Work Text:
1:15am
On a Saturday
Philadelphia, PA
wwwhooooo–
The wind whistled its daunting tune through a sliver of Dennis's bedroom window, curtains shivering, mirroring what his frail body would do. The outside lights illuminated the room, softly, as if the orange hue was trying to warm his space and body; failing, but still holding his form into an embrace. Small vibrations of what feels like anxiousness, up and down both his skin and the curtain's fabric, his blanket doing no job in aiding comfort to the synchronized dance between his soul and the breeze. Dennis rubbed his feet together in a circular motion, wondering if his bones could work as firewood, making a campfire, just for a hint of coziness within his sheets.
WWwwhoooooo-
The damned window wasn't completely closed, letting the outside weather make home within the darkened space of his locked bedroom, not quietly of course, the whistle hitting pitches only he could match during a good Range Rover karaoke jam session. Dennis has tried closing the window, with all of his strength on several occasions, he even had Mac, the guy that swears his cultivated mass was all muscle try, yet the hairline crack still presented itself whenever it was most inconvenient, for times when a grown man wanted to contemplate. For times when a lonely man wanted to get off.
Is it a crime for a man to get off? Is it?
Dennis resorted into the amber depths of his alter ego, the much colder, more glacial hospitality of his mind. To rid his focus of the cracked glass, to avert his attention span and focus into a more heat-inducing reality.
wwhhhooooo-
Seasonal depression was very real, no denying the obvious, and so was Dennis's denial of every deep feeling he has ever had. Only when he's alone in bed can he open up and be free. It's hard to get lost in thought due to the overwhelming “siren” that is an unwelcome breeze, but the Golden God had decided he wanted to get off, so that's what he planned on doing.
Whatever the Golden God wanted, he got. No questions asked.
There are many reasons why Dennis enjoyed the alone time in the safety of his mattress. He had the time of exploring his deepest desires, his wandering thoughts, and the situations where he ended up worshiped. He had even indulged further in some of those fantasies, like now, getting worked up to sexual situations he would never admit to. Never admit to.
Wwwhooooooo-
Dennis's long fingers traced the buttons on his cotton pajama shirt, up the seam slowly, and back down the seam at the same pace. Up and down, up and down...
His right hand put on a physical show of what his brain was directing. His mind was in charge of the entertainment tonight, featuring the god himself, Dennis Reynolds, and his heavyweight champion of a roommate, Mac McDonald. This live episode was a rerun. Dennis has acted in this episode several times, but he is a big fan of the episode's closing scene. Every show is performed in front of a live audience, right? so he was ready to put on a great performance. For the fans. For me. Dennis traced on the shirt's fabric continuously, getting into the headspace, setting up the scene. Whispering, “And..mmmm..action..”
That's it, baby boy. You're being so gentle with me.
He tried ignoring Jack Frost in the room as his imagination progressed, his fingers flicked his buttons as the imaginary man's- Mac's imaginary fingers replaced Dennis's, intertwined and dancing like the movement of the wind- Up the seam, now around his hardened nipples, and back down the seam. A waltz between two people, back and forth upon his navy cotton. His hips bucked up softly and gyrated as he imagined giving his roommate a grand tour of his small, shivering body. “Yeah, just like that...” He whimpered out loud, fingers running over the embroidery and stiff peaks of his clothed chest. Good God, please, Mac, we just started, don't stop-
WWwwwhoooo-
Oh my God, baby… Dennis trailed his middle finger softly down to the hem of his shirt, humming as he let his mind take off into territory he rarely allows. He imagined Mac pinching his nipples, whilst telling him to stop taking the Lord's name in vain. God, he loved aggravating his fantasy Mac. Such an easy way to get what he wanted- punished for his sick mental games. Fuck.. His gentle- now harder- touch made Dennis outwardly gasp as he trailed beyond his torso, circling twice around his bellybutton, and then teasingly darted over his clothed cock. Down the pants seam, up the pants seam…yeah? “F-uck, Mac- Fuck.”
