But I ain't no madman.

[whitetwoguns]

"Sorry I missed your call. Leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as possible. Have a nice day."

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[whitetwoguns]

[He truly is a poor and bested bear. Larry pants softly. Now and then he gets something like an after shock shooting right from his groin and shaking on up his insides. He blames the kid.]

Love it, you mean.

[This is yet another one of those camera worthy moments.]

Uh huh. Y'know me too well.

[Then and now. He hasn't stopped wanting Mr. Orange.]

[orangetoughguy]

[As dirty as it seems it's all about Lawrence Dimick, Larry who went off to work not feeling so hot, seeing what he saw, feeling what he felt, calling Freddy and wanting to meet him back home, then coming home bothered and not in the usually fun way. The way this younger man's tongue ghosts from his softening cock back to his torso to clean up the mess he left there is all about making the old man feel better. Don't feel like such a psycho, Mr. White, you're not like those other guys. Mr. Orange wouldn't do this with them. Of course that begs the question how much does this all really mean when Freddy's no saint either and maybe not even that great of a cop or a human being, but he doesn't think about that, not as long as it makes Larry comfortable.]

There.

[A lick to his own lips. Green eyes are looking over at brown ones. Did he get the job done?]

[whitetwoguns]

[Dirty deeds done for free. Freddy might think that the old man is always taking care of him but times like right now, he is really putting to bed all of his worries and woes so efficiently. He wouldn't have a cop like this in his arms if he were a psychopath or street scum. Orange might have a moral dilemma about himself, White knows that he's a good man. It reminds him of times when cops were good people in his head, not people who pick and choose what laws to abide by and which to fuck people.]

You missed a spot.

[The old man taps his own lips. Who needs a saint when you've got Freddy Newendyke that you can touch, talk to and pull you up when you're down? Nobody talks about fucking saints.]

[orangetoughguy]

Huh.

[Freddy sounds like he can't imagine how that happened at all. Another shrug follows then he's leaning right into Larry again to press their mouths together, firm and long lasting. Freckled arms drape around him as if he might decide to just sprawl here for another half hour or two, doing nothing except breathing in the air that smells like fresh sex. And a hint of the old man's cologne or whatever it is he uses to keep his room smelling like something in addition to Chesterfields.]