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July, 2012. Saturday, 00:14.
Hour 1
This wasn’t Mac’s fault. In any way whatsoever. It wasn’t.
So, Dennis had no right, really, to look at him with his crazy eyes almost bugging out of their sockets, as if Mac was one of those girls he was about to chop the head of to keep at home in his freezer (not that Mac honestly believed in any of that, Dennis maybe being a psychopath or whatever, but. Charlie did have some pretty convincing theories).
"We’re going to die here," Dennis said. "We’re going to die and it’s all your Goddamn fault!"
Mac rolled his eyes, before he hugged himself for some much-needed warmth.
"First of all, we’re not dying," he answered. "And it’s not my fault!"
"Yeah? Right, it’s not," Dennis laughed, but it wasn’t the type of laugh Mac liked to hear from him. "Because you’re not the one who let go of the door, like a fool!"
"How was I supposed to know it would lock from the outside?! It’s Charlie who always comes down here!"
"Yeah, that’s my whole point! Charlie’s not here! No one’s here! We’re stuck ‘til Sunday! We’re dead!"
At first, when the door had shut and they’d realized, with their arms full of beer bottles and bags of ice, that it wasn’t going to open again, Mac had been able to remain calm. Somewhat. Like, yeah, they were stuck in a very cold, and small, room, surrounded by three-inches thick worth of aluminum and copper, but it wasn’t necessarily the end of the world. Right? They would get out of this stupid walk-in fridge. They’d find a way.
Now, though, with Dennis spitting in his face that he was always the reason for all their problems, Mac was maybe starting to lose grip on his temper.
"Shut up, dude! We’re not dead!" He’d raised his voice, but he could see it in Dennis’ face, that he wasn’t taking him seriously. "You’re always so negative about everything!"
"I’m just – " Dennis closed his eyes, inhaled deeply through his nose. Mac stared at the cloud of white fog he birthed into the air. "I’m freaking out! Yep, I’m freaking out."
"Me too! But we have to, like, stay calm. Not waste oxygen."
"Oh, my God. We’re going to suffocate. I hadn’t even thought about that! I was just thinking about the cold, Mac! Don’t you understand? We’re going to freeze to death and asphyxiate!"
Mac snapped his tongue on the roof of his mouth.
"It has to be one or the other, it can’t be both!" He said, and Dennis looked even more pissed. "Whatever, man! I’m getting us out of here."
Dennis shook his head, laughing as he bent to grab a beer bottle, and opened it using the edge of the fridge’s door handle. Mac found himself rolling his eyes again. Leave it to Dennis to have a complete meltdown about something, just to act like he doesn’t give a shit about it less than a second later.
"You’re delusional, Mac. Once again. Really, I shouldn’t be surprised." He took a long, dramatic sip of his beer. "I’m telling you, there’s no getting out of here. Not on our own."
Mac continued to run his hands over the surface of the walls, looking for any place that might have screws, a crack, or who the fuck knew what. He wouldn’t let Dennis discourage him so fast, out of spite or out the sheer need for holding on to some hope, he didn’t know, but he realized it also didn’t really matter that much.
He was trying to drag a shelf to see what was behind it when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dennis sit down to the floor.
"Great. Thanks for your help."
Dennis had finished drinking his beer. He tossed it to the side, before opening another, but this time with his teeth.
"It’s no use. I’d rather waste my energy getting drunk, than looking for an escape hole that doesn’t exist."
Mac didn’t want to admit it out loud, but it was true there was nothing to be found in those stupid walls. And he’d already stared at the fan in the ceiling for an embarrassing amount of time, before he’d realized that even if he were to find a way to open the trap, the fast-spinning blades were still in the damn way.
He was out of options.
"Fuck," he sighed, joining Dennis on the ground, grabbing a beer for himself. "We’re dead."
Dennis clinked his bottle against his.
Hour 3
"OK – Your mom, Charlie’s mom, and… Frank."
Mac spat a good mouthful of beer out, and hugged his knees all that much closer to his chest.
