whitetwoguns | But I ain't no madman.

You know how that goes.

[Working hard. For big ones. Yep. These green eyes are peering up at him as Freddy settles back against the soft cushions, getting comfortable because he wants to see Larry do the work. After all, the kid has a busted wing to consider, hehehe.]

Man, you still need help?

[Asked after receiving a kiss to the forehead, one eye closed briefly. Freddy obliges by first aligning the two of them, cockhead to hole, then tilting his hips up while those fingers urge Larry down.]

I think you do. You're the one with a big--[hold that thought. Easing on down on him, cockhead disappearing inch by inch. It's the beginning of the motion that takes away his capability to talk. Freddy gets to see him lick his lips.]

Big wallet.

[Was that what you were thinking he was gonna say? Grin there before it falls away to concentration to not go to fast for his the sake of his ass and the kid's dick.]

Sorry to inconvenience you so damn much. I'll make it up to you.

Fuck.

[Freddy breathes in a low groan as Larry squeezes around him. It makes him tilt his head back in slow building pleasure, throat exposed to the point where it's easy to see him swallow down another moan.]

...R-right. [Yep. Big wallet. Of course he means it. Not.] Make it up to me now, man.

[This hand that was guiding? It delivers a firm smack to White's ass.]

[He hisses at that smack and the sting that it leaves. Freddy might do the same because the old man is tightening up around him.]

You even want me to move?

[Huff. Puff. A few deep breathes and the rest slips on up his ass. It feels like the kid is throbbing. Nope wait. That's his own heart beat. A few inches forward and if he cranes his neck he can kiss at his freckled face. His are tense supporting his weight pretty well. Balls deep he tilts his hips to get a feel for what it's like to grind on him like this. That's what you call deep.]

Oh fuck.

Shit no. [No wait.] I mean yes.

[Just take it easy first or something oh fuck. There's a hiss just as expected. For all the noise he makes though Freddy finds it fucking amazing. Those kisses top off the whole fucking package. Speaking of packages, the way they're arranged he can feel the tip of Larry's thick cock brushing up against him.]

You feel great, Larry. [Freddy manages to huff out in the midst of grinding back, at least trying to.]

[The first response is more of a grunt. Yeah it feels that good. He is absolutely undone. Push a little forward and his bobbing cock dusts across warm flesh, a push back and there is an even more pleasant rub at his prostate.]

Here we go, baby.

[Into motion. The old man can't remember the last time he tried this. It ain't something a person forgets but chances are he was not so bulkly. So far so good though, so good it would be worse to stop.]

You enjoying your movie?

[His nostrils flare as he breathes out with each pass. It gets easier each time.]

[Each moment only prompts Freddy to grunt and groan and grind in time with him. For each tilt back he pivots his hips forward. For each angle that seems ripe for prostate pounding he pivots his hips straight up. Larry's not the only one who got fit in the desert. In fact the kid's tan lines are probably still visible, though not as much as they were when they first got out of there. Also, for Larry's listening pleasure, Freddy is huffing and fucking puffing.]

What movie?

[Yes. What movie. He's hardly paying attention to that menu of fine Thuggee. Why bother when he has the best dish right here fucking himself on his dick. Now freckled fingers curl around the old man's heavy bobbing cock.] Work for it, cowboy.

[Brown eyes flick to watch his body work under him. Tan lines or no tan lines he would want to fuck him just the same. Say. He has fucked him without too prominent of tan lines. The change in pigmentation helps him to appreciate the muscle works underneath.]

I'm-I'm just getting started.

[Except being worked like that is going to bring on his finish pretty damn quick. Larry goes for broke and really starts riding on Freddy now. It wasn't until now he realized what a reliable and pretty springy couch they have. He's working up a sweat for his orgasm and he couldn't be happier.]

It's not my first rodeo.

[Oh come on Freddy's known about the springiness of their couch for a while now. Seriously, Lawrence Dimick. Maybe this is just a sign the old cowboy needs to ride this young bronco more often. Because he's suggested a rodeo, Freddy's working pound for pound to beat his prostate as fervently as he's beating off his cock.]

I'm gonna have a big left arm.

[The kid quips in a puff of hot exhausting air.]

[Okay so he has known but he hasn't quite been able to appreciate it as much as he has at this very moment. Yeah, yeah he should ride more often.]

To match your big leg.

[A breathless chuckle before giving away to more moans. They're building louder the more they go. Freddy's operational fist is getting slick with precum.]

It feels so fucking good, Freddy. Shit. [Redundant statement. He just has to say it. All part of the show. Lawrence Dimick is fixing to ride out as long and hard as this young bronco.]

You don't...need to exaggerate. [Huff huff. Puff.] A longhorn'll do.

[And that precum just makes it easier for Freddy to pump his fist up and down. He's working the old man the same way he'd work himself in a masturbating frenzy over a picture of some naked-from-the-waist-down cowboys.]

You gotta come first. [He insists. Oh but just in case Larry thinks he's asking for a favor...] I'll make you blow it.

[To punctuate his declaration Orange puts his lower back into fucking White from the bottom up.]

Long. Horn.

[Ha. Ha. Really is a funny one. Too bad he can't laugh. Freddy Newendyke is the only cowboy he's thinking of. He's the one that wrangled in the picture of the others. It's in their home. How much more picturesque can you get? Their beautiful rodeo queen may be old news but she's still watching. Indy, Short Round and Billie have their own problems and really don't matter a lick.]

C'mon man--[He was hoping to last Freddy if not outlast. There's no way he can now. Skin slaps against skin hard and fast enough for the old man to tighten, not enough for pain. Shit, he almost thinks he's too far gone for pain. It's like he's high. Nothing hurts. Nothing else matters.]

Shit. Shit.

