whitetwoguns | But I ain't no madman.

[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.]

[Breathing, begging Freddy Newendyke. When he didn't know his name he was a prone, begging man. Watching his flesh and muscle move as he pants and takes in the girth of the old man's cock he again feels blessed. How in the hell did he manage to earn this guy?]

You're gonna get it all. [Could be a threat, but it's a promise. Larry smooths over Freddy's stomach. Shit it's like he can practically see him being filled on up.

The king and queen of hearts and diamonds ripple as he moves. He's got his own scars. Bullet holes, knives, fists and falls. Every one of them have a story.]

Goddamn. [There he goes. Every inch like he said tucked into the kid. Just because he can take it faster don't mean that it's not a snug fit.]

[Freddy doesn't know every story yet but that's part of what intrigues him about the old man. He's going on forty-nine years while they're working their way up to their second, and he's still got tons of stories left untouched. Freddy's the same way of course, despite being younger, despite not having had it so tough growing up, he's got his own stories because he chose a job that takes him face to face with the shit most people never want to have to see. A job that took him face to face with someone like Mr. White. Funny how that works out.]

I gotcha, man.

[He breathes, pretty sure he's got all of Lawrence Dimick in his ass. The kid goes for the blunt again, taking a deeper pull then passing it off. Last hit before the wild ride see? Because he's pretty sure once Larry starts fucking him he's not going to be thinking about getting high off mary jane. In the meantime, Freddy'll lick his own palm and stroke his own erect cock until Larry starts hammering like he promised.]

[They got so much more ahead. Larry's sure of it. Blonde can't get in the way. Nobody can. Yeah, determination really did prevent any bad happening, okay. That's really what this is all about here. They're physically grounding one another to the moment while fucking like animals on the floor of their apartment.

Passing the joint. What a fucking cool guy. Larry cranes his neck and grins as he takes his deep hit. Lungs full of smoke he shits his eyes and sits up again.]

Good shit.

[The weed. Freddy. Yep. Opening his eyes slowly with a buzz going he watches that hand move,stroking and licks his lips. Strong foreskins that kid's got.] Gonna keep that up?

[It's about all the warning Freddy will have before he launches into a hard hammering pace. This guy keeps his promise. It only makes it more disappointing the times he can't, like when he swore Joe would come right away and that the bleeding Mr. Orange would live for days.]

Uh huh...real good.

[Make that two of them not being completely clear on what shit is good, real good. There's so much to praise in this moment beyond just the herb anyway. When Larry asks if he's gonna keep that up Freddy just smirks and strokes himself with a firmer hand. It doesn't last very long.]

Fuck--!

[Huff. Huff. He wasn't kidding about getting right into that pace, dick far up his ass and moving hard. That gun oil is pretty good shit too. The hand around himself falters, the other one digs into the floor. On the screen it looks like the middle guy is about to take two in his ass. Freddy's still not paying attention to it. With the way his legs are splayed and Mr. White straddling him he can feel the old man pushing in balls deep at every thrust. How can Freddy pay attention to anything else?]

[Giddy and a little dizzy he's riding the wave of good vibrations. Gun oil lets him pulverize Freddy's prostate with hardly any time at all between thrusts. A strained grin is fixed on his face as he watches that hand falter in its pace.]

Harder? Faster?

[Paw gripping at his ass gives three solid smacks rhythmically timed with the deepest point of each thrust. He's not even paying attention to the screen. All the moans, gasps and grips that are important are Freddy's. The last time they had seen Blonde was one of those days the City let in a shit ton of people. Both (or was it three times?) the old man had to work to relieve the kid. This won't be a simple hard to the finish fuck.]

More.

[Freddy answers, neither option one nor option two, but it's probably pretty clear ain't it? He voices a sharp grunt for each strike, making his ass tighten up even more around Larry's working cock. Now watch this kid turn at the waist, leaving his hips on one side and his torso partially facing up, up to really look at Lawrence Dimick. Let him see this freckled red face and green eyes squeezing for every little thing the old man does to his goddamn body, inside and out. No Mr. Blonde in sight. No cops just around the corner waiting to save his ass. His ass doesn't need that sort of back up right now.]

Keep fuckin' me, baby.

[Orange huffs. Somehow he manages to keep stroking himself but it's slower, less firm, like he's doing it just to provide an accompanying gesture to his thrusting.]