"What?! Why not your mom?! Frank’s a dude! We didn’t agree on dudes!"
"My mom would have made it too easy!" Dennis protested, and he sported that awful smile on his lips, the one Mac knew meant he was feeling particularly devious. "It’s my turn, I pick the people. Now, choose. Who do you fuck? Marry? And kill?"
"I – " Mac had to think it over some. "I’ll marry Frank. Fuck Ms. Kelly…"
"You’re going to kill your own mom?!"
"Shit, right. OK – marry my mom, kill Frank, still fuck Ms. Kelly."
Dennis nodded.
"Same, but I’d fuck your mom. She’s probably wild as shit in the sack. Also, payback."
Mac should have been mad, he really should have, but all he could manage was a weak laugh, and a clatter of his teeth. It was so fucking cold. At least the game was somewhat keeping his mind off of the fact they were slowly dying and all.
"Alright, huh…" Mac tried thinking about three names. They came surprisingly easy. "Dee, Charlie, me."
Dennis didn’t even flinch, or turn to look at him.
"Easy. Kill Dee, fuck Charlie, marry you."
"Really?"
"We’re basically already married, dude," Dennis said, so nonchalantly that Mac decided his heartbeat hadn’t picked up its pace because of it. ‘Cause it hadn’t.
He only stared at the side of Dennis’ face. He looked so pale, because of the cold, and his jaw muscles were tight, because he was clenching his teeth. But he really didn’t look that much different than usual. Dennis was always pale as shit. And tense.
"Yeah," Mac agreed, sounding distant. "I’d marry you too."
Hour 5
More than two dozen empty beer bottles, most of them fallen on their sides, surrounded Mac and Dennis’ bodies. They’d spent the last four hours drinking and talking until there was nothing else they could say that could really distract them from the cold. Although the buzz from the alcohol did warm him some, Mac had stopped pretending he wasn’t shivering a while ago, and, shifting his body slightly closer to Dennis, he knocked another bottle down, the sound echoing too loudly in his ears. Dennis jumped, half-asleep, his head lolling back from where it’d been resting on his own shoulder.
"F-fuck, Mac," he almost whispered, shoving his hands in the crease of his knees. His lips had turned slightly blue. "I can’t feel my fingers. Or my toes."
"Me too."
He hadn’t known it before, but it was definitely the worst day for him to wear a sleeveless shirt. Mac constantly rubbed the skin of his arms, rocking his body back and forth, as he eyed Dennis’ flannel with an envious glint in his gaze.
Dennis was always better-off. No matter what situation they found themselves in, no matter how fucked, Dennis always had the upper hand, the advantage, the best luck. It was infuriating, and it had been that way ever since they were kids. Mac couldn’t blame him for it, not really, but it was still a fact that always nagged him at the back of his mind. In High School, Dennis was the one with the money, the car, the nice clothes, the effortless good grades, the hot girls. At the bar, Dennis had the most shares. At home, he owned their apartment. And he still had the money, and the car, and the hot girls. All of it effortless.
And now, of course, he had the warmer clothes.
"You’re lucky," Mac said, words slurred. "Always lucky."
"The fuck are you talking about?" Dennis frowned. "How is this lucky for me?"
"I dunno," Mac sounded infinitely less sober than him. Of course, Dennis’ alcohol tolerance was also much better than his. "You got long sleeves."
"Yeah, I have long sleeves because I’m always fucking cold," Dennis said, but there was no real anger behind it. "My body literally cannot sustain any warmth. I’ve got no fat. So, no, you’re lucky."
Mac’s jaw fell open.
"You really calling me fat right now? I’m not fat!"
Dennis found the energy to push his shoulder.
"M’not calling you fat, idiot," he said. "I’m just saying you have more fat. And that helps keeping your body warm. It’s a fact of science."
If Mac had been fast to act angry at the comment, the anger just as quickly poured out of him.
"Well," he sighed. "I don’t feel warm."
Dennis said nothing to that, only shrugged, and tried warming his hands by breathing over them, his lips constantly brushing against the skin of his thumbs.