WwwWHHoooo-
Shivering even more, Dennis let out a low guttural moan as he massaged the tip of his covered hard-on with his fingers- well, Mac's fingers, he envisioned. Mac's invisible fingers would put on such a great performance, he would do everything in his power to make sure Dennis got what he wanted. The pajama fabric was perfectly thin enough to give a painfully stimulating tingle upon his hardened body. Up the seam, down the seam, waltzing around, teasing in 3/4 time. I've been a bad girl, baby boy…
His left hand made its way to his throat, squeezing gently enough at first, only to cut off the arousing sound Dennis was going to regret. He isn't the quietest person when making sensual noises, but he surely did not want to explain this to anyone, so he made sure he quieted down. Only for indulging pleasures, to keep the volume down for his audience.
Oh, baby boy… don't make me beg…
His back arched and his head sunk deeper into his pillowcase. He imagined Mac choking him while palming his dick through his scratchy clothing. “Aahh… Fuck, Mac-” his right hand had gotten more adventurous, adding pressure and tugging at his member. The warmth and weight imaginary Mac would have on top of Dennis's frostbitten body could be enough to make Dennis ruin his boxers way too early, but the scene was just getting started. Dont stop… please-
wwwhhooooo-- CReak…
The stiff pain wasn't enough, Dennis was wanting more. He desired more suffering than usual tonight. He was contemplating heavily on if this god needed to be taken to his heaven, physically and realistically, not just within the subspace of his consciousness. Hibernated emotions began to wake up with each sensation he sent through his dick. His greediness could have turned the room green, he wanted, yearned, craved more discomfort. “H-urt me, you bitch-”
Dennis was a man that wanted more than most. What he wanted, he always got, like a spoiled child on Christmas morning. He always got what he wanted, that is, besides Mac. He wanted from afar, to get his most desirable wish would collide Heaven and Hell in a way too overbearing for one to handle. Besides, Dennis also loved to torment himself, and not getting what he truly wanted hurts like a bitch, and this bitch loves getting off to it. More. More. More.
Creak... whhooo-
Dancing harder around his member, hand restricting more airflow, Dennis craved and thought about Mac's massive weight gain, how his stomach would grow with laughter and restrict with anger. He wished to be the reason for its movement; He wanted Mac's whole body suffocating the life right out of him, pouring itself out of every pore, every crevice. Dennis wanted Mac's large biceps to rip through his tight clothing as he flexed his whole arms, hands gripping firmly around Dennis's neck-
“H-oly shit, baby…”
-around his jaw, around every inch of his body. Dennis, the weaker yet more powerful one, would be fine if Mac broke his neck, he wanted it, and wanted it, he needed it.
“Please, *cough* Mac-”
He wanted purple and brown bruises displayed proudly around his skin like an art show exhibit. Free to the public, but please do not touch the artist's work. I call this piece, “Love Bites”... and this one, “Love Sucks”... The medium I used? Well, his name is Mac.
Mac knew nothing about what he was doing to the god he worships during regularly scheduled airing times of 1am to 3am. Dennis wanted the power over him, to watch his friend melt and mold himself into anything Dennis wanted. Want. Want. Want.
Creak.. whhhooooo-
“oh shit- G-D-amn!” The grip on his throat weakened as he started to see stars. The dizziness accompanied with a wind chill from the windowsill brought Dennis back from his vivid story. He wasn't aware of how loud he was being or how hard he was pressing down upon himself. I'd make you see more than just stars, filthy slut. Dennis returned his hand to his stomach, digging into the shirt and into his body. His cock was pleading for more. One more dance, one more something. Please...
Back into his mind, Dennis gripped his crying cock and squeezed his balls with his right hand, still above his pajamas, pre-come now making the fabric darker as each moment passed. The warmth of the mess reminded him of why he wanted to do this. Mac could warm me up, easily. He couldn't get his mind off of Mac and back to his sexual fantasy show. The episode he curated was not sticking to his regular script. He wasn't upset about it, again, this is his contemplating hours and Dennis loved to hurt himself. His digits traced his stomach, up and down, up and down, accompanied by the aggressive tug at his cock.
Spicy and sweet, hot and cold, Den and Mac.
