Chapter Text
In a rundown apartment building somewhere in south Philly, two men climb the stairs with the damp heat of late summer running under their clothes. It’s only late afternoon but the threat of work is dead and done - no customers, no air conditioning, no goddamn way we’re spending another second in this overheated shithole tonight, Frank, so go ahead and dock our paychecks you old bitch. Lavender dusk slants through the window at the end of the hall.
Finally, Dennis thinks, synapses crackling as their hands brush together, both men impatient to be on the other side of the front door as they reach for the knob at the same time. Mac doesn’t jerk away anymore - not fearfully, or apologetically, or any other way. The neediness is still there but without the same kind of insecurity that poisoned them in the past - it’s just a hot, heavy weight that Dennis wants to pin himself beneath. It’s only been a few weeks of this - whatever the fuck this is supposed to be - but they’ve slipped into it as easily as any of the characters they’ve played together over the years. Mac’s mouth on his feels as natural as sunlight, an inevitable force that’s still just so fucking intense, from their first kiss (after-hours and wine-drunk in the Paddy’s back office) to the one that’s about to happen on the other side of their front door.
They barely make it into the apartment before he’s got Mac pressed into the winter coats that have hung unused for months on the back of the door, losing himself in the way the other man’s body hums beneath his wandering fingers - Mac’s mouth, Mac’s face, Mac’s arms, Mac’s smell. His lips part to allow Mac’s tongue to rush against his own, sweat mingling where their foreheads meet. Fucking finally.
He’ll never get tired of this, he thinks (he knows) - not ever. The deep tan of Mac’s summer skin holds the bitter, salty-sweet flavor of burnt caramel, and Dennis wants to hold it between his tongue and the roof of his mouth until the leaves change color. Mac moans, echoing Dennis’ his thoughts into his open mouth as broad, impatient hands crawl up his chest, his neck, his face, settling restlessly in his hair.
On the other side of the kiss, Mac loves Dennis like this - the mask slipping as he crowds Mac against the door like he’s trying to climb inside him, face flushed pink and lightheaded with desire as much as the heat. He loves that it’s all the time now, that he gets this every day - the tension building thickly like storm clouds at the end of July every time they accidentally brush together at the bar, only allowed to burst, finally, in the cool dark privacy of the apartment. It’s not just finally feeling wanted, he thinks - it’s knowing it. It’s in the taste of the slow, dirty rhythm of Dennis’ mouth, it’s in the way Dennis’ hands move down to tug his shirt over his head to feed the intense, starved look in his eyes. It’s there in the way they’ve fallen asleep together in Dennis’ bed every night for the last three weeks and it’s still there in the morning when Mac watches the gentle rise and fall of his chest in the calm clouds of sleep.
And this evening, in the living room, it’s there in the telltale flex of Dennis’ fingertips against Mac’s thighs, like it’s taking everything in him not to drop to his knees and suck him dry right there in the doorway. He pulls back, his mouth curving into a smile as he drinks in the sight of Mac tilting his chin to chase the kiss, lips slick and cheekbones tinged pink. He gives Mac’s thighs another squeeze and feels Mac’s dick twitch against his in response, once again fighting the urge to test the resistance of Mac’s fleshy inner thighs with his teeth. He lets the feeling linger for as long as he can stand it, leaning into the drag of his fingers as they wander up Mac’s thighs, crooking his thumbs in the bottom of Mac’s shorts and pulling them up, fabric pooling around his groin and exposing dark hair against pale skin. Mac breathes sharply through his nose when Dennis’ hands move to cup his ass, pulling them together as he kneads a rough code into his flesh, intelligible only to the two of them, as his mouth finds Mac’s again. They rock together against the door, speed moving from urgent to unhurried, rutting lazily into one another as the prospect of having the rest of the night to do this unspools before them. Dennis feels his knuckles graze the plyboard as Mac flexes beneath him; Mac feels the buttons of Dennis’ shirt digging into his bare chest.
Finally, Mac thinks, we’re finally on the same goddamn page.
It’s like Mac can read his mind when Dennis feels the other man’s hands fumbling with his button-down. He lets his hands leave Mac’s body only for the amount of time it takes him to peel off his shirt before returning to him, chest-to-chest. He feels their heartbeats thud into the same tempo as Dennis laces his fingers through Mac’s and pins his clammy hands above his shoulders, pressed against the door. When he pulls himself out of the kiss and sees him - Mac with his mouth swollen and stubble-chafed, his brow slick with shared sweat, eyes dark and shiny - Dennis almost whimpers.
