[Caramel green eyes narrow not because of what he's said but because those paws are on him now. Here's the real fucking test...as if Freddy wants Larry to pass right now. The kid's temper is still flaring but being strong enough to fight and snap back has him feeling more like his old self.]
No.
[He admits in a clear solid defiant tone, not moving, not budging.
No? So even knowing that you still put yourself right fucking there in front of me.
[Rough fingers, not claws, dig into his shoulders. Larry cranes his neck to stare directly into his face.]
What the fuck are you trying to do to me? To yourself? Hoping I blow up or something?
[His jaw clenches. In a moment full of more breathing then words he can feel his own nostrils flare as he breathes. Whole fuck tone of testosterone in this small kitchen.]
[That almost sounds like Lawrence Dimick is accusing him of asking for it. Is it because of the way Freddy's dressed? Is it because of his attitude? Freddy Newendyke is no tempting twink, that's what they say after he's cuffed them and thrown them into the back of his squad car.]
You're an asshole.
[I'm not heartless, Freddy says to himself as he puts a tight grip on Larry's face and hair to kiss him.]
[Huffing. Puffing. He's waiting to get shoved off. Sort of hoping for it so then he can fuck off on his own and try to clear his head of all the dumb shit that is trying to cloud it.
No, Freddy's not asking for it. Maybe that's just it. He did once. And now he doesn't. It's worrisome. Troubling. After all they've been through they won't be the same. That much should be more than obvious.
Lawrence Dimick you're a fucking asshole.
Gripped, he can't pull back. The counter his behind him. And he doesn't want to. A paw stays clamped at his shoulder. The other takes a grip on the long honey locks that grow past his ears.]
A big one. Won't change.
[A rushed reply if he's allowed to say so much before he goes back for more.]
[Freddy doesn't think things will be the same either. He always knew coming back would be a gamechanger. However as this moment clearly illustrates, things changing or not being the same doesn't at all mean going back to the way things were before they met. It's highly unlikely they can ever go back to that.]
Fuck you.
[Freddy growls and it's practically convincing were it not for the way he holds onto Larry like he might lose him, or throw him through a window. Fortunately that's not his intention and the kitchen window is too small for one Mr. White anyway.]
["Sure." He wants to say. "Sometime would be great." A great deal of piss and vinegar has been taken out with the kiss.]
I'm already fucked.
[Win or lose. Keep perspective, you piece of shit. Larry grips the back of Freddy's tee and widens his own stance as he keeps still but close. He's not gonna let go. It's not fucking, okay? Senses are raw and pretty perceptive to all the small, important sensations. The way he smells, the texture of his jaw.]
[The kissing softens from hard and frantic to slow and steady but still deep. His hands haven't left Lawrence Dimick, he can't keep them off the guy.]
Totally fucked, man...
[Quite literally. He's in the middle of fucking Mexico on the run more or less from a department that probably still thinks he's on their side or dead, just like The Onion Field.]
[Where he's coming from. And literally. Both paws are now reaching for a more substantial hold on the sturdy, smaller man pressed up against him. Larry tenses and without a warning starts to pick him up.
Easy. Careful not to grip him on his tender middle. It's more rump than anything.]
[Freddy snaps but again not so harshly as his wiry arms take a hold around Larry, much more solid this time. The old man might not be able to count how many times they've fucked over the past couple years but surely he can count how many times the kid so easily allowed him to pick him up. Ain't that worth something, Dimmy?]
[Oh it counts. This was his own sort of a test. He was waiting for a hit, a solid no.
A warning is good. Larry carries him to the one bed they have set up. There are two. For some reason there are always two. The kid is lowered. Maybe a time or two before he was just dropped.]
I got you, I told you.
[That's the final move is getting there. Larry sighs and shakes his head and pulls Freddy's face toward his. Might be good if they just don't talk.]
[Freddy huffs but he's too carried away (hah) to sound sore or begrudging about it. Oof. Down on a bed already? Well this place isn't as big as what they've had before but neither is it a tiny motel room. Win some lose some. Freckled hands put a grip on Larry again.]
Now shut up.
[He presses on as he pushes on up to have their mouths meet. He's on the same track, no words. Just do it.]
[Someday the old man hopes they have a roost that is bigger and better then the one in the strange, far away city. Today he is fine with four walls and privacy. He lays carefully neither completely on Freddy or on the bed. No mistake he's against him, mindful of how much he weighs.
