orangetoughguy | log post II

Why thank you, baby.

[He says it like he means it...becauuse he does.]

There's got to be people alive out there.

[As lucky and smart as they are, they cannot be the only ones. It's one thing to feel like they're the only two people in the world.]

Back at you, man. [Ever supercool, he plays it off like he's just that frosty, but Larry makes him hot like the LA sun on downtown asphalt.] Lemme check on one of these.

[Freddy fiddles with the device. To his amazement it's still running clear and easy despite their distance from the center of that other city. But what's this, a familiar face? Time to stop playing around and start playing hero.]

Home sweet fucking home.

[Freddy drags himself and the rest of his gear into the fancy two story apartment. Warm and breathing civilization is a far cry from that hellhole version of Los Angeles they just came from. The place looks untouched as it should be for only 24 hours. That deep bass-like alarm is still sort of rattling in his chest.]

You can say that again.

[The City doesn't have the same kind of smog as LA the air in their apartment smells sweet with it's cigarettes and this morning's coffee. Hours ago Larry was sure he'd never see this place again. Nurse is waiting in the hallway like always. The rodeo queen smiles as if to say welcome home, honey. A fucking far cry indeed.

Never again, not until they're abso-fucking-lutely certain. The old man drops the helmet to the floor with a clunk.]

Man. [His suit is soaked with sweat and gunk.]

Home sweet motherfucking home.

[He says it again because he can. Freddy's dropping his rifle, helmet, vest, handguns. Damn somehow he packed a lot for a not so big kind of guy. His suit is messed up, that's an understatement. The kid looks over at the old man.]

You reek.

[Look who's talking though, or smell it.]

[Vest next for the old man. The velcro and buckles give away one after the other. Tomorrow Larry knows he's gonna be a sore piece of shit. A live and well sore piece of shit who wouldn't want it any other way.]

Me? Take a whiff of yourself?

[As he steps closer he's removing handguns. One, two right there.]

I think you're smelling yourself.

[Hair askew, smudged he is a sight.]

[Freddy lifts an arm to take a whiff of himself. Well, the kid definitely can't tell the difference between that, Larry, the stench of LA, and the undead. He shrugs once as if to say "So sue me."

Could be code for something else though, like "So fuck me."]

[Three steps and paws are on the kid. Rough at the shoulder and shoving him into whatever surface that's suitable to pin him.]

Son of a bitch.

[Pulling at his waistband.]

I know exactly what you fucking deserve.

[Because they're alive. Fucking survivors.]

[Oof, that's right into the kitchen counter because this kid here was gonna get a can of ravioli but it can wait. Paws on him, in his waistband, Freddy's already getting hard. Hell he might have been hard since they left the police station.]

Yeah? You gonna tell me?

[Flappy hands paw in kind to pull the old man's blazer off, shirt, tie, whichever.] You gonna show me you old bastard?

Show you.

[His face is in something of a sneer and he leans in to his face to be nose to nose. Clothes are falling, leaving their mess all over.]

Breaking into a fucking police building.

[Pants are undone and the old man's hand is inside there.]

Stealing a car.

[Nip and lick while his hand is getting him harder.]

Who the fuck do you think you are?

Uh huh?

[Freddy utters, nose to nose, awaiting the list of his charges for crimes against...inhumanity. Zombies. Whatever. Oh shit his green eyes flash wide open before narrowing when he feels a paw cupping him. Freddy curls his fingertips into Larry's thick arms.]

S-supercool.

[Hm that's a what, not a who. Learn to grammar, Newendyke.] Fuck me, baby. Fuck me like you promised.

[Stroking tight and slow first. Christ, he can practically feel it hardening in his hand.]

Tell me where the tape is.

[Because he can't remember. All Larry can think of is the ways he's going to pound the shit out of this kid because he can.]

I'm gonna use your trick to make it last. [Swallow pant pant.] To fuck you like you like I said I would, baby.

I read it in a magazine.

[Freddy confesses, it's not really his trick. Not that Larry cares or thought differently. Not that who came up with the idea matters. He leans in to kiss that smoke-stained mouth, tongue to tongue then separating to sort of turn and drag themselves towards another corner of the kitchen. Hardware drawer.]

To match your movies?