[Is the kid trying to plow right through his prostate? Well, he did say he was going to make him.]

Jesus Christ, man.

[Don't feel bad about it or anything, Dimmy. The kid did get a headstart (hah) and he'd already gone for a round with himself before the old man came home. It's no statement on Larry's own ability to endure and endure and endure. Hell Freddy here knows it first hand; Larry can really fucking plow the shit away when he wants to. It's just that he's in the hot seat now, getting fucked on their plush couch with Indy in the background. It makes Orange feel damn proud.]

Gettin' close, baby. Come on, come all over me.

[The sooner White does it the sooner he can fill his old man up with his hot load. Freddy's fucking dying to do it.]

[Larry brings his arms closer together on either side of Freddy's head. He is gripping the back of the couch now for dear life.]

I wanna, baby. Jeez.

[That's one stroke and prod to his prostate too many. His bigger body tenses inside and out. Don't worry kid, he's still moving. It's not as controlled as before, certainly not as clean. Larry comes on Freddy's chest, some splattering up near his throat.]

Do it, man. Get it on me.

[Having Lawrence Dimick, big fucking man that he is, Two Guns, Alvin Jacobs, Mr. White, an old professional motherfucker, hovering over him like this in throes of pleasure because of his cock drilling up in his ass is a fucking trip. Whenever Larry starts sweating his hair does this curl thing too that Freddy can see very clearly this up close. God does he love him and his warm brown eyes and the feet that frame them.]

Oh fuck, Larry.

[Freddy groans when he tightens up like a goddamn vice around his cock. He has to stop himself from thrusting more, restrained to a grinding motion as the old man comes on him, just as ordered. The heat he feels spattering against the bottom of his neck is way fucking impressive. Already he knows exactly what he wants White to do.]

Lick it up. [Your own cum, Dimmy, it's in the perfect place. There are no good excuses to refuse.]

All over you, Freddy.

[Mr. Orange. A fucking cop. How is this even right or possible? He's in too deep like another sand trap, one that he doesn't want to leave for any reason. What would be the point anyway when he'd have been haunted the rest of his life by a pair of eyes that were such a shade of green when he asked to be held. It was a different shade than when he caught them now and then at the bar with Joe and Eddie.

Fuck he loves him. He loves being fucked by him.]

Now you, cowboy. [Mumbled against his uneven toned skin. He is a well trained bear to listen so well.] Come in my ass

[Jesus if only he had as many hands as that Kali or something. He wants to hold Larry's head to the crook of his neck but he also wants to grip his hips to keep him in place for a good pounding. In the end Freddy decides to press his (somewhat) messy fingertips into Larry's hair, holding the back of his head like his goddamn life depends on it. His busted wing rests to one side, palm on the old man's hip anyway out of habit. It's not clutching as much as it'd like to but any fucking port in a storm. Frankly, Freddy loves this hurricane.]

Fuck. Fuck baby I'm comin'.

[There's that reedy sound like he might be fucking dying. Instead he's fucking blowing his second load in the old man. It's still kind of a little death.]

[More hands would be great about now. Larry would stay anchored to the couch while touching Freddy's face. Instead he nuzzles cheek to cheek. The clutching grip on his hair serves the same purpose.]

Yeah, baby. Oh fuck that's good.

[A good pounding is given, even with a busted wing. Hot cum is the perfect chaser. The old man is about sure now that he'll feel this tomorrow.]

[All that nuzzling could put even the toughest guy to shame, except Freddy doesn't feel ashamed at all. He loves the way clean-shaven and mild stubble rub against each other, a softness to the hard edge of a sweaty fuck. Although he's the one sticking it to the other man, Freddy holds onto Larry like he's fucking dying.]

Shiiit....

[He draws out in a hiss.] Think you got it all?

[The kid punctuates his question with a firm grind.]

I dunno.

[Seriously that is the first thing coming on out of his mouth. All he knows is how good it feels to be freshly fucked with a still hard cock practically tattooing his insides.]

Check.

[A strained noise in the back of his throat extends to a moan as he grinds back.]

Feels like.

[That don't mean he's ready to stop grinding on him just yet. The pace has slowed up and he is spent. Why let up immediately though.]

I'd have to pull out.

[Freddy grunts, clearly not wanting to do that just yet and to show it he grinds at a particular angle as if it's possible to get any deeper inside Larry.]

Think I'll...take your word for it man.

[He breathes against him before pursing his lips high at White's cheek. This freckled hand on his hip is slowly creeping between this thighs to feel that seam where their bodies meet together. It's a tight fit.]

[Damn good thing he's not pulling out so soon. His body is just not ready for it.]

Is this what your cowboys make you think of?

[Huff. Puff. He can feel that touch down below and in between them.]

Christ, man. I don't know what the fuck I'd do without you.

[And that's the honest to God truth.]

Oh yeah. Gettin' hard, fucking around with my man. [Or men but really there's only one exclusive man for Freddy Newendyke.] I don't know either, Larry.

[Freddy shakes his head, floppy hair moving with the motion.]

Whack off to Pam Grier movies? [That's a joke for you, Lawrence Dimick. Honest.]

[There are other dicks to suck or fuck but Lawrence Dimick is the man he goes home with. That is something that he will not get sick of knowing. Since they're not in any furious motion he can spare a hand to push back his floppy blonde brown hair.]

Shit. You know me too fucking well.

[Here, Freddy Newendyke. Collect your prize: a mouth full of Dimick to really fill on up both ends. There may be a ghost of a taste of spunk.]

[Heh heh heh. For that the old man gets a wink of a caramel apple eye before both are widening, then narrowing, in a deep wet kiss.]

Mmm...

[There's some muffling like the kid is actually saying something around his tongue, but whatever it is it's obviously not important enough to be properly enunciated.]

But I ain't no madman.

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