Words get him into trouble. His lips even though they're moving to say so many things might too. Larry can't make up his mind if he's trying to seduce or pacify with kissing.]
[It can be both, can't it? That's what Freddy thinks even as he's gripping on Larry for fear life, both annoyed and fucking enamored. How long's it been since they touched like this?
Okay some weeks. It hasn't been that long.
But it has been if before this you were up on each other at least every other day. And Freddy Newendyke's got a lot of pent up something to get rid of.]
[Both for sure. Not quite one more then the other. Some weeks can feel like forever. Even if they don't fuck (which the old man is a-oh-fucking-kay with) he feels the full force of how much something has been boxed up in his frame.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
orangetoughguy) wrote2010-08-06 11:39 pm
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No.
[He admits in a clear solid defiant tone, not moving, not budging.
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[Rough fingers, not claws, dig into his shoulders. Larry cranes his neck to stare directly into his face.]
What the fuck are you trying to do to me? To yourself? Hoping I blow up or something?
[His jaw clenches. In a moment full of more breathing then words he can feel his own nostrils flare as he breathes. Whole fuck tone of testosterone in this small kitchen.]
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[That almost sounds like Lawrence Dimick is accusing him of asking for it. Is it because of the way Freddy's dressed? Is it because of his attitude? Freddy Newendyke is no tempting twink, that's what they say after he's cuffed them and thrown them into the back of his squad car.]
You're an asshole.
[I'm not heartless, Freddy says to himself as he puts a tight grip on Larry's face and hair to kiss him.]
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No, Freddy's not asking for it. Maybe that's just it. He did once. And now he doesn't. It's worrisome. Troubling. After all they've been through they won't be the same. That much should be more than obvious.
Lawrence Dimick you're a fucking asshole.
Gripped, he can't pull back. The counter his behind him. And he doesn't want to. A paw stays clamped at his shoulder. The other takes a grip on the long honey locks that grow past his ears.]
A big one. Won't change.
[A rushed reply if he's allowed to say so much before he goes back for more.]
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Fuck you.
[Freddy growls and it's practically convincing were it not for the way he holds onto Larry like he might lose him, or throw him through a window. Fortunately that's not his intention and the kitchen window is too small for one Mr. White anyway.]
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I'm already fucked.
[Win or lose. Keep perspective, you piece of shit. Larry grips the back of Freddy's tee and widens his own stance as he keeps still but close. He's not gonna let go. It's not fucking, okay? Senses are raw and pretty perceptive to all the small, important sensations. The way he smells, the texture of his jaw.]
How 'bout you?
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Totally fucked, man...
[Quite literally. He's in the middle of fucking Mexico on the run more or less from a department that probably still thinks he's on their side or dead, just like The Onion Field.]
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[Where he's coming from. And literally. Both paws are now reaching for a more substantial hold on the sturdy, smaller man pressed up against him. Larry tenses and without a warning starts to pick him up.
Easy. Careful not to grip him on his tender middle. It's more rump than anything.]
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[Freddy snaps but again not so harshly as his wiry arms take a hold around Larry, much more solid this time. The old man might not be able to count how many times they've fucked over the past couple years but surely he can count how many times the kid so easily allowed him to pick him up. Ain't that worth something, Dimmy?]
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A warning is good. Larry carries him to the one bed they have set up. There are two. For some reason there are always two. The kid is lowered. Maybe a time or two before he was just dropped.]
I got you, I told you.
[That's the final move is getting there. Larry sighs and shakes his head and pulls Freddy's face toward his. Might be good if they just don't talk.]
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[Freddy huffs but he's too carried away (hah) to sound sore or begrudging about it. Oof. Down on a bed already? Well this place isn't as big as what they've had before but neither is it a tiny motel room. Win some lose some. Freckled hands put a grip on Larry again.]
Now shut up.
[He presses on as he pushes on up to have their mouths meet. He's on the same track, no words. Just do it.]
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Words get him into trouble. His lips even though they're moving to say so many things might too. Larry can't make up his mind if he's trying to seduce or pacify with kissing.]
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Okay some weeks. It hasn't been that long.
But it has been if before this you were up on each other at least every other day. And Freddy Newendyke's got a lot of pent up something to get rid of.]
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Be a gentleman, Dimmy. Help out.]