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Mac hated Lent.
It seemed pointless to observe it now, already damned in the eyes of God, or at least in the eyes of the church. He had made his choice to live in sin, to call himself queer and love in the way that men loved other men. Had that simple act of rebellion, that one gentle sin, been enough to cast him out of heaven's favor? Most men of God seemed to think so, anyways.
And Mac had deemed it worth it, had decided that this fraught relationship with his God was worth it for the sake of simply living, simply breathing, simply loving as himself. And in the throes of his pleasure, pressed between the bodies of men whose names he didn't know, glitter splashed across his body and sparkling beneath the dim club lights, it felt worth it. When it was all sweat and pheromones, all hunger and testosterone, all cocks and sex and come, Mac could hardly even bring himself to consider God's place in it all.
But the routines were still embedded into his brain, ingrained into the fabric of his flesh, burned and engraved into his bone. And as Lent came around again, how could he simply turn his back from the grace of God?
He always chose the same thing to sacrifice, the same burden to lay upon the cross. His every indulgence, sex and masturbation, the sweet reprieve of his orgasm, it was all forsaken for the sake of Christ. Every year, he did this to himself, chose this as his designated fate; and every year, he fucking hated himself for it.
Dennis had no shame, even less so during Lent. Always so antagonistically atheistic, he considered it as an opportunity to piss off God in every possible way, and Mac by extension. Porn cast to the TV, insistence that Mac help him go through his sex tapes, the constant reminiscence upon the glory days, the nights they'd stolen away together. When he was feeling particularly cruel, he'd pour them both a few too many shots and make a game of luring Mac into bed, bringing him to the brink of orgasm before reminding him of his oath. It was always up to him, to keep going or keep his word, but Dennis would use it to torment him either way.
Caught between his shame and his desire, that was exactly where Dennis liked to keep him.
Dennis just liked to see him on his knees, knelt down before him above God, made the object of his worship during such holy days. It fed into his God complex, offering him a moment of such divine power. And with a hand pressed through his hair, it made Mac feel like his good and faithful servant.
It was mutually beneficial, and mutually assured destruction, each time that they touched one another. They had been damned from the start, doomed to torture each other with every dying breath. It felt like agony and reprieve, like pain and pleasure, all so consuming when their bodies pressed flush one against the other. They could never truly live like this, never find anything akin to happiness like this, but how could they survive without each other? Separation would kill them all the same.
So Mac supposed that he wasn't so surprised when he heard his name called from the other room, the muffled sounds of moaning from the speaker just beneath.
"Mac?" Dennis called, a hand wrapped around his cock as he lazily stroked himself, watching himself fuck some girl he could hardly remember on the TV screen. "Come here for a second?"
Mac submitted to few, but Dennis could always get him right where he wanted him. With a disgruntled sigh and a curse, he dragged himself up off the bed, cock already half hard between his legs as he opened the door, head poking into the living room.
Dennis leaned back against the cushions, cock straining and hard against his working palm. His jeans were unzipped, boxers pushed aside, still mostly clothed save for his length, aching and throbbing in his hand. Even now, after all these years, he was still so fucking pretty, the type of pretty that could make a man fall to his knees with praise upon his tongue. Mac could feel the arousal light in the pit of his belly, that familiar ache and yearn, to feel that body pressed against his own.
Rising to his feet to meet him, the sex tape still playing across the screen, Dennis' hand never once left his cock as he approached. Intimidation or seduction, Mac couldn't quite tell as his cock stirred hard against his leg. It was only as they stood eye-to-eye, as so-called equals, that Dennis tucked himself back into his boxers, leaving the button of his jeans undone.
"Kneel for me," Dennis said nonchalantly, spoken as a surefire command, as though he was certain that Mac wouldn't even try to say no.
"Dennis, I—" he started to protest.
"Shhh," Dennis coaxed, raising a finger to his lips, caressing along the plump, pink bottom. "Don't argue, don't question, just kneel."
