[Jesus if only he had as many hands as that Kali or something. He wants to hold Larry's head to the crook of his neck but he also wants to grip his hips to keep him in place for a good pounding. In the end Freddy decides to press his (somewhat) messy fingertips into Larry's hair, holding the back of his head like his goddamn life depends on it. His busted wing rests to one side, palm on the old man's hip anyway out of habit. It's not clutching as much as it'd like to but any fucking port in a storm. Frankly, Freddy loves this hurricane.]
Fuck. Fuck baby I'm comin'.
[There's that reedy sound like he might be fucking dying. Instead he's fucking blowing his second load in the old man. It's still kind of a little death.]
no subject
Fuck. Fuck baby I'm comin'.
[There's that reedy sound like he might be fucking dying. Instead he's fucking blowing his second load in the old man. It's still kind of a little death.]