Chapter Text
It was late in the evening and they were both four beers deep dicking around in Mac’s mom’s shitty basement when Mac elbowed Dennis a little too hard in the ribs. “Hey, Den,” Mac prompted, “You interested?” He pulled out a crumpled plastic baggy from the deepest crevice of his front pocket and let it unfold between the two of them. A joint floated between the wrinkled plastic, a little off-kilter.
Dennis raised an eyebrow, and quickly snatched the bag from between Mac’s fingers. “It’s actually pot this time, right?” He asked, unzipping the bag to inspect it for himself.
Mac flushed red at the question. A month prior he had bought and presented Dennis with a joint, only to find out he had been completely ripped off by some fucker in gym class. The rolled paper had been stuffed with tobacco. Still, they got to smoke something and Dennis hadn’t ribbed him too hard for it (he just mentioned it one too many times in the month since). Mac really hadn’t enjoyed the feeling or taste of smoking the tobacco joint and he was hoping marijuana would be different.
Dennis looked at him and ginned with the joint held up to his nose. “Definitely pot,” he confirmed.
“Yeah, I did that. I checked the smell too,” Mac sheepishly lied.
“Right,” Dennis nodded slowly. “You got your mom’s lighter?”
Dennis had been buying and smoking cigarettes before he was technically legal, and since he had turned eighteen it had become a nasty habit Mac disliked constantly observing, but there was something to be said about the way he smoked the joint so easily. Mac couldn’t quite piece the thoughts in his brain together, because they bordered territory that was strange and certainly wrong, so he simply told Dennis he admired the way the guy was killing his lungs so quickly. In turn, Dennis told him he looked like a loser coughing up a lung after one ‘baby hit’.
After a few more hits, a little heavier on Dennis side, the joint was nearly dead. Dennis insisted Mac take the final drag, and then he swiped the roach from between Mac’s lips and killed it in one of Mac’s mom’s shitty ashtrays that were always within arms reach.
“Are you feeling it?” Mac asked in a low voice, almost a whisper, eyes glued to Dennis’ fingers stuffing out the smoke. Dennis looked up at him and nodded slowly, wordlessly in response. “I think I am,” Mac continued with a little more confidence, “Like this wave of heaviness came over me and it’s slowing everything down.” Dennis was looking at him, likely taking in his words, but stayed silent. “Right, Den? You feel heavy?” Mac asked. Again, Dennis failed to reply. “You wanna put something on the TV?” Mac stood up and moved toward the set, turning it on and dropping down to rummage through his scant VHS collection. “Predator?” He looked to Dennis who was looking down at him, eyes soft.
“Yeah, good pick,” he nodded. His voice was low and Mac wasn’t sure if he was processing words slower or if Dennis was speaking them slower, but there was something a little off about the pace of everything between them. Mac pushed past it by stuffing the tape into the VCR and walking backward, dropping down onto the couch.
He found himself sitting much closer to his friend than they had been before. Dennis draped an arm over the back of the couch, as if welcoming the closeness in response. Mac settled back into the cushions, letting the back of his head brush his best friend’s arm.
Mac commented through the first fifteen minutes of the movie, trying his best to make Dennis laugh (to no avail). Finally, the boy next to him spoke, but it wasn’t in response to Mac’s witty comment.
“Normally when I get drunk I get kinda horny,” he admitted, “But this is like next-level libido-diving stuff. I am seriously horned up over here.” Mac’s eyes traced Dennis’ face with wide-eyed intrigue before dropping down to his lap. His grey sweatpants made no effort to conceal the hard-on he was sporting. Mac’s dry mouth was suddenly no longer an issue.
“You can take care of it,” he replied, wetting his lips, “if you want.” Dennis’ eyes drew away from the television for a moment, meeting Mac’s. “Your eyes are crazy dilated,” Mac commented aloud, every floating thought left his mouth before his brain had a moment to process it.
“Must be the pot,” Dennis replied as he searched Mac’s eyes in return, “Yours too.” And with that, he immediately broke the contact between the two of them, turning his attention back to the TV. Dennis left arm stayed draped around the couch (and Mac), but his right hand crossed over his leg and into his lap, lightly running over his crotch. Mac’s eyes followed Dennis’ movements, his mouth hanging open as he watched his best friend heed his own advice and begin to pleasure himself.
Dennis’ eyes never broke free from the TV set, but his hand dipped below his waistband and slowly began to stroke his clothed cock. Mac eventually blamed the weed and alcohol, of course, but in the moment he couldn’t take his eyes off of Dennis’ crotch — it was mesmerizing. He watched as Dennis’ hand pumped up and down slowly, skin shielded by the cotton, and felt himself growing hard, instantly. Mac grabbed at the seam of his pants to relieve some of the pressure, shifting on his ass and accidentally rubbing shoulders with his friend as he did so. Dennis turned at the contact, his wrist still pumped up and down, but languished a little as his eyes tracked from where contact between the two of them was made to Mac’s own obvious erection.
