Chapter Text
In hindsight, it was probably a little too easy to drug Mack when they had the same routine of drinking milk and cookies every night.
They were watching a movie on the leather couch in Mack’s living room, the same couch Will had watched Mack get fucked on just two nights ago, bent over the armrest by some guy from the Hurricanes while Mack cried and came untouched, his thighs slick and shaking.
Will had rewatched the footage four times since. He knew exactly how quick it took for Mack to start begging. Even when the guy didn’t know what he was doing, Mack’s body was so slutty and primed for sex he could come at the slightest provocation.
Watching Mack had become an addiction. He’d always known Mack was a slut, but it wasn’t until they were on the same team together and Will had to watch Mack disappear every other night to meet up with a hockey player from another team or some random guy from Grindr that Will realized how bad it was.
It drove Will crazy, not knowing what Mack was doing with these men. What Mack was letting them do to him.
So one night Will used the spare key Mack naively gave him “just in case” and installed cameras all over Mack’s guesthouse. In the living room, bedroom, even the kitchen. Switched out as many plugs and appliances with replica spyware as he could, and watched the very next night as Mack brought home some enormous stranger to plow his cunt until he cried.
Mack was so beautiful when he was ruined. Will just hated that he was letting other men see him like that, too.
Now, Mack’s head lolled back against the cushion, his throat pale and exposed. He was feeling it already, barely halfway through the glass. The drug was potent and effective, exactly what Will needed for something like this.
“Tastes a little weird,” Mack mumbled, his voice already loose, his words slipping at the edges.
Will watched him take another sip anyway. Mack had never been good at self-preservation. That was part of the problem, part of what made Will’s chest ache with a kind of violence he’d learned to control and store in the space behind his ribs where no one could see.
“What does?” Will asked, voice even.
“This.” Mack held up the glass, white liquid catching the low light. His wrist was pale and bruised, a ring of finger-shaped marks Will hadn’t put there. “Bitter or something.”
“Just because you have an insane sweet tooth doesn’t mean milk tastes bitter in comparison,” Will said dryly, and felt his chest tighten when Mack laughed, breathy and sweet, and drank again.
Will counted Mack’s sips. Watched the way his throat moved when he swallowed. The way his lashes fluttered a little heavier each time. He knew the timeline. The drug took fifteen minutes to hit full saturation, twenty to make the edges go soft, thirty before Mack wouldn’t remember his own name. Will had tested it. Not on Mack. On himself first, alone in his room, timing the slide from awareness into that warm, compliant haze. He needed to know what it felt like. What Mack would feel.
Ten minutes in, Mack’s head tipped forward. He caught himself, blinked hard.
“Shit,” he mumbled. “Guess I’m more tired than I thought.”
“You’ve been working too hard.” Will’s voice came out gentle. He reached over, brushed the hair from Mack’s forehead, let his fingers linger on the warm skin there. Mack leaned into the touch like a cat. Like he was starved for it. And maybe he was. Maybe that was the whole fucking problem.
“Willy,” Mack whined, and god, the way he said it. Soft, trusting, perfect. In college, they’d been rivals, and Will had wanted to destroy him. Then he’d wanted to keep him. It didn’t take long before he realized they were the same thing.
“Yeah, Mackie?”
“I—I think I need to lie down.”
Will stood first, offered Mack his hand. Mack took it without hesitation, his palm hot and a little damp, his grip looser than it should have been. Will pulled him up, felt the way Mack swayed, how his body listed toward Will’s like gravity had decided where he belonged.
“Come on,” Will murmured. “I’ll take you to bed.”
He led Mack down the hallway he knew by heart. Twelve steps from the living room, the third floorboard creaks, the door to the bedroom has a sticky handle. Will pulled it open with a hard twist, guided Mack inside, and closed the door behind them.
The bed was made, but the sheets were still a little rumpled from the night before, when Mack had brought home a stocky forward from the Bruins after the game. Will had watched from his room in the Marleau guest house a few miles away, phone propped against a water bottle, the grainy night-vision setting painting Mack in shades of green and gray. He’d watched the guy fuck Mack from behind, one hand fisted in his hair, the other gripping his hip so hard Will could see the pressure of his fingers even through the shitty camera. Mack had come with his face pressed into the pillow, muffling sounds that Will wanted to memorize.
