucking, but he's a visual learner and Mac is an open book to him in all other aspects of life anyway. A book left face-down on the table, a break in its spine.
He hears the bag of ice hit the floor. Mac’s legs fall open as Dennis sucks on the head, then close in on him as he starts to fit more of his shaft in his mouth. It’s a good sign, girls do pretty much the same when he can be bothered to go down on them. The ache in his jaw is also familiar. The fullness of his throat less so. It’s almost too much to take but he keeps going until he gags.
Mac stops his instinctual retreat with a hand to the back of his head. It’s not harsh, even if it’s cold and wet from the ice - Mac doesn’t push him back down, but it's unrelenting. Dennis tests how far away Mac would let him up, and the very tip is still firmly between his lips. He plants sloppy kisses there, wet and obscene and closes his eyes when Mac starts moaning softly. Dennis keeps up the teasing, trying to alleviate his jaw, but Mac is tugging at his earlobe and grabbing at his hair, bothering him. Dennis pulls his lips over his teeth and goes to town on him.
In two to three bobs, he has engulfed a significant portion of Mac's cock. He feels the head against his pharynx, like a too big bite refusing to go down smoothly. He tries to relax, he mustn't choke.
Mac's hand pets his hair more gently as Dennis breathes in through his nose, and manages to fit minutely more of his dick down his throat. Dennis was a bit worried about, well, the smell, and the taste, and while both are pretty distinctly of dick, it isn't exactly unpleasant. Mac grooms himself well, at least since Dennis taught him how to.
He sucks his cheeks in and rubs the flat of his tongue on the underside, feeling the blood rush underneath. Mac groans and his cold fingers slip from Dennis' hair to rub behind his ear at his working jaw. Eventually, Dennis has to pull almost all the way off, but he keeps swirling the tip of his tongue over Mac's slit, eliciting a series of choked off ah, ah, ah-s from him. Against his instinct, Dennis doesn't swallow the excess spit in his mouth. Uses it to slide smoothly all the way down until he has Mac's dick as deep as it will go. His eyes sting at the sensation.
"Whoa," Mac utters.
On the inside Dennis smirks, on the outside he's mindful of his teeth. His bobbing is quick, but shallow, keeping most of Mac's cock in his dripping wet mouth. Fingers brush under his eye and he swats them away, bringing both of his hands to Mac's bruised hips. And he presses down. Hard.
Mac refers to his lord and savior: "Jesus Christ!" And moans, his fingers touching gently the outside of Dennis' occupied throat.
Which is getting sore, as is his jaw. At his breaking point, Dennis brings one of his hands to the base of Mac's cock and starts jerking in time with the bobbing of his head, lips meeting his own fingers half-way.
Mac comes apart, legs going limp and hands falling away from Dennis' head. There's a lot of wetness pooling in the juncture of Mac's lap, and Dennis has to admit at least to himself it's not just saliva. He focuses on sucking just on the tip to rest his jaw a bit. He swallows as best as he can and tries to sniff discreetly. He feels like a wreck, but that's sexy. That can be sexy. He grinds his hips against the mattress, his underwear the tightest, roughest material known to man.
Dennis hollows his cheeks, showing as much of his lips as possible, flutters his eyelashes, works a crease between his eyebrows, even moans a little to create vibrations. One could call it putting on a bit of a show.
So, imagine his frustration, when he opens his eyes to pin them on Mac only to find him facing towards the ceiling, his eyes shut. Dennis wishes he didn't know him as well as he does. He could bet the five hundred dollars he doesn’t have on Mac imagining a girl is going down on him right now.
Anger heats Dennis’ face. The nerve of him! How dare Mac pretend it's someone else when Dennis is practically lying at his feet, with tears and snot running down his face, aching jaw and sore throat. Well, if Dennis isn't going to make it harder for him. He pulls off to alleviate his mouth, indefinitely, picking up the pace of his jerking.
His head is still boxed between Mac's thighs, so it's laughably easy for him to lean and nuzzle Mac's inner thighs. He relishes in the scratch of his five o'clock shadow against the softest skin of Mac's body. Who shudders all over and fists the sheets.
Dennis lets go of Mac's hip and snakes his arm around his thigh, preparing to hold it open. He stops jerking him off, and shoves his shoulder against the other thigh. He doesn't so much as draw a circle over Mac's asshole before shoving his pointer inside, mostly dry and way too fast. Mac yells out, squirming, but doesn't try to get away. Dennis finds an ounce of mercy within himself and stills his hand, giving Mac a moment to get used to the feeling.
