whitetwoguns | But I ain't no madman.

[Now that's something Freddy won't make a joke about. He waits until he's finished with cleaning out the chamber on this one and popping it back into place.]

He was pissed off being in the dark.

[In other words it was the best way for Pink to shank White without an actual shank. That counts for something, doesn't it?]

Yeah.

[Dark hair sorta sways with his nod.]

I dunno if he even mourned em or anything. ...Never asked.

[Because he didn't want to know. All the better to not think about it anymore. The old man can tell Freddy's shifted mood. Good man.]

[Dark, huh? Has it been dyed recently? Nothing wrong with it, of course, just curiosity on the kid's side.]

Don't bother, he wouldn't have brought it up if he didn't want to hit below the belt.

[Again, better than a bullet, but this is about Joe and Freddy can't deny they were more than just associates. He told Jim his observations himself; not a foot soldier, they go way back.]

[Maybe just a little. He didn't go all over this time. Touch up the back, the top...he's a little silvery at the temples.]

And below the belt.

[Double whammy.]

They were sorta friends, I think. I dunno how much. I didn't meet Pink formally until the heist.

[Busy still. Because they wanted to get through the pile.]

[Click click. New gun. The 'to do' side is getting smaller while the 'done' side is getting bigger. Not that the guns are being rearranged, there's a certain knack to just knowing what's been touched and what hasn't when they're all laid out this way. It's one more thing they share in common regardless of who's a cop and who's a crook.]

I didn't know that.

[About Pink and Joe, despite hearing something like Pink saying he's known Joe since he was a little weasel.] Long Beach Mike set me up.

[Freddy says this part casually because it seems relevant. He doesn't think about how he's just ratted out the guy to someone who might want to take revenge one day. It's not like he outright said Mike was snitching to them, right?]

Yeah? I heard about that guy. Think I met him at least once. Seemed on the level.

[Except he set up acquaintances with cops so...]

You really knew your shit.

[Back then. Right now. Still moving along the assembly line. Man, it is quicker with two other sets of hands.]

It's all starting to feel like a fucking long time ago.

[Except for when there is a rehash of those feelings when they gotta tell someone or...something.]

I had a lot of help.

[He'll mention Mike because Mike's a link in the chain between them. Who he won't mention is Holdaway or even McCluskey. They're cops through and through, he won't bring his own out to the table so easily. Nothing personal, Lawrence Dimick. Is that another thing they have in common? Able to tell stories but without the specificity that could hurt their acquaintances. It's a curious relationship. Click and snap. This piece is finished.]

I don't think it was a long time ago...you and me just came a real long way.

[He looks at Larry, caramel green eyes to brown ones.]

You're right about that, baby.

[Still more distance and hurdles. Except glancing back to see how much is covered does boost his ego now and then. It's a rather important thing to this bear.

Click. Click.]

...I thought you were the best company outta all of em.

[No lie or fluff.]

Brown was a fucking cartoon. Pink...you know him.

[He doesn't really need to go on.]

[Aw shucks, really Lawrence Dimick? Look at the softest shade of red slowly creep up into his cheeks. It's not like Larry hasn't complimented him before, but somehow saying that in this moment has a different effect entirely.]

Thanks...

[They were attracted to each other in some capacity from day fucking one.] Right back at you, I turned a blind eye to the Brewers thing.

[Freddy smiles.]

[Because he means it? Or because he saw a diamond in the scum? Whichever reason, the old man means what he says. Simple or not. Out of the corner of his eye he swears he can see something of the color. That sort of shit he privately cherishes.]

I won money out of that. What'd your Dodgers ever get you?

[Another gun down. There's only two or so to go. He is whipping his hands because that talk means Freddy needs a lesson.]

[Heh heh heh. It doesn't take much for that shy smile to turn into something a bit more cocky as he puts this gun back together.]

A blowjob.

[From Lawrence Dimick himself. Does it count that it happened in the City with a Dodgers team on TV that may or may not even reflect the current one in Los Angeles? Ah well, details details.]

Is that what you're fixing to get with that sort of talk?

[...It may actually work. Brown eyes are on him completely, in fact one squints a little bit.]

I ain't the Dodgers.

I'm just saying. You know, facts are facts.