Dennis' free hand reached up to curl around the collar of his shirt, the other never once stopping as it pumped around his cock. Drawing himself in closer, Mac could feel the hot breath caress against his ear, spilling down the side of his neck. A shudder raced down his spine as he leaned in closer, pulled helplessly into his orbit, into his embrace.
"I promise, I won't break your little chastity vow this time," Dennis promised, teeth nipping at the lobe of his ear. "I just want to use your mouth for a little while."
The words spilling like wine and aphrodisiacs against his skin, Mac felt his knees buckle and give way beneath him, like a command delivered unto his body alone. Knees meeting the carpet, his eyes turned up toward Dennis like they turned up to meet the face of God, and he found a more worthy sacrifice. Even without the promise of keeping his chastity in tact, his seed unspilled against the floor, Mac would have surrendered to his will all the same.
"Hold still for me, okay?"
Mac jerked forward when Dennis knelt behind him, startling as he took his wrists between his hands, tugging them tight behind his back. He opened his mouth in protest before Dennis hushed him, a hand pressing between his shoulder blades to keep him steady. Pulling his undone belt free from his jeans, Mac could hear the crack of leather, the smooth glide of it warm against the skin.
Letting out a shuddered breath, Mac decided to allow it as Dennis tied his hands there, pulling it taut around his wrists until he was satisfied in its security. Straining up against the leather, he tested the strength of his restraints, letting it dig and burn against the flesh, savoring in the moment of pain. There were few men that Mac would fall to his knees for, fewer that he would let bind him, but Dennis Reynolds had always been his exception.
“I want you under my complete and total control,” Dennis said, rising again to his feet, leaving Mac to struggle against the belt. He watched with hungry eyes as Dennis rubbed against the bulge in his underwear, licking his lips as he stepped around again to the front, standing before him as a god among men. "Understand?"
The hard outline of his cock stood at eye-level, a wet patch blooming across his thin white boxers as he massaged himself through the fabric. It took everything in Mac not to open his mouth and suck him off through his clothes, right then and there.
But his patience would be rewarded, perhaps Biblically, so he held his tongue and simply watched. Pulling the ruddy, straining cock from his pants, Mac watched with watering tongue as Dennis gave himself a few cursory strokes.
Mac was fucking hungry for it, his own cock throbbing between his own softly-parted thighs, straining against the denim cages.
“Open.”
Knowing that his obedience would hold sweet reward, Mac opened his mouth to worship; lips parting and tongue pressing flat against the underside of Dennis' cock, licking a stripe up to the head. He felt him shudder between his parted lips, heard him let out a trembling breath, and smiled to himself with small satisfaction.
Running his tongue along the slit, Mac's tongue lapped at the salty pre-cum gathered there, taking him into his mouth in full, smearing it down the shaft. His tongue was sloppy, spit smeared against flesh and dripping down his chin, but he hardly cared; it was Dennis who cared for the mess, Dennis who never wanted to feel dirty. But Mac found satisfaction in the filth, satisfaction in the noises Dennis made above him, satisfaction in the weight of his cock on his tongue.
He had always liked the way it felt, Dennis in his mouth, more than he ever cared to admit. It made him ache, wishing he had his hands free to beat himself off in time with the bobbing of his head around his cock. But with hands tied behind him, he was denied his own release, denied his own pleasure, forced instead to focus solely upon Dennis and his unmatched ecstasy.
Not that Mac really minded much.
Was this not the purpose of Lent, to sacrifice one's self for the sake of another? To lay his pleasure upon the altar of his sacrifice, to lay himself down in sweet surrender? As much as he wanted to reach into his own pants, as much as he wanted to rub himself to completion, there was something almost poetic in the way Dennis kept him on his knees. Like a sinner knelt down to pray, like a devotee on knee in worship.
He was pretty sure he could come in his pants like a virgin on prom night, just like this. Dennis fucking Reynolds, head thrown back as his hips thrust into his mouth, hands tugging through Mac's hair, the earthy taste of him on his tongue… It was nearly enough to overwhelm him then and there, entirely untouched.
