Work Text:
Dennis burrows his head into the dip between Mac’s chin and his shoulder. He slides his leg between Macs’ and tosses one arm over Mac’s side, slotting them together on the bed like two puzzle pieces.
The window is open, letting the afternoon sunlight and idle sound of the street below filter in. Dennis half thought they were going to have sex when Mac followed him into his bedroom, but so far they’ve just cuddled, wrapped up in each others’ bodies. It’s nice. It’s an unexpected resolution to the near-argument they had just before. Mac joked that Dennis hardly touched the lunch Mac made, and Dennis replied he’d eat it if it wasn’t full of chemicals and empty calories. They’ve had this argument a lot recently. It usually results in more yelling, until one of them storms out.
This time, Dennis tried to storm to his bedroom. But then Mac followed him and, fully clothed, flopped onto Dennis’s bed and pulled Dennis on top of him, and that had been that. They haven’t spoken in at least ten minutes, which is rare for them.
Dennis turns his head a bit and noses against Mac’s neck, then kisses just over his carotid artery. He can feel the pulse under his lips. He imagines biting through the artery and tearing it out of Mac’s neck so that Mac can never argue with him again. He imagines Mac’s blood hot on his lips, in his mouth. He looks for somewhere else to kiss.
Mac’s stupid sleeveless t-shirt is still on. Dennis bites at the fabric, tasting the waxy cotton between his lips. When he releases it, the spot is dark from his spit. He nuzzles into Mac’s neck once more.
“Want me to take my shirt off?” Mac says quietly. “Den?”
Dennis shakes his head against Mac’s neck. He brings one hand to pull the shirt down a bit, exposing more of his collarbone. Mac’s stupid muscles make a deep divot between his neck and his chest. He’s running his fingers idly over Dennis’s back. When Dennis shifts up to get a better angle on his collar bone, Mac stills his hand. It rests warmly on Dennis’s shoulder blade.
With his knees straddling one of Mac’s legs and one hand rested on Mac’s firm chest for balance, Dennis dips his head. He lets his teeth graze Mac’s collarbone softly, then presses his lips down and sucks on the skin. He hates Mac. He wants to mark him so everyone knows Mac is his.
Before Dennis can leave a hickey, Mac laughs. Dennis stops and sits up, glaring. He can’t help but feel like Mac is laughing at him.
“Sorry, sorry, Den.” Mac is smiling but obviously trying to hide it. “Tickled.”
Dennis rolls his eyes. He lowers his head down again. He imagines, once more, tearing Mac’s carotid from his neck. He would never be able to laugh at Dennis again without blood flow to his brain, would he? Unable to stop himself, he sinks his teeth into Mac’s skin, not on his neck but over his collarbone, biting hard. Mac audibly sucks a sharp breath in between his teeth.
The bite is over quickly, Dennis pulling away and licking his lips. He feels powerful and righteous, and just a little like a rabid animal. Dennis licks over the bite. He’s left a soft indent of his teeth: ripples in Mac’s skin. He runs his thumb over it, smooth from his spit. He can feel the divots. He wonders how much the bite hurt.
Dennis’s lips and teeth buzz with desire. He wants to bite Mac again, harder. He wants to tear Mac limb from limb with his teeth and the power of his jaw, and then he wants to keep his body somewhere forever.
He’s a little thrown by the impulse, not by the content but by how real it seems.
Mac, as if he can sense something is wrong, reaches up and grabs Dennis by the shoulders. He slowly pulls him down until Dennis is laying on top of him, chest to chest. Mac wraps his arms around Dennis’s back and sneaks his fingers under the bottom of his shirt so he can draw a circle against his bare skin.
It’s comforting, but Dennis tries to not let himself be comforted. He can feel the bite mark under his cheek. It feels unfinished. He knows he can't keep Mac by ripping his body apart. Realistically, he knows that. It doesn't mean the desire to is gone.