Dennis moaned thunderously as he turned his head to the side away from the door, hoping it would help with the volume. Visions of Mac groping him were at the forefront in his vivid imagination. Large hands would painfully squeeze, gentle, and loving however. The bigger guy's face was smiling, full and round, dark brown beard covering the double chin he fantasized Mac would be self-conscious about. Self-conscious because of Dennis's fatphobic remarks. He was molding Mac into a hurt, beaten creature that needed something to worship, something like him to worship. Something to make everything feel like life is worth living. Dennis imagined half-lidded eyes staring at his compliant body, adorned with injuries of lust and painful scars that would be remembered for weeks. "God, Mac-"
creak... CReak-
Dennis knew that after each punishment, Mac would want to care of him- Clean him up, caress his frame, kiss his work, like a watermark to let viewers know who the creator on display was. “mmmmm..” He wanted to nuzzle up into Mac's unkept beard, scratching and poking at his own soft, smooth, perfect skin. God Mac, I want-
Creak- cre- wooooo-
“goddamn…” This cold front was bringing in more than just cooler temperatures, it was bringing in yearning and undeniable attraction to the character he created in his head, and the physical being of which the character is based off of.
You're such a freak, Dennis… You like when I choke you? Hurt you? Ha. Kinky bastard..
The whirling of his finger pads made their way from his stomach to the sheets, fabric between both hands now tightened as he was taken over by the degrading words his best friend would whisper in his ear. The idea of Mac making Dennis's neck hairs rise as each hateful word left the bearded man's lips to fall upon the submissive one's head, sent shocks toward Dennis's thighs and up the tip of his soaked, throbbing dick. He wanted so badly to make his fantasies true, but a god must have restrictions and super high standards, he would always remind himself of this. “H-urt me, Mac- Please,” Dennis was lost in thought, louder than necessary, saying his truths involuntarily out loud. This live performance was going off the rails compared to previous performances. I hope the audience doesnt mind. Dennis surely doesn't. Tell me I'm a bad, bad, girl, Mac.
wwhhHhhooo- creaK- Creak-
His right hand finally reached under his waistband, he couldn't take the teasing pain anymore. The cold air brought the exposed dampness between his legs to a spine-chilling temperature. That damn window. Dennis wasted no time grabbing onto his cock, free from the thin dark blue fabric cell, begging to be touched by someone other than him. His left hand let go of the sheets beside him. He painfully drug his nails up his right arm as he seductively made his way back onto his neck. Clawing as if he was being manhandled by a lion; By a bulky man that is hunting his prey. This time, the white nail traces puffed up faster, a small line between drawing blood and not breaking skin, but painful enough to remember later. He squeezed and groaned, working more pain into this night's event.
His neck was sore, still, he wanted more. More. More. More. He squeezed his dick in unison with his hand that was back on his throat. “Aa-ah- AH-” An echoing pitched moan vibrated around the room, ricocheting off the walls and off Dennis's deep desires. Dennis let up on his throat and trailed his left hand down and under his shirt, this time nails scratching into his stomach and up to his nipples, almost as if he was punishing himself for making such a beautiful noise. I'm a good girl, I'm promise. I'm your good girl- Trail after trail was being left behind his freshly cut nails, stinging with pleasure. In response to his scratching, Dennis began stroking himself painfully slowl, using the abundance of chilling pre as lubricant for his right hand. His knees hiked up as he spread himself out more, pants falling and restricting movement by his ankles. He scratched down his stomach and down onto his thigh, harder and deeper because that's what Dennis wants. He stroked, scratched, squeezed, then suddenly stopped his movements. As he repeated the process, he earned a dirty vocal grunt in response. You're so needy, Den… Dennis's head turned again, this time facing the door.
“Fucking h-hurt me, Mac- I..”
Such a good girl for me.
"Please-"
Wwwhoooo- CRASH!
Dennis's body jolted and scrambled, hand left his throbbing dick, and arms laid back to his sides; The final scene of his fantasy was brutally cut off by a loud sound, just as it was getting good, goddammit. His body laid frozen from the symphony of winter weather and the spiraling comprehension of his loud perverted loneliness. All he was left with was lingering pain, a high pitched wind chill, and reality. The noise outside of his room snapped him back into his boring and not-so-horny actuality. Now what the fuck was that? Ruining my wants? Want. Want. Want.
-whhhoooooo-oo-
Creak.. creak- creak- creak–
“Oh, Goddammit!” Dennis exclaimed to himself, loud enough through chattering teeth and eyes clenched so hard he could pop a blood vessel.
He was still laid on his back, blanket up to his chin now, and arms across his chest with hands under his armpits, a total prepubescent Catholic boy position, all due to the creaking and spookiness of the floorboards. His dick left a godly tent from under the blanket, moving, pleading for more. This damn weather will be the death of me.
— silence.