“Shit, Mac,” Dennis groaned, fingers pulling tighter through his hair as Mac’s cock twitched hard. “Fuck, fuck, don't you dare fucking stop. Mac, God, your fucking mouth.”
Praises made him weak in the knees, made him want to fall to the floor and grovel for more, please, more. Something about his shitbag of a father made him crave desperately for the affection of a strong and domineering man, though he would never fucking admit to it.
Or, at least, that was some fucking theory Dennis had about him; some psychobabble bullshit that he'd come up with after their group therapy session. He'd gone on and on about it for nearly a week before Mac snapped at him, lashing hard enough to shut him up about it. But the evidence of his arousal couldn’t exactly be denied, his cock throbbing between his legs as he ached for his own release.
“I’m gonna fuck your mouth until I come,” Dennis growled, and it wasn’t spoken as a question. It was spoken as a statement of fact, a warning, a moment offered for him to brace himself. "And you're gonna swallow every last fucking drop."
Mac let out a moan around his cock as Dennis thrust deep into his open mouth, until he threatened to choke and gag on it. It was slick and heady on his tongue, cutting off the air as his head grew light around his length. Rutting against the back of his throat, Mac's vision dimmed at the edges, wondering if Dennis might smother and kill him like this.
Well, at least he'd die happy.
He couldn’t breathe again until Dennis pulled back to the edge of his mouth, leaving him dizzy and leaking in his boxers, pre-cum leaving the cotton wet and clinging to his cock.
If his hands weren’t tied behind his fucking back, he would’ve pushed Dennis down onto the bed and sucked him off with his regained control. He would’ve kept his hands steady across his hips, would have shoved him into the couch until he stilled long enough for him to take in whole, swallowed down to the hilt. He would’ve kept one hand pushed against him, the other tugging at his own cock between his legs, Lent be damned.
But instead, he was being used as little more than a glorified fuck-hole. Something for Dennis to use and fuck until he got his fill, denying him his pleasure altogether, spared for the sake of God. The thought made Mac even harder, to see Dennis taking charge over him and thrusting roughly between his hollowed cheeks, to know why he was being denied.
His jaws hurt, and all he could taste was the salty flesh against his tongue, savoring the jerk and thrust and twitch and throb. Mac could feel himself aching and threatening to come in his pants from the heat and weight in his mouth alone, threatening to spill against the denim.
He needed friction. He needed touch. He needed the rub and tug of his cock. He needed the brush of fingers against him, needed tongue and teeth and skin, just enough to pull him over…
Mac pulled away sharply, leaving Dennis' hard cock slick with spit and pre-cum just barely from his panting, parted lips. He took a moment, chest heaving before gazing up toward Dennis with those big, pleading eyes.
Pathetic, he must have looked, but he didn’t have it in him to care. He would have gazed up at Dennis like the only god he would ever truly worship if it meant standing in his favor.
“Fuck, Dennis, please, you gotta touch me. It fucking hurts,” he mumbled, still catching his breath as he pulled himself up closer, shifting forward on his knees to rest his forehead against his hip. He pressed himself up firm against Dennis' shin, making fucking certain that he could feel how fucking hard he was, praying that he might show mercy. Though, he knew better than anyone that Dennis was not a merciful man. “I gotta come, Den, please, you gotta let me come.”
Dennis’s eyes lit up, mischievous and dirty as he pressed his leg harder up against Mac’s erection, drawing a sharp whine from his lips.
"Oh, is that so?" Dennis teased, voice dripping with his antagonism, as tempting as the serpent in the garden. "What about that vow you made for Lent? I thought you were committing yourself to chastity for the forty days. And if I make you come, then that means that I'm helping you sin."
"Fuck you," Mac groaned, forehead resting firm against his hip as his lungs caught back up to him, settling between his ribs. "I don't care."
"Oh?" Dennis coaxed, a finger crooked beneath his chin to hold his gaze. "What don't you care about? I want specifics."
