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Macklin doesn’t drink, ever. So when he’s forced to join a circle of more-than-tipsy people playing spin the bottle he’s too sober to actually enjoy their drunk antics and dull jokes. He really only sits down on the frat house’s dirty carpet ‘cause a short blonde girl is dragging him by the arm, acting drunker than she really is. He’s hoping they can be done with the game soon enough, eager to let her drag him back to her dorm and finally get to the good part of the night and the only reason he had decided to come to this party in the first place.
No one is surprised when he’s already found someone to spend the night with only a couple hours into the get together: Mack kinda has a reputation for it. Girls are not shy about going up to him, especially since he rarely ever says no if they’re pretty enough to look at and willing to put out. Most of them don’t expect him to call back or see him again after the night is over; their college is big but not that big and rumours get around. He doesn’t mind; after all it has made everything easier for him when his one night stands already know how their morning after is going to play out.
There’s only another person who matches his reputation around camp, and he’s currently sitting on the other side of the circle of people getting ready to play, giggling with a brunette boy sitting way too close to be just a friend. Will Smith, Boston College’s star athlete and golden chill, also famously a slut: Mack had heard from too many of his friends about how Smith didn’t waste any time getting in bed with anyone he liked, both men and women. The stories were borderline ridiculous, Macklin was pretty sure no one could actually be as good in bed as they made Will out to be.
Macklin had tried his best to ignore the gossip about Smith and keep his curiosity at bay, but it was harder than it should’ve been, especially when he was forced to face him on and off the ice repeatedly over his months at the campus. He couldn’t help but notice how Will was just as confident and light in his movements even when he wasn’t wearing his skates, making Macklin feel so inadequate at times. It honestly pissed him off a bit.
So he really focuses on keeping his eyes off how Will’s blonde curls reflected the light on the other side of the room, and tries his best to let Will’s loud laugh wash over him as he twists his body in uncomfortable ways to keep the guy out of his sight line. He wishes he could care about the stupid dares being thrown around the room each time the empty wine bottle in the middle of the circle is spun, and he really should attempt to at least chuckle as the chosen victim shares an embarrassing secret, but he just can't bring himself to care. He doesn't really know anyone around the room and is already too tired from the long day at practice to make new friends, he has been ready to leave before even walking in. At least no one is paying attention to him, so he can lean back on his elbows and let the girl he has been talking to sit on his lap while she participates in the game, spacing out on the floor.
Almost half an hour has passed since they started playing, and some people are visibly getting bored. That must’ve been why the next time the bottle lands on him, they address Mack directly instead of the girl wiggling on his legs, probably looking for a new victim to torture.
“Macklin, truth or dare?” He just rolls his eyes, batting his hand at whoever asked the question.
“I’m not playing, this shit stupid.”
That elicits a choir of “boos” and whistles, more people now trying to convince him to participate. He can only take so many people calling him a pussy and slapping his arms, so he finally caves in at yet another provocation sent his way: “I thought you were more fun than this, man. Guess all those stories about you were a little pumped up.”
He shoves the girl off his lap to sit up, rubbing his tired eyes with both palms.
“Fine. Dare.”
The guy who spun the bottle is sitting next to Smith, a huge smile showing off his teeth as he takes a good look at Macklin, then redirects his eyes on Will, shoving the blonde with his elbow.
“You guys both have a bit of a fuckboy reputation going on. Why don’t you show us just how freaky you can get, seven minutes in heaven in the closet next door? Old style.”
Mack scoffs at the suggestion, already shaking his head in disbelief when he spots Smith brushing some dirt off his jeans as he stands up. Their eyes meet across the room, Macklin’s shocked expression isn’t matched by Will’s raised eyebrows and smug smirk, his arms crossed over his chest to show off the lean muscles bulging out his short sleeves.
“What? Backing off a dare?” Will says, tipping his head Mack’s way like he’s just throwing a challenge at him, not suggesting they make out in a closet for little less than ten minutes.