Dennis, now sexually frustrated, took note of how cold his bedroom really was. The steam curated from his inventive tales subsided, the sweat on his brow gone, the thin layer of comfort evaporated- all frozen over. Dennis was in the Ice Age times of his masturbation ritual. Nothing he could do would warm him up now- Not even getting to the meat of his daydream again could fix this miserable temperature. The apartment's heater was no match for the punch of Philadelphia's chill afterall. His legs kicked the icy environment with frustration behind each flail. Winter, you dumb bitch.
Through a snotty sniffle and sigh, Dennis tossed and turned more, trying to generate an ounce of heat, to get something- just something, please!- warm. All he was doing was letting more chill poke and prod at the navy blue pajamas around his ankles and whirl up toward the exposed pale skin by his throat. His dick softened at the arrival of the nasty air, shivering as his horniness softened as well.
silence.
F-F-FUCK th-this!! Dennis was defeated. He removed his hands from his pits and removed the blanket from his skeletal frame. His desire for some sort of relief overran his system as he sat up, shirt falling down his scratched up torso. Dennis wanted to be warm and indulge in his Mac-shaped fantasies alone, and NOT with a pestering, annoying ass frost surrounding him. Dennis wanted- hungered for something. For someone. He wanted his time to explore the realms of his brainpower. Want. Want. Want. Mine. Mine. Mine.
creak-
Dennis swung his ankles and pants over the side of the bed, feet meeting the floor made up of ice and desperation. An ice rink of predisposition to want. He pulled his pants and boxers up swiftly with a singular snap from the waistband. The creaking outside his door softened to nothingness once he became more aware of it. The popping sound under his feet rhythmically tiptoed around the music of the windowpane and the creaking from outside his door.
The closer Dennis got to the door, a rising suspicion flooded his vision. His hand laid heavy on the doorknob as he shook the unwanted emotions away from himself. Was I wanting way too loud? Did Mac hear me?
creak–
knock knock
“...Hey, Dennis?”
A quivering voice shot clearly through the door, precise and sharp enough to enter and leave Dennis's body, like a gunshot wound, fatal upon impact. Beyond the climate of the night, Dennis stopped in his tracks, unable to move, unable to think, and for the first time all night, unable to want.
Another creak interrupted the silence, followed by another few soft knocks,
“Dude, I know you're up. Can I come in?”
….
“Hm? M-Mac? Yeah, hang on.” Dennis choked, not sure what was heard, unsure of how long the realistic Mac was introduced to the version Dennis curated in his twisted mind. All Dennis was painfully aware of now is how empty his room is. How vulnerable and violated he felt was plastered all over the painted walls. He took a deep breath and feverishly shook his head.
Click!
Dennis opened the bedroom door and was met with the real Mac with those puppy eyes, a message unreadable within them. He was radiating heat through his body and off his chubby cheeks; Through his scruffy beard and unkept hair, Dennis could tell he was having trouble sleeping as well. I wonder what Mac fantasizes about at night?
Dennis's face was flushed and his pupils were wide as he greeted Mac at the doorway. Mac was wearing a white stained shirt, sleeves cut off poorly, and his boxers, the smaller roommate wondered why he wasn't frozen solid from the blizzard-like temperatures Philly has had lately. Given his size and red cheeks, that was all the answer he needed. Mac stepped forward toward Dennis, closer than normal, floor creaking below him.
“C-an I-” Dennis finally got a grip and moved out of the way, awkwardly making his way toward his bed. The popping symphony back for an encore. He sat up by the headboard as Mac still stood in the doorway. The silence between both men sat heavy, heavier than both would care to admit.
“Den, it's super cold in here, dude.” Mac broke the silence and entered the bedroom, closing the door gently behind him. Each step Mac took, a creaky melody sang from the floorboards, way louder than the popping Dennis was able to produce.. “Really, Mac? No shit, the window is broken and it's like, what, negative temps outside? I'm freezing in here.” Mac sat down on the side of Dennis's bed, looking down toward the floor and over by the window. “It's super hot in my room, Dennis-” Mac turned to face his friend, yet still looking around the room. One of his legs now laid on the bed as one dangled off the side. “We could, like, switch rooms, you know? Well, actually, you hate my room so that wouldn't work. Well, maybe-”
“Mac, why are you in here right now?”