“Looks like pot makes you horny too,” he commented softly, movement in his pants picking up pace again as his eyes stayed trained to Mac’s crotch. “You should touch yourself, it feels great, crossfaded like this.” Dennis words left his lips so slow and easy, speech hitched just slightly between every breath.
“Yeah?” Mac asked, eyes equally trained on Dennis’ pants. Dennis hummed in response as he turned away from Mac; his head dropped back against the couch. Mac was achingly hard and with Dennis already fully pumping next to him, he figured he had nothing to lose.
Mac’s hand dipped below his waistband and he wrapped his fingers around his shaft roughly, immediately jerking his cock. The touch was euphoric, but the angle was bad, impossible almost with his pants still on and he was desperate to participate in what Dennis was offering him. Trying to push the thought that that Dennis could look at him at any moment from his mind, he lifted his hips slightly, and shucked down his sweatpants just enough to pull his dick out over the top. Hard, exposed, and desperately horny, Mac tightened his grip around the bottom third of his cock and began thrusting spastically into his hand to build toward an orgasm. It felt good, really good in the haze and the dark lighting of the basement, Predator flashing on the grainy screen across from them somehow adding to the atmosphere of the moment. He held his hips up from the couch for better leverage and tightened his grip. He knew it would be weird to look at Dennis, but he knew he could easily blame it on the crossfade they were both relying on to excuse this moment. Mac tilted his head to the side and let his gaze fall back over his friend beside him, his line of sight aiming for the boy’s crotch. He cantered desperately into his fist as he watched Dennis’ hand slide gracefully, softly, up and down. The whole situation had Mac edging already. Then, by some insane miracle (or trick) of God, Dennis’s left hand slipped from around him and grabbed his arm. Mac had to swallow a guttural moan that was near forced out of him by the touch.
“Why are you fucking your hand like some kind of animal? What is that?” Dennis’ voice sliced through the air like a shard of ice.
What? Mac’s ass sank back into the couch and he turned to look at Dennis, mouth hanging open. “What?” He vocalized.
“Do you seriously masturbate like that?” Dennis asked him, dead serious.
“Are you seriously judging how I jerk off, right now?” Mac should have let go of his erection at that point, but he didn’t, and Dennis hadn’t either.
“Yes,” Dennis’ voice was stern but soft. “If you’re going to watch me you might as well learn something.”
“I wasn’t,” Mac began to try and excuse his gaze, but something about the air between them, the haze, the feeling of not really being quite all-there, stopped him in his tracks. Dennis knew he was looking, so he said exactly what was on his mind. “You just go so slow, it must take you forever to come.”
“That’s all part of the pleasure, Mac.” Dennis was still holding Mac’s arm and his grip tightened a little as he began stroking himself again with the other hand. Hearing his name come out of Dennis’ mouth in their current state had him involuntarily thrusting into his hand again. He looked at Dennis, who was looking right at his erection.
“Here,” Dennis’ grip loosened and his fingers made their way down Mac’s arm, sliding slowly down his body. His hand met Mac’s own and his long, smooth fingers tucked around Mac’s palm. Mac’s breath hitched in his throat; he was scared if he made any movement at all he would break whatever trance the two of them were stuck in. He let his forearm go lip as Dennis thread his fingers through his and he lifted Mac’s hand, guiding it over his erection. It was Mac’s own hand making contact with his cock, but it lit up every nerve in his body like no touch ever had before then. Dennis’ hand was firm over Mac’s, but he wasn’t gripping hard enough. Mac couldn’t take the lack of pressure and he squeezed his shaft, knuckles flexing below Dennis’ hand. Immediately, Dennis’ hand retreated down to Mac’s wrist and pulled them away.
“Uh uh,” Dennis tutted. “You’re trying to rush it. Enjoy the build.” His hand slid back up and Mac took a moment to breathe. It was fucking surreal. His hand was guided back to his cock, slower, softer. Dennis’ fingers closed around Mac’s, wrapping his erection once again. Mac had to bite his lip to keep himself from thrusting. “Gently,” Dennis instructed. His pinky finger rested below Mac’s and lifted his fist up painstakingly slowly. They ran up Mac’s length and, once at the top, Dennis’ thumb ran over the top of Mac’s, leaving the safety buffer of Mac’s hand to make direct contact with his cockhead. His thumb swept across the tip with light pressure and smeared Mac’s leaking precum flat across the surface of his head. Mac attempted to bite back a moan, but it made its way out of his throat in a strangled cry. He dropped his head back against the couch as Dennis’ thumb carried back over Mac’s hand, breaking the electrifying sensation and guiding them slowly back down his shaft. Again, they went back up, and Mac had to thrust, he needed the friction he wasn’t getting from his and Dennis’ hand, and he was impulsively unrestrained when it came to fighting his urges. Somehow, Dennis sensed his desperation and pulled their hands away just in time, so Mac was left thrusting into the empty air pathetically.