He wouldn’t need the recordings anymore. Not after tonight.
Mack collapsed back onto the mattress like a limp doll, sprawling across the rumpled sheets. His shirt rode up, exposing a strip of pale stomach, and Will saw more bruises there, purple and blue, the ghost of someone’s mouth on his skin. Will’s jaw tightened.
“Willy.” Mack’s voice was slurry now, eyes half-closed. “Stay. Don’ wanna be alone.”
“You won’t be.” Will sat on the edge of the bed, ran his hand down Mack’s chest, felt the rapid flutter of his heartbeat. The drug wouldn’t slow his heart, just his thoughts and his resistance. “I’m right here.”
Mack smiled, drowsy and soft, and Will wanted to break something. He wanted to crack open Mack’s ribs and crawl inside and never leave. He wanted to empty every man Mack had ever touched out of him until there was nothing left but Will’s name, Will’s hands, Will’s cock filling the space they’d left behind.
He waited. Ten more minutes. Watched Mack’s breathing even out, watched his eyes drift closed and open and closed again. When Will said his name, Mack hummed in response but didn’t speak. When Will touched his cheek, Mack turned into his palm.
“Macklin.” Will’s voice dropped, low and quiet, as he finally spoke things he probably shouldn’t say out loud. “Baby, I’m going to take care of you now. Okay?”
Mack’s lips parted. He barely made a sound, but whether he intended to agree or not didn’t matter. Will had waited long enough.
He stripped Mack carefully, so gently, like he was handling something delicate and precious instead of getting ready to ruin Mack in ways he’d been dreaming for months. His sweater first, pulling it over his head, revealing the constellation of marks across his chest and stomach and shoulders. Will traced each one with his fingertips, memorizing the sight of them, the heat of his damaged skin. Some were fresh, still tender. Others were fading, yellow at the edges. Mack had been busy. Mack had been selfishly giving away what belonged to Will, and that was Will’s fault for not claiming him sooner.
He pulled off Mack’s jeans and briefs, until Mack lay naked beneath him, his cunt soft and exposed between his thighs. Even now, it was so lovely and pink, already slightly slick with arousal, as if he knew Will would be doing this tonight and wanted to make it as easy for him as he could. Will’s mouth went dry.
“Pretty,” he breathed, the word scraping out of him. “You’re so fucking pretty, Mack. Do you know that? Do you know what you do to me?”
Mack made a small sound, hardly an answer. His eyes were hazy and half-lidded, closing for several beats after each blink like he took too much energy to muster up the energy to open them again, his head rolled to the side, soft hair fanning across the pillow. He looked debauched already, and Will hadn’t even started.
He stripped himself slower. Let Mack watch, if he could still see. Let the image burn into whatever part of his brain was still working. Will’s body was built for hockey, broad shoulders, strong thighs, toned muscles honed from training, but it was his cock he knew surprised people. Long and thick and obvious, even with his clothes on. He got comments on it all the time in the locker room, but he knew the guys were just jealous. Even Mack seemed embarrassed whenever he caught a glimpse of him, his pretty cheeks flushing every time as he averted his eyes.
Now his cock stood hard and heavy, dark veins mapping the length of it, the head flushed and leaking. Will wrapped a hand around himself and stroked once, twice, watching Mack’s barely conscious face for a reaction.
Mack’s lips parted around a whisper, and Will leaned in to catch it.
“Please.”
Will’s chest cracked open. “Please what, baby?”
But Mack was too far gone to answer. His eyes were fully closed now, his breathing deep and even. He was floating somewhere soft and dark, and Will was going to pull him back from it slowly, filling every inch of that empty space until Mack woke up knowing who he belonged to.
He positioned Mack’s body the way he wanted it, legs apart, knees bent, arms limp. Will anchored one hand against the bed, the other gripping his own cock, guiding it to Mack’s entrance. He was so fucking hot, and wet. He wanted this, maybe as much as Will did. Will brushed the head of his cock through Mack’s folds, gathering wetness, watching Mack’s body react even in his stupor, shuddering slightly, a soft gasp escaping his lips, hips tilting up in search of more.
