whitetwoguns | But I ain't no madman.

[Darker still tanned skin with pale and freckled moving together in the frame should not leave much more to the imagination after what was captured.]

S'how I love it.

[Making all hard and heavy topics and issues disappear for the time. It's like a drug. Fucking won't fix a thing. They go at it as though one of these times it will.]

That's a wrap Mr. Director?

[Muffled at Freddy's mouth. His thin lips parting again to head on into his mouth.]

[He'd answer but his mouth is a bit occupied with tasting his tongue, the inside of his cheek, those teeth. And then there's the feeling of his cock acting like a goddamn plug to make sure this kid gets knocked up. So good, that's the only way to put it. Mmph, okay finally he leans his head back enough to talk.]

Okay.

[Yep. That's the line Freddy chooses to have as the last second of their video. Go figure. Not that he intends to find an audience for it or anything...]

[Larry breathes out in a long, slow and satisfied sigh.]

Somethin' better on there for you.

[Psychopaths to the left of them, spider women to the right. Here they are.

Good thing they're even too because waiting for whatever sort of a revenge the kid had. The longer it's meditated the harder the hit. At least that's been his experience. One hard and nuts truth for another.

What now? Well, now they stay in the back seat awhile.]

Y'can save that for when you're bored of your stash.

[Because the camera's no longer rolling these freckled fingers are free to stroke through the damp hair at the back of the old man's head. His fingertips are kneading gently into his scalp. A shower's on the agenda later. Maybe. Depends on how the kid feels.]

You're givin' me ideas.

[Freddy huffs gently in 'warning' like now that he's got a taste for video he might just make another. One could say this all started with a polaroid and a red bandana. Larry's proving himself to be a tough gateway drug.]

[When did it start really? The night after briefing. That was it. The mind isn't fucking good enough.]

Uh oh. Are they still there?

[His head nudges this way and that to get the best of that combing and massaging.]

Might not be too late to get em loose.

[As he gets back to Freddy's waist. He'll help with the pull off. When he's ready that is. They can quit whenever they want. Except why would they even?

These sort of kinks keep going in different directions. They can still go at it with nothing more though, it's just some fun. Larry does have his worries that the kid is gonna get bored. But then he gets his bones jumped.]

Maybe.

[He remarks, casual-like. It probably started with baseball though that's no gateway drug for Freddy Newendyke at all, nope nope. Hey the way Larry's moving he may as well be scratching a beardog behind the ears.]

No way, you gotta build up a little time between shows.

[Make them like episodes of a series, hehehe. Mmph, those paws are a good help in getting the kid to lift off on one, two, three. Freddy gives a thin moan for the loss of fullness.] Damn...

Smart ass.

[He's highly encouraged by all of this lip. Highly.]

You're the one who knows show business so.

[Shrug. Larry hisses briefly. He's going soft but that doesn't make Freddy's ass any less snug or make him want to come on out easy.

Wanna smoke or head on out when we're more put together.

[Not that he's rushing at all. The kid is off of his cock but that don't mean he's gone away.]

[Seeing as how this ain't a company car that should mean it's okay for Freddy's freckled rear to scoot to the opposite side of the backseat, back to the door, feet up to rest on Larry's lap. He's careful to avoid that dick of course.]

I wanna smoke.

[See this hand making a grabby motion? He wants you to light him up, old man. Sometimes it's just nice to sit back and relax, forget about all that shit outside their car with its burger and fries trash, traces of cum on the seats. If Larry can't tell Freddy's not gonna be bored with him by now well who knows who can help the guy. The same can be said of the kid and his subconscious worry one day Mr. White will grow impatient with him and leave until Freddy grows up. Don't seem like today though.]

Sure, Spielberg.

[Grabby motion gets results. Freddy doesn't even need to touch the cigarette. It's at his lips and lit in the next moment. Now there'll be fresh cigarette smoke with the fast food and sex, a real grimy cocktail. Who'd believe these fucks go to very expensive restaurants?

Whether it's the magic of the City, the sheer familiarity and comfort of an alliance or they're actually synchronized--their life together just works. No matter what fear and doubt is looming behind, it's not enough to pay any serious mind.]

But I ain't no madman.

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