whitetwoguns | But I ain't no madman.

[Oh Lawrence Dimick. He sees right through you and that begrudging gesture that ultimately paints the old man as a gentleman. Freddy tilts his chin to one side so he can press his mouth to a (stubbled?) jawline.]

Thanks. [Gentle squeeze to Mr. White's face.] I'm still aimin' for three or four days.

[Stubbled. It's time for a shave. Especially since he's gotta be up bright and early tomorrow. Lips always feel nice on his skin.]

I think you could, no problem.

[Hopefully without no consequences. He's that work savvy. Stipulations are what bosses hate but once they agree to them they're fucked.]

So you home for the day or what?

[Pat pat to his cheek then Freddy leans away.] Yep. I am. You wanna do somethin'?

[The kid still needs to scrub his stink off.]

I think you should freshen up.

[Now he'll not only lean but scoot. Really though if he had a problem he would have done it the moment the man came on in.]

Then maybe we can go for a walk. I dunno.

[Make like faggots or whatever Pink termed it as.]

I'm on it.

[Freddy nods, polishing off more of his beer before taking a sniff at his own collar.] It's not that bad.

[Just for the record.]

Good.

[Sniffing? Larry shakes his head.]

No, but I get to smell you so.

[Shrug. Oh and he'll pat on his ass as he gets a move on.]

Like you're some field of fuckin' daisies.

[Freddy quips--that pat on the ass gets a look though as he moseys on up, taking the beer with him.]

I smell pretty fucking good on a regular basis.

[He's taking. His beer. Never mind the dismissing. You're being followed.]

What? Gonna take that with you? If you're gonna shower with it you need way fucking more.

[Okay he'll give Lawrence Dimick that but he's not about to admit he loves the way Larry smells, whether it's tacos, Chesterfields, or his aftershave.]

Why not? It ain't like I got anything to lose.

[Freddy waits until he's in the bathroom doorway before he empties the beer bottle which involves letting a generous amount pout down his chin and right onto his shirt.]

[Following. Could be a plot. It's behavior like this that Pink caught onto with that weasel snout.]

Not like we're gonna run out, baby.

[Watching. Watching.]

Now look at what you did. Fucking slob.

[Paws grip at his face and he leans into catch the larger drops of Corona before they hit his shirt or the floor.]

Just making a bigger mess.

I'm gonna clean it up.

[Eventually. Oh that mouth feels good. With the bottle empty it's okay to let it drop to the floor. The action's slow and gentle enough the glass doesn't shatter when it hits, it only rolls away from them. In the meantime, Freddy wraps his arms around Larry to kiss his face again, probably a cheek if his mouth is occupied. The kid can't help feeling happy; that weasel doesn't give a fuck who he fucks and he's got a job with fucking Iron Man himself. Could an unwashed day ended by coming home to Larry get any better?.]

It ain't no thing.

I'm thinking you'll need help because it's not gonna be easy for a guy like you to get clean, baby.

[The booze is pretty much splayed over Freddy's chin and on his shirt. There isn't anything to lick up but the old man is still at it. Arms around this man, in fact he'll move a little but to pull him into the wall.]

Y'know. Considering where we've been. [Hauling now to the bathroom. Make that two happy fellas. Pink may be low down and sometimes untrustworthy but he somehow or another pulled through.

Although there was that nagging detail of how Freddy just let it be. What could he have done. First jump on in. How many people has he fessed up to that he didn't exactly get along with well? Eames knew the score before the cop detail. It doesn't nag enough to stop him from pressing his mouth to the freckled, dirty skin of his face.]

I'm gonna make you pick that bottle up.

Professional help from a professional guy?

[Freddy asks thoughtfully, like he doesn't know. Oof. First he's pulled then he's hauled. Make up your mind, Lawrence Dimick. Oh okay well Freddy can accept being mouthed as long as Larry can accept being pawed by freckled fingers.]

You shoulda taught me how to say fuckin' please.

[It's a rushed retort as he starts reaching under the henley to feel his stomach, his chest.]

[Those roamin' hands and rushin' fingers feel so fine.]

It's not to late you know.