"How long do you think it’s been?"
"I don’t know, Mac." He glanced at his wrist watch. "It’s five-thirty in the morning."
Mac bit his inner lip.
"There were people in the bar when we came down for the supplies," he said. "You think they robbed us by now?"
"I don’t know. Probably."
"Do you know at what time the rest of the gang’s coming back from the convention tomorrow?"
"No."
"Do you think – "
"Holy shit, Mac. You’re too chatty when you’re drunk."
Mac experienced a full-body shiver.
"Fine. I’ll shut up. Let’s just – wallow in our fucking misery. Right? ‘Cause that’s so much better."
Dennis didn’t even look at him, but Mac could sense he’d rolled his eyes far back into his skull. He just knew it.
"This doesn’t sound like shutting up to me."
"Oh my God. You’re the worst! The absolute worst!"
Hour 8
Mac didn’t know where his body ended and where the cold air began anymore. He felt like one giant block of ice.
He was still sitting next to Dennis, the sides of their bodies flush against one another, but they’d stopped radiating a significant amount of heat a good while ago. Mac also didn’t know how much oxygen they had left.
“I’m starving,” he said, and got up on shaky legs. He slowly looked through some bags. “We have… lemons. Limes. And cherries.”
“Cherries.”
Mac tossed a bag over to him, grabbing one for himself as well, and a bag of ice, before he went to sit back down. Dennis gave him a curious glance. As if he was a stupid man.
“Ice?”
“We have to hydrate ourselves somehow. Beer sure as hell isn’t gonna do it.”
Dennis acquiesced, biting into a cherry before spitting the seed out. Some red leaked out the corner of his mouth, but he quickly wiped it with the back of his hand.
Mac watched him eat for a good minute, before he finally started himself.
Hour 9
"Hey, Den?"
"What?"
"Y’know, earlier… You said I was delusional. You said… you said that you weren’t surprised. What did you mean?"
"Oh, Mac."
"What?"
"It’s too cold. I’m too tired for this."
"Just – it’s a simple question. When have I been delusional?"
"Stop wasting oxygen. Try to sleep. Alright?"
"Den!"
Silence.
"Fuck, alright – since we’re about to die. I’ll tell you."
"Yeah?"
"You’re delusional about God, for one. Oh, don’t look at me like that. I’m not disputing your faith or whatever. He might exist. I’m just saying… you’re delusional about all that bible shit. It doesn’t matter."
Silence again.
"And, your skills. In literally anything. You’re not a karate master or bodyguard or whatever! Truly, it’s insane you believe it so much. Sometimes I really wonder what goes on in your brain that makes it so you’re literally blind to reality."
"OK, fuck off, I’m not – "
"Also, your identity."
"Huh?"
"Ah, forget it. You’re not ready to hear it."
"I’m asking you to tell me!"
"If you were ready, you’d already know what I was talking about."
"What? I don’t – I don’t understand."
"Exactly. Now shut up, I’m trying to sleep."
"Den – "
"Shh. If I’m lucky, I won’t wake up again."
Hour 11
Mac hated Dennis. He hated him so fucking much. He probably hated him more than he hated Frank when he drank too much and called him names, more than he hated Dee when she wouldn’t shut her beak up, more than he hated Charlie when he brought up bashing rats in too many conversations. God, Mac probably hated Dennis more than he hated himself, which was saying a whole lot.
He couldn’t believe he was about to ask him what he was about to ask.
"D – Dennis? You awake?"
Dennis had forgone a sitting position in favor of laying to the floor some time ago, now. He hadn’t moved in a while, but he was definitely breathing.
"Your teeth keep fucking chattering. So, yeah, buddy, I’m awake."
"So – sorry. It’s just, so cold. I was wondering…"
Mac watched things sometimes on the discovery channel. He watched things, and he learned things. Dennis could make fun of him all he wanted for it. Sometimes, it did prove itself useful. Sometimes like now.
"Maybe we should, you know. Bundle together. For warmth."
"You wanna cuddle?" He sounded incredulous.
"For warmth!"
