Chapter Text
Mac is not a science bitch. He doesn’t care about ‘facts,’ or ‘gathering data,’ or blasphemy, or whatever else science bitches do.
He does care about Dennis. Deeply, immensely, and, sometimes, unfortunately. He also cares very much about God, who, on occasion, gives him very good ideas.
So, one day, when Dennis is being especially bitchy, Mac thinks of pain. Suffering for righteousness. Cleansing. The crown of thorns on the Lord’s head, long hair sticky to the shredded up skin of his back. He thinks of the whip in the back of his closet, unused for as long as he’s been kneeling for other types of men, and then he thinks of Dennis, fragile, skittish, and too delicate for something so harsh.
Something different, then.
Mac is not a science bitch, but he thinks he can make an exception just this once.
Step one: Research.
—
Mac gets bored of research very quickly, so he turns to porn. When the porn doesn’t hit the spot (read: he cums too quickly and loses interest) he turns to the next best thing.
Erotic blogs.
See, growing up in the 80’s — and 90’s — taught him a lot about how to find answers to life’s big questions. When he was nine, him and Charlie found a stack of porno magazines in the woods. Charlie was interested mainly in their flammability, but Mac knew better.
Fast forward to the late nineties, and the day after Dennis — and Dee — leave for college, Mac discovers a whole new use for the library computers, access, blissfully, unrestricted. Type ‘tits’ and the whole thing blue-screens, but what about a carefully crafted series of double entendres and acronyms?
The good old Free Library of Philadelphia doesn’t have a clue.
He’s not as long acquainted with the world of how-to BDSM blogs, but all it takes is an easy journey from one site to the next, and suddenly he’s staring down a whole goddamn ‘recipe’ book.
How to ease your Submissive into trying anal.
“Nah, there’s not much else to do,” Mac reasons.
Fun date night ideas: Figging.
“Maybe later,” he mumbles, grateful to have the apartment to himself while Dennis and Dee get their monthly twins who hate each other mani pedis.
Finally, a fucking miracle. Thank Jesus, Joseph, and Mary, because Mac stumbles onto something perfect.
How to maintain a Submissive’s good behavior and attitude: Maintenance spanking.
Mac excitedly clicks on the article.
By the time Dennis gets home, rubbing over the shiny surfaces of his nails, Mac is ready.
(It doesn’t matter that he may or may not have stopped to jerk off a few more times, and forgotten to read anything past the opening explanation. It doesn’t matter at all. Mac has everything he needs.)
—
Day one starts slow, because Dennis is, remember, fragile, skittish, and delicate. Mac knows this, so he starts slow.
“Are we together, Dennis?”
Dennis freezes, an apple slice shaking in his fingers, halfway to his mouth. “What?”
“Are we together?”
“We’re in the same room right now, yes,” Dennis rolls his eyes, apparently choosing to give up on the conversation.
“But you want me to stay, right?”
“If this is you being needy again, Mac, I’m really not in the mood—“
“You want me to stay, right, Dennis?” Mac skimmed a lot of BDSM blogs, and from what he’s gathered, the Dom doesn’t let the Sub have any wiggle room. He sits up a little straighter, crossing his arms and putting on his best bouncer face.
“What? What’s this about?” Dennis giggles, that nervous, reedy laugh he gets when he’s actually concerned about something. “You’re not— Are you thinking of going somewhere?”
“Well, that depends,” Mac says, as if he’s ever going to leave. He does want Dennis to be nicer to him, though. He also sees sex with Dennis in the near future, if he plays his cards right, which is all he wants from life in general. Overall, a great plan. Mac mentally pats himself on the back, and continues, “I’ve been thinking—“
“Ha,” Dennis barks out a laugh, unbothered again. “Right. You just leave the thinking to me, Mac—“
He’s got Dennis’ face slammed against the breakfast table before he can finish being mocked. Mac holds him there while Dennis struggles, easily pressing down harder against Dennis’ skull.