“God it’s so fucking hot in here,” is what comes out of his mouth instead.
“Wanna stop?” Mac leans in to nip his jawline, tasting salt and foundation as he grinds himself against Dennis’ hard cock through his jeans.
“Shut up,” he pants, rutting back and burying Mac deeper still into the coats. “Like I could…like you don’t know what you’re doing to me right now…ah, fuck… ”
“Dennis,” Mac swallows thickly. “Den, can we…I want…”
Dennis quirks his eyebrows. The list of Things Mac Wants is almost as long as the list of Things Mac Thinks He Wants.
“Bed?” He asks, untangling their hands to crook one index finger into the front of Mac’s underwear and the other to cup his balls through the pliant fabric of his shorts.
Mac nods, looking dazed like someone’s just clobbered him with a cartoon mallet, and Dennis smudges the corner of Mac’s smiling mouth with a final hard kiss as the other man pushes himself shakily away from the door, permitting Dennis to lead him to the bedroom by his dick (which, frankly, is how he’d permit Dennis to lead him anywhere).
They fall into Dennis’ bed naked, having peeled off the rest of their damp clothes in the ten strides between the front door and the bedroom. Mac can taste the sweat on Dennis’ skin when he buries his face in the other man’s chest hair, when he rolls his tongue across a nipple. He grins at the hiss he elicits above, kissing his way up Dennis’ body til he reaches his mouth once more. Dennis can smell Mac’s faded Drakkar Noir on his neck like a distant memory - even though he’s always made fun of Mac for his lack of taste, he’s always secretly preferred it when he’s wearing two colognes, even the smell of him coming on strong and certain in a way that was sometimes overwhelming. Sometimes, he thinks. But not always. He’d never say it out loud, but he’s always liked things a little overwhelming; the rush of the moment when he realizes the control he pretends to covet is taken from him.
Tonight just the heat of Mac’s body on top of him is almost too much in the still summer evening of his bedroom, but he’s waited for this for so long, wanted this for so goddamn long. And if he’s a little nervous, well - he’s secure enough that he can admit that to himself, even if he would rather die than admit it to Mac. The thing is that what Mac knows - or thinks he knows - about Dennis’ sexual history remains a kind of a gray area between them.
Sure, Mac’s watched all of Dennis’ tapes to the point that some of them don’t even work anymore - especially the ones where he lets the chick slip him a finger or two mid-BJ - just like Dennis has watched Mac watch those tapes and seen the presumptions forming in the furrow between his eyebrows in real time. A classic play - if this is what I’m prepared to show you, just imagine what else I’ve done - and if Dennis has never explicitly corrected the assumption that maybe it’s gone further than that, much further, that Dennis actually knows what he’s doing when it comes to getting fucked in the ass by anyone other than the vibrator in his bedside table, well…
Maybe it’s one part of their old dynamic that he’s not quite ready to give up, to let soften. He’s used to being the one with the sexual experience and the video evidence to back it up, doling out wisdom to his less fortunate friends, and maybe he’s not ready to accept the fact that in the years since he came out Mac’s acquired enough rungs on his sexual ladder to climb to the fucking moon, going from a hostile closet-case to a man that has probably had more gay sex than any Catholic alive today - and given what Dennis knows about the Vatican, that’s saying something.
It’s not that Dennis doesn’t get a kick out of the idea of Mac fucking another man - quite the opposite, honestly - it’s the fact that he’s terrified of embarrassing himself in front of a man he’s so used to having the upper-hand with. It’s the reason that, despite sharing the same bed and almost collapsing under the weight of actualized sexual tension every day for the last few weeks, they’ve reached a stalemate at third base.
It’s happening tonight, though, he’s going to make goddamn sure of it - he’s waxed, he’s douched, he’s deleted the browser history on their laptop that contains evidence of the extent of his research - he’s fucking ready. He pulls Mac on top of him, looping his legs around his waist as he rolls his lower body up into the other man’s groin.