“I’m not backing off just, why are you so eager?” Mack barely mutters, keeping his eyes locked on Smith as he makes his way towards the middle of the circle and past the bottle to reach Macklin, staring down at him still with a little smile on his lips.
“Well, get up if you’re not backing off then,” and Macklin almost doesn’t just to spite him, but he’s not chickening out of a dare when Smith is looking all cool about it, like it’s no big deal they’re going to be stuck in a small space together for seven minutes. It shouldn’t feel like a big deal, not when they’re both so clearly experienced in getting around and meaningless sex, but Will has been his rival on ice for so long and they’ve been competing like madmen at every occasion. Macklin is also sure everyone in the room is expecting them to push way further than a couple kisses, waiting to hear how the two most sought after athletes on campus got freaky in a closet at a party just to prove a point.
When he gets to his feet Will is too close to him already, their noses almost brushing together before Macklin stumbles backwards, putting some distance between them. They study each other in silence for a couple breaths, then Macklin is sliding his tongue over his bottom lip and Will grabs his wrist in quick sequence, dragging him off to the adjacent bedroom to leave all whistles and shouts behind them.
Macklin’s the one opening the wooden closet’s heavy doors for their bodies to slip inside, but Will makes a show out of closing them shut, making sure everyone heard the wardrobe slam shut.
Macklin has pressed his back on the left side of the closet, only a couple jackets and coats separating him from Will. He can see the sliver of light seeping in through the closed doors draw a straight line on Will’s left cheek, reflecting off his clear blue eyes and smooth skin. Even if the sounds of the party outside are still clearly audible, the tight space makes it easier for Mack to focus on their shared breaths and rustling of clothes instead. Will is shifting a few hangers behind him, so there’s really nothing left to keep them apart but cowardness.
Macklin fidgets with his hands, still staring at Will’s unmoving figure until Smith disappears from the only source of light, stepping into his private space. Mack can no longer see him, but the loss is quickly replaced by a stronger sensation: he can feel Will, right in front of him. He can feel his warm, controlled breathing reaching his own lips in gentle waves, and he can smell his cologne like he wore it himself; he can sense Will’s body heat enveloping him, and almost hear Will’s smile dissipating from his pink lips.
For the first time in ages, Macklin is feeling anxious, an unfamiliar feeling he had learned to capture and lock away in hidden compartments of his soul. That must really be the only reason why he panics and blurts out: “Well, what are you waiting for, Smith?”
He doesn’t only hear him chuckle, he feels the laughter on his skin, how Will’s shoulders shake in amusement as he steadies himself by planting a hand over Mack’s right shoulder.
“Who’s the eager one, now?” Will must be whispering, ‘cause the darkness surrounding them forces them to, tossing their bodies in an echoless, black ocean where every word is sacred; he still hears him so clearly and loudly that the sound makes him gasp.
“I’m not!” He realizes he sounds scared and pathetic, but it’s too late to take it back; there is no way Will didn’t hear him even as Macklin chews on the words, biting his bottom lip. Macklin feels frozen, his hands clammy as a weird sensation takes over his stomach, buzzing and swarming with something consuming. The way his body is reacting angers Mack, to the point he almost considers pushing the closet’s door open with his elbow and running away from the feeling blooming in his chest. It’s not like he hasn’t been in these situations before, dammit!, he actually has more experience with hooking up and fucking around than almost anything else. So why is he suddenly so inept at this, shaking like a leaf when he should be living up to his name and just do what everyone out there expects them to do?
Will’s still too close for comfort, but not moving either, stealing oxygen directly from Mack’s lungs. Macklin might be crazy for even considering this, but he has a weird feeling that Will is hesitant about fulfilling their dare as well, lingering in his space but refusing to take the first step.
“Heard so much about you from the last girl I fucked yet here you are, not even gonna give me a kiss?” Will’s words hit like a gelid current, adding to the ice already forming in his veins.
