whitetwoguns | But I ain't no madman.

[Bristle and dirt on his face and still he gets every kiss. So they don't got what they had, they didn't have it at the start. They didn't really have this relationship either. Now that they do, Mr. White isn't gonna let it go.]

Like that.

[Right at it. Huff. Mind your own words, Larry. Keep it down. A few groans and grunts slip out. He rubs his hands down Freddy's back and then slips them under. His rough fingers rove over his ribs and up to his nipples.]

Goddamn professional.

[His mouth is all over him, tight enough to make him feel it but loose enough that he's salivating on him. It's not the cleanest or classiest way but they were never very clean or classy people were they? Well, Larry can look pretty damn sharp and Freddy can clean up well, but being that meticulous has never been their way. He nods his head up and down on that cock before pulling up.]

Learned from the best, huh?

[That's flattery for you, Dimmy. Freddy groans softly over (under?) the way those paws work his skin, kneading tired muscles and skin that's dangerously close to getting burned. On his mouth goes again, making the wettest mess he can. He wouldn't want Larry to take on any guilt if he were to push it in not quite prepared enough.]

[Classy? Clean? No, not a bit. They met in a club over beers and bonded over sports and illegal betting. They've fucked in fancy restaurants and greasy spoon bathrooms. Their life has come to be about highs and lows and riding them all.]

Goddamn, cowboy.

[No names. Oh does he want to gasp and moan out one of the most meaningful secrets between them. Larry grips into Freddy's hair, his other hand is going to be self indulgent and take care of his own wet nipple. That's what you make him do kid, it's how you make him feel.]

That's good. [Gulp. If only they were home, he would want to fuck this kid's face without abandon but know he's got something that would really finish him off. Thanks for taking their Valentine away.]

C-come on now. Turn around. Lemme do my part.

[These hands have missed touching on him so freely. He can feel the tense, sore spots. There's gonna be a massage for Freddy. After their spamwiches.]

[Green eyes look upward to watch the old man touch himself while he works on his cock. Looking good there, Lawrence Dimick, looking real good. He pulls his lips off to purse around the head of his cock, saliva trailing down the shaft and down his own chin. A real mess.]

Okay, man.

[Not his name again. Whew. Freddy takes another few licks at this thick cut length before kneeling back. He's got to claim one more kiss mouth to mouth before he finally turns around on all fours. God help anyone who looks in through the window or busts down through the door. Freddy wouldn't stop for a second. He fancies having the balls to look over at any peeping tom and moan, let them know how much of a cock loving ass fucking homo he is. He fucking patrols to keeping them safe, he risks his life to bring in supplies. And this man with him? That Mr. White will do whatever the fuck he wants whenever he wants.]

[Slick, wet lips and a smug look make him fodder for a dirty magazine all his own. Man, there's a cigar box full of pictures like that that's lost to them. Larry doesn't feel much remorse because the genuine article is presenting his rear end for the old man.]

You like this part.

[He grins guiltily because he does too. It ain't like eating out a woman, and sure dos make the already graphic, intimate act they got even more so. More deviance. It's to be expected of criminals and faggots. Larry grabs a handful on both sides and holds them just so to spit and watch it run down his crack before another wad. In he goes, tongue first.]

[Presenting. Offering. Begging. Demanding service. It's all the same when it's with Lawrence Dimick because it's all for Lawrence Dimick and himself, no one else.]

Fuckin' bet...I do.

[Oh shit. The way those paws grab him contradict the careful yet deliberate press of tongue to hole. Freddy's already moaning softly, trying to drown his noise out in the cot. Knees spread to give him better access, as if a tongue can go any deeper fff.]

Shit baby... [The kid ain't even showered. That's love. He tries reaching back to brush his fingers through the old man's hair.]

[Showering would mean they gotta go to the floor with the shower. Then wait too shower. Too much fucking waiting. At this point Larry doesn't even give a care. Paws are rubbing, kneading at his ass. He'll go as far as he fucking can with his tongue, even attempting at thrusting.]

I do too.

[Dual purpose for pulling away--to answer and to pit again. To restrain himself from trying to strike at Freddy he holds his hand. Hitting at him the way he wants to would only make him tense more. That's just what they don't need operating with saliva alone.]

[Careful, old man, treating him like this is going to make him grind back against your face, right on that tongue and chiseled nose.]

Fuck... [It feels great when nothing's been up his ass in days. Look at how hard Freddy is.] Fuck, tough guy...

[Larry.]