“Shh,” Will breathed. “I’ve got you. You don’t have to do a thing.”
Finally, he pushed inside.
The broken little sound Mack made went straight through Will’s spine. The heat of him was impossible. Tight and wet and yielding, his body accepting Will inch by inch like it had been waiting for this, like every other man had only been a rehearsal for this. He sank deeper, deeper, spreading Mack’s cute little cunt wide around him, forcing him open, until his hips pressed flush against Mack’s thighs, Mack’s body gripping him like a fist.
Will looked down, seeing the faint swell in Mack’s lower belly from where he was forced to accommodate massive length inside him, and he felt dizzy.
“Fuck, just look at you,” Will groaned, voice rough. “You’ve probably never had something that big inside you before, huh? But you’re taking me, you’re taking me so perfectly. You were made for this, made to be forced open by my cock.”
Mack’s eyes fluttered open, glassy and unfocused. He looked down, or tried to, and made a sound that was halfway between a gasp and a whine. His hand moved weakly, pressing against his own stomach, feeling the shape of Will inside him.
“W-Will?” Mack’s voice was slurred, barely audible. He wouldn’t remember this in the morning, the drug would make sure of that, but he could feel it now. It probably hurt a little, being spread this much so suddenly, and fuck if that didn’t turn Will on even more. It made Will want to spoil him rotten or fuck him until he broke. Either or.
“Yeah, baby. It’s me.”
“Feels…” Mack’s head fell back, his voice breaking with another whine. “F-feels so full.”
Will couldn’t help but coo. “Oh, I know, sweetheart, it’s okay. I’m going to fill you so full you’ll never wanna be empty again.”
Will fucked him slowly at first, dragging his cock almost all the way out before pushing back in, watching the way Mack’s body accepted him, the way his cunt clung and gripped and pulled him deeper. The sounds Mack made—soft and wrecked and mindless—were better than anything Will had heard through the cameras. Real and ruined, all for him.
Will increased his pace, fucking Mack deeper, harder, each thrust pressing against that spot inside that made Mack’s whole body jolt. Mack’s hands fisted weakly in the sheets, his back arching, a broken cry spilling from his lips. His cunt fluttered around Will, hot and perfect, and Will knew he wasn’t going to last. Not the first time. He’d spent months watching Mack get fucked, jerking off to grainy footage of other men taking what was his. He’d been on the edge for weeks.
“I’m going to come inside you,” Will gritted out. “And you’re going to take it, every drop. And when I’m done, I’m going to fuck you again and again and again until I’m the only thing that can satisfy you, and you’re gonna wake up feeling so empty and wishing I could be with you, without knowing why.”
Mack’s response was a desperate sob, his body tightening as he came. Will didn’t know Mack could come like this, drugged and drifting as he was, but apparently he could, his cunt clenching around Will in tight pulses, a rush of wet heat slicking around him in a way that nearly sent Will over the edge. He held himself still, buried to the hilt, and watched Mack’s face contort with pleasure and desperation.
“Good boy,” Will whispered. “So good for me, so sweet.”
It only took a few more thrusts for Will to follow. He came with his teeth in Mack’s shoulder, muffling a groan that felt like it had been building for years. His cock pulsed, emptying into Mack’s body, and he fucked it deeper with shallow thrusts, watching his cum leak around the base of him, watching Mack’s distended belly press against his own.
He pulled out slowly. His cum followed, sliding down Mack’s thigh, pooling on the sheets. But Will wasn’t finished. He pushed two fingers inside, scooping it back in, pressing it deep.
“Not wasting any,” he murmured. “Every drop belongs in you.”
Mack’s eyes had closed again, his breathing slow and even. He was gone, lost to the drug and his orgasm and the sheer overwhelming presence of being filled. Will kissed his forehead, his cheek, the corner of his mouth.
“Rest, baby,” Will murmured. “Don’t worry, I’ll make you feel just as good for round two.”