[To give him ideas of how to fuck and get fucked? Clever son of a gun. Dragged along he gets to work on Freddy's neck like he's trying to kiss every freckle there. His hand is still on his groin but not stroking, call it a possessive hold.

Hardware drawer. Hah.]

Wanna lay that on me, cowboy?

Uh huh, but you're the only tough guy I scene with.

[Oh that feels good, kisses along his neck. The kid groans softly, hand reaching back to dig into the drawer--ah there we go. He edges the old man back a little to get down on his knees. Do you like that, Lawrence Dimick? The way Freddy looks up, caramel green eyes almost glowing? He starts undoing those pants.]

Damn right.

[Though weren't they still on the look out for a third wheel? Well, that doesn't matter right now. They're alive. And there's another chance at enjoying whatever the fuck this is in the City. It's something to be cheerful about for fuck's sake.

He loves it. Loves the alluring quality of his eyes that are so expressive.]

I'm gonna fuck the shit out of you, baby.

[Oh they are, just not right now, and even when they do have that third party he's just going to be a guest star. Lawrence Dimick is the real main player in Freddy's rock and roll fantasy.]

Great cause I want you to fuck the shit out of me. I want you in my ass, baby.

[Freddy utters against his thigh while reaching in to get Larry out. He's stroking it, pumping firm, anything to get it as hard and erect as possible. As fast as possible. Hell the kid's already putting his mouth on the shaft to help.]

[Good because everyone likes the original casts anyway.]

You're gonna get it.

[That's a threat and a promise. Payback for all that lip in the LAPD headquarters. Man is he breathless. Freddy knows exactly how to work Dimick's gun.]

Oh fuck.

[Hot mouth, firm hands. In no time at all the kid gets what he wants.]

[How to work it and warm it up, just like he's back in the LAPD HQ throwing his weight around like he knows what's what. Because he does. When Larry's right up stiff the kid starts unwinding the tape.]

Tell me how you wanna fuck me. Should I put my sneakers on?

[Snip. That's one strip wrapping around Larry's balls now. He's careful to mind the dark hairs down here as he ties the old man off.]

[The old man playing his rookie as they geared up.]

Just the shoes. Don't you fucking dare think of movin' away to get something else. I'm gonna lay you down on the counter facing me first. Then I think I'm gonna flip you over.

[That's what you call snug. Not uncomfortable entirely. Besides, that's not the point. Larry knows he wants to last as long as possible before a little death. Fitting.]

[Really? Really? Freddy can't say it doesn't get him hot just thinking about it. A second strip to secure the first and he's done. He stands up to look over his handiwork, not bad at all. Then the kid's getting rid of every last piece of clothing on himself. Except his socks of course.]

And you're gonna spread me open right? You're gonna plow me like we just missed the last day on earth. [Says the very naked Newendyke.] So the best memory I've got is your hard dick up inside me?

Goddamn right.

[Why are they even still talking. Larry's shirt is off, coat with it. Pants he can step out of. Warp speed to the kid. A paw grips at his ass and the other helps boost him to the counter top. Lube is found easily--the lifestyle they lead in this City could have been lost forever.

His fingers lube up his cock and then the kid's ass is greased up.]

Goin' in.

[From the get go.]

[Oof again. That genuinely catches Freddy by surprise, not because he wasn't expecting Larry to go in for the kill so to speak but because it still boggles him how easily the other guy can lift him up and just set him down anywhere he pleases. No big deal. Really. Aside from the fact that Orange can't possibly do the same to the bigger broader White. Whatever. He spreads his knees apart for Larry.]

Okay.

[Oh shit, just his fingers alone feel fucking good. Did he even wash his hands? Freddy arches his back, anticipating the feeling of something bigger.] Stick it in.

[One hand to each ass cheek as he spreads him and eases on in.]

Mmm.

[His head is dipped to look down at the man, look at his face as his body takes him on in. Nice and easy for now.]

There you go, baby.

Oh God.

[Freddy groans, feeling him push past with only a slight slip. It burns but not enough for him to call it pain. Right now it makes Orange feel more like he just survived fucking zombie mayhem. Right in the ass. His arms stretch out to find something to grip, the space behind him, the counter's edge. Anything. One heel sits on Larry's shoulder. Who knew the kid's legs were long enough for that hah.]

That's it man. Shit... [Another groan. His own muscles flex and contort from settling around White.]

log post II

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