“What the fuck,” Dennis whines. “You’re gonna get apple juice in my eye, asshole.”
“Are you gonna be good?” Mac asks, skipping ahead a little.
“What?”
“Are. You. Going. To. Be. Good?” Mac presses on Dennis’ head and the back of his neck with every harsh word, until Dennis lets out an inhuman noise. A growl, Mac would call it, if a snarling animal could sound annoyed about it.
“Yes, sure, fine, whatever. I’ll be— I’ll be good. Whatever. Just let me go, psycho.”
Mac does, remembering something about conditions met, and then he remembers something about reward. “Good boy, Dennis.”
“Dude.” Dennis rubs the side of his head, scowling. “What the fuck was that?!”
“You need to let me finish when I’m talking.”
Dennis narrows his eyes, stands, dumps the majority of his breakfast into the garbage, and looks, for a second, like he’s going to chuck the plate at Mac’s head. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you, Mac, and I don’t care.” He throws the plate into the sink, instead. “If you ever fucking do that again, I’ll skin you.”
Dennis storms off, slamming his door shut behind him.
Mac sits back, pleased.
Success.
—
See, Mac knows that Dennis doesn’t want to give him anything. That’s why he’s starting slow. Taking those little wins where he can get them, when Dennis’ eyes sharpen and then glaze over, and when Mac, for once, has his way.
After the aggressive introduction, Mac manages to work Dennis down enough to give him the choice for movie night, even though it’s Dennis’ Tuesday. An hour into the movie, Mac tells Dennis to come over to his side of the couch for a pec massage, and Dennis, pretending to be engaged in Predator, obeys.
“Thank you,” Mac murmurs, staying away from more powerful praises for now.
Dennis only hums in response, eating another single piece of popcorn from the handful he’d grabbed a half hour ago.
Mac’s hands cover Dennis’ body the way they always do. Like this is what his hands were made for. Mac feels Dennis’ heart beating under his fingers as his flesh gives way, always tense, like this, when they get started. Pulse always racing.
“Good part,” Dennis says, mouth full of another singular kernel, and Mac pauses his ministrations to watch the screen, entranced, for a second, by the rippling muscles. Dennis knows him so well.
This is what he wants, he thinks. Dennis, sweet and pliant and pointing out the parts of the movie he knows Mac loves, as Mac touches him, rubbing out the stress of the day.
It’s already working.
Mac smiles, working his thumbs in circles inelegantly until he can stumble his way over to both nipples.
When Dennis jolts, shoving a whole handful of popcorn in his mouth, Mac’s smile only grows.
—
Day one went so well, that Mac is doubly disappointed when Dennis is extra aggressive in the morning. He snaps at Mac for taking too long to peel an apple, and he curses them both out when he scalds his own mouth with coffee.
The drive to the bar is tense and annoying, with Dennis slamming on the brakes for nothing and screaming at other drivers. Mac just holds on for dear life, rolling his eyes.
By the time Dennis screeches at Dee, and Dee screeches back, Mac’s had enough. He pulls Dennis into the back office, narrowly avoiding a clawed hand scratching for his face.
“What?!” Dennis asks, sneering. “Are you a complete imbecile? Or did no one ever teach you how to mind your own fucking business?!”
Mac takes a deep breath, unclenching his jaw and relaxing his fists. “What’s going on with you today?”
“Wha— What’s going on with me?! Yesterday you went all fucking psycho, and now you’re concerned about me?!”
“I didn’t—“
“Thought you finally snapped, Hannibal,” Dennis spits, snarling. “I stayed up all night in case you felt like a midnight snack. So if you’re wondering what’s going on with me?!” Dennis roars, hands tensed into claws again, enough to make Mac back up into the desk. “It’s you, asshole!”
Shit. “Dennis, Dennis,” Mac whines, stopping Dennis from turning for the door, angry, harsh breathing wracking his whole body. “I’m— I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean to scare you—“
“Oh, yeah? And what did you mean to do, huh? What the fuck did you mean to do?!”