[Clunk as he nudges the door to the bathroom open not very gently. And he'll keep on putting Freddy where he likes as long as the man allows.]

You can teach an old dog new tricks.

[Finally on those lips.]

[Oof. He's going wherever Larry puts him because he wants to allow it so it all works out in the end. Before the old man can occupy Freddy's lips though he has to mouth off again.]

I'm not old.

[Mmph. There we go again, now the kid's putting his tongue into it. How else can he tell him he's so fucking happy today? Right now?]

[Shove. And the door is shut. The old man is working on taking off his pants while wrestling tongue to tongue.]

You're old enough to know how to say please.

[That is what he says when he can tear his mouth away. No fast or easy feat. He can tell the kid is on cloud nine. Off go yesterday's boxers and pants.]

Turn around and get the water going.

[As he pulls off his shirt. An employed Freddy is a happy Freddy.]

Please ain't fuckin' please.

[He clarifies. Pants and boxers and henleys and everything are finding their way to the floor but Freddy does as requests when Larry requests it. He turns around to turn the water on, setting it to a warmer temperature, fully aware of the view he's giving.]

What happened to the bottle?

[A quip. He knows what happened to it, it's outside alone and forgotten.]

It only means that you have a lot more to learn.

[Bare as the day they were born again. Ain't bad. Paws are smoothing over his chest, his stomach.]

In the hallway. Waiting for you to pick that shit up. You know how to bend over don't you?

I'm tryin'.

[To learn, learn how to say please, learn how to be okay with who and what he is, with what Larry is, learn how to calibrate reverse thrusters for Tony Stark. Those paws feel pretty damn good, about as good as Freddy thinks his ass feels against Larry's lap. He's bending at the waist to show the old man what he knows, right on him.]

Somethin' like this?

Keep it up. I think you'll get the hang of it.

[Even though Dimick is a fucking professional Freddy is constantly teaching him new aspects about himself, about them and what they have to do to make this thing work. Keeping it a secret was hard, working with this is hard too. No regrets at all, no going back either.]

Yeah. [Low and rough. Mmmm. That lap is closer than ever. Both rough paws go up his back to grip his shoulders, bending over some too then back down, down to his ass.] I think you should practice it more though so it sticks. You got the right approach though.

[Smack to both cheeks.]

Get in the shower.

[Paws rubbing up and down, practically mimicking one of his favorite positions, it's threatening to make his cock go hard already. When Larry smacks his rear Freddy lets out of a huff and groan. Fuck what a tease. He takes a moment to regain his composure before stepping in under that warm water.]

I thought you were gonna help me clean up my act.

I am. In the shower.

[Hard to have just one favorite. All of them are fucking good. Rump to lap isn't easy on the old man either. Makes for a warm snug resting place. There are the stirrings of something.

Once Freddy is in, he's getting pawed with both hands and a bar of soap. One part scrubbing and another part an excuse to touch up on him.]

Dirty son of a bitch. [Growled right on in his ear.]

Edited 2011-11-26 08:50 (UTC)

[The kid welcomes the touching without protest, hell he'll even guide the paw holding the soap over places. The paw not holding the soap too. And when he can turn to be face to face he's using the lather from his own skin to work up Lawrence Dimick's arms.]

You don't mind goin' twice in a day?

[Freddy's talking about showers of course, assuming Larry's already bathed, just didn't have the time to shave.]

[Going everywhere. Neck, back, arms, pits, chest.]

No. I don't mind. Didn't i say i want you to be clean?

[Paws on his ass, massaging and soaping up. If he happens to be talking about something else, he doesn't mind. There are few things that Freddy asks of him that he minds.

A bathed but lazy bear is scrubbing him up. A steady, rather focused hand is making sure that he's clean between the legs too.]

Rinse and then turn around now, cowboy.

You did, you did...

[Soft groan here. Freddy's becoming even more pliable in those paws. Sometimes Larry rubs him the right way so much the kid's willing to do just about anything, including letting him scrub up and down, between his legs. He's not anticipating what it's for just yet, well, not a specific act beyond fucking around that is. He rinses as told then turns around, already bending at the waist, feet shoulder width apart.]

Do I make it too easy for ya?

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