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Jack and Dennis love to wrestle.
It’s one of their all time favourite things to do. Bored? Restless? Bickering about something silly? Horny? It’s so easy just to throw themselves at one another and tumble onto the bed or the couch or even the floor and grapple with and grab at one another until someone ends up pinned down and begging to concede the battle (it’s Dennis. It’s always Dennis).
Sometimes Jack will let Dennis win, but it’s always so very obvious that he’s rolling over and letting Dennis have the victory, that there’s no way Dennis could defeat him if he wasn’t allowing it. As hot as it can be to pretend to have defeated his ex-military boyfriend, it’s also really frustrating to not actually be anywhere near strong enough, and to not be able to fight back effectively, beyond just wriggling and struggling and relying on dirty tricks.
At the end of the day though, it’s fun, and a good way to relieve any stress from work or their days or whatever, really.
Plus, Dennis grew up with three brothers, if there’s one thing he’s missed about that it’s getting to fight.
They’ve been working out together in the garage-turned-gym, Jack forcing Dennis (as he always does) to lift heavier, run faster, push himself further, just to see him sweat. And… because he wants him to get strong and healthy… or whatever, it’s mostly just to see him in little shorts and all sweaty and flushed.
It’s unusual for a workout not to end up in them fucking really, there’s just something about the heat and the adrenaline and the delicious ache of good exercises that gets their pistons during, and today’s no different.
They don’t talk about it as they re-rack the weights and wipe down the benches, but there’s a glimmer in Jack’s eye as he flicks off the light that Dennis knows.
And loves.
When they walk out of the little side door, Jack’s already walking to the bedroom like he knows Dennis will follow.
Which he does. Obviously.
Dennis throws himself onto the bed, watching as Jack detaches his leg and peels off the liner, inspecting it for a moment before he reaches for one of the wipes he keeps in the drawer.
Considering that they’re both soaked in sweat already, it’s definitely a good idea.
It doesn’t take him very long, but Dennis tracks every single little movement of his partner’s with a heavy gaze, heat pooling between his legs despite the fact they haven’t even touched yet.
He’s lazily sprawled out across the sheets, but as Jack turns to join him fully on the bed he sits up a little, poising himself like he’s about to attack.
Which he is.
Jack smiles, and Dennis answers in kind, before he’s throwing himself at Jack. His arms wrap around his middle, and together they end up tangled up down the length of the bed. Unlike outside, with the bed they have to be careful to stay in the middle of it to try and prevent any accidental falls… although realistically, the likelihood of one of them tumbling off the edge is high regardless of what they do.
His attack succeeds in laying Jack out flat, but Dennis knows his partner let him have it, especially given the way he immediately wraps himself around Dennis.
Somehow though by the power of some deft wriggling, Dennis manages to worm his way out of Jack’s grip and he sits back on his legs to try and pin them down, dodging down and out of the way of his attempts at grabbing for him.
Jack is stronger, and he’s also faster, but Dennis’ reflexes are just that little bit sharper with his age — so despite Jack’s military instinct, when it comes to ducking and dodging out of the way Dennis just about has the upper hand.
Just, though.
Jack bucks his hips, trying to upset his position and Dennis shifts his centre of gravity, clinging on tighter to the hips between his thighs as he manages to knock Jack’s hand off of his bicep.
Wrestling like this makes Dennis feel a little like his brain has been turned off and he’s been charged up with static instead — the way he goes from thinking and then acting to relying on instinct and his subconscious. He feels electric, every part of his body tuned in on Jack and anticipating his next move.
It’s so fun, so genuinely fun, and Dennis is already sweaty and out of breath but the only thing on his mind is carrying on, is beating Jack and succeeding in overpowering him.
He understands why dogs love games of tug of war, understands the elation that comes from play fighting with his owner.
His owner who is definitely letting him win right now.
Bastard.
