You--think about that? Leavin' me so...fuckin' wrecked, when I sit down I get misty--cause the chair's missin' your cock?

[Talking smack is still possible with some effort even though his own groaning and gasping sort of undermines his smug attitude. When that paw wraps around him he's secretly relieved because he needs to brace the ground again or risk scooting back a few inches. Wait what? He quirks a brow at Larry. Is he really going to make Freddy do that? Shit he is.]

Damn man...fuck. Okay. [The kid concedes under a panting breath. He's got to shift a little first, one leg off the old man's shoulder to touch the ground, both foot and palms flat. It's enough grip and leverage for Freddy to start bucking back and worth.]

Like this...? Fuckin' myself on ya?