whitetwoguns | But I ain't no madman.

No shit, really?

[Part of him thinks the old man's just kidding around which isn't a problem either. Another puff then he's handing the blunt back to Larry. The kid won't deny being some kind of aficionado, he likes what he likes and isn't ashamed to admit he used to jack off to this stuff. Still does when he doesn't have an old man around to help out.]

I don't know, they're both pretty good. Big dicks but you know that's how it always is in porn.

[Are they actually talking about dirty gay movies after a real encounter with Blonde? Yep.]

[Fuck yeah they're talking about gay skin flicks. Why? Because they fucking can. Larry takes a pull from their joint.]

You know--you know we're gonna be cool. Be fucking cool about this whole damn thing. We got weapons. We got money. We got connections. That guy is an idiot if he's gonna pull bullshit.

[Lunacy and idiocy are twins but they ain't identical. They can be lucky, they have been. A plume of smoke rolls out of his nostrils.]

Today was tough, but you pulled on through.

[Moaning in the background.]

[He goes for the Jack Daniels again but this time it's just for a sip. His lightly freckled cheeks are getting a little rosy.]

You're right man...I know. It just--fuckin' scared the shit outta me, I could've pissed my pants.

[But you didn't, Newendyke, you didn't shit a brick or bleed gallons of blood out of your stomach. He rubs at a sour apple green eye. Yep, there's lots of moaning in the background.]

[The old man licks his lips. He has the joint between two fingers making the air around them heavier.]

You didn't. You're fucking amazing, baby. I'm not gonna let nothing happen. Sure he's crazy, you know it. I do too. He'll be so fucking sorry. We got him. Not the other way around. There's two of us and one of him.

[All these words come out with not too much thought to them outside of Larry wanting so very bad for all of them to be true. Saying the words alone means he has to commit to them. High or not. Pat, pat, patting on his knee.]

You wanna go sit in my chair, huh? Take the bottle with you.

[Because he's gonna take the blunt.]

We got friends.

[He adds. Some friends in higher places than others. He has Captain fucking America on his side and if he has Cap then maybe he has Thor and Iron Man and the Black Widow too. Okay don't think so damn far ahead, Newendyke.]

Okay.

[Freddy nods, letting Larry take the lead, and the joint.]

Uh huh. We sure do.

[Eames and Arthur, that Cobb guy and the Eastern fella who is always around. He keeps the joint between his lips as though it were a cigarette and he makes sure that Freddy doesn't do any stumbling.]

Don't let it all work you up too much now.

[On the screen one of those guys are laying back on the couch while the other is drilling his mouth. Woah.]

[Looks real good, real tasty, from this side of the screen. However Freddy's only half paying attention to it. It's why he put it on in the first place, mindless entertainment as background noise without some story they think could actually take away from their problems. Bond, Indy, The Terminator, Robocop, they don't deserve that kind of dismissive treatment.]

I couldn't help it.

[Freddy admits like it's his fault all over again but he knows what Larry means. He just can't help feeling the way he does too. Oof. Right in the old man's chair. He gestures a trade of the JD for the joint.]

How about now though?

[On the spot, out in the open sure does shake a man up. Right here, right now? It's a roundabout way of asking how Freddy is doing.

Larry doesn't bother sitting down. On his knees. No matter how long it takes for Freddy to answer his old man is going to ensure that he's gonna be okay. Jack Daniels at hand, joint at his lips.]

I can help that.

[Unziiip. He'll go at it like he's being filmed.]

Now? I'm better...a little better...

[He takes a deep pull as if doing so will make him sound way more confident in his answer and suddenly Lawrence Dimick is unzipping his jeans?? Green eyes shift downward to those paws, the way he's handling the kid. Really, Mr. White, really? He keeps looking at Larry, looking and looking.]

You think so?

[Freddy reaches out to brush his hand over Larry's head. He's still soft but with the right effort...]

A little. Okay.

[Because he needs to be a lot. Since he's got the blunt still in his mouth he'll reach on in and just stroke him. They got the time so he'll be putting in the effort.]

Yeah, baby. I know what'll really make you feel better.

[Now he'll pass the dutchie to him. The groans from the TV keep on rolling out.]

Lay back and watch.

[Him or the two faggots on the screen. Then again, Freddy's seen this one.]

You do?

[His cheeks are flushing red and it's not from the Jack Daniels or those two faggots on screen. None of it comes as a surprise really. He'll take that gift though, the one Freddy can put in his own mouth and the one of a mouth putting itself over him. Well, eventually. He's leaning back again, getting settled in his chair to watch from Lawrence Dimick does. Smoke curls upward in slow breaths. The kid's got ideas too.]