“I can’t tell you!”
Uh oh. Wrong thing to say. The anger in Dennis’ eyes sharpens; goes from a wild, wide-eyed thing, to a pointed attack. “So you’ll admit,” he says, low and dangerous, “There’s something going on?”
“Well, no. No.” Mac scrambles for an explanation. Anything that won’t end with Dennis more mad at him. “I just mean… I can’t tell you, because I— I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” Dennis creeps in closer, teeth bared. “Or you don’t want to tell me?”
“I don’t know,” Mac says, confidently, leaning back against the desk.
Dennis screams.
—
He gives The Plan a little rest after that, until his cheek starts to heal. Four dull lines carved into his face.
Would have been more worse, though, if Charlie hadn’t interrupted. He’d ended up roping them both into a scheme that had left Dennis overstimulated and exhausted, but, luckily, not violent.
A few days later, when Dennis has stopped snapping and started ignoring, Mac decides to return to The Plan.
He hates the cold shoulder. He wants Dennis to look at him, at least.
He puts a little honey on Dennis’ apples. Just a little, but enough to get Dennis looking at him again, scowling.
“And what is this?” He asks, blinking his eyes in that bitchy way of his.
“Honey,” Mac says.
“…Why?”
“I thought you might like it,” Mac says, blandly, keeping his tone dumb and even.
“Since when have I ever liked honey on my apples?” Dennis’ voice is both scathing and shocked. “Empty calories, Mac! Empty calories!”
“Just try it,” Mac says, dipping his own apple slices in a little of the honey pooling on Dennis’ plate. “You might like it.”
Dennis eyes him for a second, skittish, before sighing harshly and biting down on a slice.
Mac can tell he likes it.
He complains about the honey apples for the rest of the day, but he’d still eaten them for breakfast, and Mac finds reasons to follow him to the bathroom all day too, just in case.
When they get home that night, Dennis is calmer again, settling on the couch for the first time in too long, wrapping himself around a pillow to watch TV. Mac eyes him as he watches Top Model; the way his eyes flicker from Tyra to the unlucky lady of the episode.
Mac sits beside him, a little closer than usual; enough for Dennis to notice, side-eye him, and decide to ignore it, attention back on Miss J.
The next ad break, Mac keeps himself staring at the screen as he asks, “How are you tonight?”
He can feel Dennis look at him. “What kind of a question is that? We’ve spent the whole day together.”
“Just wondering.” Mac yawns, stretching, ending up a little closer to Dennis with his arm draped over the back of the couch. “I’m getting hungry.”
Dennis scoffs at him being so close, shifting away slightly. “Okay? Go eat something then. I mean, really, Mac, I don’t know why you feel the need to say everything you think—“
“How about you?”
“What?”
Top Model starts again, and neither of them are listening. Mac turns to face Dennis a little more head on. “Aren’t you hungry?”
“No,” Dennis says, quickly, licking his lips like he’s afraid something else might slip out after.
“Oh."
“Did you forget that sugary mess you fed me for breakfast? I mean, really, a man can only have so many calories a day. I never thought apples could be ruined like that, but then here comes Mac, swinging honey around—“
“That’s too bad,” Mac interrupts, standing, stretching again, willing his body to do this when all he really wants is a beer or ten and an early night. It’s all gonna be worth it, though. “I think I’m in the mood for soft-shell crab.”
Dennis goes quiet and still, a combination that is either deadly, or very, very promising. Depends on the day.
Mac sneaks a glance down to Dennis’ hands, lax and picking at the throw pillow he’s holding. Not even remotely in the shape of a claw. Good sign.
He reaches for his phone and wallet on the coffee table, pretending to be oblivious to Dennis’ internal whatever. Mac’s not sure what to call it, or what it feels like from inside, but it looks like this: eyes glazed, head tilted, tongue poking at his teeth. Mac calls it Dennis’ corpse face in his head, but never out loud.