Mac stopped his rambling and finally looked at Dennis. The red in his cheeks were filling out more of his face, bleeding into his forehead. Dennis repositioned himself on the bed, trying to not visually tremble. The orange of the night made Mac's whole overweight sight look so beautiful. His filled out features, the glassy unreadable emotion yelling from inside his eyes. Dennis looked away from his roommate's pupils, trailing toward the peekaboo of Mac's stomach, unhidden, looking to cool down beyond the restrictions of a ratty t-shirt. Mac pulled his shirt down and adjusted himself, earning Dennis's attention back to his face.
“I uh, well, Den, I couldn't sleep and, I thought I heard you say my name? I got up thinking you were having a nightmare, or maybe I was the one having a nightmare, whatever, I was just checking on you. To see if you were okay?” Dennis's eyes pierced through Mac's soul as his heart dropped to his stomach. The Golden God wanted a little too loudly tonight. Want. Want. Want. My greed sickens me.
“Thanks Mac, but I'm fine. I'm just cold.”
“Are you sure, bro? I swear I heard you say my name, and it sounded like you were crying-”
“Mac.” Dennis shivered, not due to the lack of warmth, but by the gut wrenching nerves he has to present himself with right now. Can a guy not get off in peace? Goddamn.
“I'm fine. Are you done?”
Mac furrowed his eyebrows, trying to assess the situation he had found himself in. He looked up and down at Dennis's unreadable body. Through the blinds of the “broken” window, the streetlights outside casted a gorgeous radiation upon Dennis's downturned face and laid phenomenally on his navy blue outfit. His brown hair messy and unkept, so unlike the guy he knows just on the surface. Mac saw the marks sparkle on the right side of Dennis's arm. The light casted a glow on the puffy scratches. Mac's eyebrows raised as he made eye contact with Dennis, down at his arm, and back to the other man's eyes again. Just like if Mac's situational awareness was the bedroom doorknob, something in Mac clicked. He realized what was going on.
Mac knew Dennis was into torturous things, hell, he's seen it with his own eyes, but he never realized he could take care of Dennis that way. Only in his fantasies, he assumed.
Mac was a gentle lover, a bear that takes care of his partner, a friend, whatever Dennis was; Rather it be romantically or platonically- Mac prayed to God asking for the chance to worship his other god in a way that would make Dennis feel so so good.
Wwwwhhhooooo-
Dennis turned and laid on his side, covering his tingling arm behind his pillow. The feeling of pain kept catching Dennis off guard, making it hard to concentrate on the being sitting at the foot of his mattress.
“Good night Mac, I'm going to sleep. Close the door when you leave.”
God, if you actually exist, take me out of my misery. Right now.
“What if I don't want to leave, Dennis?”
Mac got up and made his way on the opposite side of the bed, frantically jumping on, his weight shifted the mattress, sending Dennis into the air momentarily. Mac was now sitting at the headboard beside the rustled, airborne man. Before Dennis had the chance to protest, Mac got under the covers, even closer to his cold corpse. God, do you think this is funny? Mac huffed as he made himself more comfortable.
“Mac, what the hell do you think you're doing?” Dennis was glad he was facing away from his roommate, his flushed face was turning warm, growing hotter by each moment. He was uncomfortable, but unwilling to stop what was in motion.
“I have the perfect idea, Den,” Mac's voice low. He laid down fully, facing Dennis's back. “I can just sleep here tonight, yeah? You're cold and my body heat can warm up both of us!” Mac scooted his body closer, large stomach touching Dennis's back. The heat from Mac's sweaty body was perfect, Dennis would never admit that to anyone. “Problem solved, bro! I helped!” Before Dennis could even get a word in, Mac hugged his freezing friend, his huge arms wrapped around a skinny stomach, defrosting skin, bringing it back to life. The weight of it all made Dennis sigh under his quivering breath.
Dennis felt the heat from the physical being next to him. The being that invaded his space and is NOW invading fantasy Mac time mind you! He felt the dynamic in the art shift between the two ad Dennis did not protest the events unraveling. He noticed how he involuntarily backed into the warmth, cuddling up into the heated blanket of Mac.
“Mac, that's great and all, but I didn't say you could do this.”
Mac's head snuggled up closer to the back of Dennis's head, ignoring the sad excuse for an argument. The bigger man's beard tickled Dennis's neck, sending another shiver down his spine. Just like what I wanted earlier. Want. Want. Want.
