whitetwoguns | But I ain't no madman.

Oh yeah. I'd say. I mean not no two hundred big ones.

[Too trusting or too distracted, both work to his advantage. For a few moments, Larry doesn't move all that much, rubs under his own nose, gets more beer nothing out of the norm. That is until his hand comes on up and rather than sitting in his own lap comes to sit on Freddy's thigh.]

[Click click clack clack turn turn click clack. Freddy here is paying attention to his game now, racing along the tracks and getting used to the platform. He hasn't done this since...actually since Claire Bennet, but that was a different system. Oops crash.]

Damn, it ain't like an arcade dash.

[Freddy remarks with a look at the controller before starting up another round. He seems oblivious to the paw on his thigh. Heh heh heh.]

[Man, eyes not gonna even look down Desperate measures!]

Yeah? How different?

[Another sip of beer. Instead of going back to his thigh Larry decides to open his own trousers. Slow. Easy. If it happens to draw attention well, then it draws attention. Button and fly undone and open and he pulls his own briefs on down enough. Another sip of beer and back to the kid's thigh.]

Less space for your hands.

[Oh shit he can see all that happening out the corner of his eye. Don't look at the dick don't look at the dick. Eh. Look at the dick.]

Aw man.

[Another crash only moments after starting. Freddy turns to stare at Larry, really really stare at him. Is he jealous of the game system already?? This is not what he moved back in for.] Dude, seriously.

[This is totally what he moved back in for. The kid sets his controller aside to wrap his hands around the old man's joystick instead yep.]

I got more space for your hands.

[He thrives on that look. Even if it isn't eye to eye.]

Seriously what? I'm gettin' comfortable.

[A slow and easy sigh out when Freddy takes control of his joystick.]

I know you probably played this one before.

I could do it with my eyes closed.

[Palms take to twisting, one clockwise and the other counter. He can do this just like he's playing a videogame except in this case Freddy is far better at conversation.]

Your hair looks real good. It ain't for a special occasion is it?

No. No special occasion.

[Oof. Right on into it. Saves him for trying to pry a hand from the controller onto his cock. Larry smirks with triumph.]

Gotta keep it maintained.

{Looking good for himself and his man. Larry decides to get to undoing each button on his shirt. Hands are more clumsy than usual because something else has got him distracted.]

For who, me?

[The answer better be 'yes' or something like it, Lawrence Dimick. His dick may be big and strong but these hands are not to be underestimated. He can break down rifles in seconds then go have a smoke leaving the pieces unattended. Twist twist twist. He leans closer to spit on it. Lips hover close yet not on him.]

Yessir.

[Gonna play it on like this? Larry lets his shirt fall open but he's not gonna rub on himself. Sure enough with just the hand work he's getting hard in record time.]

Gotta look good for my man.

[Oh yeah. It's his right and privilege as the kid who belongs to this man and this man who belongs to the kid. He rubs his saliva all over that swelling cut head. Fucking beautiful, this fucker Lawrence Dimick. And look at him showing off his broad chest like some kind of fucking bird on parade.]

That what you had in mind when you walked in huh?

[Now he's getting hard and that means more difficulty maintaining conversation, aka. the upperhand.] What else are you thinking about.

[Without a toucan, Dimmy will be his bird. Puffed and swelling, it all happens on its own in Freddy's presence more often than not.]

Sure was.

[Paws rub down on his own chest as he's stuck with the dilemma of waiting or forcing his mouth on his dick.]

I'm thinking about how hard you make me. Can you feel it? Maybe you could taste it too.

[Pawing down, down to the tops of his hairy thighs. Grab. Don't grab. Grab. And firmly.]

I can see it pretty clear as--!!

[Mmph! The kid stops his own words out of a sense of self-preservation as a paw makes his mouth greet his dick. Goddamn, Lawrence Dimick, no sense for patience. Fortunately for him Freddy fucking loves it. His mouth goes far down enough on the old man that the head edges against his throat.]

Oh yeah.

[As cunning as you are, dear fox he knows that there is just as much enjoyment on the other end. Protest or not.]

What a fuckin' pro taking it all.

[He pulls up on his hair enough to prevent the kid from choking.]

[If the push downward didn't start getting him hard the pull upward by his floppy dirty blonde hair sure does. Green eyes roll a look to brown ones but considering the angle and what he's doing looking at Larry is very difficult. So he focuses back on his thighs, his hands, his hands around his dick. Up and fucking down like the professional he is, taught by none other than Mr. Fucking Professional himself.]

Suck that dick.

[Huffing, puffing and not quite ready to blow. It's way too soon. They've only started. Freddy's warm mouth and welcoming throat do hold great promise. He can fit so much and the rest is in the care of flappy hands. Dirty blonde hair is nice and soft between his rough fingers. Freddy can no doubt see his thighs flex and part slightly as he tilts his hips into the motion.]

This as fun as your video game?

Mmph.... [Freddy sounds around him then pulls his lips off tightly to speak.] It's a full blown experience. Taste, smell, fucking everything.

[He praises like Lawrence Dimick is a top of the line console. For good measure the kid makes direct eye contact as he swipes the tip of his cock with a broad stroke from his tongue.]

[He laughs for the use of the word blown. Getting another chance to comb back that hair he gets to make eye contact. Right as his laugh falls away, he lightly bites the bottom of his lip.]

I know you don't wanna stay down there. Even though you're so fuckin' good at it.

[Even as he's pulling Freddy back down by the hair for more.]

[Just as he's about to confirm the old man's intuitive guess his face is going right back down on his cock. Damn. This time Freddy takes Larry in as far as possible, head tilted to better make way in his throat. A little bit of saliva sneaks past the tightness of his lips, nothing doing. Except now Freddy can remove one of his hands from Larry's lap to start undoing his own jeans.]

[Slick and warm. How did the old man get so lucky? He rocks with Freddy's face, nice and easy. Rough bastard that he is he isn't going to run his throat ragged. A few more goes now and he lets up, up, up and off.]

Sorry, were you gonna say somethin'?

[The TV screen is on and still glowing. It casts a light on rapidly revealing freckled skin.]

[Pulling his head up the way he does inevitably leads to a wet saliva stricken mess on Larry's dick, from base to tip and a string that stretches up to Freddy's wet lips until it breaks. At that moment he licks his lips too.]

Fuck saying shit.

[He's a man of action now. Freddy works quickly to throw off what clothes he has left. Larry' to.]

[Here, he'll be hands off watching Freddy strip. Big arms frame the back of their couch as he watches with hardly veiled anticipation.]

Gonna sit on it, tough guy?

[Or whatever he likes. Ain't it grand to be here again?]

[This long sleeve lightweight flannel gets rolled up in a way that perfectly serves as a blindfold when Freddy quickly wraps it around Larry's face and ties it up. Don't be a poor sport by taking it off, Dimick.]

I'll think of something.

[Aw. Freddy, c'mon. Huff. He is a good sport. And breathing in and out he can smell cigarettes and Freddy.]

Oh yeah? Do I gotta find you out then fuck you?

[Hands lift up but not to pull away the blind fold, just feel the air in front of him for a wiry body.]

You know that doesn't sound like a bad idea.

[More shuffling as he removes the last bit of his own clothes. He'll catch a paw and give two thick fingers a good sucking too.]

I gotta learn to keep my mouth shut.

[Paw stops sharply. Larry licks his own lips. Having his cock in that mouth he really does love the feel of it.]

You're not a hard to get kinda guy. It's more like a lot of baiting.

[Making him feel like he's the one setting the trap until the old bear is in a trap.]

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