“Gave it to her so bad she complained about missing me?” but Will doesn't let Macklin’s poisonous words get to him, clearly too set on his goals to bite the bait. Macklin’s head hit the panel of the closet with a loud thud when he surges backwards, slightly taken aback by Smith’s nose brushing against his. That elicits another chuckle from Will, but he sounds nervous when he speaks again, something shake-y and vulnerable in his voice, almost curious.
“Talked big game about your mouth, said you made her come twice just with your tongue.” Macklin’s laboured breathing only matches Will’s in pace, one of his hands had at some point found its way in Will’s shirt, where he was holding on for dear life. Will wasn’t deterred by Macklin’s silence, only doubling down on the offense:
“Not sure you’d be that good for me though. Ever sucked cock before?”
Will's words slap him on the cheek and he is pushing him off of him with a quick shove. Not that Will could really go anywhere, barely inching back in the tight space they occupy.
“Maybe you should be sucking mine instead, heard you're kinda going pro at it.”
“That's probably what they think we're doing in here anyways. Want me to make them right?”
Will's warm hand reaches Macklin's hip, where his thumb brushes over the edge of his shirt to slip underneath it, bruisingly pressing on his hip bone.
Macklin welcomes the touch with a breathy sound that seems to scare Smith instead of urging him forward, and Macklin can feel him retreat again. Mack immediately blurts out a string of words that barely make sense, just hoping they would convince Will to put his hands on him again. Fuck, since when was he so desperate for a hook up?
“I mean you wouldn't. Like wouldn't dare, in here with everyone just out there.”
Will's hesitant hand doesn't leave his waist after that, just barely brushing Mack's stomach before Smith's thumb reaches his navel. Will's finger pad traces over his happy trail then pushes over his belly button, inhaling a big gulp of hair.
“Really sounds like you want me to, Macklin.”
Macklin wants it, he wants it so badly.
“Ha, why would I want that?!” But when Will takes his hand off Macklin's stomach, like his denial has burned him, Mack is quick in grasping his forearm, bringing Will's palm back towards him to rest on his chest this time.
Will doesn't complain or point out the contradiction in his actions, squeezing Mack's muscles in his warm hand instead.
“Are you saying you want something else?” Will asks, and Macklin swallows the spit that has pooled in his mouth.
“I'm saying you're talking a lot and doing very little to back it up.”
“Well you're trembling like a little virgin about to be kissed for the first time.”
“I'm not a virgin!”
“Yeah, you made that very clear.”
What pisses him off is that Will is right; he is cowering in a corner of the closet, begging Will to just get over with the dare already like he has no say in it all. Both of them could just lean forward and finally press their lips together, putting an end to their pitiful attempts of riling each other up. But to be fair, it made little sense for Will to be hesitant as well, what with all the stories Macklin had heard about him. Will definitely wasn't the only guy who had heard insane sexual recollections about the other guy stuck with him in the wardrobe.
“All I'm gathering from this is that one probably shouldn't believe everything they hear out there.” Macklin is whispering again, his heart beating too fast underneath Will's palm where he's still gently cornering him against the wardrobe. Will only hums in response, taking a small step forward to get into Mack's personal space again, not really with the intention to put an end to their misery. He just seems attracted to Mack like a magnet, pressing their chests together as he tilts his head, Will's nose brushing against Mack's left cheek.
“Have you been thinking about what you heard about me a lot?” Will's voice is so low and sincere and it makes Macklin's head spin when he nods too quickly.
He knows Will can feel him agreeing, with how close together they are inside the wardrobe, he doesn't have to put his admission into words.
“Yeah? What about specifically?”
Will's just as worked up, Macklin can feel it in the way his breath hitches and his fingers are tentative when they settle on his waist again, both of Will's hands gently pushing Macklin's hips so they clash against the closet's wood panel.
“Fuck.” Macklin has to bite his lip harder to regain enough consciousness to think about an answer. He has never been this affected by someone before, especially when Will is barely touching him. He feels embarrassed to admit he's getting hard in his jeans, and he's hoping Will doesn't push forward, or he'd definitely be able to tell right away.