There was an awful moment of silence where Mac was left biting at the skin around his nails, staring at the back of Dennis’ head while he considered the proposition. It was as if he could see the thoughts racing in his head, as if his hairs, the slight movements of his head, were reacting to them. Before Dennis even opened his mouth, Mac already knew the answer, and he desperately ignored the anxious weight that settled in his belly.
"F – Fine."
Hour 12
People dying. Sardines. Poop. The permanent pee stain in the men’s bathroom. Dee. The stray cats over at Charlie’s place. Rickety Cricket. Poop again.
Mac was holding in his breath, trying to think of anything, literally anything, that wasn’t the press of his best friend’s ass against his crotch.
They’d fallen asleep holding each other in the corner of the fridge, Dennis facing the wall, knees close to his chest, and Mac laying behind him, every part of his body hugging the other’s curves perfectly. It was weirdly intimate. But necessary, Mac reminded himself. It was necessary for their own survival. And surviving was important. Right? Surviving wasn’t gay. It was…
Dennis shifted again. Mac really couldn’t concentrate.
"D – Den?"
Dennis only gave a barely noticeable grunt, turning his head to the side to watch him out of the corner of his eye.
"Can you stop?" Mac asked, trying to sound gentle.
"What?" His voice was rough. They hadn’t spoken in a while.
"Huh – " Mac didn’t want to have to say it, damn it. "You’re – you’re moving a lot. You know… you should stop."
"Why?"
"You know…"
"Moving helps the body keep warm. By asking me to stop moving you’re literally asking me to die."
"Oh, c’mon!"
"I just don’t see the problem!"
Mac sighed, a heavy and tired puff of breath that had his chest expand to the max. Then he closed his eyes shut, and counted in his head from 10 to 0, then to 10 again, just like his mother had taught him to do as a boy when he started to feel that anger, like the most dangerous kind of poison, creeping in his veins.
The decision was made in a split second. He untangled his arms from around Dennis’ waist, pushing himself to a sitting position.
"What are you doing?"
"Don’t worry about it."
Mac was already shivering again, but he stubbornly kept his eyes away from Dennis, even as he fully turned to stare at him.
"What the fuck, Mac? This was your idea! And it worked!" Dennis furrowed his brows. "I need you!"
"Christ," Mac gave a weak laugh. "Nah, you really don’t."
"I so do! That was the most comfortable I’ve been in the last like, ten hours we’ve been stuck in here!"
"Well, I wasn’t comfortable!"
Dennis licked his lips.
"Oh." He looked puzzled for an instant, before he pushed himself up a little, elbow to the ground. "Well… I guess we could switch? That cool?"
Mac considered it for a moment, and it seemed that could work. That way, Dennis wouldn’t be able to notice his little… situation, were it to rise again, and they’d still keep warm.
"Yeah… yeah. That’s cool."
Dennis moved to make place for Mac in-between the wall and him, and once Mac felt Dennis’ arms move around to hold him closer, and felt the tip of his ice-cold nose press against the back of his neck, he really couldn’t find it in himself to be mad anymore. He simply grabbed Dennis’ hand, pressing it close to his chest, fingers not quite intertwined, and fell asleep in a matter of seconds.
Hour 13 ½
Mac was frozen in place. As one should be, when stuck in a fridge. But Dennis? Oh, Dennis definitely wasn’t frozen. Dennis was… moving. He was moving a lot. And breathing loudly. And… OK, so, he was also rutting his hard cock against Mac’s left butt cheek.
Was he even awake? That bitch probably had no fucking idea where he was. Probably thought Mac was some chick or something.
"Dennis?!"
Dennis groaned, and held Mac even closer, and naturally, Mac’s entire body shifted a little, so now the press of Dennis’ cock found itself more or less aligned with his crack. Goddamnit.
"Dennis! Wake up!"
That was the moment Mac heard a laugh. A short, weak one, but a laugh nonetheless, and now Mac was left wondering if people could laugh in their sleep. He really, really hoped not. It was creepy as shit.