“And you know what else, bro?” Mac got closer to Dennis's ear, beard still scratching against soft flesh.
“hhmm?” Dennis was still vibrating under the pressure, warmed up, and yet jittery at the interaction. He adjusted his whole back deeper into the crevice of Mac's fatty flesh.
“We both know I can hurt you more better than those lousy scratches, Den.” Mac whispered into Dennis's ear as his fingernails grabbed into the smaller one's waist. Dennis let out a gasp as Mac trailed his sharp nails slowly up the side. Dennis's left arm moved up, hand hiding his blushing face. “I can make it sting real good for you.”
Mac softly exhaled next to the other one's ear, the connection he made between hearing his name earlier and the scratches on Dennis's arm better have correlated, Mac thought. He could be making a huge mistake right now, accidentally harassing his best friend. This wouldn't be the first time. Yet, just like his wants, and hopefully Dennis's wants too, he persisted, making up his next move patiently. Up the waist, down the waist. Up the waist, down-
“Beat up? Spit on? Do you want me to knock you out, princess?”
Dennis choked out a moan as he removed his hand from his blushed face and turned his head over his shoulder toward Mac's face, closer than they've ever been (on purpose). Their noses touched, both of their mouths hovering next to each other, panting getting heavier and louder. Mac ran his fingerprints over the puffed scratches, reading it as if there was a language of Dennis's most desires to decode within them. Dennis's eyes were shut, trying to comprehend something- anything. He was confused, yet turned on at the reality of what was going on. He wanted so hard and so loud now. He doesn't want Mac from afar anymore. Not tonight. Not ever. Want. Want. Want. Mac. Mac. Mac.
“Please, Mac-” Dennis's lips ghosted under Mac's as he swallowed hard, trying to find the words. He opened his eyes, blinking into focus his best friend, close, and staring back.
“Hmm?” Fingernails scratched again over earlier marked trails, tiny dots of crimson blood reaching the surface in scattered areas. Liquid gold presented itself through Dennis's pale skin, beaded and smeared by thick fingers. Mac restrained himself from lapping up the wounds, sending aid to the god he thirsts for. Drink, for this is my blood…
“A-ah- just-”
“Use your words, baby girl.” looking directly into Mac's eyes, being called a pet name short circuited Dennis's whole cognitive system. Before Dennis was even aware of his next movement, his lips collided with his bigger best friend's face. A grunt from both parties welcomed the realistic fantasy of both of their dreams. A shared secret they both held, now pouring out, through every suppressed emotion. Escaping like blood from a cut, oozing into the open for all to view.
whhhooo-
Dennis moved to his back, elbows holding himself up to make contact with the shadow halfway on top of him, holding him tenderly, squeezing his small, prickly injuries. Their kiss initiation was sloppy, saliva covering both of their faces. It was as if both of them had never had a proper kiss before in their life- or well, a meaningful kiss, which might actually be the case. Mac guided his left arm onto Dennis's cheek, lightly tapping. Dennis responded with a noise, not breaking their teenage-boy makeout session. Mac slapped his cheek harder, leaving a stinging sensation behind. Dennis broke the kiss to groan. Both his and Mac's lips were swollen, wet with want and sweet nothings. His face was turned slightly down as his eyes looked up, directly into Mac's as he finally managed to formulate a complete sentence.
“I want you to punish me, baby boy. Can you please do that for me? I've been real bad.”
Mac wasted no time, he hungrily slammed his face back into Dennis's, left hand making his way onto his throat. A moan reminiscent of the cries Mac heard earlier filled the room. He broke the kiss to watch Dennis's face react to what he was doing. Another loud moan escaped the submissive one's body. Oh…!
Mac observed as he squeezed tighter; Dennis's hips jerked up, his begging cock hurting from how hard it's been teased all night.
“Holy shit, Den, that's like, super hot, dude.”
“H-harder. Hurt me-” Dennis whispered out, Mac got up onto his knees, not adjusting his grasp, now hovering over Dennis, one hand on his neck, the other holding himself steady on the headboard. He slowly squeezed tighter, still weary and cautious. Don't you need safe words for freaky shit like this?
“D'you like it, Den? Only pathetic sluts get off to this.”