“Uh- I heard you let guys fuck you.”
Will's taking a deep breath right against Macklin's neck, where his pulse point is stronger, and he wishes Will would just close his mouth around it and suck and bite on his skin long enough to mark him up. That would at least satisfy the awaiting audience outside, and Macklin lies to himself when he pretends that's the only reason he's thinking of Will's mouth on him.
“You wanna fuck me, Mack?” It's the first time Will calls him Mack, and the way his name rolls off Will's tongue, smacking his lips together on the M and loud on the -ck, makes him shiver. They're so close he can't help but think about it, Will's arched figure spread on his bed, his strong legs parted to leave Macklin enough room to slide in between his thighs. He would hold Will's head to the mattress by his curly hair and push into him with quick, strong thrusts. And Will would grunt and tighten around him at each slap of their hips together, begging Macklin to go harder, whining about how he can take it.
Macklin's stiff hands finally reach out to Will's back, where he entangles his fingers together to pull Will impossibly closer against him, his shyness erased by the fire growing in his lower stomach. He can't contain the moan that escapes him when Smith's thigh presses on his hard-on, still he manages not to moan too loud when he feels Will's just as hard in his sweats.
“Yeah, I wanna fuck you Smith. I really wanna fuck you.” And kiss you. I need to know what your lips taste like on mine more than anything in the world. I want to know what you sound like when I'm biting in between your thighs.
“How bad? How bad do you want me?”
“Fuck off, Smith.” But Mack's rolling his hips forward, groaning at the sensation of Will's warm, firm thigh against him.
Will drags his hands from Macklin's waist to his hips, then further down to cup his ass instead, guiding him to steadily roll against his leg with a pleased groan. He's still groping him when he speaks right into Macklin's ear, his fingers digging into his soft flesh.
“What if I want this instead? Gonna let me have you?”
“You mean-? Shit-” Macklin's throwing his head back, Will's lips are gentle when they brush against his neck, not really doing much more than just pressing against his heated skin.
“Yeah. Do you want me enough to let me fuck you?”
Macklin's never gone that far with men before, but Will sounds so composed and sure of himself right now that Macklin thinks maybe he could trust him to make it feel good. His brain struggles to wrap around the idea of it and he takes too long to reply, Will has to nudge Mack's jaw with his nose to help him focus again.
Macklin isn't thinking when he tilts his head to find Will's lips almost instinctively, their noses slotting together as he feels their breaths mingle.
“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” He can almost feel their lips brushing together now, and even in the dark Macklin closes his eyes.
Will's going to kiss him, he has to as he feels one of Smith's hands drag all the way up to his chest and past his neck to settle on his cheek.
Smith's brushing his thumb over Mack's high cheek, taking a deep breath like he knows he won't be able to do it in a while once their mouths connect, too desperate to care about such trivial details.
Macklin's parting his lips, leaning forward, just an inch more-
BANG BANG BANG
“Okay sluts! Time's up!”
The loud banging on the wardrobe’s door startles them both, and Will's immediately jumping backwards to get away from the loud sound, breaking the moment. Macklin's hands are forced off of Will's hips, and he almost stumbles forward to bring him up before one door is dragged open, revealing their shocked appearance to each other.
They don't really look disheveled, their hair still brushed in place and their clothes barely wrinkled, but their cheeks are flushed a deep red and there's no hiding the tent in both their pants.
They exchange a long look, chests heaving as no one makes a move to exit the wardrobe first, as if neither of them want to. Eventually, Will breaks their stare contest, climbing outside the closet and into the light.
Macklin has to take a few moments to regain his composure before he follows him outside, immediately welcomed by loud cheers.
When everyone assumes they've been kissing and touching like crazy in the wardrobe, teasing their flushed skin and embarrassed look, neither Will or Mack correct them. They let them believe they stood up to their reputations, unable to keep their hands off any available body at any occasion.