"I’m awake, man," Dennis said, voice barely above a whisper, but it must have been a lie, because he didn’t stop his slow grinding, even after having called him man.
"What the fuck?"
"Shh, Mac, Mac, listen to me, alright?" Dennis said, but Mac found it very fucking hard to listen, what with the cold fingers that were dancing underneath his shirt and all. "Mac, listen, I just think… this might just be the perfect way for us to finally feel warm. Real warm. Yeah?"
"Dude."
"Mac."
"Dude."
"Mac."
Dennis punctuated the word by licking a strip on the skin of his neck and wrapping his right leg tightly around Mac’s waist. Mac, after succumbing to a shiver at the feel of Dennis’ tongue on him, felt utterly, and irrevocably, trapped. That particular sensation had him press the whole of his lower body against the tiled floor, feeling his own cock start to swell in his briefs. And some part of Mac did want to laugh it off, shove Dennis right off him. It wasn’t like he wasn’t strong enough to do it. Of course he was strong enough. He just…
"Fuck – Den – I’m not – "
"I know, I know, you’re not – " Even Dennis didn’t want to say the word. "Whatever. What does it matter?"
"It matters – " Mac huffed out a breath, right about the same time Dennis’ fingers started to creep higher towards his chest. "Because!"
"Because?"
Fingertips were now brushing lightly over both of Mac’s nipples, going swiftly to one then the other, before Dennis finally settled, rolling the tight bud between his thumb and index finger, then tugging on it a little. Mac felt like jolts of electricity go through him, and he gasped, unable to stop his hips from pushing back and grinding into the empty air.
"Ung – " He took a deep breath. "Fuck, Dennis! ‘Cause it’s wrong!"
"Your argument is baseless," Dennis said, and Mac couldn’t see it, but he just knew Dennis had one of those smirks on his face. "Please?"
Mac’s body froze from shock again, and, for a second, so did Dennis’, mostly out of anticipation for Mac’s reaction. And, yeah. Mac couldn’t really blame him. For sure his reaction was going to be insane. Dennis Reynolds, saying please? That was fucking unheard of.
Just as if the invisible string that had been holding him back before had suddenly been snipped off, Mac snapped out of it, turning on his back to stare wide-eyed at Dennis, who took the opportunity, and the hint, to straddle him fully.
"Holy shit," Mac said. "Holy shit."
Dennis grounded himself, resting his hands on top of Mac’s chest, and lightly grabbing the fabric of his sleeveless shirt, before he resumed the movement of his hips.
"I’m getting cold over here, buddy."
"Y – yeah, alright, I’ll get to that, but for the record, I’m just doing this ‘cause we’re literally about to die anyways," Mac clarified. The insides of his belly tightened in knots when he thought of what he was about to say next. "Also, ‘cause you begged me to."
Dennis pouted, and there was a sad glint in his gaze, all of it so obviously for the sake of performance only, but Mac still felt like a whine come up his throat. He was so fucked.
"Oh?" Dennis’ voice went all breathy. "You mean that you’re not doing this because you’re attracted to me?"
He grabbed both of Mac’s wrists, guiding his hands so they’d rest on his hipbones, as Mac wouldn’t dare move a fingertip on his own yet.
"Don’t you think I’m hot?" Dennis asked, sitting back just a tad so he could raise his shirt up and flash the skin of his abs, the trail of light hairs that lead inside his briefs. Then, he hovered back over him, dipping his head but raising his body so that there was no more point of contact between them, except for the brush of his moving lips against Mac’s left earlobe. "I thought you wanted to touch me, Mac. Feel me. Maybe even fuck me."
Mac groaned, before granting himself a look down Dennis’ body, noticeably gulping when his eyes fell on the low-hanging, heavy-looking bulge between his legs.
Mac wasn’t supposed to find this attractive, or arousing. He definitely wasn’t supposed to feel the need to press Dennis’ body closer to his, or miss the feeling of his hard dick against him, but Mac did feel all those things. He felt all those things, and more.
"God," Mac lost his brain-to-mouth filter, if he ever really had one. "I’ll fuck you if we come out of this alive."