Dennis's right hand sprang back into his fantasy's story, picking up where he left off. This time, his left hand traced Mac's thick arm. His eyes begged for Mac to continue. He gets a real live performance. His hand worked his pants off and his dick was released into the open air, blanket kicked off into the floor, somewhere within the cahmbers of his walls. The dampness and pre-cum had dried up, so without thinking, he brought his hand over and forced his fingers into Mac's agape mouth. Mac took each finger religiously and soaked Dennis's hand with spit. He moaned as he worked each finger, tongue tracing the outline of his fingers, the outline of his prints. Mac prayed for moments like this.
“H-oly shit. Holy shit, Mac-”
Dennis removed his fingers from the warm mouth and quickly made his way back to his tortured lower waist. Mac's eyes were blown, mouth swollen, and desire almost burning a hole into the mattress.
Dennis finally started stroking himself properly and quickly. Fuck! About time. Mac was so taken back from the last ten minutes, all he could do was watch and repeat holy scriptures to himself. Mac took in everything that was going on and a spark ignited in his core.
Dennis's hips jerked as Mac's grasp tightened again. He lowered his head above Dennis's making sure he had his full attention. Mac's voice laid on the air thick and low, “Bastard can only get off when he's being strangled and injured.” Dennis's head tilted back as his mouth formed a larger ‘o’ formation; cut off air making it impossible to say much. Mac's eyebrows furrowed as he watched the pornagraphic scene unfold. “Pathetic bitch.” Mac spat at Dennis's face as he squeezed the neck tightly once more. Dennis's body started sporadically moving, indicating that Mac was on the right track.
Mac got closer to the other's face, tongue licking upwards, removing the spit from Dennis's cheek and mouth. He left small nibbles on his lips and jaw, making sure Dennis can remember this moment for another day. Eye contact remained as Mac continued cleaning up the little mess he created. All Dennis could do was grab onto Mac's arm and squeeze.
Mac removed his hand from the headboard to take care of his own urging needs now.
Mac looked at Dennis and got closer to his ear, the scruff being welcomed once again. Mac's hand now stroked himself above his boxers as he moaned next to the man's ear.
“You like when I hurt you, Dennis? And take care of it afterwards?”
Dennis tried to nod, mouth opening more as his head tilted further back into the pillow. Body still spreading out to hump into his hand harder, slick noises from his soaked palm echoed against the room's nothingness. His left hand scratched at his stomach, in response with the pumping of his wet cock. Mac moaned at the thought of what to do and say next.
The larger guy would never want to hurt Dennis, in fact he was the complete opposite- He wanted to service him. Protect him. Worship him. The reason why he cultivated so much mass was to make sure nobody could hurt the one he loved most. Nobody can hurt you, Dennis… besides me.
But to service comes responsibilities you may not totally agree with. Responsibilities like making your god edge himself at the light at the end of the tunnel. Being able to take care of all of Dennis's needs did something excruciating to Mac's character. A feeling so violating and sickening. Something most would consider abuse. Mac would call it love.
Wwwhhhoooo-
The grasp turned into a deeper choke, fingernails now involved, tearing into the sides of Dennis's neck. A noose couldn't provide this level of deepcut desire. Dennis's face turned red; He couldn't take much more. His back arched up as if he were a hissing cat, his hand moved from his stomach to pinch his inner thighs. He rubbed up and down his bloody work. Up and down, up and down.
With that sensation, he moved over to squeeze his balls; overstimulating himself with sensory. Mac knew Dennis was going to finish any second, so he tugged at himself faster, under his boxers, schlicking sounds close to Dennis’s eardrums- adding more overwhelming sensory to the freak that laid beneath him.
Mac could cry as he admired the sight before him. Dennis was extraordinary, terrifying, yet only a man like him could pull something this mesmerizing off. With a panting moan, Mac was determined to finish Dennis off.
“What if I just strangled you right here, ah- Den? Hurt you so bad I-I killed ya?”
That was it. Dennis was finished. Every want in his soul, within the entire universe of his anatomy, exploded- His eyes closed harshly as white ropes of cum shot from his pulsating dick. Space and fireworks took off behind his eyes and throughout his quivering limbs. The white stream coated his fist and stomach, covering areas even up to Mac's arm that was still slightly choking him. Mac rocked himself forward, hand now off of the gasping Dennis, gripping onto the pillow his lovely princess was laying on. As his head hit the headboard, his face was hovering over Dennis's, perfectly parallel. Mac's hair was in his sweaty face, heavy breathing shared by both of them. Mac furiously beat himself off, the slapping sounds matched the volume of his moaning. Holy fuck. Holy shit. Want. Want. Want. Dennis. Dennis. Dennis.