They don't have the courage to admit they couldn't even kiss, that the air between them was so charged even thinking was hard. Macklin imagines an event of catastrophic proportions would've happened if they had even dared give each other a simple peck on the lips, one only comparable to a volcano erupting or a tsunami hitting the coast.
So they hang their heads low and chuckle at the jokes being thrown around, stealing glances at each other to make sure their secret is safe. To make sure they both feel the fluttering sensation spreading warmly in their chest too.
It's been a week since the party when Macklin's in bed late at night, awake past his bedtime. He's scrolling on Instagram hoping sleep will find him, liking a few of his friend's posts, when Will's face pops up in his screen, smiley like always. His thumb lingers on Will's profile too long before he presses on it, immediately being redirected to his page. He doesn't have many pictures up, and they're mostly of Will in skates on a rink, but he also shared some pictures with his family and with his dog. He looks cute in them, Macklin has to admit, emanating that guy next door vibe you only see in 2010s rom-coms.
Mack gets frustrated when he realizes he's been staring at Will's shirtless picture for way too long, conjuring images in his brain about how Will had felt pressed against him, groaning right next to his ear and slurring dirty words against his skin. He's already chubbing up at the thought, so he's distracted by trying to fix himself in his shorts when he accidentally likes Will's post from a couple years back and immediately scrambles to remove the like.
“Shit! Shit shit shit-” He rolls over in bed, pressing his face on the pillow where he can muffle a louder scream.
He's still panicking a few minutes later, trying to convince himself Will wouldn't notice. He probably got a shit ton of notifications everyday, there was no way he would notice his’. Mack's slowly grinding his hips in the sheet when he hears the ding of a notification, grumpily picking up the phone to stare at the screen.
[w.smith6 wants to send you a text]
He groans at the letters on his phone but immediately opens the chat. Will sent him a screenshot of a notification he received when Macklin liked his post and a few “???” underneath it.
He doesn't stop slowly rocking in his bed, stomach down, when he types a quick reply.
“sorry, some girl was showing me your profile”
He can see Will's texting back, the little dots on the bottom of the screen appear immediately.
“oh yeah? put her on, i prob know her then”
Macklin curses out loud, burying his nose in his pillow for a few seconds before texting back. He knows he fucked it up.
“kinda busy rn”
“doin what”
“yk”
They text back and forward too quickly, Macklin's aware Will probably figured out there's no girl with him by now. He's grinding his hips in slow circles on a pillow he trapped between his legs, and each time he sees Will's typing they surge forward almost out of his control.
“I really don't superstar”
Maybe it's the nickname that does it for him, or maybe it's the knowledge that Will's probably thinking about the same thing he's thinking of that urges Mack to sneak a hand in between the pillow and his hips, grinding his cock against the heel of his palm to find more friction.
He types an answer with his unoccupied hand, still unable to let go of the game they got going on.
“just sucking me off”
“she any good?”
Macklin lets himself close his eyes for a few moments, picturing how Will's warm breath would feel on his sensitive skin and how good he would look on his knees, his small mouth parted obscenely around his cock. When he looks at the screen again a few minutes have gone by, Will's double texted. He smirks at the sight, picturing Smith getting impatient on the other side of the phone.
“guess she is then?”
“y? you could do it better?” Mack's shooting off his reply purely out of horniness, he needs to know Will's walking down the same sinful path he is.
“wouldn't be able to text anyone if it was me, Mack”
Macklin's sure he's right; there's no universe in which he would be able to take his eyes off Will even when they're just skating on the same ice, least of all if he'd be giving him head.
Macklin's leaking so much he shoves his hand inside his underwear, now fully stroking himself as low, breathy moans leave his lips just to be muffled by the sheets.
“bullshit”
Maybe he's hoping Smith will offer to prove him wrong, so his next reply takes him by surprise. Macklin lets out a strangled groan at the few words glowing on his screen, his eyes shutting close again as he comes in his fist, squeezing his cock at the tip.