He seems to focus on his breathing, deep inhales, slow exhales. Dennis starts nodding over-excitedly with pretend sympathy even as Mac still hasn't looked at him. Dennis is about to mock him with something along the lines of ‘Yeah, baby boy, take it nice and slow…’ when Mac grits his teeth and throws him an unconvincing smirk.
"Bro, I just took a shit, like, ten minutes ago," he's panting still, and Dennis can feel his insides struggling to relax against his finger, but Mac’s so fucking annoying when he smiles like that. And he just all but declared he doesn’t need Dennis to go easy on him.
"Oh? That's why you're so damn loose?" Dennis keeps probing, rotating his finger to the left and to the right, until it’s nested past the knuckle. Mac starts trashing his hips around, but he doesn’t tell him to stop. Dennis’ finger comes across a raised bud of skin and he treats it like he would a woman’s G-spot, bopping it like a button at a vicious rate. Even as he suspects this would be enough to make Mac settle into the ass-fingering, Dennis cranes his neck and flicks his tongue over his cock open-mouthed.
"God-" Mac moans, cutting himself off upon seeing Dennis' grin. "Fuck you."
"Other way around, buddy. Aren't you paying attention?" He inserts a second finger and scissors them, slowly spreading Mac open. His own hips press involuntarily into the bed. Dennis doesn't moan, but he might sigh a tiny bit at the friction. "Got any lube?"
Mac doesn't answer, but he starts racking blindly through the bedside drawer with his right hand, unskilled as it may be. Of course he has lube, the girls he fucks must be bone-dry from the lack of foreplay. Dennis uncurls his arm from around Mac's thigh to get the bottle, it's barely used and the brand's logo seems oddly familiar...
"C'mon," Mac insists. The slut. Dennis pulls out his fingers and coats them in some lube, before shoving them right back in. They go smoothly and deeper this time. He gets back to the scissoring. Mac's asshole now smells like chocolate-covered strawberries, what the fuck, and he's making these little whimpering sounds as Dennis' fingers fuck into him.
Before long, Mac is grunting unceremoniously, bucking his hips towards Dennis' hand, as if trying to get his fingers deeper. Finally, he throws his arms up, complaining at the ceiling.
"Ugh, you call that fucking?"
Dennis huffs a laugh and adds a third finger, "Needy motherfucker."
"Funny you would say that."
There's some bite to Mac's response, a speck of malice, but Dennis doesn't immediately connect the dots. The first snapshot that pops into his head is of the inside of a drawer in his childhood home, in his parents’ bedroom... The next images his mind supplies make him taste bile. Luckily, they are quickly overtaken by red-tinted fantasies of Mac now, at Dennis' mercy.
He's beating him to a pulp, he's splitting him in half, he's biting his dick off, he's fucking him raw until he bleeds.
“And why is it so funny? Huh? Mac, you insinuating something? Why don’t you say it, huh? Why don’t you say it while I'm fucking your asshole?” He doesn't stop, going faster and rougher, and wishing the lube would dry out already.
Mac bites his lips and says nothing, staring up at the ceiling still. He seems to be enjoying himself too much for Dennis' liking. He's seriously contemplating adding a pinky when Mac yells out in pleasure and manages through gritted teeth: "You're just pissed mine wouldn't fuck you!"
"Like I'd want to fuck an ashtray of a woman!" Dennis says immediately, when he means to say 'I'm fucking pissed you'd fuck my mother!'
"Take that back! My mom's a-, Ah-, a lovely woman! Not some whore like yours!"
"Well, mine is hot enough to sleep with younger men!"
Both freeze for a second, staring at each other at last. That came out weird. Dennis wishes Mac would be more quick-witted to distract him from the realization he might have something in common with his mother, going for younger women and all. What Mac comes up with eventually is even more uncomfortable.
"Dude, gross! Are you into your mom or something?! That's weird as shit..."
"What-no! No! How did you even- It's just a matter of fact: my mom's hotter than yours! You- you sleeping with her, I mean, you even wanting to sleep with her is proof alone!"
"Look, I didn't so much want to... More like I couldn't help it."
"Oh, fuck off! Like you don't want this, right?!"
But Mac has grown somewhat soft, and Dennis realizes so has he. He clears his throat, slips his fingers out, wiping them on the sheet. He makes to climb out of the bed. Mac finds his footing surprisingly fast and catches Dennis's by the arm. They both come to a halt kneeling on the wobbling mattress in front of each other. At least Dennis is fully clothed, his flaccid cock tucked safely away somewhere on the same ley line as Mac's.
