Work Text:
“Title: Make Me Sweat
ISO a beefcake to push me past my limits. Make me feel the pain, no matter how much I beg and plead to stop. Force me to go further than I thought possible and don’t take ‘No’ for an answer. Pictures attached of the body you’ll be working over.”
Dennis let out a long suffering sigh and ran a hand over his face. “Mac, listen to me. I cannot stress this enough, if you post this on the internet you will get raped.”
“What are you talking about?” Mac squinted over Dennis’s shoulder at the laptop screen. “I don’t see how you got rape from that. And I already posted it. I have a hardbody on his way over right now, we’re heading to his private gym for,” Mac lifted his hands and made finger-quotes, “An intense session.”
“Mac,” Dennis struggled to keep his voice even. “That is obviously code for ‘rape the shit out of you.’”
Mac breathed in, ready to protest loudly and profusely when aforementioned ‘hardbody’ walked into Paddy’s with a gym bag slung over his shoulder.
Mac gave him a quick ocular put-down and whispered to Dennis, “Threat level assessed, no threat noted. And check out those pecs: Wow.”
“Look at that gym bag,” Dennis hissed. “It’s probably filled to the brim with zip ties and lube. I bet you one hundred dollars that you’re about to get raped six ways from Sunday.”
Mac shot him a patronizingly smug look, raising his brow and giving Dennis a once over, “All right, bro. You’re on.”
“Mac, right?”
The two men turned as the guy flashed his teeth in a predatory smile approaching the bar.
“You ready to get worked over?”
“Yeah man, I’m ready for a work out,” Mac beamed, stepping towards the newcomer.
Dennis was surprised Mac didn’t have actual drool running out of his mouth the way he was looking at the guy.
“Dennis, are you seeing this body? It is sick.”
He was Mac’s type for sure. Dennis scowled at the guy’s bulging muscles as he flexed while Mac squeezed his biceps and pointed out his various attributes. He had emerald green eyes, shiny black hair, and was most definitely a rapist.
“Let’s see what I’m working with here,” the guy stepped back and took a long hungry look at Mac’s body.
“Yes, I can definitely work with this. Turn around.”
When Mac turned around the guy lifted his shirt a little to get a better look at Mac’s ass.
“Sweet glutes, man.”
“Ah, thanks dude. I work out, like, three times a week.”
Dennis felt the vein throbbing in his forehead and the next thing he knew he was standing between Mac and Rapey McGee.
“What’s in the duffle bag? Mind if I take a look?”
“Uh, I guess that’s fine—”
Dennis already had the bag up on the bar and unzipped. He pulled out bike shorts, sweatpants, a tank top, towels, and ratty old gym shoes.
“What the fuck? Where’s the rope? Where’s the lube?”
Dennis dumped the rest of the bag out on the floor. When nothing came out but socks and a bottle of Head and Shoulders Dennis threw his hands in the air and screeched,
“Not even a ball gag? What kind of rapist are you?”
The guy’s face was frozen somewhere between rage and horror as Dennis ranted, “I can’t believe this,” “fucking amateurs,” and, “Mac, you are so goddamn stupid you deserve to be raped. There is no way you’re getting a hundred dollars for this!”
Dennis stalked into the back office and slammed the door, leaving Mac and his beefcake slack jawed in his wake.