Dennis opened his eyes, a beautiful picture above him, sweating, helpless. He caught his breath before bringing his cum-covered hand up to Mac's mouth. He gladly accepted the fingers again, this time, sticking true to his words, he took care of the mess he helped create.
“You're such a good boy for me, Mac.” Dennis whispered. Mac bit down onto Dennis's fingers as he gagged on them, climaxing, coating the inside of his boxer's fabric. Drool left Mac's mouth, hitting Dennis in the face.
Whhhhoooooo-
Mac rolled over onto his back, creating a thud sound upon the sheets. Both parties were breathing fast, discombobulated.
“W-what the fuck just happened, Den?”
Mac was elated, body calmer now on the opposite side of the bed. Dennis laid on his back silently, taking in the entire situation. Both men were sweaty, sticky, and painfully confused.
“I- Clean me up, will ya?”
Mac side-eyed toward Dennis, quickly getting up to serve his best friend. “Uh- sorry, yeah, I got you.” Mac stumbled in the streetlight darkness, grabbing toilet paper and a wash cloth from the corresponding bathroom. He wet the cloth, making sure the water was warm, before ringing it out.
He looked into the mirror, not seeing much but a shadow of himself. He was real, this was real, and God if Mac wasn't craving more.
He headed back into the room where Dennis, who had been laying there waiting, stared at the ceiling, breathing softer now. Mac got onto the bed, straddling Dennis as he strategically wiped up and down the gorgeous body, trying to avoid making a mess of the sticky white and red drying fluids. He tossed the toilet paper to the floor, earning a snicker from his laying companion. Mac admired the vessel before him- Dennis was delicate, carved with etchings of hieroglyphics; Mac's sinful confessions.
“It's- uh, warm, just warning you.”
Mac laid the damp washcloth on the other's body. Hisssss….
“I know, I know, I'm gonna make it feel gooder for you, Den.”
Through the silence, he cleaned both of them up thoroughly; The only sound was coming from the squeaking of the bed as Mac maneuvered his body around. Dennis's eyes were glued onto the ceiling, giving Mac no indication of if he had helped him effectively. Before heading back to the bathroom to collect himself, Mac traced the trails on Dennis's frosted stomach gently, up his torso, and down his torso.
A tremble and sigh from both of their bodies harmonized in unison.
“God, you're so beautiful.” Mac's oversized body got up off the mattress, leaving Dennis lonely, just like before- Alone with his pain and perverted reality.
Whhhooooo-
“Okay, well, I'm gonna leave now, yeah? Just like you asked earlier-”
Dennis's head shot up, elbows back to supporting his upper body weight. He was frustrated at Mac's awful guilt trip technique and even more pissed off at the idea of Mac leaving his decrepit body to continue to freeze.
“Mac, you idiot, come back here.”
Mac slowly walked towards Dennis's side of the bed. “Hm? Is everything okay?”
Dennis motioned with his head, nodding toward the other side of the bed, a want for Mac to get back under the covers with him. “I'm still freezing, you know. Your initial plan wasn't all that stupid.”
A smile grew on Mac's face, eyes half-closed with how big his grin was. “oh- Yeah! Okay then..”
Dennis rolled his eyes as Mac made himself comfortable in bed, turned to his side, staring at Dennis's side-profile.
“You should bite me more next time, okay, Mac?”
With that being said, Dennis curled back into the weight of his real Mac, smiling; His brown curls tickled Mac's chest. He devoured the smell and body heat Mac's mass was radiating happily. Mac whimpered at the passive ‘next time’ leaving his soulmate's lips, thinking all of this was just a surreal wet dream, Mac held onto Dennis for dear life; Any moment this could be taken away from me. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Mac's arms encased Dennis's body, holding him closer than ever before. “Uh, yeah- I can definitely do that. Just for you.” Somebody pinch me !!
Wwwwhoooo-
The songs and melodies repeated between the two men's memories as their breaths synchronized, visuals of their late evening snowing down on their minds, a blanket heavy and comforting. Sleeping is easier when you're warm. Winter weather in Philadelphia isn't all too bad, but that damn window definitely needs fixed.
Wwwhhhooooo—