Deep down Dennis suspects being naked wouldn't be as scaringly intimate as Mac's hand softly brushing back and forth the pulp flesh of his underarm. Mac bugs out his eyes at him and swallows thickly before speaking in a small voice, not quite maintaining eye contact.
"Den, she came onto me, okay? But… I know I shouldn't have."
It's the closest he'll get to an apology. Mac's hand is dangerously sliding down towards his. Dennis drops to sit on his legs and his unfocused eyes land somewhere on Mac's battered chest. He nods once. He might even let out some noise in acknowledgement. Mostly he feels spent, emptied out of horniness and anger, and everything else along with it.
But Mac must be hell-bent on conciliating because he shuffles forward, half climbing into his lap to embrace him. Dennis sinks further down into the mattress with the added weight. A spring is pocking him in the knee. When he puts his hands on Mac's sides to push him away, Mac gasps directly into his ear and brings their chests flush together.
His skin pricks in goosebumps when Dennis ever-so-slightly moves his hands over it, and he's not entirely sure whose dick just jumped in his lap. Dennis presses his lips dryly against Mac's freckled and grazed shoulder and looks from under his hair at his face.
Mac's almost twitching, his lips parted, eyes shut and eyebrows knitted. He sort of looks like he's praying, kneeling on his best friend naked. Dennis opens his mouth to run his tongue over the abrasions, tasting the metallic tinge of dried blood and the bitterness of the ointment. He hears an honest to God growl. After trailing his mouth across Mac's collarbone and sucking hickeys at the base of his neck, does he hear - and feel the vibrations of - another and realize the first time it must have been him, and not Mac.
His arms wrap around Mac, bringing him impossibly closer. Mac's breathing heavy as he tightens his own around Dennis' shoulders, one hand stroking at the back of his head, before going under his shirt. He makes tiny choked-off sounds when Dennis’ tongue laps at the new bruises and then something breaks inside of Dennis like a glowstick.
This is all far too gentle for his taste. He shoves his own hand in Mac's hair and yanks. This elicits a harsher sound out of Mac which turns into an open moan when Dennis attacks the underside of his jaw. After a minute there, Mac's beard starts to irritate his skin and he breaks off. His shirt is over his head and gone in a matter of seconds, Mac's body replacing it instantly. He pushes Dennis' head back into the crook of his neck, where Dennis proceeds to kiss and suck. He squeezes Mac's thighs, his bony hips, and finally his ass.
Suddenly Mac stops digging his nails in the skin of Dennis's back. He takes him by the shoulders and pushes him at a half-an-arm’s length. Dennis sees how the line of spit connecting him to Mac's neck thins and breaks. Then he looks up to see Mac's gaze go back and forth between his left and right eye, before Mac grabs his cheeks with both hands and brings their mouths together.
Him and Mac kissing is a rare occurrence, rarer than all the other activities they do that are not so common for other pairs of best friends. Mac being the one to initiate is even more out of the ordinary. Not that Dennis makes a habit of sticking his tongue down Mac's throat, but usually the quickest path to getting his way with him is making out till he gets horny enough to let Dennis stick something else down his throat, and after today, hopefully, up his ass too. That being said, Mac is not a horrible kisser. For what technique he lacks, he makes up with enthusiasm which does wonders for Dennis's ego, and evidently, boner. If he wasn't fully hard already, Mac greedily sucking on his tongue and grinding down on him would be getting him there. In great contrast, Mac's hands on his face are awfully tender as they brush over his cheeks and neck.
It's a weird combination of sensations. Dennis uses his hands to maneuver him fully into his lap, even as his feet grow numb beneath him. Mac breaks the kiss, cupping his neck, and passively looks on as Dennis rearranges his legs so he straddles him. Cupping his bony asscheek, Dennis hauls him closer, their dicks sliding against one another, only Dennis' is still trapped in his sweatpants. He groans, irritated, and struggles to get back on his knees with Mac clinging to him like a monkey to a tree. Before he can get seriously annoyed though, Mac manages to shove both his sweats and underwear down to his thighs. He resumes his position in Dennis' lap.
All the new points of contact between their naked bodies overwhelms Dennis. Mac touches his cock for the first time, a single stroke that has Dennis cursing because of the oversensitivity. Mac opens his palm underneath it and hangs his head. Before stopping to rationalize it, Dennis is doing the same. Nearly at the same time, they both spit on Dennis' dick. It might as well have sizzled, but it was probably just Dennis hissing. He sighs when Mac works both their cocks with one hand. The slide of them against one another is mind-breaking. Dennis digs his fingers in the flesh of Mac's ass.