"I don't care. I don't care about Lent, I don't care about chastity, I don't care about any fucking vow I've ever made," Mac growled, grinding himself harder against Dennis' leg, making damn certain that he knew what he was doing to him. "I don't care about the church, I don't care about God, I just want you."
“Fuck yourself against my leg, then, if you’re so fucking desperate for it,” he said, a challenge in his tone as Mac turned to face him with a glower.
“Seriously?” Mac grumbled, but didn’t dare deny himself the opportunity, bucking his hips upward. “I'd damn myself to hell for you, and you’re still gonna make me hump your leg like a fucking dog?”
"You can break your own vows," Dennis cooed, a hand reaching down to ruffle condescendingly through his hair, like a child bucking up against its own good. "I already promised you, I'm not going to break your little vow of chastity for you tonight."
"Dennis—"
“Do you wanna come?”
“Fuck you,” Mac grumbled, but found himself too horny, too worked up to protest. He would undoubtedly make a mess of himself, come in his jeans and leave them stained and soiled, but he would have to consider it a mercy nonetheless. This was as close to mercy as Dennis could muster up and offer.
It took some awkward adjustment, but Dennis’s cock found its way back into his mouth, and his leg propped between Mac’s thighs. Hands balled in fists, he rubbed himself lewdly against his shin as he took him deeper into his mouth, the head of his cock pressing insistently against the back of his throat.
He half wished that he could reach up, cup a hand around his balls and encourage him onward as he threatened to spill down his throat. Mac could always tell when Dennis was about to come, by the hitch of his breath and the swell of his cock. He could feel his balls tightening against his body as he rutted senselessly against his leg like an animal in heat, and he wanted to swallow it all.
Mac took him in harder, deeper, threatening to swallow him whole, chasing down Dennis’s orgasm like he was chasing down oxygen. He wanted to suck it from him, wanted to swallow everything that Dennis gave him. He wanted to feel it as Dennis jerked and throbbed against his tongue, as he came hot and thick down his eager throat. He wanted to feel the warmth settle in the pit of his belly as his cock softened in his mouth, wanted to suck him until he jerked away with oversensitivity, wanted to find nourishment in his pleasure.
And like the blood and wine, flesh and crackers, Mac found nourishment in his body, devouring him as the disciples consumed Christ before him. It felt so nearly Biblical.
His orgasm overtook him with a force and fury that caught him off guard, spurting hot down his throat. Dennis shuddered and groaned, hands threading through his dark hair and pulling down hard, threatening to gag him, but Mac welcomed the force. He moaned, thrusting up against the cotton and denim as Dennis spilled into his mouth, his own orgasm threatening to follow close behind.
As Dennis’s cock began to soften in his mouth, Mac moaned obscenely around him, hips picking up speed in jerking, uncoordinated thrusts. His lips didn't stop their suckling, dragging him into oversensitivity, taking control in whatever way he could find.
Mac came hard as his cock went flaccid, Dennis' wrecked little noises pulling him to completion. He felt the damp heat spread through his jeans, making a mess of himself, cum slicking all the way down his thighs.
Dennis would insist he clean himself up before bed, but Mac could have slept in the filth, could have reveled in the evidence of what they had done. The sin tasted sweeter when it was so forbidden, vows breaking like chains around his wrists. He could have lived in the wreckage of it, worn his filthy rags like robes fit for a king, and he would have found some sick satisfaction in the very act.
Mac fell back against his heels, body slumping heavy against his bones as his sleepy gaze turned up toward Dennis. A small, shit-eating grin crossed his lips to find Dennis as sated and mesmerized as he was, swaying lightly with a wet stain marking his shin.
The silence filled the room, save for the sound of heaving breaths for a long moment before Dennis leaned down; he ran a thumb over his chin to wipe away the cum that had dribbled from his open mouth. He pushed past Mac’s swollen, pink lips, instructing him to lick it clean, a commandment so gleefully followed as he suckled and nipped against the pad of his finger.
"So," Dennis cleared his throat, mayhem flickering behind his blue eyes. "What do you think? Better than God?"