whitetwoguns | But I ain't no madman.

[Caramel green eyes half-lid for the pull through his hair. It's a comforting gesture, the weight of his hand on the kid. If that other version of him had had this from the start maybe he wouldn't have been so angry. They'll never know.]

If anything like that happens to you, I'll let you know.

[Freddy Newendyke promises, leaning in until they're forehead to forehead.]

[They're so close now that the only other place for his arms to be are around this man.]

Thanks. [And Freddy can take as long as he wants to tell him the details.]

But I got a feeling it was one of those one time things, lightning doesn't strike twice.

[Thunder only happens when it's raining.]

Edited 2011-12-23 10:24 (UTC)

Never say fuckin' never.

[Because once upon a time a cop thought he would never fall so hard for a criminal. Freddy leans in just enough to then tilt his head and press his mouth to Larry's.]

[Older Freddy wouldn't do that. He had to be trampled on, made to do it like it was some dirty act. Hell, Dimick it still is. Their own world wouldn't be so indifferent as this place if they walked on down the street the way they did.]

What should I say then.

[Before he falls on into that mouth again and doesn't want to come back out.]

Wish me a good twenty-eight years.

[There. He'll acknowledge the actual occasion. Larry probably knows as much as a kid he can be Freddy's never been one for making a big deal out of his birthday. Must be something to do with always having his birthday eclipsed by Christmas. But with this old man that's not the case at all.]

I wish you the best twenty-eight years a fella could have.

[Mouth moves on his nose, his cheeks, his eyebrows, his jaw.]

And then some.

[Meaning that they gotta have more champagne. And get real warm and cozy.]

Like the rug?

Thanks, it's been pretty crazy. Maybe I'll make it to thirty.

[Questioning his own (im)mortality is just a joke. He'd like to make it to thirty, to forty, to an age where he can say with pride this is my kid and maybe even this is his pop. Just dreams though, far off fantasies that need no sharing when he's only twenty-eight. Freddy tilts his head to shape against Larry's mouth.]

I do. Too bad we can't take it home. It's pretty classy.

I think you could easily do about thirty five with your eyes closed.

[Lets get him to lay back on this classy, furry rug. Say, there must have been some kind of another curse that had one in it. Which one was that...]

You want one of these? For Christmas?

[To go with the few things he got for the kid.]

[Looks like someone's going down. Down down down. Now his back is flat to the dead furry beast. Weird he feels like he's been on one of these before. Ah well.]

It ain't necessary. What am I gonna do with it without a fireplace, huh?

[That's good for starters except he needs to get out of all these clothes.]

What would you want first?

[As if the most interesting thing in this cozy cabin is the furniture. Belt off, kiddo. That tee is gonna get pulled way, way up. The better to feel fur on skin.]

I don't know, man. You ask some pretty hard questions.

[Because Lawrence Dimick always does well with the right responses, like removing pieces of Freddy Newendyke's clothes. He'll help out too, wriggling where necessary until he's shirtless on the rug, knees parted so Larry can settle between his thighs.]

[Settle he does after taking off his own shirt. Skin to skin to fur.]

Only because I care about answers. Kinda demanding I guess but uh....I get results.

[His mouth is on the move again. He's got half a mind to pour that champagne all over him. But then that'd spoil the nice, nice rug they're working on appreciating completely.]

Yeah, you sure do...

[Like how those paws and mouth can have him melting in seconds so soon after finally telling the kid he fucked his older self. Freddy really doesn't have any ground to stand on where that's concerned anyway, and he doesn't want to argue it. Whatever made that older version of himself so miserable, Lawrence Dimick was obviously not the cure. He was too far gone. Freddy doesn't want to be like that, he wants his days from here on out to be like this moment. Freckled arms wrap around that bigger broader body.]

[The timing has worked out. Even though he tried to play it as cool as possible, the truth was starting to develop into an anxiety on a physical level. And we're not taking about headaches and pains. It's a great release. Getting worked up with a guest star helped but one on one? Well... Freddy's soreness had certainly helped him skate by a day longer.

That Freddy Newendyke was not the kind of man that Lawrence Dimick could make love to. He would probably find a cold night and a warm cabin to be too unrealistic to bear.]

Still sore, baby?

[With a big, rough hand pressing between his legs to feel for a bulge.]

Please.

[Those caramel apple greens roll over that question. Playfully of course. He knows Larry's concern is always genuine but he has a feeling this time it's meant to be more of an egostroke and--oh there we go. He arches his back, pivoting his hips right into a paw.]

