Chapter Text
Dennis doesn't know why it gets to him so much. He doesn't know why the thought of Charlie choosing Mac, of Mac choosing Charlie, bothers him so much. But he always thought it would work differently. Dennis would choose Charlie, Mac would choose him, and Charlie would choose Mac, that way no one would be left out. It's how they worked. How they were supposed to work.
Instead he's got Charlie choosing Mac and Mac choosing the fucking Waitress, and where does she fit into this? It's one thing for Dennis to bang her to piss off Charlie, but if Mac is banging her to piss off Charlie, then she may as well just bang Charlie and complete the set.
But the Waitress is never gonna fuck Charlie, and Mac is out doing god knows what with her. So he's got Charlie, 24 beers in his system, sweaty hands pushing Dennis' shirt further up his stomach. He's so drunk, incomprehensibly so, but Dennis can't deny the sloppiness of it turns him on. Charlie can hardly sit up, but he knows he wants this, and Dennis is so, so fine with being wanted.
It's not often they get to do this, and it's even less often Dennis knows ahead of time that Mac is going to blow Charlie off.
"T'ke s'off?" Charlie mumbles, but he's not really giving any hints as to which article of clothing he wants gone, so Dennis takes the easy route and takes it all off, yanking the fabric out from the press of their bodies.
He doesn't want to think about being naked, really. About being so open to someone who probably couldn't remember their own name if he asked. He knows he shouldn't care, and with the amount of grain alcohol in his body it's surprising he even can, but the burn of what was probably ethanol in his system still can't numb the heavier, cavernous shame. He thought it was only for Catholic types like Mac, but it always seems to creep in despite. Especially when it's not a woman. Especially when it's Charlie.
Charlie shoves his whole body forward so he can grind the zipper of his jeans against Dennis' ass, lube wetting the denim, humming to himself while he presses harder on Dennis' sides, like he's trying to pull warmth from him manually.
"Pr'tty," Charlie breathes.
Dennis considers gripping Charlie's hair as tight as he can until it rips out, but instead he just tugs it a normal amount, just enough so he can shove his hand into the hinge of Charlie's jaw. His breath is…rancid. And the taste of it nearly makes Dennis retch. But he wants it so bad he doesn't care, the lax, wet slide of their mouths together while Dennis undoes the button on his pants.
Charlie wriggles around like a petulant child. "Faster."
But Dennis ignores him, slots their mouths back together as he gets his hand wrapped around Charlie's cock. And what a cock it is. He can hardly wrap his thumb and forefinger around it, hot and hard and blissfully ignorant of whiskey dick.
"Oh, fuck," Charlie hiccups, but Dennis can hardly hear it over the gasp wrenching out of his own throat as Charlie's cock lines up with his hole. "Why're y'wet?"
"Charlie…" Dennis pleads, face burning, the blunt head pushing into him. God, four fingers and it was just barely enough. "Just…"
"Ohhhh…" Charlie's sweaty hands grip his hips so tight, and this is his favorite. When Charlie is so drunk he forgets he's stronger than he looks, when Dennis is just a thing he wants and he can only remember to take it. Dennis tries to shove back down into it, but he can't, 'cause Charlie's pulling him down on it, ache shooting in Dennis' hipbones as Charlie tips forward, shakily fucking into him at the same time.
Dennis gulps down air faster than he can exhale it, the unrelenting weight of Charlie's cock filling him up all at once.
Charlie lets him go the minute his hips meet Dennis' ass, stroking up Dennis' thighs with more tenderness than he agreed to. "Got y'rself ready…planned this…"
"N…No."
"Fuckin' slut…w'nted Mac to ditch me so you c'uld h've me. S'lfish."
Charlie's forehead smears sweat along Dennis' jaw before he slots it in the crook of Dennis' neck. He puts his whole weight behind his cock, rutting inside of him more than actually fucking him. His breath burns almost wet against Dennis' skin, or—wait, no. Charlie is licking him. He's lapping the salt from Dennis' skin like some sort of dog. Like…like he's marking him. He fucks into him hard and angry, almost bitter, the gross swath of saliva soaking into his skin while Dennis grips hard on Charlie's shirt.
"Charlie, Charlie—"
But Charlie isn't fucking listening to him.
"Sluts, 's what you guys are. J'st want me to fuck you 'nd you fuck h'r 'nd y-you, y- fuck —"
His hips roll like waves, and Dennis prays to any deity who will listen that Charlie never finds a woman willing to fuck him ever again, and that Mac does, if it means he can get this at least once a month into perpetuity. Charlie nips at his jugular with his sharp-ass canines and Dennis outright whines.
His cock fucks forward against the shell of Charlie's body, trying to find some sort of friction, but there's nothing. His hands shake, body jolted back and forth on the mattress as Charlie fucks Dennis through all of his own frustrations, unfurling white knuckles from the ratty fabric of his shirt. They're breathing so hard their chests touch when they inhale at the same time, a blaze of contact alight too close to his heart.
"No." Charlie, drunkenly enough that he looks bizarre but precise enough Dennis can't dodge it, grabs both of his wrists and pins them down at his sides on the bed with all his weight. "You w'nt it, y'get it."
Dennis keens, tries against Charlie's grip. "Fuck, dude. Let me…need to come. Need—"
Charlie slams into him so hard the smack of their skin stings the back of Dennis thighs. The bedframe creaks, even moreso than it usually does because Dennis loosened the screws to make it louder when he has chicks over.
"You…y'fuck my Waitress, fuck Mac, g't me t'fuck you 'cause y're a whore, get all…get all wet f'r me, like…like a cunt."
"Fuck!"
"D'nt get'o make choices…" Charlie slams into him, breath uneven and frantic. "Pretty f'ckin' girl…Feel…s'good…"
Dennis whimpers as Charlie comes, thick cock spilling inside him so hot Dennis can feel it, his own dick weeping in jealousy. He doesn't know what it is, either, what of the horror story of Charlie's diet or genetics makes it feel like so much, but he always feels so fucked full when Charlie comes inside of him. Owned and claimed in a way he and Mac have only discussed in vague metaphors.
"C'n…can you jack me off?" Dennis pants, sore wrists slipping from Charlie's hold but arms held in place by the weight of his lax body. "Please?"
No answer.
"Charlie?" He nudges Charlie with his leg, only to be met with a snore in response.
God. Fucking. Dammit.