whitetwoguns | But I ain't no madman.

[Did Larry really just...? Did he... Seriously...?

Freddy can't help but kind of smile at the whole fucking concept of a guy like Larry Dimick talking about fate.]

I guess so. Too bad I didn't bet money on it. [He reaches back to pat pat the old man on the thigh.]

[Fate. Destiny. Those aren't words he'd use heavily. There is no way of explaining how they fell together like they did. It wasn't easy, wasn't even that quick either. Sort of a matter of time and circumstance. He knew he liked this guy at the bar, how much and for how long there was no way to tell it'd be this much.

Elbows and pats, he's earned em all.]

You gotta deal with what you got right now, man.

[No extra dough besides whatever is remaining on Dimick.]

The job can support your arcade visits.

I don't drop that much at the arcades. Less than what you drop on pretty dancers.

[You think he doesn't notice the kinds of bills you slip them, Lawrence Dimick? fff.]

Do the machines gotta eat?

[Paws are on either thigh. Yeah. The kid sure would notice things like that. He isn't taken in by curves and tits, not like Mr. White. There are no curves under his hands as they move lazy like.]

Guys who run the place gotta eat.

[Come on now, just because a machine isn't a busty dancing wonder doesn't mean someone's not trying to pay the rent with it. In a world without any need for badges Freddy'd probably be that guy, running his own arcade...his own comic book store...his own collectibles gallery. In a perfect world where he'd meet up with his man after closing for the night every time.]

And if a machine doesn't get enough quarters they toss it out like it's junk and that's sad.

[Like machines are people too. Yep. He can feel those paws roaming but Freddy here has a point to make before reciprocating the attention.]

Sounds like you should spare some more on your machines. Ladies don't need it all.

[He noticed after all.]

Must be harder to make a dollar with all of those quarters.

[Freddy and his quickly made points. Coming home is the best option after all.]

Is it a new one or one you just found?

[Not too handsy so the kid can answer him.]

Heavy too, all that metal. Not every guy can handle it.

[Heavy metal, he means, and guys who happen to like heavy metal too as Larry might know first hand. Seeing as how they're sitting just so, Freddy shimmies and shifts to get even more comfortable against the bear of a man.]

One I just found, kinda small, real cozy. Not many kids either.

[Woah now. Getting close can give a guy a stiffy.]

Do they have any skeeball? Maybe air hockey?

[Games that the old man would like or know by name outside of Pacman. Paws massage the outside of Freddy's thighs.

Captain Planet is rearing his green mullet head nearby.]

Yeah they got classics.

[Hehehe. Classics, the kid calls them, just like this pawing old man right here. The way Larry's doing it Freddy can't help but spread those thighs.]

What's air hockey to a guy like you though?

Classics. Shit.

[Oh he caught that one. Thanks, Newendyke. Seamlessly paws are going to the inside of his thighs since they're spreading.]

I like air hockey. When it's not winter it's the closest thing.

[...for a non-roller blade guy.]

Why does that place keep the kids away? Is there are bar in there or something?

[Heh heh heh. There's more leaning followed by spreading and sprawling back.]

I couldn't tell you why, maybe it's got a special machine in it. [Like Flynn's.]

Sounds like you dunno.

[Damn. They're gonna start rubbing up on one another like fucking dogs at this rate.]

Or you don't want to tell me.

[Pushing right back up against him. Agitation from everyone, including himself has fallen to the wayside. Yet another perk of living together with no one else, there isn't any interruptions or one more chance for bullshit from the outside to get in.]

Maybe I'm too scary for kids.

[Freddy suggests as he turns around within those bear paws. Well, rolls around is more like it so he can sprawl on Larry from the front. He steals himself a kiss.]

Rated R type shit.

Higher than that. But I'd say R at a glance.

[That's more like it. Front to front. This next kiss isn't a brief greeting. Have something longer and stronger, kid.]

I don't think you're the stuff of nightmares only because kids don't know better. You keep me up at night.

[A long deep kiss really hits the spot. Seems like Lawrence Dimick isn't so glum now after all. When he finally has a chance to breathe Freddy leans back just enough to speak.]

And I'm not even trying.

[He quips with a one-shoulder shrug before pressing his mouth to Larry's again, tongue snaking through. It's no kiddy shit up in this apartment.]

Go ahead and try. I might like it.

[Meanwhile he'll get on into his pants. Being glum is hard when you got a bright orange ray of sunshine or something like it. They still gotta be mindful of that shoulder while fucking around.]

[Oof. There's not a lot of space in those pants with paws in them not to mention the swelling those paws induce. Now Freddy has to squirm a little, comfort taken away because goddamn how does a guy stay lazy when another guy's rubbing him up and down like that.]

Are you sure? Sometimes even I don't know what I'm capable of.

I'm not the shy scared type, man.

[Discomfort will be worth it. Isn't it always? Finding what he wants then he'll unbutton and unzip first Freddy, then himself to rub on cock to cock.]

You want us to keep Captain what's his name company or take this upstairs?

After talkin'...big like you do? [Oh shit the old man's going for the big guns.] Huh, tough guy?

[All that squirming and shifting just makes rubbing cock to cock even more irresistible. Freddy's hard, that much is certain. Freckled hands run through peppered brown hair.]

Surprise me.

[Linka is squealing in the background for Wheeler.]

Baby, I am big last I checked.

[In size and growth. Heh. That's not all commentary on his own cock. Honest. The old man can fit both hands around both of em to stroke two at once.]

Yeah?

[Because we all know he can and will put the kid in his place with a lift. It's something he loves doing. A few more strokes and he is making sure those legs can fit around him.]

[That stroking is seriously doing a number on him.] Sure--are....

[Who's calling all the shots, really, when the old man knows he wouldn't have a chance pulling a lift without the kid's permission? Those legs are wrapped around him though, tight and snug, like Freddy's already prepared for take off. He knows Larry loves doing it, it's the only reason he indulges the guy on occasion.]

[Lift off, he's got a grip on the couch until he knows he's got balance.]

Did you start without me today?

[Paws firmly plant on his ass cheeks for a grip and because feels mighty fine to be held onto like this. Going up the stairs provides a surprise of rubbing together. The TV is still going. Wheeler is dismissing Linka and they continue their Cold War-like relationship.]

[Oof. Freddy's fingers clutch at Larry's shoulders, his shirt, around his neck, whatever he can.]

Nope. Not today. Didn't have time.

[He utters against the old man, bodies pressed so damn close.] I thought about it but mostly I was thinkin' about you.

[When they reach the top of the stairs the old man leans his shoulder to the wall framing their linen closet. The cowboys are in view.]

What about me?

[As he noses his neck to get working there while making the decision to wreck his own bed. The old man carefully sets the kid on the bed to sit or kneel, whichever.]

[Damn those cowboys look better and better every day. Freddy cranes his neck to let Larry's chiseled nose fit better.]

How I...wanna make you feel...good.

[He brushes his lips along his jaw only to brace White again when they're on the move. Oof. Right on the foot of his bed. It's a comfortable place. Freddy looks up with sharp green eyes.]

Use me up to feel good, tough guy.

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