I'm--fine... [Huff. That bulge is getting warmer with all that blood rushing to it.]

Probably won't be as bad, you know. Because it's not a third leg.

[Larry's chuckle ends up in the crook of Freddy's neck. Jeans have been peeled off and kicked away, now he's buck naked before this fire. Good enough to fucking eat. They make good, long videos about this. And this is their life.]

You sure are fine, my man.

[The better to nip and suck at. If it bothers Freddy enough he can wear a scarf.]

I think I'll--live.

[His breath hitches from the way he breathes into his neck. Damn that was fast work, Lawrence Dimick. Now he's completely bare under the old bear but that doesn't make Freddy completely useless.]

Bullshit. I'm a piece of work. So're you.

[He squirms under the heavier guy only to press on his shoulder then hook their legs to roll them over. Yes, the kid wants to be on top, and if he succeeds he'll make quick work of White's clothes too. Whatever he still has on anyway.]

[And boy will he live. Twenty eight and counting already to the next year. No teenager between them, who the fuck is counting anymore? Just numbers. As long as they are this far apart emotionally and nothing more, that's really all the old man could ever ask for.

Freddy's got slacks to work on off. And they do fairly well. Man on top, eh? Not bad. Fuck the old man loves it that way. He feels the skinned animal fur at his back and it contrasts so damn well with the freckled skin above him. He reaches out to grip on both of his thighs.]

[How about a gambling drinking young adult between them? That's what you can do at 21 right? Freddy's counting the years because come next spring it'll be 22 and he knows the truth of his age now. You don't just forget something like that, but it doesn't bother him (most of the time).]

What should I do to you on my big day, huh?

[The kid asks after getting the old man stripped down to nothing but his skin on the rug. Freckled hands settle on his darker ones too, holding onto them so he can grind around Larry's lap.]

[Time keeps on a-rolling in its way. Fuck. Can Larry handle getting older? Maybe that's the better question to ask.]

When you put it that way, I shoulda packed the crossbar.

[Have a counter force to grind with. Larry tilts his head back and is admiring the view from below.]

Gonna fuck me like the grown montherfucker you are? Show me what that jungle bunny taught you?

[Those smaller hands are still deceptively strong. He pulls Larry's paws away from his thighs to pin them over the old man's head. Okay so part of this requires Larry actually letting him move his arms but details details. Caramel green eyes are looking down at him, rocking and grinding with equal enthusiasm.]

Who's calling the shots here--[Did he really just say jungle bunny...in that case Freddy can't help but snort. Snort then laugh. He said 'jungle bunny'...what an old fashioned son of a bitch.] Do you think you can stay hard if I fuck you first?

[Thoughtfully, arms resting on his chest now. He's playing up the part, could 'take it or leave it' which is far from the truth.] Cause I want you up my ass but not if you're gonna mouth off.

[Pinned he is, those arms aren't going to go anywheres. And why would he? Feels so fucking fine. The way they're rubbing on one another it's like they're trying to make fire.]

Y'might be callin' the shots for now. [Huff. Go on and laugh at him kid. He doesn't give a fuck. Not at all.] Think I could manage.

[Hopefully. The prospect of trying at all makes him want to fill the order. Cool, indifferent talk isn't that solid at the moment. He grins in shameless guilt. Sounds like incentive to mouth off.]

C'mon. You know what the fuck you're doin' tough guy on my dick or in my mouth. We only got one night in this place.

You got a point but I'm not gonna make quick work of you. That'd be way too fuckin' easy.

[He's scooting down on Lawrence Dimick, down until he can part those thick knees and put his hands on his dick, his balls. The whole package really.]

I won't hold it against you if you don't last, baby.

[That is a challenge declared for Mr. White. Freddy's counting on his fighting spirit to make it happen. But first, this mouth goes right down on his shaft.]

[All kinds of self coaching going into being cool, calm and collected fly out the window when those flappy hands get on him.]

I can.

[Oh no. Oh yes. Paws go right on into his hair. Just them in the cabin so he freely lets out a moan.]

Louder.

[Of course part of being louder depends on how well Freddy treats him so that tongue wraps around the tip, lips tightening as he concentrates here first, then takes Lawrence Dimick all the way in. These green eyes are watching, trying to drink up every single reaction. Also, his fingers are rolling over what saliva trails downward, the better to wet the old man's entrance.]

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