[And all that. The kid keeps on trucking, last gun down it seems, or is it standing? Freckled hands get to work with ease like he didn't just start talking about mouths on dicks.]

You remember em differently. I think there was a wager going on or something.

[Thinking. Not knowing. Larry isn't gonna touch that gun. This is what happens when someone gets to talking about mouths on dicks. Especially his mouth.]

I think this means that you want to be about it instead.

[It would even the playing field out.]

I guess I need a reminder or something.

[Another shrug. Click click. Snap. Clack. This gun is coming apart like nobody's business yet his freckled hands are treating it with absolute care and control. He talks to Larry like they're discussing breakfast and not dicks for lunch.]

You think so?

Sucking cock is like riding a bicycle. You don't exactly forget.

[Wiping big paws deliberately.]

You'll remind yourself.

[Could Freddy do his thing while his hands are finishing off one gun? Interesting thought.]

You don't say.

[Freddy says almost dismissively as he starts cleaning out the barrel on this one, slow and deliberate. Remind himself, he says. Caramel green eyes narrow in the most subtle manner but he adds nothing to the metaphor. The kid's more focused on how he's got the cleaner working its way in and out the barrel. In and out. In and out. Steady as she goes.]

Do I gotta show you?

[Not even waiting for an answer, he undoes his belt and sorta pulls on up his white shirt to show more of his belly. Unbutton, unzip.

Everything below his belly button is functioning like normal. Doesn't feel different. Good, better than good.]

I think it's too late to say yes or no...

[The kid remarks as his shirt goes on up, his jeans go on open, and everything just starts coming out. Damn, the old man works fast. Freddy does his own best to finish up this firearm, though he might appear to be working just a tiny bit slower now.]

I can wait.

[Half hard so he rubs his own chest, watching those hands work. Cut cock sorta hangs from his fly.]

I mean, nobody likes to be put on the spot.

[Performance anxiety joke. What a card you are, Dimmy. Is that in and out motion still going? How on earth do they ever get anything done around here?]

[Yes. Yes it is. Notice however on this one downstroke Freddy actually misses the hole. Oops. He fixes that quick just as his eyes fixate on Lawrence Dimick and that only half hard cock. It's not as big that way and he's well aware of how big Larry can get.]

Uh...

[Put on the spot right there. Not that Freddy has performance anxiety or anything. Ugh he breaks his gaze for the briefest moment to really accelerate finishing up this firearm. He's determined to get this gun done before he gets that gun done. Whoops he sneaks a look back at Larry and licks his lips.]

[Paw rubs up to his own neck to scratch the back of his head. He even tilts his head to one side before trailing back on down. Over his nipple, down over a scar to trace a little...

Hard to try to be indifferent to how he's getting on with that gun. Larry's gotta smirk some.]

Keep going.

[Staring. Cleaning. Whatever. Now he's gonna wrap that fist around himself for one long slide up then down. The staring is helping him get to that full size.]

[Look at this fucking bear thinking he can do what he wants when he wants however he wants. What a fucking cocky bastard and christ does it really turn Freddy on to see him acting like he just doesn't give a damn. When his cock is out this way it's too much for the kid to resist. Dirty pool, really. Or maybe Freddy needs to think about curbing his appetite for Larry's dick. Eh, naw.]

C'mere.

[He insists as he puts the completed gun away. Sorry it might not have received the same intricate care as the others but it's not a bad job either. Freddy doesn't even bother wiping his hands off as he reaches for Larry to draw him into his mouth. Only the tip though. He's going to lick and suck at it like it's candy.]

[Curbing? Like cutting it down? Oh man. Don't want the guy to starve? What a cold, cruel thought that is. Except threaten like that, a cunning fox could easily get whatever he wants.

Just what he wanted. Larry sucks in a breath and tilts to face Freddy more.]

We both know you got a job to do.

[Clean the arms, suck is dick. Larry is certain that it's a great job. Cock now filled on up with blood stands at attention, Freddy's attention.]

[Lips purse around the head, tight first then loose so he can lick down the center then speak against it.]

I do it pretty well don't you think?

[Freddy works his freckled fingers around Larry's balls, palming them as he gives his cock another broad lick before hooding his mouth farther down the shaft. Yep, feels like he's at full mast now.]

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