"Deal."
Dennis plunged to kiss him, nothing sweet or soft about it, and it was only in that moment Mac realized for how long he’d actually been craving this. But he didn’t give it much more thought.
No, he was rather preoccupied thinking about Dennis’ tongue forcing its way between his lips, the awkward clash of their teeth, the sound Dennis made when Mac tried to sit up a little and their middles connected once more. He didn’t know about Dennis, but Mac had never been so hard in his entire life. And it wasn’t only Dennis’ body, the feel of his lips, or the faint smell of his cologne; no, there was this kind of urgency between the two of them, one that didn’t need to be talked about out loud, just acted on, and it was driving Mac wild. He felt like an animal in heat. And he felt… so badass.
"Mac, Mac," Dennis was saying against his mouth. "Touch me. I won’t say please again."
Mac nodded his head eagerly, finally dipping his hands underneath Dennis’ shirt, but not spending too much time up front, and instead running them towards his back, where he lowered his touch to grab Dennis’ ass. He could see it in Dennis’ face, that that wasn’t what he meant when he’d said touch me, but Christ, Mac wasn’t quite ready to just grab a hold of the man’s dick yet.
Dennis took matters into his own hands, unzipping his jeans, before he did the same to Mac’s.
"Wait, wait, just – slow down," Mac said, grabbing his hips to put them to a stop before he ran his hands over Dennis’ sides, going up to the collar of his flannel, and popping a button, then another, and then the one below that, and then…
Mac almost couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The open laps of Dennis’ shirt framed his upper body perfectly, and with the jeans unzipped, Mac had a clear view of his underwear, and so, a pretty good idea of what was hidden in them.
Dennis, looking desperate now, raised Mac’s shirt and tugged it underneath his armpits, before he dove back to kiss him again, and although removing clothing, by all means, should have made them feel colder, the skin-on-skin contact more than made up for it. With every movement, Dennis’ chest was rubbing against his, and, although they hadn’t even gotten to the real good part yet, Mac was having trouble holding back moans.
He felt his cock pulse when Dennis moved on to not-so-gently nibble at his neck, and once Mac felt him start to suck a hickey there, as if they were Goddamn teenagers again, Mac found himself thinking, Fuck it, and in one swift motion, he raised his feet to wrap his legs around Dennis’ waist, crossing his ankles at the back. This brought their bodies closer than they were before, and Dennis seemed to be taken aback, because his forehead dropped to Mac’s shoulder, and he made a wonderful, delicious sound, one that Mac had only ever heard maybe once or twice in the hundreds of sex tapes he’d watched before.
"You like this?" Mac asked in a breath, sounding surprised, because even though it might have been obvious, it wasn’t obvious.
Dennis only grunted in response, but it was a grunt that seemed to say yes. Mac smiled to himself, but it quickly turned into a gasp once Dennis, without even a warning, shoved his cold, cold hand inside Mac’s underwear.
"Fuck!" Mac yelled, and he tried to shimmy away, but without no real intent, because his legs stayed wrapped around Dennis’ core, his hands kept their steady grip on his shoulders, and his back only arched into the touch. "Fuck."
Now Dennis had fully taken his dick out, and even though they’d both seen each other naked countless times before, Mac still felt himself blush. What was Dennis thinking? Did he find this gross? Hot? Was he convincing himself it was like touching his own? Was he faking every little expression on his face, every little glint in his eye, that seemed to tell he was enjoying this?
Because if Mac was being entirely honest with himself, if he put all the guilt and the shame away… Yeah, he was enjoying this. He was enjoying this way too much. And it was bothering him to Hell not truly knowing how Dennis felt about it all.
But the insecure thoughts in his head were fully blasted to pieces once Dennis started stroking him.
Mac’s chest heaved with every breath he took, and he grabbed the back of Dennis’ head with one hand, bringing his mouth down to his again, as he readjusted Dennis’ grip on himself with the other.