A little selfish part of Dennis would like to believe that he genuinely has the ability to beat Jack, and that’s what sings triumphantly with every minute he pins Jack down… but he’s also smart, and he knows that he absolutely cannot win, so whatever’s happening right now is a deliberate play. And he knows it. His position of power doesn’t last for much longer — partly because he doesn’t weigh much and Jack is very strong, and partly because Jack likes to win (the bastard) — because suddenly he’s being flipped and thrown down onto the mattress, strong thighs bracketing his hips as he blinks helplessly up at his partner.
Dennis squirms, trying his best to wriggle out of the hold he’s got on him, but Jack’s heavier as well as being stronger, and he can’t get the momentum to even try and buck him off with how he’s being restrained.
Jack obviously loves it, if the way he’s grinning down at Dennis, too many teeth on show for this to be anything but animalistic.
"Awww, you poor little thing," he coos. "Is that all you've got? I thought you were strong, puppy?"
Dennis squirms again but Jack holds him strong, watching as Dennis pants open mouthed beneath him. He’s so stupidly turned on, and obviously Jack is too because he’s at least half-hard right now, cock bulging against his thin little running shorts. For both of them, it’s probably partially the adrenaline rush of the fight, combined with the heady rush of getting to touch each other up and feel the insistent press of sweaty flesh against flesh? Lethal, really.
Dennis knows he’s staring at Jack’s clothed cock, but he can’t help how hungry his gaze is as he drags it up from his crotch to the dark staining of sweat underneath his armpits, and he licks his lips subconsciously.
Jack catches on immediately to that, and he tilts his head a little, eyes fixing on Dennis.
“Oh… is something distracting you? Is that why you’re not fighting back like you promised?” He asks, tone dancing between patronising and a little mean.
Dennis shivers underneath his hold.
Jack bends down then, and he bites at Dennis’ earlobe, tugging on it gently with his teeth as his breath sends another shudder down his spine.
The sensation is white-hot as it sends goosebumps prickling up across exposed skin as the heat of Jack’s breath whispers against the whorl of his ear, making the drying saliva from the lines of his teeth against his skin. It distracts him, and suddenly Jack is behind Dennis with his head locked under his arm and his face is being shoved ruthlessly into Jack’s armpit. He can’t even begin to try and understand how this position works, but suddenly the musky heat of sweat is overwhelming him, rich and masculine and 100% Jack and Dennis genuinely feels his mind white out.
He pants, mouth open as he huffs hot air onto the damp fabric. Like this he’s completely unable to move or fight, face buried in Jack’s armpit as the man holds him in a sort of headlock.
His legs are trapped, Jack’s own wrapped around them, and while he’s got one of his arms to claw at his partner, the other is held firmly behind his back.
That’s one other advantage Jack has, he’s actually trained in hand to hand combat. Not just through the military, but through the veterans club and the martial arts they’ve done and it’s entirely unfair.
He thrashes valiantly against the muscular limbs restraining him, but as much as he’s pretending, he’s not really searching for freedom as much as he is friction. The scent of Jack has gone straight to his cunt, his mound throbbing and pulsing in time with his heartbeat as slick leaks into his brief — already a little damp with sweat. Jack’s hips are pressed against his side, and he can feel his partners erection as it grows against his thigh, but there’s nothing for him to grind against, can’t do anything apart from squeeze his thighs together as he struggles.
He’s been completely (and obviously deliberately) starved of stimulation, unable to do anything else than tense his muscles to get something out of this position.
"There you go pup, shhh, that's it," Jack growls, voice low. "That's what you wanted wasn't it, silly boy? Just wanna be pinned down for an excuse to lick me where I'm all dirty. Mucky boy."
Dennis can breathe perfectly fine where he’s caught in Jack’s armpit, but breathing in drying sweat and earthy sort of tang it has so deeply is making him dizzy, sticky-wet fabric rubbing against his face. He’s a little bit hyperventilating in his desperation to memorise Jack’s scent, and the rush of every deep inhale makes his hips twitch. He needs to huff Jack’s crotch too — and it’s a primal, carnal need, the desire to smell Jack where he’s his most human and musky —, that’s obviously a non negotiable before they get naked. He needs to smell him right where it’s has.