[Is that so bad if it helps? Larry don't think so. He's burying his face right on in. Now he'll sit up. The crown of his cut swollen cock rests just so, ready for entry. But is Freddy? It's about all they can do.]

You ready?

[Another spit to his free hand to rub on his cock. Not too soon into the act and the kid is getting mouthy. The old man doesn't blame him for a second. He can practically taste his own urgency.]

I think I'm gonna need to gag you or something. [Watch as he grabs for Freddy's jeans.]

Uh huh... [Another groan.] Ready as it's gonna be.

[His mind and heart are in it, he wants this so bad, his body's just going to have to be up to par. The kid's hard and needing release, that's for sure. When was the last time they fucked with just spit? Feels like so long ago after being spoiled by gun oil. Single use packets on the go, talk about modern luxury. This is anything but that.]

Come on, Larry.

[He whispers, rear rocking back to entice White to put it in. Yeah, he might need that gag.]

[Personal and primal. Some would say it's evidence it ain't natural. They can go fuck themselves without any prep at all. Especially the carefully planned, reckless way they have.]

Okay, tough guy. [Can you hear that dip in his tone? That's what Freddy does to his insides. Easing, carefully now.]

Jesus. [Low for now. He reaches for Freddy's denim and hauls it up to the cot.]

In your mouth.

[Put it in there. He can't go on and say much more as his cock is being buried inch by inch. The last time was in the showers. They were clean and not knowing what lucky fucks they were.]

[Is Lawrence Dimick counting? Damn. Oh wait it's because Freddy wanted to show him how much he loves his cock, enough to suck on it after it's been in his ass. Yeah some people would call that extremely unnatural.]

Oh God.

[Huff. Puff. To be honest it doesn't hurt, not really, but it's clear his body is easing its own way solely because of the not so slippery friction once afforded by very abundant lube. Maybe they should take this as a lesson too. Wait what? Green eyes look over. At the denim. Well, okay. Freddy folds then twists a leg quickly to then bite down on the denim. Just in time as the old man's getting balls deep. He grunts into the fabric. Cheek down now and using his own jeans as a pillow Orange reaches back to work his own ass, kneading and spreading to make it easier. It helps only a tiny bit.]

[Sorry, kid. He really would love to hear every single noise he can pull from you. Man, it's another thing stolen away by the City.]

There we go, tough guy. [Leaning now over him so he can kiss at his back and shoulders, whispering.] You got it all. Fuck it feels so good.

[He'll let go of Freddy's hand but not before a squeeze. So he might be muted. That doesn't mean that he can't say to stop or slow or anything. He helps with the kneading. Staying still balls deep he almost feels himself hard and throbbing in there itching to get a move on. For starters he grinds.]

Mmphhr.

[Muffled pleasure, that's what that is, and short quick huffs for the kisses to his back and shoulders. Each one is like a goddamn tattoo, ain't Larry been wanting Freddy to get one just because? These will have to substitute.]

Unnh.

[He probably sounds ridiculous, Freddy thinks to himself, mouth stuffed with denim, ass stuffed with cock. Ridiculous and it feels fucking good. The kid grinds back against him in full eagerness to set a pace. A freckled hand squeezes at Larry's thigh, urging him to go when he pleases.]

[Hard to say what he thinks should stay on Freddy's skin forever. What image, what word would really be cool and meaningful enough? They'll play with a pen or markers sometime for kicks. All he's got is his mouth to mark up this man. It shouldn't be underestimated at all.]

So fucking tight. It's been goddamn days.

[Huff. There he goes. Easy at first in his thrusts. To be on the safe side, as always, he spits on his fingertips so that he can rub it along where their bodies meet.]

Roo 'uckin' 'ong.

[Can you make that out, Lawrence Dimick? Yeah that's Freddy trying to talk around his gag just because he has words to share, okay. It's important for him to have his say whether or not you can understand, Dimmy. For the record he means it's been too goddamn long since they've fucked. Days (just days).]

Oh 'od.

[The kid's face is already flushed soft red, cheek rubbing into his jeans. It feels so fucking intense.]

[That could be too fucking long or you rocking dog...dong? His mouth doesn't stop licking, biting and kissing. There's more force and confidence to his pace. Just days with this much tension makes so much of a difference with no release.]

Oh fuck, baby.

[A rough whisper. Except he keeps grunting right from the chest. Wouldn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what's up in this room by anybody passing by in the hallway. At least they're not unabashedly collecting knocks on the wall. Balls swing and strike against Freddy's freckled end.]

What me to stroke your cock?