"Like this…" He said, and then they started kissing, a slow, open-mouthed kiss with too much tongue that had Mac feel like his insides were being flipped upside down. It all felt very surreal, seeing Dennis’ delicate hand wrapped around his cock, seeing his thumb flick on the head when he gushed out a bit of precum, watching him as he, without ever stopping the movement of his right hand, took his own cock out with the left.
Dennis was bigger than him, a fact which Mac had always been aware of, but Jesus fucking Christ, it was entirely something else seeing him hard in real life. And it wasn’t like he’d been hiding a monster in his pants or anything, Dennis was of a decent, proportionate size, but Mac seemed only now to realize that a cock looked much more impressive when it was hard, angry-red, and leaking at the tip. Also, maybe when it was so close. And all for him.
When Mac’s eyes flicked back to Dennis’ face, he saw in his expression not only a lot of lust, but a shit ton of pride.
"You like it?" Dennis asked, with a grin on his face that suggested he already knew the answer, and Mac rolled his eyes, but not without giving a slight twitch of his hips when Dennis’ strokes grew slower, looser.
"Uh – " Mac couldn’t really form words right now. He gave a nervous laugh.
"It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything," Dennis said, being considerate probably for the first time in his life. "But do something about it? Yeah?"
With that said, Dennis grabbed Mac’s hand and very sensually slipped one of his fingers inside his mouth. Mac’s eyes opened wide, as he delighted in the sensation of Dennis’ tongue swirling around the digit, and, unable to restrain himself anymore, made the decision to give him a little more to suck on.
Soon enough, the whole of Mac’s hand was dripping with spit, a string of it still connecting the tip of his index finger to Dennis’ lip once he took it away.
"Fuck, Den."
He couldn’t wait any more. Feeling like his heart was stuck in his throat, Mac brought his hand down to take hold of Dennis’ cock, and it wasn’t a completely unknown sensation, the hard weight in the palm of his hand, but it was different. Weird, but in a good way.
"I love your hands," Dennis said suddenly, like a gift. "They’re so big."
Dennis loved big hands? That wasn’t very heterosexual of him, Mac thought, but then again, Dennis was also currently fucking his hand, and it was the hottest thing Mac had ever seen, so, he really wasn’t in a position to judge at the moment.
"Mac?" Dennis gasped his name, and he licked his lips, before he suggested, "Take us both?"
Mac instantly felt punched in the guts by a hot wave of arousal, the first subtle hint of an orgasm coming up, and it stopped him for a moment, but he recovered quickly enough. He untangled his legs from around Dennis’ waist to allow for more space, and then grabbed the two of them in a loose grip, the combined sensation of his wet fingers and Dennis’ cock rubbing against him at the same time unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. It had him stretch his thighs as far as they would go and buck up into the touch, his other hand holding Dennis firmly by the hip, as he tried his best to concentrate on his rhythm.
"Fuck, that’s hot," a stream of filthy words fell out of Dennis’ mouth. "So good, so big, fuck, fuck – "
Mac banged his head against the floor and shut his eyes, feeling overloaded by all his senses, and he moaned, a deep and long sound that only a fool wouldn’t recognize for what it was. He heard Dennis puff out a breath, a choked laugh, and suddenly there was a weight, a pressure, on his chest right below his neck, and, feeling curious, Mac forced himself to open his eyes.
What he saw was a question in Dennis’ gaze, clear as day.
He gave a small nod of his head.
A second later and Dennis’ fingers were creeping up higher, until his hand was carefully wrapped around Mac’s throat; not fully, but enough that Mac felt his ribs tighten around his lungs, enough that his cock twitched from how much it turned him on, enough that Dennis started rutting against him in an almost erratic way.
"Faster," he said, and Mac complied, his breathing growing laborious, little choked-off sounds escaping the barrier of his lips, and nothing to hide them but the wet, filthy sounds of his hand flying over both their cocks.
"Fuck – yeah, Goddamn, Mac," Dennis said all in one breath, fingers digging slightly harder into the sides of his neck, and Mac’s eyes rolled back again. "You look, fucking wrecked. So good. I can… I can feel your heartbeat in your throat."