Dennis' grip on Jack has gone from fighting to clinging — now clasping at him in desperation. It's an obvious shift, legs no longer bucking to try and flip them over, but this rubbing together like he could get off just from Jack's scent. It’s entirely involuntary, and he probably could, probably has before with the number of different scenes they’ve indulged in, but nothing comes to mind other than this moment right here and now. Dennis’ capacity to think has… diminished, right now.
He’d been so eager to prove himself, to show Jack that he’s strong enough to hold his own, and only minutes in here he is, huffing Jack’s armpit like he might die without it.
"Awww, puppy,” Jack coos, voice dripping with false sympathy, “is that nice, baby? You having fun? Here—“
Jack practically throws Dennis away from him, then chases him across the mattress, settling himself down onto of his hips again as he pins him down.
“How about this?"
Dennis whines now that he’s no longer being suffocated by Jack’s arm, but he doesn’t make any move to grab at him or continue their tussle. He just stares up at him, pupils so huge his blue eyes look black.
Jack rips his tshirt off and he drops it down onto Dennis’ face, muscles rippling as he stretches out above him.
The fabric is heavy with sweat as it falls across his nose and mouth, and Dennis cannot help but clasp a hand over it, inhaling deeply again. It’s not quite as good as direct from the source, but it feels so perverted and filthy that his cunt reacts all the same, throbbing desperately in his pants.
He can feel Jack’s cock twitching against his thigh, no doubt enamoured by the sight of Dennis allowing himself to be so free from any inhibitions as he is right now…
"Fuck I could take you right here like this couldn't I?" Jack says, clearly awed. "Lost all your fight, little pup."
The thing is, is if you told Dennis a few months ago, that he’d find himself dating a 50 year old, pretending to be his fucking dog and huffing his sweaty, stinky shirt like a fucking animal and getting off of on it, there’s no way on earth that’d ever be true.
Unfortunately for him though… it is. It very much is.
The way Jack’s restraining him Dennis can’t actually grind up against him for any satisfactory stimulation, and so he kicks his legs to try and fight him off, even though it’s only really half-hearted.
It’s instinctive, grabbing his shirt tighter against his face still, and the fabric is wet as it drags against his cheeks and lips and chin — a little sticky, and the scent of Jack is actually overpowering what with the shirt over his face and Jack himself still sitting above him. Like this though, Dennis can practically suffocate himself with the smell, and he’s sucking on the fabric and it’s disgusting but he totally doesn’t care.
When Jack says he’s lost his fight, he growls, but it’s true. Fuck beating him in a fight, they both know he can’t, he just wants this now.
His partner’s eyes glitter immediately at the sound, and he smirks, reaching out to grab a firm first full of golden brown curls.
Jack really could do anything to him and Dennis would love it, but his head is full of picturing them actually fighting now, going out to some dark forest and properly fighting each other off. They’ve played with pain a little before, but Dennis is fantasising now about a real fight, getting hit — kicked, bitten, the two of them all teeth and claws.
Dennis doesn’t try and dislodge the hand in his hair, but he does reach out himself. Instead of going for silver curls in kind though, Dennis focuses on grabbing at the waistband of Jack’s shorts, tugging a little too hard to be the nice good pup he normally is.
Jack’s smirk widens, and he gives Dennis’ hair another firm yank.
"What is it, boy?" He sneers. "You're not ready to be good yet? You want your Jack to throw you around a little more, is that it? Not done fighting? Well — growl at me one more time and see where that gets you, I dare you.”
Jack’s grip on his hair hurts, but it’s so delicious, scalp burning as he forces Dennis to look up at him. As much as he’s always so keen to be good and keen to be well behaved, this is fun, exhilarating, this daring to try being defiant and bold and to retaliate.
It’s obvious enough that Jack likes it.
He rolls his hips against Dennis’ just once, and the single taste of friction has him whining, and so as he stares up at Jack — blue eyes locked on hazel-green — he deliberately growls again, baring his teeth around the fabric of his shirt.