“come for me superstar”
He doesn't bother replying, too embarrassed by the way his body had actually tensed and obeyed Will's order. He didn't even need to be in the room to make him feel hot and bothered all over, just his words and Macklin's imagination were enough to make him shoot so quickly.
He locks the phone with another grunt, going lax in his bed. He sleeps like a baby the whole night.
The next time he gets a text from Will he's fresh out of practice, slowly taking his gear off before a long awaited shower. He checks his notifications just to see if something important happened, and sees Will has sent him a picture on Instagram. He opens it with a frown, immediately locking his phone and flipping it around so no one can see the screen when he realizes what he's looking at: Will's hard cock shaped through a pair of tight grey pants.
He looks around the locker room then has the courage to take another peek at the picture, muttering a curse. He swipes his hair off his forehead with a frustrated sigh, hoping his cheeks aren't getting too red and that no one will notice how flustered he's feeling.
“r u insane? I'm at practice”
He quickly shoots back, turning around so he's giving his back to the rest of the room. He lets his head rest on the locker in front of him, chuckling in disbelief at the reply he gets.
“yeah, I know. kinda the point. don't like it?”
Mack doesn't not like it, but he wouldn't be caught dead admitting that.
“looks fine ig”
“got hard thinking about fucking you, you're packing a great ass”
“keep dreaming” he replies, but he can feel his cock straining in his underwear, already hardening at the thought of Will doing that to him.
“you totally want it”
He's biting his lip when he answers a few moments later, typing and deleting a few texts before settling on:
“r u touching yourself thinking about it?”
“yeah. bet you're tight”
Macklin bangs his head against the locker as he curses, quickly adjusting his shirt over his groin where his dick’s chubbed up. Will gets him so fucking worked up over so little.
He doesn't know what to reply back this time, his sassy attitude evaporated from his body like warm vapour coating his skin. He feels too hot in his sweaty gear.
Mack keeps staring at the screen, his pupils shaking. Then he notices Will's sending an audio, a small icon of a microphone pulsating on the bottom left of his phone.
He sits on the bench by his stall and waits, trying to breathe normally and regain his composure. At least a couple minutes go by before he receives Will's voice note, Mack's immediately pressing play as he takes his phone to his ear.
Nothing seems to be going on at first, he starts to think Will accidentally pressed record and forgot the phone on, then a long dragged whine reaches him too loud in the locker room and he's scrambling to stop the track, looking around to make sure no one else heard that. He should've locked his phone, showered and packed his stuff to go back to his dorm. Instead he's fishing his earphones out of his bag and turning on the Bluetooth on his phone, settling back on the bench to press play on the voice note again.
He leans back to rest on the wooden stall, closing his eyes so no one can see how panicked and shocked he's sure he's looking right now.
Will's soft moans fill his ears in high quality, only overshadowed by the slick sounds of his hand stroking his cock. He can hear him speed up as his grunts get breathier, then tease himself by slowing down to the point he can only hear him whine, almost complaining as if he's not the one denying himself of an orgasm.
Mack has to recall all the willpower contained in his body not to touch himself right then and there; he resolves sitting on his hands, keeping them secure underneath his thighs.
The three minute audio seems to go on forever, Will's now getting more desperate as he speeds up his movements again, muttering low curses that reach Mack's ears as if he's in the room with him, his own hand stroking Will to completion.
He would make Will feel so good, let him teach him what feels best like he let so many girls before, guiding Mack like he was just a vessel for their pleasure. Smith would be so stern and severe, make him work for it until Mack was perfect for him.
“Fuck…Mack.”
He's so lost in the fantasy being pictured in his head that he almost misses Will's stuttering words as he cums, the audio interrupted shortly after.
He doesn't dare move, still high on the sound of Will saying his name as he makes himself come. He's about to favourite the text like a creep, knowing he's going to be listening to it again for many nights to come, when he sees Will's typing again.
Macklin's still trying to hide his hard on underneath his jersey when he chuckles at Will's text, rubbing a hand over his face in disbelief.