As he’s heading for the door, he turns on his heel, clapping his hands enough to startle Dennis. “Oh, dude, that’s your favorite, isn’t it?”
Predictably, Dennis rolls his eyes, recovering from the loud noise. “Yes. Soft-shell crab is the superior shellfish—“
“I’ll pick you up some, then,” Mac says, cheerfully, leaving the apartment before Dennis can tell him anything.
No, or wait, here’s my order.
Mac doesn’t need it anyway. He’s got it memorized.
—
See, Mac needs Dennis to understand that giving up a little control — and being a little fucking nicer — will be good for him, too. Actually, Mac thinks it’ll be better for Dennis, even more better than it will be for Mac. For all of them.
He brings them soft-shell crab, and Dennis eats it, sparing him a raising of his eyebrows as if to say, you remembered what I like, Mac.
Mac is very good at deciphering Dennis’ face.
That’s why, the next day, Mac knows to push it. Dennis must have slept terrible, unused to sleeping on a full stomach, because he wakes up with a scowl.
He starts bitching first thing, and doesn’t stop until they’re leaving the bar when Mac confronts him on the sidewalk, gripping his wrist and saying, “Dude what is your fucking problem? Do you want me to hurt you?”
Dennis sneers, yanking at Mac’s unrelenting hold. “Fuck off.”
Mac lets go of Dennis’ wrist, and slaps him clean across the face.
Dennis recoils, recovers, and takes a step back, palm pressed to his cheek, mouth open, eyes wide. “What was that,” he whispers, less angry than surprised.
“I told you,” Mac says, shrugging. “If you’re gonna be a cunt, then I’m going to hurt you.”
He assumes that Dennis is going to be mad. Dennis is always mad; it stands to reason that being bitch-slapped would probably only fuel his irritating, irrational fury.
Instead, Dennis just stares at him, still pressing against his own cheek, and then he turns without a word, walking slowly toward the car.
He waits for Mac to catch up before he leaves.
He doesn’t say a word the rest of the night.
—
Mac thinks it’s time to move The Plan along. He’s been pushing Dennis little by little, and he’s starting to notice a very interesting pattern.
No matter how upset Dennis is, the second Mac uses physical force, he calms down.
It’s not every type of physical force, though. Dennis gets skittish about his head getting slammed into anything, and he got mean the one time Mac tripped him.
The occasional slap, though? It works wonders, both confusing Dennis, and snapping him out of his mood.
In addition to the slapping, Mac’s shown Dennis just how good listening to him can be. The honey apples are a staple for them now, and every so often Mac goes for crab, just to show he can. He ups the massages, buys Dennis replacement makeup when his is running low, and does his best to follow the strange, overly somber chick flicks Dennis always chooses for movie night, all without being asked.
The problem is, he’s not sure how to connect the two ideas.
Dennis has asked him what’s going on here? so many times, and every time Mac doesn’t know how to answer, beyond deflecting. Sometimes, when he slaps him, Dennis asks, and it’s so distant and genuinely confused that Mac almost breaks. He almost looks into the disturbing, beautiful blue of Dennis’ eyes, and tells him everything.
He doesn’t, though. Not yet.
That still leaves him with the problem. In DENNIS terms, he’s demonstrating value, engaging physically, and nurturing dependance. Three aspects of the whole Plan that he fully believes in.
But Dennis separates them.
In his system, they’re three distinct elements, that, once performed, must be moved past.
Mac spends a great deal of time trying to figure out how to get Dennis to understand.
Finally, he lands on this.
—
Mac sinks into the couch, Dennis beside him, movie already on the TV. Mac’s hand is on Dennis’ thigh, and Dennis, despite huffing, hasn’t said anything about it, yet.
It’s day three of the thigh holding.
Mac pauses the opening credits, turning to Dennis, who looks resigned to whatever Mac’s about to say. His face is saying I’m exhausted, and, also, this conversation would be easier with a beer and a cigarette.