Mac tried to moan, but it ended up only being a sharp exhale of what little breath he had left. Then he felt tears start to fill the brim of his eyes, and it hurt, but the pain and the oxygen deprivation only forced him to concentrate that much more on that fast-building fire in his groin, his arm failing to grasp anything by his sides, hips twitching and his entire body trembling in its chase for orgasm.
"Ah – Mac, I’m about t’shoot."
Dennis stayed true to this word, and suddenly the sounds of his previously low and almost quiet grunts of pleasure escalated to a dragged out, high-pitched whine, and Mac felt him pulse hard in his hand before he was coming over his belly, releasing his grip on Mac’s throat to rest both open palms on the ground for support. Mac’s intake of breath was instant, shallow and forced, but he only stared at Dennis, finding him absolutely stunning like this, his entire body shaking, completely lost to the world. It was all Mac needed to find his own release.
He came in hot spurts all over himself, almost blacking out by the end of it, and whimpering when Dennis let himself carefully fall over him, the whole of his weight pressing their groins together again and smudging the drying come on their skins even further. But he didn’t seem to care. No, he only shushed Mac when he tried to speak, and hid his face in the crook of his neck.
Hour 14
They didn’t say anything for a while after it happened. But once Mac started to lose the feeling of his members underneath Dennis’ weight, he gently nudged him, and they both cringed when they had to face the mess they’d previously let be.
Dennis laughed, a bit awkward, before he got up to find them a rag of some sort. Once they felt and looked decent again, Dennis smiled at him, and Mac considered giving him a quick peck on the lips, but the opportunity was lost once Dennis only proceeded to lay beside him, and hug him from behind.
As if nothing had happened.
Hour 16
"Dennis?"
"Yeah?"
"I feel cold again."
Hour 22
Mac woke up in a gasp when he heard a thud, and a click, and the creaking sound of metal dragging on metal.
"What the fuck?!"
It took Mac a moment to remember his current situation, and even longer for his eyes to adjust to the neon-lights of the fridge, but once he did, he screamed.
"You guys?!" Charlie was yelling, voice breaking as it always did, as Dennis scrambled to button his shirt back up, and Mac tried to hide the come stains on his shirt. And pants.
"Shit, Charlie, it’s not – it’s not what you think," Mac was trying to explain, but Dennis was already up on his feet, forcefully pushing their friend out of the doorway. Mac followed suit. "We were stuck in there! As good as dead!"
"We’re alive!" Dennis exclaimed, completely ignoring the fact that they’d been caught literally snuggling each other, half-naked, in a room that most likely reeked of sex. "Ahhh! Alive!"
They were both still very pale, and shivering from the cold they felt down to their bones, but it was true they were alive. Mac could rejoice in that.
He could not, however, rejoice in the fact that Charlie was currently looking on the verge of a panic attack.
"Y – You guys fucked!"
Mac avoided his gaze, but Dennis, in his euphoria, hugged him, before he pat him on the shoulder.
"We didn’t, actually." He corrected him, then shrugged. "No lube."
"Oh my God!" Mac felt as good as dead, now. "Oh my God! We – Charlie, it was a matter of life and death! We were so cold! It was the only way!"
Charlie, although he seemed to be relaxing now, still stared at him wide-eyed.
"Fair enough," he said. "But you know you weren’t actually stuck in there, right?"
Dennis’ grin fell off his face.
"What? No, no, we were. The door wouldn’t open."
"Yeah, the door was locked!"
Charlie furrowed his brows.
"Huh, yeah, except that it doesn’t lock." He said. "Look, I’ll show you."
Charlie moved to get back in the fridge, mentioning for them to follow him. Which they did, apprehensively. Then Charlie closed the door.
"Charlie!" Dennis yelled, looking just about ready to punch the little man.
"Wait, wait! See – if you just try to push the handle, it doesn’t work, but like, if you tug on it this way and then twist – boom! Free!"
There was a moment where the three of them all stood in silence. And then…
Dennis did punch the little man.