Mmmphmmm.

[It's better if you don't talk. The motion of, not the motion picture. that one's one of Freddy's again. Whether he's watching him suck on him until he's hard or really enjoying the movie, Larry doesn't care. It's simmering down and finding a mellow to build on up from. Shit the guy threw up in their apartment.

Even if nothing happened, he feels like it was a close call. Freddy must feel like it was a near death experience on the inside. Poor fucking kid. Poor brave fucking kid.]

[Having actually experienced a near death experience he can say it came close but no cigar. It was nothing like getting shot and bleeding out all over a backseat or getting his gun at the right moment to give Blonde his own not-so-near-very-literal death experience. This falls somewhere outside of that but in doing so it falls too close to doing away with what they have now. This home, their lives, the ease of turning on some fucking porn and getting sucked off while he smokes a joint. Seeing Blonde today came close to wiping this out.]

Fuck...

[Freddy breathes, getting hard in the hot confines of Larry's mouth. He wouldn't call it brave really...just fucking lucky nobody broke anybody's neck. Maybe they're overreacting, maybe they're harboring the right amount of caution. The kid didn't even wash his mouth out after coming up. Hopefully the old man doesn't mind.]

[Caution is all they can have right now. With Mr. Blonde being as friendly as can be, there's no room at all to act any other way. Sure, jumping the gun is in the realm of possibility but then they're truly fucked crossing the man for, in his head, no damn reason. It'd be bad, real fucking bad. That much is obvious.

Blonde will have to make the first move. They can't crack. That is what is making the stakes even higher. They know what's at risk. Blonde doesn't. Not yet. They gotta keep calm and not tip their hand.]

That what you wanna do baby?

[Slurp. Now his mouth is off leaving his fist to work Freddy's uncut cock.

His mouth tastes like weed and whiskey with the after taste of vomit. Knowing the value of time and the importance of the moment, the old man can deal.]

[That must be what they call love right there. Freddy groans softly again, arching his hips up into Larry's mouth until he's using just his paw to stroke him.]

Larry...fuck--

[What'd he ask? Caramel green eyes open to narrow down on Mr. White, kneeling like a good gentleman, servicing his favorite kid. The hand that was stroking through his hair takes a firm grip so he can stand. Better let go of the kid's cock or face a harsher punishment for injuring him, Dimmy. Then down they go in a pile on the floor. Somehow the bud survives, having been rolled onto the table. Better hope you can stand behind those words, Lawrence Dimick, because this mouth is coming in for a kiss.]

Take your dick out and hold me.

[That's his man, coming into action when and where it counts. At first he was a little worried that the most response was being petted. Even with weed and booze the kid is usually more responsive. It took a little patience. Of course he'd come on around. Even if he didn't, Larry'd suck him until he came then start all over if it would help the both of them to feel more normal. They got each other. They got what they built here together. It wasn't easy and it won't be easy to take away.

Potent taste, a little bitter. It's not unbearable. Not bad enough to stop when that body is fixing to get all over him. Larry can get his cock out and get a good hold on this man. Deeper and deeper into the kiss, it's less acidic. Could be his imagination.]

Baby, I love you.

[Love fucking him, loving being with him, love him enough to fucking kill any one or anything that'll try and bring them down.]

[Sometimes he thinks he's such a goddamn fool for love.]

I fucking love you, Larry.

[But how often does the kid say it? How often does the kid say it like that? What does it mean when it takes an encounter with someone like Blonde for Freddy Newendyke to really want to say it? He ought to be ashamed of himself and he kind of is but for different reasons. Caught up in Larry's thick arms like this those fucking reasons just don't mean shit right now. He parts his lips, slipping tongue in, tongue out. Freckled hands work to get his own clothes off frantically.]

[Music to his ears. And now there isn't anything but skin slapping together on their TV set or the sound of clothes falling to hard wood. Larry's shrugging off his own.

As long as it's said. They took so long to say it, and every time it is said it's savored. The old man can't hold it against the kid. He is how he is. And he means it. Fuck though he would give up anything if he know for certain he would hear that until he dies. Not even every day, just until he dies. Who's a fool now?

Bare, tanned skin on freckled. Larry's gotta make sure to pull down Freddy's jeans and briefs to rub cock to cock.]