“srry. guess you'll have to go home to shower”
Macklin followed Will on Instagram, Will followed back. He figures they're past that by now. Will doesn't send any more pictures or voice notes but Mack makes good use of what he has already. If he spends more time than usual checking his DMs no one needs to know.
But Will doesn't text him again and Mack feels on the edge constantly, keeping track of the parties he goes to and the people he's seeing through his Insta stories. The mature thing would be for him to just message Will first; Mack kinda realizes the ball is in his court since Smith has started both their previous interactions, but he feels too prideful and embarrassed to do something explicit about it. So he just posts a picture where the most insane hickey he ever pushed anyone into giving him is showing past the collar of his shirt and prays that will urge Will to make contact first, yet again.
It works better than he had expected.
“kinda desperate of you, Mack”
He’s laying in bed past midnight when Will replies to his Insta story; Mack has to hold back his excitement as he sits back against the headboard, letting out a small “yes!”. He stares at the text, planning to let a few minutes go by before opening the notification so as not to look too pathetic, but his impatience is too strong and he’s swiping his thumb on it too quickly.
“wdym?”
“should’ve just tagged me since its clearly for me”
“not like you would’ve done much about it anyways”
He’s waiting for Smith to bite back when he sees the screen switch to a videocall request, the phone vibrating in his hand. He slicks his hair back with a precise motion, wetting his lips with a quick swipe of his tongue before accepting the call.
Will’s in bed as well, but he’s spread out on the sheets, his body angled towards one side of the room where he must’ve propped up his phone, his head on his palm.
“Come on. Show it to me properly Celly.”
Macklin shakes his head as he chuckles, wiggling back against his pillow to get more comfortable.
“I don’t know Smith, had your chance and you wasted it.”
“I don’t recall you being particularly skilled either that night, Macklin.”
“Safe to say we were both disappointed then. Just would’ve expected more from BC’s famous fuckboy, that’s all I’m sayin’”
“Oh shut up, you were the fucking issue!”
“Are you doubting my game Smitty?”
“What game, you’ve been giving me nothing at all!”
“I would’ve blown anyone’s mind in that closet you just-” Macklin sighs as he slides down on the bed as well. “Never mind.”
“I just what?”
“I said never mind.”
“You’re so full of shit Macklin.”
“Just admit you had no idea how to handle all this.” Smith’s eyes wander all over his screen as he clearly checks Macklin out, his teeth peeking out when he slides his tongue over them.
“I’m pretty sure I can handle anyone just fine.”
“Well, except me then.” Macklin knows he’s pushing it, but Will’s smile just gets larger by the second, his eyes cat-like when he chuckles amused.
Will seems pretty content to just bask in silence after that exchange, his eyes focused on the screen so intensively it makes Mack blush as he looks away, busying himself with teasing the hem of his sleeve instead. He can hear Will breathing on the other side of his phone, just biting and chewing on his lips as he seems happy just staring at Macklin. Mack can’t handle the silence for too long, too impatient like always:
“What would you’ve done if it wasn’t me that night? You know, if it was someone you could keep up with.”
He raises his eyes to meet Will’s sultry gaze, taking in his small nods as he pretends to think.
“Well. If it was someone I could keep up with,” and Will pauses for a second, looking at Macklin to see if he’s listening. He seems satisfied to see his attention is fully directed to the screen. “then maybe I would’ve gotten on my knees and made it so they were hard for me. Would’ve kissed over their waist to give ‘em a hickey there, just to remember me by.”
Macklin’s rolling on his back, his head twisted to the side so he can keep his eyes trained on the phone. If Will notices he pretends not to.
“What else?” Macklin hates how his breath’s already laboured, how his voice’s already shaking.
“Would’ve moved quicker than usual, made sure seven minutes were enough to make them cum in my mouth.” Will’s not shy with his words, still staring at Macklin’s every reaction to make sure he doesn’t miss any of the times he licks his lips or closes his eyes for a split second to regain some composure.