He has fucked girls like that, has seen them come in that position, even if it didn't feel all that great for him as they rubbed one off on his pelvis. And Mac, for all his fitness boasting, is not considerably heavier than what Dennis has had before. Mind you, he doesn't sleep with heavy women.
For some reason, that makes him want to kiss Mac square on his stupid blushing face, on his little red nose or maybe that forehead that will have so many wrinkles in a few years. Luckily, Dennis doesn't think entirely with his dick so he captures Mac's lips instead, the only acceptable option out of these.
They kiss slowly for a bit, Dennis careful at last because of Mac's injured face, and Mac, well he must want to slow down, if Dennis has to judge by the languid strokes of his tongue inside his mouth, against his own and the underside of his teeth. At least one of them is moaning into the kiss, Dennis feels the hum inside his head, the vibrations ricocheting and multiplying underneath his skull.
After a while of this slow and deep kissing, Mac gets heated and ops for quick dives, like he's fucking Dennis's mouth with his tongue. Shifting his head left and right, breaking off from Dennis just enough to suck in a breath, which he pants right back into his mouth. The sound of their lips, and admittedly teeth, meeting is obscenely slick. Dennis moans unashamed, as Mac pulls and nips and sucks on his bottom lip.
Mac breaks the kiss and leans away from him, and Dennis' hands on their own come up to hold him by the waist. Mac shakes his head, smiling with teeth. He produces the lube seemingly out of thin air and shakes it pointedly in Dennis' face. He puts way more than Dennis had in the palm of his hand and rubs it warm.
Dennis stares with his mouth open. Feels he's wet down to his chin. His hand is like sandpaper when he wraps it around his overly sensitive dick. Mac pushes it away and replaces it with his own lube-covered one. Stroking once from base to top to really coat it in the stuff.
Mac's palm draws wet circles over the head and Dennis rocks both of them with the shiver that runs through him. Mac is neglecting his own cock in favor of getting this thing to its natural conclusion. Dennis looks on mesmerized, as he tugs once on his balls before his pretty slick fingers disappear inside of himself.
Suddenly impatient, Dennis squeezes himself at the base and grabs Mac's throat with his other hand. Mac's fingers immediately close around his wrist but he makes no move to shove it off. His eyes are glassy and dark. Dennis looks up at him with his tousled hair and scabbed face and puffy-from-kissing lips and Dennis' fingers around his throat and he can't stand him. Can't stand not being inside of him.
He hisses, "C'mon."
It's not a question, except that it totally is.
"Yeah," Mac nods and brings his other hand from between his legs to Dennis' shoulder, who is, frankly, too turned on to care at this point. He guides Mac's body down by the neck, his other hand nesting his dick between Mac's asscheeks.
Slick as it may be, Mac's ass is fucking tight. Dennis barely fits more than the head of his cock. When he pulls out a bit, Mac yelps in pain. Dennis stills, and coos: "Shhh." Releasing Mac's throat and cupping the side of his head, he knocks their temples together. "Try to relax."
He feels Mac's nod, he hears his ragged breathing in his ear, and is still caught off guard when Mac moves and takes him deeper. Dennis sinks into heat, impossibly tight heat. His vision blacks out for a moment, he swears. He ends up being the one struggling to relax as Mac bottoms out. Dennis' chest feels like it's contracting, collapsing in on itself, while somewhere lower everything is melted, melting and melted, like lava.
Dennis watches the way Mac's face contorts as he lifts himself up and smooths out once he slides back down his cock. He just breathes for a bit, eyes shut, then slowly raises again. His whole body is shaking, hands clasping Dennis' skin, his shoulder, his elbow.
Does it hurt?, Dennis wonders but doesn't voice it. He suspects the answer will spur him on. He suspects no one has been inside of Mac before. And he almost feels fifteen again, with a hand under Maureen Ponderosa's skirt, finding her unshaved and in modest underwear. Uncharted territory.
Dennis takes hold of Mac's dick and starts jerking him off again. With his other hand, he holds him by the hip. He pushes him up, then pulls him back down.
Mac, of all people - Mac is jumping up and down his dick, and Dennis is losing his mind. He can't stop staring at Mac who has his eyes tightly shut. Whose hair is sex-messy, whose asshole is clenching around Dennis' dick.
