whitetwoguns | But I ain't no madman.

Are we gonna develop codes? Or you can put up a bat signal?

[Fun poking for fun poking. And here, kid he'll kiss you on the neck in your dingy motel hideout.]

How about I tell you 'I feel like extra cock. That one.'

[He pantomimes whispering to the old man in a bar setting, head tilted to capture Larry in the crook of his neck. There something else Freddy hasn't said, something they haven't explicitly addressed, but maybe they don't need to if they're both in it to give this another chance.]

I can keep my ears open for that. Yeah.

[There he'll stay. God he missed the smell of him. Cigarettes, sweat, the whole thing. How did it get so messed up so fast? The better question is how do they prevent themselves from going that way again. He sighs.]

What would you say to me right now, huh? Since it's just us?

[Anything he wants. That's what. Man, they're still in this motel. And Freddy still has things here. Does this mean that they gotta start from ground zero or slowly move on in?]

Cool.

[Says the kid. It's no different from 'good' or 'that's a great idea' in Freddy terms. He drapes a wiry arm around the old man's shoulders. What would he say to Mr. White indeed. Freddy thinks about it for a quiet moment, tongue slipping out only to wet his lips in thought. He could tell him he trusts Larry to curb the things that led to what happened last year and in return Freddy would do the same. He could tell him he'd like to move back in as soon as possible.]

Thanks. For not giving up. [On me, on us. He doesn't clarify, not finding a need to.] I wanna move back in.

[But not without at least one good fuck in this place. It'd be proof no matter what happens somehow they find each other back together everywhere, a temporary studio is no exception.]

As bad as I felt, I wasn't going to.

[He felt down. He felt out. They kept on talking somehow though. Those last words are really what brings it all home. With Freddy on him now he is already back to occupying his mouth and starting to make work on his shirt.]

[Secretly Freddy counted on Larry not giving up because if he did the kid would have been heartbroken. Shit what does that say about you, Newendyke? Except if the tables were turned the old man can bet Freddy would have made sure to depart on nuclear meltdown terms. He's a hypocrite too, so sue him.]

Does that mean you're takin' me back?

[Yeah, he's asking, if just to hear the words and indulge in framing the entire matter in a lighter context. The way paws are moving over him and undoing parts of him help. Freddy doesn't fight the lift and pull of his shirt.]

[Did he? Now, had the old bear heard these words he might be a little out of sorts. This man needs a rock too. Except Lawrence Dimick keeps company with liars and thieves. They're his dearest, most trusted friends. How could he ever turn away the kid and have him live to tell the tale?]

I'm takin' you back. You're mine.

[The conviction is even more solidified in the pull of his teeth on Freddy's lower lip. Shirt is pulled on up and over.]

Just like that? You're gonna drag me on home like a fuckin' barbarian?

[As far as Freddy's concerned, all Larry needs is the pelt on his head and a loin cloth. Instant Darkwolf. A Darkwolf with tattoos at that. He gives a teasing tug against those teeth before they have to part to make him naked from the waist up. Then Orange is right back on his mouth again as his legs shift to straddle White.]

It ain't gonna...be easy...

[He breathes between kisses, freckled fingers working to relieve Larry of his upper layers too.]

I'm gonna have to cuz it ain't easy.

[He will happily pursue this to the fullest extent. Oh and fuck the kid. That's all added bonus features. Since he's straddling, the old man sure gives him something to strain up against.]

So it'll all be worth it.

[Kind of like a heist. You work hard right on up until the pay off. When you're looking to score big you do just about anything. Especially when it's juicy, real juicy. Hard, firm hands are working off Freddy's belt.]

[That growing hardness is sure easy to figure out especially when it's coaxing his own up from his jeans. Freddy spreads his knees to get low enough, to rub groin to groin. His lips purse against Larry's jawline.]

Sure, it sounds like a--a real good plan man. You're gonna suck me first.

[Suck, not fuck. They can fuck too, but he'd like to be sucked off as an appetizer. That's Freddy's roundabout way of being a rock, the only one trusted and allowed to push his dick up Lawrence Dimick's ass.]

Yeah, man?

[There's a deep appreciative grunt in his chest at now they move together.]

Gonna take me by the hair and drag me? Mmm?

[He'll go willingly. Besides, he's got only so much to pull and drag.]

Who's the barbarian now?

[A real tough guy he-man. Moving on out to make his point and say his say. Larry finds it as admirable as he does frustrating. Belt clatters on the floor and now hes got a direct line to Freddy's crotch. Of course he's gonna take the kid back.]

Whatever hair you got left.

[Freddy quips, teasing. He knows how sensitive Larry can be about his hair no matter what he truly admits, but it is a joke. The guy's got a nice full head of brown hair, sometimes freshly darkened, other times with a silver fade. He happens to enjoy both and wouldn't dare compromise it by dragging him by it. He will, however, pull Larry down onto the couch with himself on top. So much for that direct line to his dick, but don't worry, Mr. White, the kid here is going to establish that connection soon. Jeans down, waist band off his hips, his stiffy is standing out and proud.]

I'm no barbarian, I'm a viking.

[Yep...there's a difference, or something. Freddy curls over to kiss the top of Larry's head.]

You gonna count it too?

[Hurmph. Well. They're together again. Meaning that he will not think twice next time about talking about height. And he is sure if this is going how he thinks it's going, then every time it'll be worth it.]