Mac moans into Dennis’ mouth and wonders if this is it, if the timing’s right to suggest they take things up a notch. He’s not used to having to wonder - in all his no-strings hookups over the last few years, the question is answered in the time it takes to send a dick pic and receive a location. He never has to worry about whether it’s a dream, or a misunderstanding, or if the sight of his asshole is going to induce the other guy into a frenzy of gay panic that drives him out of Mac’s arms, for good this time, leaving him alone with all those old feelings and his guard down.
He’s seen the tapes, seen the tools, and he knows Dennis is open to a lot of shit outside the paradigm of what most people would stupidly refer to as ‘normal’ sex (Mac, too, has been furtively deleting their browser history, trying to broaden his understanding of what Dennis likes) - but Mac can tell from the anxious way Dennis arches his body beneath him that he’s never fucked a man, and if they do it tonight he’ll be Dennis’ first. It’s the most thrilling and intimidating thing he’s ever felt in bed, and he mentally congratulates himself for having the foresight to skip lunch today.
The first step to making sure Dennis doesn’t freak out is to make him feel like he’s on top mentally as well as physically, Mac reasons, as he rolls onto his back pulling Dennis with him.
“You’re so fucking hot, Den,” Mac says, erasing the confused frown that flickers across Dennis’ brow when he reaches between their bodies to wrap his hand around Dennis’ dick.
He’s a little flustered that Mac’s missed the hints he’s been laying down since their bodies hit the mattress, but as Mac’s hand starts to rock back and forth along the curve of his cock Dennis mind swirls. He loves this, all of it - loves feeling Mac’s body against his, the way affection practically oozes out of him as he wraps himself around Dennis’ body, arms and legs encircling him in a way Dennis would’ve once mistaken for a trap. Now it just feels like home, like comfort - but that’s not all he wants tonight and within minutes he’s feeling impatient again. It could be the ripe smell of summer being carried through the cracked window, or maybe it’s the humid closeness of the room’s four walls, or maybe it’s simply the fact that he hasn’t had Mac like this since this morning, an eternity ago - sweating, naked, in the paradise of his sheets - or Christ, it’s the fact that it’s fucking Mac isn’t it? That’s the thing compressing the electric tension that’s been sizzling between them ever since Mac put his hand on Dennis’ thigh back at the bar when nobody was looking, eyes flitting to the door in wordless communication. Let’s get out of here. He loves that they know each other inside out, that they can practically read each other’s minds - except right now Mac doesn’t seem to get that if he keeps going this’ll be over long before either of them wants it to be.
The fact that the word ‘adorable’ is the first adjective that comes to mind when he sees the dismayed look on Mac’s face at the words “Wait, stop…” is something Dennis hopes he never has to admit to another human being before he remembers that he’s allowed now. He can look, he can touch. He can ask Mac to fuck him.
“Are you…you don’t like it?”
Dennis almost laughs in Mac’s face at the absurdity of it.
“Of course I like it, idiot, I think it’s pretty obvious that I…” He peels himself off of Mac’s sweat-sticky torso and slips onto the mattress beside him, resting one hand on Mac’s chest and using his other arm to prop himself up. “It’s great, Mac. You’re great, really, and I think…that I— I really…I really love doing this with you, man—” Stop getting sidetracked by the lovehearts in his eyes and just say it, fuck!
“I love it too, Dennis, seriously, I—”
“But— ”
“But—?” Oh God. Fuck. He’s done. It’s—
“But,” Dennis holds his hand up gently, sensing the panic bubbling beneath Mac’s expression. “I think we get so caught up in how good— like, fucking incredible — it feels and then we just end up sucking each other off and falling asleep. Which, again, is…is awesome, it’s—” His eyes glaze over dreamily as Mac’s cock brushes his thigh.
“Yeah?” Mac grins, head spinning from the emotional one-eighty it’s just done.
“It’s the best, so incredible it’s stupid - where you learned to do that shit that I don’t even want to know…” He regrets phrasing it like this as soon as he says it, seeing the words start to bubble up in Mac’s throat like a wellspring.
“I’ll tell you if you want, I’ll—” Dennis holds his hand up and Mac falls silent once again.
“No! Not right now, anyway, I mean— what I’m trying to say, Mac, is that I think we…” Jesus Christ, how can asking your boyfriend to plow you be this mortifying? Does it ever get less mortifying? He wonders what he’d need to tap into Google to get the answer.