He’s not actually sure if his partner can see that he’s doing that, given the shirt is draped over his nose too, but his message is probably clear enough. At least he’s still got a hand on the waistband of Jack’s, so he tugs again to punctuate his growl, short and sharp until his wrist is grabbed and ripped away, arm pinned down onto the mattress as Jack’s eyes shimmer dangerously.
"Looks like someone still hasn't learnt who's boss.”
Jack pulls at the fabric in Dennis' mouth with the hand that isn't holding his wrist down, and he shakes it. Dennis’ head moves with the shake, suddenly determined not to let the shirt go, this sudden tug of war piquing his interest. He throws his head back against the mattress, pulling backwards as well as side to side, curls bouncing across his face. The shirt totally might rip, and he really hopes it doesn’t, but he’s too far gone to feel guilty about the idea of it maybe happening. He’ll feel guilty later if it does.
Maybe.
He growls again, hand that isn't being held down by Jack coming up to push at his bare chest.
"The teeth on you," Jack murmurs. "I think someone needs a muzzle."
As soon as his partner says the word ‘muzzle’, Dennis growls again, cheeks flushing scarlet with arousal at the thought. If he was cis, he’s fairly sure his dick would have exploded by now so he’s grateful for the fact he’s not — but that doesn’t mean he isn’t turned on beyond belief. Because he is. Fuck he is. He’s so wet, clit so fucking hard as it rubs against his briefs, god he feels like he’s pissed himself with how fucking wet he is.
He claws at Jack’s chest again, nails scraping against soft skin before he grabs at him, fingertips digging into fat and muscle. He can’t get a good purchase, but it doesn’t matter, grabbing and pushing at the same time.
He bucks his hips, fighting against his restraint (albeit unsuccessfully), before he yanks at the shirt again, turning his head to the side with a growl that morphs into more of a snarl than anything tamer.
Jack hisses through his teeth as Dennis digs his fingers into his skin, but keeps his hold strong though, and Dennis can feel the fabric of his shirt beginning to rip as they tug.
"Oh so big and scary," Jack teases, “such a scary puppy, aren’t you?”
And of course the fabric rips.
Dennis should feel guilty about that, given that he’d just been thinking about it. Should. Will, probably. But not right now. Probably not later, not if he really thinks about it.
Right now, the animalistic side of him has won, has won out over his nervous, anxious pup side, desperate to please his Jack all the time.
For now, the ripped shred of fabric is his prize.
Jack throws the rest of the shirt to one side, and it thuds against the wall as Jack grabs his jaw. He squeezes the sides so hard it forces his lips to part, and as soon as his mouth is open Jack snatches the scrap away from him.
Dennis snarls immediately at him, mourning the loss of the sweaty fabric against his tongue — but now with his teeth back and accessible it does mean he can try and bite his partner instead.
Which he does.
The press of Jack’s fingers against his jaw leave aching marks even when they withdraw, but it’s a delicious kind of pain, goes right down to his cunt rather than anything else.
Sweat drips from the grey curls falling over Jack’s forehead, and he’s flushed red just like Dennis, lip curled back as he looks down at him.
“Don’t — don’t bite me, mutt. Ought to put you in a fuckin’ muzzle and chain you to the bed," he pants, grabbing Dennis’ shoulders to pin him down to the bed. "That's what I should do. Can't even trust that mouth near my cock, little bite risk."
Dennis whines, hips jerking up against his will. He would never bite Jack’s cock, but the idea that he can’t be trusted — that he might, it makes him whine even louder, and he goes for Jack’s forearm, trying to get a good hold of him now that he’s not being fully restrained.
They fight a bit more then, Dennis finally remembering his goal of beating Jack.
He grabs onto Jack’s arms as he tries to flip them, trying to buck his hips up to dislodge his partner off of him so he can wriggle and struggle until he’s perched on top of him again. Currently he’s unsuccessful, but he doesn’t stop trying just in case.
And for some reason, when Dennis next goes for his arm, Jack lets him, sitting back to watch the gears turn as he scrambles to get his partner on his back. His movements are frantic and quick, eager to straddle him once he’s got him underneath him, one hand moving Jack’s arm and the other pushing at his chest, scraping little red lines across one of his pecs.