Mac pants with his mouth open, Mac grunts and finally, Mac starts to properly fuck himself on Dennis' cock. He plants his feet firmly on the bed and sways with more purpose. Dennis lets him work, parting his aching thighs, meeting him halfway when he can't help himself. Hand moving over Mac's flushed dick until he can't keep up with his unpredictable sorry excuse of a rhythm and lets it fall away. Curls it around Mac's other hip, but then he's holding onto his waist. He stills him in mid-air and thrusts into him, once, twice, deep and hard, both of them breaking into moans.
Dennis lets go. His tired legs sink into the mattress, his arms fall away from Mac's body and he uses them to anchor himself to the mattress. Mac picks up the pace. Grunting with exertion, or pleasure, as sweat glistens on his brow. His hands are like vices where they grip Dennis' shoulders for leverage. Once again Mac's making up for his lack of experience by sheer tenacity. It's inconceivable to Dennis, how he can't remember being ridden ever feeling so good. Liquid heat pools in the pit of his stomach. He's close. He's so close, he–
"Oh, yes, baby-" Dennis cuts himself off, his blood turning to ice as Mac falters mid-thrust. Dennis opens his eyes and is shocked to see Mac already looking at him with his big dumb eyes. Oh, he definitely heard.
Not knowing what to say, or do, Dennis bucks his hips. It's frustrating enough this embarrassing slip-up hindered his climax, and Mac's response is to slow the fuck down. It's an outright cruel rhythm. He pulls almost all the way off before slamming himself down to the tilt in one swift motion. He spreads his legs somehow even wider when he's nested as deep as he can go. He draws half circles with his hips, fucking squeezing before pulling back again. And then he does it time after time, unrushed.
"Mac." Dennis grits out, it's supposed to be a warning. It's meant to make Mac listen to him. "Fucking move."
Mac is blowing air out in fits, it sounds a bit like chuckles. It also sounds like Mac's trademark negative ooh-oh-ooh-ing. Dennis waits until he's balls deep inside of him to grab and hold him there. Mac tries to lift up again but Dennis' arms have wrapped so tight around his waist, his hands reach the opposite hips.
"Please, move." Dennis whispers, his eyes going no further up Mac's face than his lips. Then he lets go of him, leaning away and bracing himself on his arms outstretched behind him.
Mac licks his lips but says nothing. He shifts and makes Dennis close his legs at the knees. He slams his body down and lifts back up before Dennis can enjoy his tight heat. But he's coming back and he's getting leverage and he's gaining speed and- he's a quick learner, Dennis can admit in the privacy of his head.
Mac drags him back into the real world with a new angle that has him moaning and Mac saying yes, yes, yes, yes like in a trance, like he's possessed. Dennis opens his eyes and meets his - not brown, but black, blown open and wild. Mac convulses once like he'd been punched and something hits Dennis' jaw.
Hot and wet, it sprays his stomach, his neck. He thinks some of it lands on his face.
Mac's asshole is doing something diabolical to Dennis' dick as he paints his chest in white. Mac's rhythm falters but he keeps babbling steadily. Until he becomes a dead weight on top of Dennis, hampering his attempts to keep fucking him. Dennis bucks against him, tries to spread his legs, trapped between Mac's.
Mac murmurs in his ear, "Baby?"
Dennis swallows. His dick jumps inside of Mac, and he flinches. He pulls off with hiss. "Like clown baby?"
His words don't register. Dennis is heedless with arousal. Mac pushes his shoulder and sends him falling onto the mattress.
Dennis imagines Mac's mouth on him, returning the favor, and it's almost enough to send him over the edge. Even just Mac's hand, really, would suffice. But he's not touching Dennis, he's talking still.
"Or like a five-hundred-dollar baby?"
Mac climbs out of the bed. Dennis' brain is short-circuiting. He cannot make sense of what's happening.
"Wha- what? Where are you-"
Mac grabs a towel from his chair. The sliver of light by the door expands, disintegrates, then disappears completely. It clicks shut.
Dennis sees red, except he sees next to nothing. He looks for stuff to trash and throw, but Mac's room is bare bones. Just crosses on the walls. He thinks he can hear the shower from the other side of the apartment. Only his ears are ringing.
Dennis takes his anger out on his dick. He plans to make a right mess of Mac's bed. Wants him not to have a dry spot to lay on tonight.
He falls forward, bites the pillow that smells of Mac's neck and yells. He trashes like an animal until his canine breaks the fabric.