“Jesus, Mac, I want to bang you!”
There’s a beat of silence where Dennis feels like his whole body’s suddenly set to vibrate, unable to parse the expression on Mac’s face. Is this the part where he laughs in your face? Where he tells you he’s not fucking a guy that can barely even ask for it, that it’s obvious that you’re as petrified by the fact that you’ve never done this before as you are of him changing his mind and taking it all away from you?
“Like, bang me-bang me? You really want that?” Mac whispers. No dream. No misunderstanding. No gay panic - at least not the kind Mac was worried about. “Like, you’re sure?”
Dennis rolls his eyes. “Ye-es!”
“And...and you’re sure you’re ready, just…” Mac juggles his next words carefully. “I mean…it’s just, it can be a lot and I know you haven’t been with any…I mean, many guys - not as many as me, anyway, because I’ve fucked a lot of guys. Like a lot, like a shit ton of dudes, Dennis—”
“Yeah, thanks Mac, I get it—”
“—I mean threeways, fourways, orgies, public sex, sex in cars, sex in bathrooms, sex in bath houses, sex in some guy’s apartment that also ends up being his husband’s apartment and the husband comes home early and I end up banging both of—”
“Jesus, I said I get it—” Dennis tries to interrupt as Mac babbles, counting out on his fingers all the ways he’s gotten a stranger off.
“—fisting, bobsledding, hot yoga, cold yoga, crop rotation, cobra clutching, Catholic Guilt, watersports, water slides, scruffing, sploshing, spelunking, power-bombing, frog-splashing, tag-teaming, snake-milking, blue-balling, backdrafting, German suplexing, Canadian medium-density housing, doinking, reverse doinking...I mean—”
“You’re just making words up now, Mac—” Or so he hopes.
“—beefcakes, twinks, cubs, bears, otters, wolves, pigs, hunks, twunks, gay dads, straight dads…I mean I’ve blown through some serious pipe at this point and I know that like, you haven’t necessarily…you know…” His tone picks up at the dangerous look on Dennis’ face.
“Mac,” Dennis kisses him. “Please stop talking.”
Mac presses his lips together in a straight, dramatic line, eyes round and apologetic.
“Can we just do this?” Dennis kisses him again, sighing as Mac nods emphatically with his mouth clamped shut. “Jesus, I didn’t mean— you can talk, Mac.”
“Oh, thank god!” Mac exhales like he’s letting go of a breath he’s been holding for weeks. “Man, I can’t believe we’re about to do this…”
“Well, believe it,” Dennis replies. “I’ve been thinking about this for so long, you know that?”
“Really?” he runs his hands up Dennis’ side.
“Really,” he pecks the word into Mac’s cheekbone. “Every time I touch myself I think of you doing it, you know, you being the one—”
“Yeah? Fuck, me too, always you, always—”
“How do you uh…” Dennis clears his throat. “How d’you…want it?”
Mac shrugs, biting his lip. “Well, we’ve gotta, you know…do some groundwork before we get into it—”
Dennis nods, hoping he knows exactly what Mac’s talking about. He knows how he does it when he’s by himself, surely it can’t be that different?
“So maybe…maybe on all fours?” Mac continues. “That way you can really get in…”
Dennis doesn’t need any further prompting, he just wants to get into it already, and so the end of Mac’s sentence is eclipsed by the flurry of movement as the two men move from one end of the bed to the other - and this is how, in a half-dark bedroom somewhere in south Philly, Mac and Dennis find each other facing in opposite directions, asses in the air as they wait for something that’s never coming, nerves fraying with every passing second.
Dennis starts to feel self conscious. He can feel what little breeze is entering through the window rustle the hairs on his ass cheeks. Is this part of it? he wonders. Some kind of niche gay foreplay he doesn’t know about? Surely not, right? He’s done the research, for god’s sakes - the furtive decoding of Grindr key words (BB, DP, UC, HH, LTR, Charli XCX), the checking of Mac’s porn history on their shared computer, the long-ago drunken nights in his college dorm room rubbing up against some guy from his frat that he’d never look in the face during daylight hours. This is what it’s all been for, what it’s all been leading to! He’s a sensual man for Christ’s sakes, and based on everything he’s seen and done he knows Mac should at least be a couple of fingers deep in him by now.