“C’mon, Den,” he whined.
Looking back, Mac’s surprised the insanely embarassing want he was exuding didn’t ruin Dennis’ interest in the slightest. “Trust me, it’s worth the initial frustration,” he assured. Dennis hand was wrapped tightly around Mac’s wrist, thumb applying pressure at the base of his palm in a way that made Mac’s untouched cock twitch between his legs.
Mac shook his head and made eye contact with his friend. “No, dude, I just really need to fuck something,” he said, words desperate and breathy.
Dennis considered him, like it was completely fascinating that Mac’s goal was to get off rough and quickly. “Why?”
“‘Cause you got me all hot with your dick out and,” he stopped himself, “Shit, I didn’t mean—Uh, It’s just the drugs, you know. Not you. I’m not gay I swear,” he stammered over the lie. Dennis was watching him with an unreadable expression. “I just, once I get going I just gotta get off, okay? I like thrusting.” He was very aware Dennis’ hand was still wrapped around his wrist and both their dicks were hard and aching, and he was trying to rectify the mistakes he knew he was actively making as quickly as possible.
Dennis pushed down on the top of his hand so they were sinking into the couch. Mac thought it was over, he was convinced, but Dennis spoke to him in a deep tone, words coming from his throat. “Leave your hands on the couch,” he told Mac. He opened his mouth to ask why? What? Why? But before the words could come out, Dennis’ long fingers were wrapped around his bare cock, stroking him back to being fully erect.
“Fuck,” Mac cried out in a moan. His fingers gripped the rough fabric of the couch in an attempt to stay grounded and his head knocked against the backing of the sofa. He was completely hard with three slow strokes, head leaking precum and quickly lubricating his foreskin and Dennis’ hand. Mac’s shifted his hands underneath himself as Dennis jerked him off, an attempt to keep him from touching himself, but also cheekily pushing his hips up just a little higher, getting a better angle on Dennis’ touch. Dennis let him lift into it but kept the pace agonizingly slow, twisting a little as he reached the top of Mac’s shaft, always thumbing the head. Dennis’ thumb knew what to do at any given moment, leading the rest of Dennis’ hand and finding every vein on Mac’s cock like a magnet. It felt so fucking good, but he would never come like this, at this pace. Even with another g—person touching him, however insanely overwhelmingly electrifying it felt, he needed to thrust to get off. He needed it rough and fast.
The pot was making him dopey, his head and his eyes incredibly heavy and oversensitive to every tingling nerve in his body, but he was determined to turn the moment into something fuckable. Mac lifted his head from the couch and looked over to Dennis, who was stroking the two of them in tandem, his right hand working himself in an identical matter. Why it hadn’t occurred to Mac until then that Dennis was also jerking himself off was beyond him — he had never stopped. “Fuck.” Mac couldn’t help but let the utterance slip past his lips in a guttural moan as he thrusted into Dennis grip as the vocalization caught the man jerking him off off guard. Mac waited for the retraction of Dennis’ touch, but instead he watched Dennis thrust into his own hand in response. Mac took that as full permission, testing another thrust and moaning into it as Dennis’ grip tightened around his shaft in response.
“Fuck,” Dennis mirrored back to him. His hips were cantering into his fist. “Fuck,” he repeated. Mac was still sitting on his hands, and he balled them into fists to get his hips higher once again. Dennis became completely unrestrained, eating his own criticism of Mac’s masturbation techniques. He jerked them both off roughly, thrusting in perfect time with each other as their breathless moans and rough, staggered cursing drowned out the low volume of the gunfire on Mac’s TV.
Wanton hand fucking and Dennis’ perfect, tight grip had Mac edging in a manner of minutes and, with no warning or shared acknowledgement between the two of them, they came at the same time (something Mac didn’t know was truly a thing that happened outside of porn before that night). Dennis grunted through his orgasm with a lack of grace, his voice hit a higher pitch than Mac had been aware it could. The noise spurred him as he came down from his own climax, cock twitching as ropes of cum shot over him.
Dennis was silent after that, and Mac was desperate to say something, but he couldn’t find the words for a few minutes. They both sat there, covered in various amounts of quickly-drying ejaculate until the sounds of Predator clicking made them both crack into a fit of laughter.
After the laughs had turned to giggles, Mac turned to stare at his friend. “Pot’s pretty great, isn’t it?”
Dennis eyes were closed and his head was tilted completely back against the couch, so he spoke to the ceiling. “It is.”
“We should do it more often,” Mac thought out loud. If this is what pot brought, he’d dedicate his life to marijuana.