“Wan’ a beer?” Mac asks, squeezing Dennis’ leg.
“Sure,” Dennis says, staring at said hand squeezing his leg. He seems to be thinking about a lot of things at once. The muscle beneath Mac’s fingers twitches.
“Cool.” Mac grabs them both beers, and detours to Dennis’ room for a pack of cigarettes and lighter, which, while Dennis doesn’t smoke so often, anymore, are still around for nights like these. Mac figures it’s like a reward, the cigarette. Dennis gives him a strange look when he hands them over. He still lights up, sighing.
Dennis takes another drag, and continues sighing happily, even when Mac’s hand makes it’s way back to his thigh.
“So,” Mac says, bringing up the topic when Dennis jerks his head at the paused TV. “I was thinking…”
“You’re doing an awful lot of that, lately,” Dennis murmurs, tilting his head back against the couch to blow smoke at the ceiling.
“Sure,” Mac says, even though he always thinks about things. God and his parents and Paddy’s Pub. Men and life and beer and karate. Musical theatre. Dennis. “I was thinking, you know Fight Club?”
Dennis tenses beneath his hand, all the way up his neck in strange, off-putting cords. “Planning to beat someone up?”
“Well, you know how that movie is about a guy who feels better when he’s in pain?”
“That’s not— You know what? Sure. I get the concept.” Dennis’ eye slides over to stare at him. “Are you talking about that stupid whip you used to use? Because I hate that thing. It’s so stupid to think that God wants you to—“
“I’m not talking about that,” Mac says, and then he adds, “And it’s not stupid. Actually, the pain feels good.”
Dennis scoffs, sending smoke billowing out from behind his teeth. “Right. I’m sure it does.”
“You do it too, you know.”
“I most certainly don’t whip myself, Mac. No sane person would—“
“You don’t want scars,” Mac reasons. “But you do the same thing. You like the pain.”
“Well…” Dennis takes a second to respond, pulling his leg out from under Mac as he says, “Of course, a certain level of pain can be fun. Even arousing, under the right circumstances. I’m not a virgin, and that’s common knowledge that everyone with half a brain would—”
“Isn’t it better when it’s someone else, though?”
Dennis narrows his eyes. “What?”
“When it’s someone else, causing the pain?” Mac sneaks his hand closer, again, to Dennis’ thigh.
“That depends,” Dennis says slowly. “On the pain, and the person. Also the timing has to be right, Mac, you can’t just find a girl — or a guy, in your case — and jump right in to the let me hurt you thing. You have to be patient. Subtle. Undetected until they’re agreeing to whatever you’re saying. Bonus points if they think it’s their idea.”
Mac nods, feigning innocence even though Dennis is, eerily, describing The Plan. “Right.”
“Of course, if you want them to hurt you, you have to be much more thorough.” Dennis turns to stare at him again, blowing smoke in his face. “You can’t just agree to anything.” He’s talking very carefully. Mac looks for the words between the words. “You have your pride to consider.”
Dennis sips his beer, and then, continues.
“You’d have to be certain of what you want,” Dennis says, getting softer. Letting Mac’s hand return to his leg. “And once you know, you’d let nothing stand in the way of getting it.”
Mac nods, understanding that last part, as neither of them are very good at relenting. His jaws; locked once pierced through flesh.
“I’d say there’s almost more power in being on the receiving end,” Dennis says, inching closer, snubbing his cigarette out on the coffee table. “To have someone do your bidding without even realizing that they’re giving you… exactly… what… you… want.”
Dennis ends up terribly close to Mac’s face, and for a second, he thinks Dennis is going to lean in. Close the gap. Kiss him.
Instead, Dennis looks him up and down, and sneers, “Now, get your fucking hand off my leg before I cut it off.”
Mac snatches his hand back, uninterested in learning how to be a righty.
Dennis stands, movie forgotten or ignored, and goes to his room, taking both his own and Mac’s beer with him.
When he slams the door, Mac thinks, it sounds a little nicer than usual.