Meanwhile, Mac’s cheeks - the ones on his face - are burning with more than just the languid evening heat. He flexes his stomach, seeking reassurance - he knows he looks good, but what if that’s not enough? What if Dennis has changed his mind? It wouldn’t be the first time he’s checked out and left when it feels like they’re right on track. What if - despite everything he’s done and said to the contrary over the last few weeks - what if he still thinks Mac is needy and ugly and annoying and desperate? Despite Mac’s reassurances earlier, he does have more experience than Dennis, and they both know it - what if Dennis doesn’t know what to do ? Dennis doesn’t do well when he feels incompetent. What if he gets mad about the fact that he doesn’t know what he’s doing? And mad about the fact that Mac knows that he doesn’t know what he’s doing, and what if when he knows that Mac knows that he doesn’t know what he’s doing he storms out and slams the door and gets dressed and moves back to North Dakota and never speaks to Mac again and—
“Mac?” The sound of Dennis’ voice cuts through the panic rising in Mac’s throat. “You okay back there?”
Mac frowns in the direction of the dresser, clearing his throat. “Uh…yeah dude, what about you?”
“Just, uh…are you like, gonna touch me at some point?”
“I mean…I can try? It’s kind of hard if you’re behind me—”
“Behind you? I’m not— you’re the one who— oh no, no…dude…you have got to be kidding me…”
“What?” Mac looks back over his shoulder, only to find Dennis doing the same at the other end of the bed, wearing a bewildered expression. “ No …”
“What do you mean no? ” Dennis moans. “I couldn’t have been clearer, Mac!”
“Neither could I!”
“You told me you were a top!”
“What? I— when? ”
“Like…like ten years ago! On the cruise—”
“Ten years ago? Dude, ten years ago I was still telling you I was straight!”
“So?!”
“So if I said I was a top it was also clearly bullshit! And I know you never believed I was straight, why the hell would you believe I was a top?!”
They flop back onto the mattress side by side.
“I guess it was just…wishful thinking,” Dennis grimaces, covering his face with his hands.
“I figured you were…” Mac shrugs with his mouth. “Y’know, you’re used to it with chicks, being the one that—”
“I don’t want to bang a chick, I want to bang you, asshole! I want to be banged by you! Maybe you could—”
“Den-nis,” Mac whines, expression pained. “I don’t have it in me any more, man! Seriously, God made me to take dick, like a tremendous amount of dick—”
“—and I simply don’t want to! I don’t want to do it, I won’t have it, Mac, I won’t—! ”
“I don’t think I physically can top anymore, my glutes—”
“Please, Mac, I’m begging you, don’t turn this into a conversation about muscle groups…” Dennis pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing. “God damn it…”
“Are you displeased with me?”
“No!” He takes a deep breath through his nose. "No."
“Okay.”
He turns to look at Mac, flat on his back and staring forlornly at the ceiling. Something inside Dennis softens at the solemn expression on his face and the way he’s worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. He shuffles closer and tilts Mac’s face toward him, stubble pricking his fingertips.
“It’s nothing,” he tells himself as much as the man beside him. “A minor setback. We’ll be fine. We are fine.”
Mac nods, wrapping his fingers around the ones touching his face, pulling them down to rest in the center of his chest.
“Shit, dude, I really thought this time we were on the same…y’know…”
“…wavelength?”
Mac grimaces. “I was gonna say page…”
They stare at the ceiling for a few minutes, recalibrating.
“What the hell do we do now?” Dennis asks.
Mac shrugs. “Mouth stuff?”
Dennis sighs.
“Fine. Come here…”
In a rundown apartment building somewhere in south Philly, two bottoms blow each other on top of the covers and wonder what the fuck they’re going to do about the holes inside themselves that they believed, briefly, were finally going to be filled.
When Dennis wakes up he finds Mac staring at the ceiling again. Velvety motes of light enter the room through the gap between the curtains.
“Morning,” he says, speech still slurred with sleep. He rolls over, draping his arm over Mac's body, fingers carding through his chest hair.
“Hey,” Mac places his hand over Dennis’ forearm, stilling him. Dennis’ eyes flick open.
“Hm? What is it?”
Mac pulls his lower lip between his teeth. “Can I ask you something?”
Panic ticks through Dennis. “Uh, yeah? I…”
“It’s about…last night. Does this mean…”he hesitates, swallowing thickly.