After the near-argument, like he always does after they have arguments centered around him, Dennis feels removed from himself. Sometimes he hates how much attention Mac pays to him. If Mac didn't notice Dennis pushing the food from one side of the plate to the other instead of eating it, or hiding his pills, or the clothes from the women's section Dennis sometimes buys for himself, they wouldn't have this problem. He needs to find a way to distract him, to force Mac to see him as something unbroken, not in need of fixing or caretaking.
Dennis touches a hand to Mac’s bicep, letting his fingers rest on the muscle. It flexes and relaxes as Mac reaches his fingers up and down Dennis’s back. The muscle is ridiculous; Mac has no need for biceps like this. It’s terrible that he has them, really. It means Dennis has to work harder to be the more attractive of the two.
Mac has big muscles and dark eyes, and Dennis has sharp teeth and sharp claws. Dennis can't keep Mac his by tearing him apart, but he can do it in other ways.
Dennis can be the desirable object his mother taught him to be: Dennis, if you find someone to love you, never let them see you as ugly or weak. Dennis, always be presentable, always be appealing, and if there’s one way to keep someone loving you, it’s to keep their attraction. It didn't work for his mom in the end. She’d gotten old and Frank had gotten bored.
But Dennis still has time. He can be pretty. He can be attractive. He knows how he will complete the bite mark.
Dennis pulls himself away from the warmth of Mac’s embrace, and slides off of the tangled bedsheets. He ignores Mac’s questioning glance and disappears into his bathroom, closing the door.
In the mirror, he sees his hair is ruined from Mac’s thick fingers: he brushes it back down, sprays some water in it, and carefully re-styles it. He doesn’t do it perfectly: messy hair is sexy, but only when done right. He fixes his sunken eyes and carved-out cheekbones with a layer of makeup, and brightens his face with mascara and a touch of highlighter in the inner-corner of his eye. Science has proven people associate attractiveness with better moral character. Dennis uses this to his advantage.
He tries taking his shirt off, but he doesn’t like the look of his stomach. There is a pinch of fat at his sides, where the hem of his pants sits. He frowns, decides to not eat anything for the rest of the day no matter how much Mac tries to make him eat dinner, and puts his shirt back on. He’ll have to do this again in a few days, after he’s starved himself enough to be skinny again. He can’t let Mac forget his five-star body; surely that’s most of why Mac let the argument go this time.
Dennis eyes the pink lipstick sitting on the counter. This is what will allow him to create his magnum opus. He will create something beautiful, to prove to Mac that he is a perfect being. He purses his lips and carefully puts the lipstick on. He doesn’t look in the mirror too long. He’s ready.
Dennis stands tall and tenses his abs. He opens the bathroom door, smiling.
Mac has moved to sit up against the headboard, the comforter pulled over his thighs and a pillow pushed up to lean back on. His hair is messy and dark against the white pillowcases. He smiles softly at Dennis, but there’s a worry behind his eyes that Dennis wants to wash away.
When Mac registers the lipstick, his mouth falls into a soft “o”.
Dennis can feel heat rising in his cheeks. He tries to suppress it, walking over to the bed with a slight sway in his step. He leans in to kiss Mac on the lips, intending to catch him off guard. Mac isn’t surprised. He meets Dennis half way, pressing their lips together softly and then pushing against him harder. He grabs onto Dennis’s waist and pulls him in.
Dennis moves to straddle Mac, stepping one leg over both of his and then sitting lightly on his hips. He breaks their kiss to pull Mac’s shirt over his head, which Mac lets him do. Mac doesn't try to take Dennis’s shirt off in return. He knows not to. He’s nicer than Dennis is.
Dennis kisses down Mac’s neck and onto his chest, leaving pink lipstick kiss-marks behind. He licks the hollow of Mac’s sternum, and his eyes catch the bite mark from before.
It’s starting to pale, but still slightly pink. He ghosts a finger over it.
