whitetwoguns | But I ain't no madman.

[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.]

[Volume means he's enjoying it. At least that is what he believes until the movement. It throws him for a loop. He means to ask what's going on but can only make a throaty moan. Look at this kid move on his cock.

Oh. Oh]

Holy shit.

[He's one in a million. There is no man on this fucking weird, little world like Freddy Newendyke. Larry did slip on out. Seeing him settle he immediately working on reentry. Brown eyes are transfixed watching himself disappear into his well presented ass. Red like some goddamn badge of courage or something. A prized winner.

Precum won't stop rolling on down his shaft, still he takes another grip at the base of his cock. Not yet.]

No more movin'.

[Except for fucking he means. Larry keeps his hips lifted. ....yeah it is harder down low. Not that it matters. His knees are going to hurt like a son of a bitch but who the fuck cares. Their skin is slapping together.]

No more--movin'.

[He tacks on a tight moan to his confirmation of grunted words as Larry's already positioning himself right back into Freddy. Goddamn does that feel sharp, the angle, the depth, his girth, his tightness. Everything. If he were willing to think a little more on it Freddy might consider this has less to do with position and prowess and more to do with circumstance. Everything is better because he's high on adrenaline, booze, and drugs. No, Newendyke, everything is better because you're with Lawrence Dimick. Maybe it's all of the above. It takes only a handful more of thrusting in and out of the kid to make his balls tighten then unload.]

Aw fuck.

[There's that gasping reedy tone like Orange is fucking dying all over again, lower body writhing as much as it can on his dick while the rest of him stays prone. He's shaking, he's shuddering, and he's making a mess of cum on his fingers, on the floor.]

[His head is swimming. It's like they've made their own tide with their pace. Everything's moving.

They should try this on something stronger. Sometime. Not now. Honestly the only person he needs his fix of constantly is right there. Freddy's somehow become his drug.]

Keep comin'. [Growling, straining. All that constriction around his cock pulverizes his resolve. Hands clutch at Freddy enough to bruise as he comes. His dick is held so snugly that none of his load will slip on out.]

I'm c-comin' all over you, fuck.

[He may as well be bleeding from his belly and suffering from bloodloss with the way Freddy is groaning, semi-slurring his words, a little stutter here and there. And also the harsh breathing. It doesn't stop when he comes either, even though his balls have spilled out everything he has to offer (for now) the kid is still constricting, still doing what he can to make the old man blow his load. It's what being a good partner is all about. He takes those bruises and hard knocks like a fucking champ.]

That's it, Larry.

[Freddy breathes, capable of just knowing when Larry's coming. It's how in tune his body is with the other and goddamn does he love the feeling of being bred by him.]

Oh God. Mmm.

[Hardly any words out of him too. Sometimes it's a curse word or reverently calling out for God. Now and then sprinkled on in is a severely butchered version of Freddy.]

There we go, baby.

[Huff. Puff. Euphoria of orgasm with weed is really a trip in of itself. Simmering down the TV is looping the video again. Oh yeah. That.

Larry slowly lowers Freddy back onto his knees but he doesn't separate just holds onto him right now. There are specific times when it is and is not okay to hold this man. Right now is a perfectly acceptable time.]

[He's panting and sweating and not protesting being held at all. Shit this is the kid who asked that old motherfucker to hold him. Right now is a perfect time as anyway. Huff. Puff.]

Fuckin'...fuckin' crazy.

[Swallow. Freddy reaches back to rub his palm along Larry's thigh, wishing they could stay stuck like this longer. What a faggot you are, Newendyke, and you love it.]

[Heavy and slow kisses are smeared on his shoulder, his neck. They taste like sweat. Even when he's sweaty and shaking Mr. White is proud and honored to hold Mr. Orange.]

The good kind?

[He laughs but it's a tight airless sort of noise. Big arms rub on him. Larry's not done. At least not with the personal mission to get Freddy completely relaxed. He wants a two-fer. Freddy may not want one at this moment. He will.]

Got enough in there?

[Grind. Grind. Stop. Grind.]

[How about that, Lawrence Dimick, you made the kid laugh. He can't help but smile.]

Yeah....the good kind.

[Freddy manages to breathe out. He's not even thinking about two-fers or second rounds and is only vaguely thinking of licking Larry's dick clean right now because his mouth is already kind of dirty. Likewise, this leaner freckled body grinds back.]

I don't know, I think so. You wanna check?

Yeah. Yeah I do actually. [One big long sigh before he works up the fortitude to pull out. Easy now. Nice and easy.]

Oh yeah, baby.

[Seeing his still cum and lube slicked cock and how red Freddy is on this end he feels accomplished.]

Somebody gave you a good fucking.

[Even after sex he's working to pull the kid to lay one side so he's not gonna lay on his own stains.]

[Make that two big long sighs and a softer moan for being left without that fat cock inside him. But he's got Larry's load and that's all his. Nobody else's. Not even third parties in hotel rooms get that as a bonus.]

Uh huh...a good fuckin' only one guy I know knows how.

[He nods with a look over his shoulder to the one guy before they're both moving, leaving Freddy on a drier part of the floor. Sniff sniff...hm.] Smells like spunk.

[No other semen contributors are allowed. In a fantasy world free of disease and complications he knows that Freddy would look like a world class porn star coated with all kinds of cum. Dollars to donuts the kid has at least four films like that of his own.]

Mary Jane too.

[He scoots and then pulls up on Freddy.]

Let's go to bed.

[So that if the kid does fall asleep after they're truly done it won't be on their living room floor. Pulling, tugging and urging because the last resort is carrying which...he is not above doing at all.]

[Lawrence Dimick would be right on the money with that call.]

This early?

[Freddy asks yet with a hint of his own exhaustion. It's been a rough time from meeting unwanted faces to wanting a certain face all over his own. It smells like sex, weed, and booze, all theirs. At least he's far past the puking his guts out stage. Up he goes, arms on Larry for his own support.]

Lead the way. [No carrying today, Dimmy, but he will lean against the old man.]

I'm lazy.

[He says. Little lies.]

And we can order something later.

[When the munchies hit. And of course provided if anyone sleeps they wake. Arms are on him gladly. Ain't it nice to walk through the house in the nude.]

Besides after that I don't want nobody hurting because of the floor.

[Freddy or the old man. Leading and pawing a bit here, a bit there. Moving makes him realize he's still high. Heh.]

Know why I like sleeping in your bed?

Fine, fine.

[Freddy concedes without a fight. He's too worn out and comfortable under this thick naked arm to argue. Besides, it's a good idea that Larry has. The kid snakes his own freckled wiry arm around his broad waist.]

Why?

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