Once he's settled on top, it probably only takes a single second before he's grinding his hips hard, getting friction on his poor dick while he can. He's pushing against Jack’s own and they both moan at the feeling, grips loosening before they notice and go back to pushing against each other.
"Dirty boy," Jack says, shaking his head as if he's disappointed. The feeling of his hard cock against Dennis makes it unmistakable that he isn't really though. "Bad dog." But he doesn’t fight him off just yet — not beyond the weakest little pushes, just hard enough to give the impression that he’s trying.
Honestly Dennis really hadn’t actually expected to get the upper hand, but now that he has he feels a little lost with what to do beyond just… shoving at Jack.
He’s mostly just grinding down against him, grinding his cunt against the line of Jack’s erection through his shorts. Jack’s so hard beneath him that it calms the initial rise of worry when Jack calls him bad, his brain automatically defaulting to distress at any kind of negativity. He manages to push past it though, rolling his hips down as he pins the arm he’s holding down — mimicking their position from earlier.
He wants to bite, wants to sink his teeth into Jack, and so he bends down, shoving his nose and face into Jack’s neck. He’s surprised he’s allowed so close, but they both know Jack’s still calling the shots right now. Even as he does bite at his shoulder.
It’s more a nip than a real bite, the two still tussling even as they lie there.
Jack chuckles as Dennis bites, using his free hand to reach around and tug at his hair. It's quite obviously not an attempt to get him to stop, the opposite in fact. It’s enthusiastic enough that Dennis doesn’t think twice about biting again, a little harder this time as it elicits the most delicious rumbling groan from his partner.
When he pulls back up to grin at Jack though – or really more to bare his teeth at him – it’s clear that he’s decided that his time on top has ended. He pulls his right leg up, taking advantage of his missing limb to evade Dennis’ sloppy hold, and he hooks it around his thigh, anchoring them together as he suddenly sits up and pushes.
Together they roll so Jack ends up on top again, but this time he doesn’t pin him down by the hips. No, he’s sort of lying sort of sitting on him instead, using the weight of his body as a restraint as he brings an arm up to press down against Dennis’ mouth. It’s a dare to him to bite again, to growl or snarl or do anything like he had before. His other arm rests against his chest, again using his weight to pin him down.
Like this, Dennis’ desperate hips can find no friction, helplessly humping the air. His thrashing has subsided, but only to focus on what’s been presented to him.
"You wanna give in yet puppy?" Jack goads, grinning down at him. "Come on, you know you want it. Who's in charge little one? Who's cock are you so desperate for? Who’s won this fight?"
Jack’s arm is throughly wedged in his mouth, the hinge of his jaw held open so sharply that it aches, and so… well… obviously his instinct is to bite down, to try and draw blood. Just like Jack wants.
He hesitates though, unwilling to hurt his Jack, because as fun as this play is he is still a good and gentle boy at heart.
But then… then Jack starts goading him, and it’s so much being tormented like this because he is desperate and he isn’t strong enough to take charge — and so Dennis growls around his arm as best he can before he bites, sinking his teeth into Jack’s flesh.
Jack moans, sounding a little surprised by the fact that Dennis actually bit him, but definitely very pleased too.
Dennis moans too, and he still fights against Jack’s hold even with his teeth in his arm, but it’s to no avail. He can’t escape. He’s lost this battle now, but really any interest in winning or losing has disappeared from his mind, too focused on the taste of Jack’s skin and the warmth of him around him and the faint hint of sweat he can still smell.
It takes Jack grabbing his jaw to get him to release him, and he shakes him like an unruly mutt once he’s free.
This does mean that Dennis' hands are suddenly free to grab and tug and fight again and he resumes it, although he’s abandoned all goals and objectives, tussling just for the sake of it now even though he’s pinned down. His wriggling doesn't stop Jack from leaning in, and for a moment isn’t sure what he’s about to do – whether he’s going to bite or say something or what – but then he’s kissing him. It's all teeth and tongue and the taste of copper between them. Dennis hadn't broken the skin deeply, but it's enough that they can both taste it.
The kiss stops Dennis’ fighting, immediately distracted by Jack’s mouth. The hands which had been grabbing at his shoulders settle loosely on his sides instead as he turns his focus onto licking hungrily up into his mouth. There’s blood on his teeth — not much, not really, but the thick taste of iron has gone straight to his fucking head. That, combined with the fact that Jack’s licking his own blood off of Dennis’ teeth, has him so dizzy the room is spinning even lying down, and he’s forced to pull back just enough to heave in a ragged breath of air.
“Aww, need a break?” Jack coos, and he wipes the sweat off of his forehead with the back of his hand, and Dennis wants to lick it off so fucking bad that it makes him a little sick. “Can’t keep up, can you pup?”
Dennis bares his teeth in response, but Jack just laughs, ducking down to kiss him again.
“Aww puppy, it’s okay, you don’t have to pretend to be a big scary mutt, I know you’re not. You just want my cock, don’t you? Just want me to put you in your place, hmm?”
Of course he does. Of course he does.
Dennis whines, but he still smacks at Jack’s side, unwilling to fully give in just yet.
“Ohh… is that how it is? Really? You’ve not learnt anything, have you?”
Jack bends down then, and just like earlier he bites at the lobe of Dennis’ ear — harder this time.
“I am in control, pup, okay? Look at where you are, under me. I’ve got you, just give up baby, let me look after you.”
He whispers this, his voice low and a little gravelly, and Dennis’ skin breaks out in goosebumps immediately as he gives a soft breathy whine. Dennis shudders internally, his whole body reacting to the sound and stimulation and he even clenches inside his briefs, more slick leaking out of his cunt.
It doesn’t help that the prickle of Jack’s stubble is tickling against his sensitive skin the way that it is, or that he’s overwhelmed by that smell again, and Dennis feels so wound up all of a sudden that he might just cum in his pants if Jack pushes any further.
He tries to shove against Jack, but he’s held so firmly in place all of a sudden that he can barely move, and he can see Jack’s muscles rippling underneath the skin as he stays held above him. It’s not often that he displays the true extent of his strength, but oh fuck does it make Dennis’ knees weak.
“Be a good boy for me,” Jack murmurs, pulling back up so he’s looking down at Dennis again, “give in and show me that you’re a good pup.”
Dennis blinks owlishly at Jack, too horny to even try and question what he’s asking him to do, but he doesn’t have to.
“Bark for me, puppy, bark and show me that you’re giving in, okay? Stop resisting.”
There’s a long, heavy pause as Dennis’ brain whirs, his cheeks burning brighter pink with humiliation, before slowly, slowly, he begins to relax. It’s a gradual thing, his muscles loosening and unwinding as he sinks back down into the covers, sucking in a deep breath before he gives the softest little yip.
Jack smiles, and his grip on Dennis tightens as he gives an approving little nod.
“Good boy, there we go, doesn’t it feel good to do what you’re told and stop fighting?”
He bends then, and he trails his lips against Dennis’ collarbone, then up to his throat. He presses a gentle kiss to the soft skin there, lips a little wet where he’s just licked them, before he murmurs:
“My good pup, aren’t you?”
Dennis is about to react, but then suddenly Jack bites, sinking his teeth down into his skin and everything suddenly explodes all at once.
Dennis isn’t sure he’s ever orgasmed untouched before ever, but he does then. It’s like an atomic bomb goes off inside of him, every muscle flexing as he arches back up off of the bed, coming with a desperate, broken cry as he throws his head back.
It kind of feels like he’s pissed himself, how suddenly wet everything is with how much slick gushes out of him, his hips jerking upwards in frantic stuttered motions.
Jack pulls up off of him in surprise, his brow furrowing in confused concern for a moment before he realised what’s just happened.
Dennis has seen Jack looking pleased with himself before, but when his vision clears a little, his partner looks genuinely fucking thrilled, lips parted in surprise.
“Oh.” He murmurs, grip loosening a little on Dennis. “Well — isn’t that interesting?”