“That- uhm that would’ve been enough time? For you?” Macklin’s inching his hands past his waist and squeezing his hips before trailing one hand over his groin, teasing himself outside the camera’s sight at the sound of Will’s patient tone.
“Yeah, I can make it really good if I want to. Would’ve taken their cock on my tongue to make it wet, suck on the tip ‘til they’re begging for more.”
Mack’s head is already spinning at the thought, he doesn’t even realize how noticeable the slow movement of his hips off camera is to Will as he grinds upwards against his hand.
“Maybe would’ve let them pull on my hair a little when they’re really close, so they could fuck my mouth ‘n get down my throat.”
Macklin straight up moans at the thought, throwing his head back against the pillow.
“Yeah, would be nice to hear you shut up for once.” He barks back, but his tone holds no bite.
“Want me to shut up, Macklin?”
“No! No that’s not what I-” Mack licks his lips again, shaking his head when he looks over at his screen once more. He’s so far gone he doesn’t even notice when Will changes subject, hanging on his every word.
“Or maybe I would’ve spun you around in that little closet to get between your legs, pressed my hard cock against that gorgeous ass. Like that more?”
Macklin’s both nodding and shaking his head at the same time, too confused by his own desires to give Will a straight reply.
“Yeah, no I- both is…I like both.”
“You’d just let me do anything? Mhm?” Macklin grunts at the way Will’s voice sounds meaner, deeper than usual. He nods again when he shoves his sweats and boxers down to his knees to wrap a hand around himself, rolling on the side to see Will better. Will’s skin flushed as well, the playful look in his eyes forgotten in favour of something darker.
“Will can I- I need-” he doesn’t really finish the question, too embarrassed to admit how badly he’s affected by the blonde.
“Yeah. You can touch but you can’t come, Mack. You understand that?”
He blurts out something that sounds like an agreement, slowly stroking himself to the sound of Will’s voice, like he’s been doing for nights on end to that voice note he had sent him weeks prior.
“Will can you please keep talking?”
“If I could go back I would push your pants down and spit between your thighs, get my cock between your legs so you could think about how much better it would feel inside you.”
“Fuck, Will…”
“I bet you would’ve begged me to fuck you. Ain’t that right?” Macklin can tell by Will’s voice he’s touching himself as well by a strain on the back of his throat that wasn’t there earlier. There’s faint sounds reaching his ears from the phone’s speaker, skin on skin and clothes brushing on sheets, and everything feels so hot. He wonders if he’s being louder, he definitely is, how much Will can hear of what he’s doing, if he can tell how wet Macklin’s getting just by the slick sounds of his palm on his cock.
“Want it, Will, ‘m so hard.”
“I would’ve cum on your thighs, dragged your sweats back on so you’d have no choice but to keep it on you all night.”
Macklin’s hips jump at the thought and he’s biting on his pillow, squeezing the base of his cock not to finish.
“Will, please! I need to cum so bad-”
“No. Wouldn’t have let you in that closet either. Wanted everyone to see how hard I got you, just mine to cum on.”
“Please I’ll do, I’ll-”
“What Mack? I’m sure there’s nothing you could offer me right now that I haven’t taken already. Take your hand off.”
Macklin takes a while to listen to his order, inhaling deep, whiny breaths against the spit soaked pillow before turning his head towards the phone to watch Will’s shoulder and arm move rhythmically as he brings himself closer to completion; it feels so humiliating when he can’t touch himself.
“You felt so good against me Mack, you were driving me crazy. When I get you all for me again I’m gonna-”
Will’s own sentence is cut short by a moan this time as he takes in the sight of Macklin obeying his order, now staring back at the phone to take in Will’s figure, both his hands back on the bed where Will can see them. Where he can see Mack’s being good for him.
“What? Gonna what?” Macklin’s voice sounds so sleepy and soft and Will just needs to pump his cock a couple more times staring into his needy, watery eyes before he’s coming in his hand.
“Gonna give you everything you want, baby. Just wait for me.”