Edited 2012-02-22 03:16 (UTC)

[Shit Freddy hopes anyone who walks by can figure out what's going on. That's how unabashed he's feeling, how much he wants everyone to know he proudly fucks Mr. White. For that question there's a muffled groaning followed by a nod nod nod of his floppy dirty blonde head.]

Uh--h-huh...uh huh.

[Another loud groan. He's making a wet spot from saliva on his pants. In a moment or so he'll be wetting at the tip of his own cock too.]

[Crystal clear answer there. It never ever gets old to him to be stroking his uncut cock. Fuck is he ever hard, foreskin rolled back. He tries to keep his movements complimenting the way he's plowing forward into his prostate again and again.

One wet sucking kiss at the back of his neck before he sits up.]

Beautiful.

[Swallow. Huff. Damn. Now he's not caring too much about what sounds like what. Thigh to ass smacking is another noise that is hard to ignore, harder to hide the way he's hammering. He's making his own wet spot that helps take the edge off of the intense friction.]

[Fuck that paw on him, this mouth on him, that dick inside him. It's almost like the kind of desperate raw fuck he imagined having when they first met. Just not in a goddamn desert shanty town. Something about the urgency though and the risk of close quarters, yeah that really comes close. His ring piece is feeling a mild sting from the lube they've used. 'Lube' really. Orange doesn't regret a goddamn second.]

Unnnhhh.

[Should they be glad no one's bothered to poke in based on his sounds alone? Freddy could be fucking dying, fucking assaulted. Shouldn't they be sick with humanity for not checking in on what's making this kid cry into his jeans? Ah well. One look at his dick leaking precum and the way these freckled hands unbound keep grabbing at the old man proves how much Freddy wants it. Watch out, Mr. White, he's going down for the count. Knees slowly scoot back and wider as it seems Freddy's lowering himself closer to the cot, coming hard and fast.]

[A lot of dirty, shameful things happen when the conditions are bad and the people are worse. It's like streets south of the border over run with drug lords and their agendas. They would have seen the guns in the room along with the two bodies slapping together. That spells trouble all over.]

Don't stop, tough guy.

[Coming, moaning even though it's all right on into some sand saturated denim. Larry guns in balls deep to get the most of his shaking and constricting. He'll grind against his prostate right along with his orgasm. He may not be Colossus but damn he is going to try to move that hard and fast so quickly. Knees wider and pressed right into the cot, what a sight.]

I'm g-gonna come with you.

[Back now flush against his body. His fist is moving on Freddy's cock tighter and faster. They'll be making a mess on the floor. Whoops.]

[He shakes his head enthusiastically to say he won't stop until he's completely milked and milked Larry in the process. The kid's tight end is even tighter when he's coming like this, all heat and constriction around a not-quite-so-slippery cock.]

Fuck.

[Sorry, Larry, he has to spit the denim out to gasp. The slighter body writhes and shakes under the broader one, weighted and anchored by him. It feels so fucking great.]

Come for me, baby. Fill me up. [That's one thing the desert won't take away, the old man's load. It has no other place it ought to go besides on or inside Freddy Newendyke.]

[Will Freddy accept his instant forgiveness given inarticulately? Larry doesn't have anything in his mouth, he just cannot form the right words and sounds because he's blowing his load. Right into the wiry strong body under him even if it isn't quite as slick as the norm. If he knew he was going to hit the big time so soon he would have tried to bite on something to keep it down.]

Jesus. Jesus Christ.

[All the writhing and grinding now savoring how he can feel the warmth of cum right along with the temperature of the kid. Hard, heavy shit it is. Of course the old man is addicted.]

[With Larry right on top of him like this Freddy can reach back and hold the old man to him, almost kind of like a reverse embrace. Freckled thighs are grinding back against tanned ones. It doesn't matter to him that the man didn't bite, didn't yell his name, why should it when he's in him and on top of him, weighing him down in the best possible way. It's unmistakeably Lawrence Dimick and Lawrence Dimick knows this wiry body beneath his is Freddy Newendyke's, marked for each other.]

Shit man... [He breathes. Shudders.] I needed that.

[He'll bite now. A rumble of a chuckle starts as he lets go. The small amount of worry he had for his ring piece is done away with. Just the effects of Mr. Orange humor.]

Me [pant pant] too.

[Huff. Freddy Newendyke's body deserves more touching so he can feel every residual shudder. Damn. The old man has his own too. Slow, deep grinding to milk the moment and himself out to its fullest.]

We shouldn't wait so long next time.

[Especially when there has got to be supplies to make it better. Somewhere.]

But I ain't no madman.

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