[He'll help kick the pants off too so when they're rubbing cock to cock they're both completely naked, as naked as the next pair of cocksuckers on the screen just working through their own foreplay. Freddy wants to tell Larry everything, how he felt, how it makes him feel, what scares him, what he wants to have when all this is over but he doesn't know how to give those feelings the right words. He doesn't know how to say it the right way. But he knows how to do things, he may not be the sharpest detective there ever was but Freddy Newendyke is smart, he can do things.

Pulling away from his mouth is only necessary to nip at the crook of the crook's neck. The kid breathes the smell of him, groaning and gasping out with every exhale.]

[For not saying anything he's telling the whole man an awful lot with the way that he's up on him. Teeth and tongue say he wants it to keep on going, that he wants them to go all the damn way and not look back. Because he's so willing to get into it tells the old man that Freddy's not even sure f where to start to talk about it.]

Get down on the floor, tough guy. [Paws grip and scratch. He's getting handsy on his ass. Sorry. He can't help it. Those lips on his skin drive him wild.]

Lemme fucking hammer you.

[Or nail. Screw. Whatever. Not quite waiting for an answer he's the one to do the hauling.]

[Those hands are just one of the things he fucking adores about Lawrence Dimick, big old paws that hold him when he's fucking dying, hold him when he's crying in the backseat of a car, clutch him when his virgin ass wasn't sure it could handle being hammered. Those days feel like they happened so long ago but in reality it's been only a little over a year.]

Okay.

[Freddy huffs softly, rolling or being rolled off that big body onto--what? His stomach? His back? From which position can he smoke that joint easily? Because the kid is reaching out for it to take himself a pull then pass it on to the old man. Maybe they should have gone for snorting a line instead, except Freddy wouldn't fucking dare let it happen. Larry's not gonna fall off the wagon with that son of a bitch around.]

[Only a year. Some people are done in that amount of time. What makes them stay this long? What do they have that other people don't? Or maybe...what do other people know that'd keep a cop save and a crook out of jail?]

On your side, pal.

[So he can hold up a leg if he wanted, or stretch the kid to suck on a toe. First thing's first he's gotta get on down. The joint is within reach. Remarkably it's still burning. The addict in Lawrence Dimick demanded they have some sort of a substance for nerve calming. He's trying to stay sober. Now would be the shittiest of times to falter when the kid needed him most.]

Shit, you got a sweet ass. [A smack as he then rifles through the junk from the table tilting over. They got a gun oil stash there.]

Can you see the movie too?

[All the wants and needs met right there. Big thick fingers are slicking up his cock before spreading it around to Freddy's asshole.]

[On his side, he says....pal, he says...Freddy loves him so fucking much. This lightly freckled leaner smaller body shifts onto its side, caramel green eyes up and watching as Larry moves away. Oh look there's a third guy joining in for this scene, one of the pair's going to put his buddy on that guy's dick--]

Fuck. [Freddy hisses for the smack. It makes his sweet ass tense up.] It's alright...

[Yes. That's what Orange has to say about his own ass right now, nothing too ballsy but nothing self-deprecating either. He's only vaguely paying attention to that trio when the old man returns, thick fingers wet and doing their job. Just Dimick's fingers get him moaning. That's how bad he wants it.]

I'm not really watchin' it. [He admits with a look straight at those brown eyes. See, old man? He's paying attention strictly at you. Not that it means Larry should turn it off or anything either.]

[Fingers aren't going to be staying long but fuck it'd be a lie if he said he didn't love the whole preparation process.]

It's amazing. I love it. [One of the many reasons why he wants to be up it all the damn time. Yeah, Freddy. He's got it bad for you after all this time. Larry moves on closer and straddles one of Freddy's legs, the other he'll hold on up for the time being while he aligns himself for entry.]

I noticed. [Those caramel apple green eyes following him. Saying more than a few things with that kinda stare.] I like what I see.. [A cop, a survivor, a good man...all of these things and a living man. The thick head of his cut cock slips on in.]

Oh fuck.

Me too.

[The way Freddy's on his side like this the scars are probably more obvious, one on his belly and another to his shoulder. There's a light barely noticeable one to the side of his head, mostly obscured by hair growing over it now, and there's only a bare minimum of texture to the bite he received on his neck. Freddy's always had small scars, a little here and there from an adventurous youth. It wasn't until someone set off an alarm in the jewelry store that he received his harshest wounds, one after the other, to mark up his once relatively scarless body. It's not anything like Lawrence Dimick's though, inked in places, scarred in others, bulked and aging but aging fairly well in his opinion. Not to mention his sizable dick, sizable and that's with it cut. Wonders never fucking cease.]

God... [Freddy breathes when he feels that hard wet head pushing into him.] The whole thing, Larry...

[He's begging for it.]

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