Difference being?

[Watch how he licks his lips brown eyes on his viking. Paws grab at him not settling for just a kiss.]

You're better at football?

Why not?

[He combs his fingers through Larry's hair like he actually is counting, which he's not. Oh shit, paws on him make Freddy grunt then groan. His erection has no manners so it's probably bumping and rubbing against him too.]

I'm an expert at tackling tight ends.

[Another way of saying yes. Now he's got to curl back up, Dimmy, so he can brush the head of his uncut cock against the old man's lips.]

[So full of humor and bullshit. It says happy. Larry slips out his tongue like a lazy cat. One paw works the base of his cock. Lips part and welcome him right on in. His other hand cups Freddy's ass.

He won't say it but he did wonder if this would ever happen again. Not giving up doesn't mean that you have thoughts like this. He did. Frequently. They were made worse by wonderful dreams and dirty pictures. Looking at them was painful. That's over now. At least the harder shit. So he hopes. It's so simple when they're skin to skin.]

Oh shit, baby...

[Freddy breathes thin through his lips. Both hands settle on the end of the couch now, a place to anchor to because a rock's got to be steady for his man. Let Larry please him how he wishes to please him. Freddy'll get his hips involved eventually. Is it a sign of 100% absolute reconciliation? Who knows, but if someone could predict these things then there'd be no excitement in any partnership.]

[Damn right. His baby. No one else's cocks can come and go, but not just anybody gets called baby. Larry bobs his head and really curls his tongue on under. Each time he takes a pull he attempts to take him on in a little deeper. Truly though, Freddy is buried as deep into the old man as a bullet to the chest so fucking deep that it could be through.

No sleeping alone for another night. And not the next. Shit he feels so full of hope and so pleased that this ain't the end of it all.]

You gonna fuck me with this big cock?

[Pant. Pant. He licks at the tip and works his other fist to take up the saliva he's been smearing all over.]

[Looks like they're on the same wavelength because Freddy is using his grip on the couch as a means of controlling how deep he pivots his hips towards Larry's mouth. Enough to really fill him but not enough to choke him. It'd be awkward in this position where the old man can't exactly pull back. That's how Freddy's a rock though, right? He likes to think of it that way, careful and considerate of his man's well-being, so honored to do right by him he'd tell him he's a cop before the cavalry arrives.]

You want me to? [Huff puff.] I gotta hear it.

[Orange wets his lips.] My neighbors too, tell'em goodbye for me.

You gotta fuck me, man. I want it bad.

[Not keeping it down. Not stopping his hand work either. Larry looks up at Freddy, bare chested and wiry arms out and supporting. Always dependable, always ready to help out--that's Freddy Newendyke. There's no doubt in the old man's mind that the kid isn't gonna treat him anything but right.]

All I need is you.

[That's softer because it's just for Mr. Orange.]

I gotta--gotta what?

[He thrusts slow and steady into that heavy wet paw. Green eyes are looking down at brown ones with floppy hair curtaining a bit. Fuck yes that's just for him. All he needs is Lawrence Dimick too. Extra dicks, vibrating ones, leather straps, and metal rings are all delicious perks. None of those things would have as much meaning without Mr. White, even a self-operating piece like Colossus because Larry's the one who picked it out.]

You got me, man. [He huffs softly in return.] Now where do you want me?

[Freddy asks louder because it's meant to be a dirty filthy prompt, the kind given after handing over a fresh sweet bouquet of flowers.]

Fuck me. Fuck my ass until I cum.

[How about that, kid? And he matches volume. In this sort of a place who is telling if this is the norm. Even if it is, how often do you get the full committed relationship. Or at least one hell of a team. There will be more to listen to. Larry has taken to moaning around that cock. At this rate he'll put a hand into his own pants.]

[Those words get him so fucking hard he's threatening to wet at the tip of his cock already. Whoa hey hey where are his paws going? Freddy's quick to reach back and claim both wrists for himself to pin them above Larry's head. Right on the couch arm. Of course that's assuming Larry Dimick lets him. That's how this team works.]

When I'm ready.

[Freddy insists, then his hips thrust forward again, eager to fuck his face at least for a moment. It ought to guarantee whatever load Mr. White has in him will leave its mark in this place.]

[Mouth busy, arms tied? He makes a frustrated moan. Yeah. It's frustrated. For a guy his size he could pull his wrists free. He doesn't want to spoil this moment. When he's ready. Sheesh.

Then give him a reason to be ready, old man. Throat wide open,]

[There's something absolutely arousing about how a man of his size still willingly submits to the treatment a man like Freddy Newendyke imposes upon him. It keeps both of them utterly pleased, that's the important part. Fuck but feeling that wet wideness in his maw teases him. The kid could be somewhere tighter. The old man fights dirty.]

Fuck. Turn over.

[Freddy groans, finally withdrawing from Larry's mouth and letting go of his wrists. He has to climb off that big broad body too to get the lube. Look at this string of saliva stretching from lip to cock tip. If only he had a camera.]

[That's more like it. Even when his mouth is not full of cock anymore he smacks his lips, and flexes his tongue to collect that strand of saliva. Larry kicks aside his trousers and kneels on the cushion, arms braced against the back like Freddy had. They don't have to go like this but this is his view.]

C'mon. I need your cock.

[It's up to Freddy to decide if the old man is playing it up for the neighbors or he wants to say it like that.]

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