Dennis raises his eyebrows.
“I mean…are we breaking up?”
For the second time in twelve hours Dennis almost laughs until he catches the earnest, fragile expression on Mac’s face.
“What? No, of course not I— “ Dennis pauses, the thought turning to lead inside him. “Shit, do you want to break up?”
“NO! Obviously, no, not…I just didn’t know if you’d still want…y’know…” He shrugs.
“Whether I’d still want…?”
“Me,” Mac says, looking everywhere but at Dennis.
“Are you kidding?” Dennis props himself up on his elbow. “Mac, it’s taken us a truly insane amount of time to get here - I’m not throwing that out the window because we…because we share a…a common interest…wait, have you been laying here all night waiting for me to wake up and dump you?”
Mac nods, bottom lip trembling as he lets his jaw unclench. Dennis pulls Mac against his chest, running his hands through his hair.
“You’re an idiot,” he says affectionately. Mac laugh-sobs and pulls back. “Please don’t cry though dude, you know how horny it makes me.”
“Me too,” Mac says, eyes shimmering.
“I’m serious,” Dennis laughs. “It’s gonna take me a day just to recover from that thing you did with your tongue last night…”
“And yesterday morning,” Mac hiccups, grinning suggestively as he walks his fingers across Dennis’ bare chest.
“Mac! C’mon, focus…”
“Fine,” Mac groans. “Well, if you’re not breaking up with me…what are we gonna do about it?”
“You got any suggestions?”
“Well…I mean, there are plenty of gay dudes who don’t even do butt stuff—”
“Please don’t call it that—”
“— and that’s totally cool—”
Dennis cranes his neck, shooting him a look.
“Maybe for those guys! You already spent the first half of your life not getting fucked in the ass, Mac - you really want to go the rest of our lives without it too? You? The biggest dick pig I’ve ever met? Be serious, please.”
“You think we’ll be together for the rest of our lives? Den, dude—”
Dennis rolls his eyes, tipping his head back against the pillow.
“Mac, seriously! I said focus! ”
“And I told you, I am focusing,” Mac says, unable to suppress the grin smeared across his face as he cups Dennis through his briefs.
Dennis thinks for a moment - thinks carefully about what he’s going to suggest. Mac could take it one of two ways - one, as Dennis implying that he’s not enough, resulting in a deeply annoying spiral of insecurity (which, if Dennis is honest with himself, is how he’d feel if he was on the other side of this conversation); two, Mac leaps at the chance to have two dicks for the price of one (which, if Dennis is honest with himself and pretends the knowledge doesn’t send him into a bit of an insecurity spiral of his own, is far the more likely outcome).
“Look,” he begins tentatively. “When your sink gets backed up you don’t just up and move out, right?”
“Uh…I don’t know?”
Dennis sighs. “You don’t…you don’t just give up on the apartment, right? You lay down a couple of towels and call a plumber to come check out the pipes, Mac. You see what I’m getting at?”
“...is the sink broken?”
“No, Mac I— Jesus Christ, I’m saying we should call a plumber, OK, and get him to deal with the situation we’re having. With our pipes. Please tell me you understand what I’m saying.”
Mac frowns. “You…want to call a plumber and…get him to bang us?”
“No—”
“What if he’s not gay?"
"Who?"
"The plumber? Seems like it’d get expensive as shit running through all the plumbers in Philly trying to find a—”
“We’re not banging any plumbers!” Dennis sighs in exasperation. “Or…I mean, maybe - as a last resort. What I’m trying to say is that we need to outsource the solution to our problem. We can do it together, pick him out together, it’ll be like…like a—”
“A manhunt?” Mac’s eyes widen. Dennis smiles.
“Yeah, baby - a manhunt. Manhunt 2.0. Although I doubt it’ll be much of a hunt, I mean…” he chuckles. “Seriously, it’s a big city - it can’t be that hard to find a guy willing to top us. Right?”
The pained look Mac gives him once again reminds Dennis just how little experience he has in this particular field. Dennis feels his dick stir.
“Still think you could cry?”
“Say the part where you think finding a top is easy again and I might.”
Dennis ducks under the covers and, for the third time in 24 hours, finds himself wondering how long either of them are going to be able to tide themselves over with blowjobs and vibrating silicone.