[More he says. Grinning, panting Larry leans to really work his hips and clutch on the kid. Look at him all twist up. He can get close enough to now and then press breathless kisses and bites. Even if there was danger here, no one would be able to lay a finger on Freddy Newendyke. He's beyond help with this bear on top of him about mauling.]

Shit.

[His hair is damp with sweat along with his skin.]

Gonna pump you full-a cum.

[Right about know the old man knows his pace is catching up to him. Precum for right now. He hoists Freddy's leg up onto his shoulder. Better to bite and lick there too now.]

[Swallow. Breathe, Newendyke.] I want your cum.

[Oh shit when the old man just moves him how he wants him that really gets Freddy fucking going. He's working his fist over and over until he feels his mouth brushing against his ankle. That's when Freddy wills himself to let go and reaches between his legs from behind, urging the old man to bury in deep then grind--hold that pending orgasm for a little while longer, Lawrence Dimick. He's the only man he's ever known to freely and gladly give a foot massage, with his mouth.]

You feel so fuckin' good, baby...

[Wiggling his toes. Those freckled fingers are feeling where they're connected, his own body stretched tight around Lawrence Dimick. Freddy's almost tempted to see if he can fit in a pair of fingers despite the new years episode that left him walking funny, or if Larry'll get impatient and stop him first, twist him around and render his arms useless, make him fit only to be fucked. Mr. White could do anything to Freddy Newendyke right now, including kill him, but Orange feels safest in his company.]

[While being sufficiently plowed Freddy somehow fills up the old man at both ends. Balls deep and grinding. He's watching Freddy, feeling those fingers slip along the seam where they could very well be fused together. Damn they spread the gun oil that far too.]

Fuck. I love [pant, pant] plugging you up.

[Fuck, could he fit in anymore right now? Their new year party was nearly two weeks ago. The handsy action down there is making it difficult to grind up inside him.]

Feelin' too loose?

[Because the old man's now thinking to move some and fuck Freddy sideways with is legs closed. It's not no extra girth inside of him, but it'll feel like it. Without waiting for an answer he stays balls deep and steps to one side of his prone leg. The other in the air he pulls over to his side. He manages to do this without pulling out completely.]

You're good--at it.

[Huff huff. Is the joint still burning? Is there any left to smoke? He's only vaguely thinking about it because he can smell it lacing through the heady scent of sweat and sex. Actually that last one smells far better, good enough to get high on. Hey wait a second.]

Loose?

[Did Lawrence Dimick dare call the ass he's pried open on many an occasion loose? Because really, Larry has no one to blame but himself. Oh fuck. Moving like this pulls a groan from him. It teases Freddy's prostate, it probably teases the old man's cock even more which happens to be big enough to not slip out. How about that. With both legs shut to one side and being made fit for fucking the kid can't help but mouth off.]

Think you can manage, cowboy? I'm pretty low to the ground. [A challenge is a challenge is a challenge.]

[Challenge accepted. Don't be so sore so soon, kid. He does it to make you burn hotter, angrier. It makes this moment more important if there is something to prove.

Hot damn he is only just held there by his own thickness. Even though he doesn't want to admit it, they are so much lower than he thought they would be. Those wicked and taunting eyes won't let him change it up.]

I can take it if you can. [And there he goes. Brutal and rough like he is contesting with a bull not a scruffy dog. As long as they got John Connor he will keep it up.]

Fuck. Fuck.

Jesus.

[Fuck. He huffs then grits his teeth to stifle a moan. Nope. No use. The kid's being loud now, louder than their dirty movie, loud and not giving a fuck because boy is he getting fucked. Freddy brings both knees closer to his chest, not curled exactly, not even halfway up, just bending to give Larry the best angle for the deepest penetration he can manage. He wants him so far up his ass any cum the old man shoots ought to come spitting out Freddy's mouth. If only.]

God, Larry.

[As if taking the Lord's name in vain wasn't enough. Being on his side is great but seeing the way Larry dutifully works for it just makes Freddy want to throw him a bone. Without giving his own warning the younger man is rolling over to get on his knees. Shakey, sure, but he's managing. White can either keep his dick in or slip out, it's no skin off Orange's stately nose because after getting his chest, shoulders, and cheek on the floor, putting it back into his reddened asshole will be too much to resist. And those paws are free to adjust just how high off the ground he stays. Freddy licks his lips.]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject