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“Dude please, just let me out, it’s been hours and I really have to piss.”
Dennis drops the straw he was sipping wine through from his mouth, shaking the old magazine in his hands. Because Mac can’t see him from his position on the floor and he wants him to know he’s waiting – the others may have got bored and gone home, but he’s got all night.
“If you have to piss, go in the cage, bitch,” he replies, turning a page of the porn mag, making sure it crinkles loudly.
He hears Mac let out an animalistic scream in frustration.
“I hate you, I fucking hate you.”
Dennis shrugs and keeps turning the next page.
Could have been an hour, could have been fifteen minutes – they’re both equally fucked and nobody else is timing – but finally there’s a rattling of metal coming from the floor of Paddy’s Pub.
Dennis’ ears instantly prick up in excitement and he pauses “reading” to listen in.
The metal jangles again, like a bridle but to Dennis it’s like Christmas bells. There’s a few more seconds before Mac’s voice finally pierces the air.
“You know I’ve got it on, you piece of shit.”
A wide shit-eating grin spreads over Dennis’ face, as his hand flips the cover of the mag over to slam it decidedly shut on the surface of the bar with muffled wooden bang that sounds much louder in the silence of their pub.
He spins round in the stool to jump off, attempting to ignore his alcohol induced head rush, he walks over to the small dog container in the centre of their floor, front grate facing away.
When he finally gets to the front, glaring up from below, Mac looks like he’s ready to commit bloody murder and Dennis has never felt more satisfied with a plan in his entire life. The silver metal of Mac's collar glints around his neck.
“Where’s your lead, mutt?”
Mac’s expression doesn’t change, the same fire burning in his bloodshot red eyes. He looks like, for a second, that he’s not going to give in – resign himself to a further half hour of cramped confinement – but then angrily, he fishes round beneath him and starts to push the long leather strap through the bars of the cage.
Dennis breathes out in amusement as the lead flops out onto the ground.
He waits for Mac to stuff the last of the harness through the bars, struggling to move his arms in the small space in front of him, before looking up impatiently.
Dennis drops down in an instant to his knees, his crotch level now with his best friends face, making no effort to hide the bulge in his jeans. Mac’s face doesn’t slip, neither does the raging eye contact between them.
“Good boy,” Dennis mumbles, reaching forward and snatching the lead from the ground. He grips the loop at the end, wrapping the rest tightly around his palm, tugging it to test the strength before violently pulling it backwards, jerking Mac’s face against the cage.
Dennis laughs, pulling the lead again experimentally, watching the flesh of Mac’s face become squashed against the sturdy metal bars and his jaw clench tightly from the new pain in his neck.
“You know, I bought this when we still had Poppins,” he says, leaning his weight back into thighs, pulling the lead even tighter – wanting to force the defiant expression from the others face.
“So it’s not just a cheap toy,” he continues.
“It’s the real deal – even a Rottweiler couldn’t chew through this shit,” he growls out, leaning all his weight back now so that Mac is forced to crawl closer to the front of his cage, attempting to minimise the pain.
“Dennis…” Mac grits out through teeth in a warning, his lungs twitching, starting to breathe in a new rhythm from discomfort.
“Hey-hey-hey, don’t be like that Mac – I don’t make the rules.”
That earns him a glare that could have shot a bolt of energy straight through his skull.
“I’m just playing the game.”
Dennis smiles playfully, as his free hand reaches out to stroke over Mac’s face cramped up awkwardly on the small railings, his fingers tracing over the metal bumps as he goes.
“If you suck my dick, I’ll think about letting you go,” he murmurs the obvious, while Mac refuses to show any signs of weakness, refusing to answer.
Dennis removes his hand from the others skin, instead unzipping his flies, pushing his boxers down too, shimmying a little to get them down far enough.
“Bite me and I’ll push you down the basement stairs,” he threatens, shuffling closer, relieving some of the tension so he can angle and pull Mac’s mouth to a square hole in his cage.
He wastes no time forcing himself between the other’s lips, making sure to sink in as slowly as possible, feeling Mac gently gagging around him, the collar at his neck and his cramped position making his throat extra sensitive to pressure.
The quiet sounds of muffled retching spur Dennis on as he feels the end of his cock hitting the back of the other’s throat.
“That’s it,” he whispers, pulling the lead tight and grinding his hips, watching Mac’s head attempting to spasm back in discomfort – from this position he can’t see the others face, can only feel his presence in the hot, wet mouth twitching uncomfortably around him.
There’s a brief pause, before Mac starts sucking on him and his tongue weakly traces patterns on the underside of his dick, Dennis feels his breathing become a little shallower. Looking down on his friend and only being able to imagine his humiliation and the aching of his body.
He’s been put in that cage before – it’s tiny, built for dogs – fully grown adults like themselves have to be bent over double, chest to knees, just to fit in. He imagines Mac must be struggling to breathe and Dennis moans, his hips thrusting forward of their own volition, causing the throat around him to constrict, attempting to pull away.
Instead Dennis cruelly pulls him closer by the neck, his arm weakly pulling back at an awkward angle now that he finds himself kneeling so close to the cage he could easily bend over it.
He hurriedly bends backwards, unravelling the lead and hooking the large loop around the toe of his shoe. Experimentally he supports his arms atop the cage, pulling back his leg and Mac’s body thuds against the bars of his cage, his hands now splayed openly against the surface. Dennis heart beats wildly as Mac’s body does on his enclosure.
“I’m sorry, baby,” Dennis purrs, jerking his thigh backwards roughly to hit his dick against the back of Mac’s throat, the rear of the cage lifting off the ground a little, rattling from the force. Mac’s arms are tense where they’re trying to push back against Dennis, bracing himself against the railing. Dennis moves his own arms, hooking his fingers on the sides of the cage, angled so he can easily rock his hips. He whines in satisfaction, bending his chest over the dog container.
“But rules are rules.”