“Did this hurt?” He asks.
“Mm?” Mac replies breathily. He’s closed his eyes, fingers tight around Dennis’s hips. “You’re so pretty, Den.”
“The bite, Mac,” Dennis says, sharper than he means to. “Did it hurt when I bit you?”
Mac swipes his thumb under Dennis’s shirt, touching the skin of Dennis’s side where Dennis decided there’s too much fat. Dennis flinches. He tries to sit up a bit straighter. When he speaks again, he tries to make his voice smoother, more appealing.
“Did it hurt, Mac?”
“Nah,” Mac says. He leans in to steal a kiss. Dennis tries to make it a good one. After, Mac continues, “It was no worse than when I kneed the coffee table.”
Stupid, child-like Mac was moving too fast indoors and ran into the coffee table. He had a bruise on his knee for days. “That’s really not the same thing,” Dennis says shortly.
Mac frowns slightly. “I don’t mind if you want to bite me, Den.”
Dennis grins. “Hard?”
“You want to bite me harder than before?” Mac is looking at him with his wide, sad eyes. Dennis hates him.
“Yes! No! I don’t—” Dennis sputters. “Stop being such an idiot, Mac.”
Mac examines Dennis’s face, trying to read him. Dennis looks away, banishing any real emotion. After a moment, Mac says, “Do it, Den.”
Dennis watches Mac’s Adam’s apple bob up and down.
“Bite me. Please.”
Dennis doesn’t need any more of an invitation than that. He leans in and sinks his teeth into Mac’s neck. He bites him as hard as he can; the skin starts to give between his teeth. Mac gasps; his fingers tighten in Dennis’s hair.
Dennis pulls Mac closer to him, pressing their bodies together. Mac’s skin is hot and salty in his mouth. It has a dense, spongy texture that is too good to not let his teeth pierce. Dennis can’t stop. He tastes blood. He can’t stop.
Mac finally pries Dennis away. His neck is red where he bit him, both from the pressure and from tiny beads of blood that start to trickle down. Dennis’s teeth left a perfect circle of indents, framed by a print of the pink lipstick. It’s beautiful. Dennis wants to take a picture of it, to remember the mark he left.
He’s relieved to have succeeded. It's beautiful.
But when he looks at Mac, Mac’s eyes are wet and his eyebrows drawn together in pain. Dennis winces, and slides his finger lightly over the mark. Mac clears his throat and blinks his eyes.
“I didn’t know it would bleed,” Dennis says, half lying.
Mac shakes his head, and says, “I told you to do it, Den. I’m glad you did. I liked it.” He’s trying to smile, but he’s holding his head at an odd angle. His neck is clearly in pain.
“Let me get something to…” Dennis says, but he doesn’t really want to clean it. He doesn't even know how he would.
“Didn’t even hurt,” Mac says with a small shrug. “I’m no pussy!” He blinks warmly at Dennis. “Kiss me again, Den. Kiss me with your pretty lipstick.”
Dennis, hesitantly, leans in and does as Mac asked. When Dennis pulls away, Mac’s lips are also a slight pink.
“Stay here a bit longer?” Mac asks.
Dennis considers leaving, leaving the bed, the room, the apartment. Biting Mac again and again until he admits that it hurts and then leaving him here to bleed out while Dennis goes and starts a new life somewhere he won’t always have to wonder what Mac is doing, and if he’s missing him.
Dennis nods his head. He’s too tired to go anywhere else.
Mac pulls him in again, cradling Dennis’s head to his unbit side. He holds Dennis and lays them both down, getting them comfortable in the bed, hugging him close. Soon, although it’s only afternoon, Mac is asleep, snoring.
Dennis doesn’t feel bad for biting Mac, not really. He doesn’t feel bad about Mac’s pain. But he does feel bad for himself, because today he was violent instead of pretty, and there’s hatred pooling in his stomach that tells him he’ll never be pretty at all.