orangetoughguy | log post II

[Short sway, half a step here, half a step back. It's like they're now drifting with one another rather than some street canal.]

I know.

[Hard not to. Though the mood still hangs. Larry dips his head again to take a deep kiss. It complements the rubbing that has picked up the pace since the song is faster and the squeeze in his pocket.]

Still wanna dance, Freddy Astaire?

[He parts his lips to accept that kiss, deeply and fully, even licking the roof of his mouth then his lip when they part. ...Wow. The kid doesn't know whether to be charmed or groan at that one. It's a little bit of both, honestly. Freddy laughs.]

Okay, Larry Rogers. [Yeah you asked for that one, Lawrence Dimick.]

[Whatever works. It's all Freddy's fault. Larry's not in his head at all with him around. Words like that spill on out with no thoughts to them.]

Ginger doesn't sound a thing like Larry.

[Not a protest. Just an observation. Since it's a faster song he pulls back a little. There will still be about the same amount of body contact, just spread out. Don't want to spend it all in one place anyhow. Brown eyes do their best to be discrete trying to take a glance around. He's supposed to be the confident one. Confident people want their privacy.]

Deal with it.

[Deja vu? The kid just smiles and shrugs like it ain't no thing, because it isn't. He can still count on the old man to catch him if dancing on walls doesn't work out. They've been out dancing long enough he can move without needing the cover and guidance of one confident motherfucker, but he'd be lying if he said that confidence wasn't a turn on.]

I was nineteen when this came out.

[Nobody else can call him Ginger. That's between the lines. It's a gift kid.

Got dark pretty damn quick. A little cooler too. Anybody would have to come pretty close to get any idea of funny business. That's how it should be.]

Still a kid. [He nods still movin'.] I was thirty five.

A college kid.

[Freddy corrects as if it makes a difference. He puts his hand on a broad shoulder, more so to give it a firm pat than to anchor him for simultaneous hip movements. Though, that's happening too.]

I'd dance with you. [Back then, he means.]

How's that different?

[Mentally he notes Freddy was in college at nineteen. When was he out of school? The process of college was a mystery to him other than he knew it was something he just wasn't meant for.]

Funny looks an' all? [The kid wasn't a cop then. Larry was already out of jail not once but twice. Flying free, he was all over the country. Would he have stopped to dance with a guy who had a rather soulful pair of caramel apple eyes or shrugged it off as some fucking impulse of something he decided he wasn't really?

Who are we kidding, there's something about the kid that really gets under his skin. They didn't know one another long and Mr. White put his own life on the line.]

You don't think bein' a college kid makes me sound smart?

[The kid's not really pouting...but if Freddy can pour on a thick layer of pathetic snow puppy expression he will.]

Yeah, funny looks and all. It'd have to be like this though, somewhere dark and private.

Oh, I know you sound smart alright. [Smart ass. The pathetic gets a hair ruffle like he's some kinda shaggy dog.]

I know it. No matter what age. But...if you're goin' in between classes that's for damn sure. [Those would be some mean kind of looks.]

[Fffstftftsff. Freddy shakes his head for that hair ruffling, the better to get all the floppy locks back into their proper places.]

You're real somethin'. [He smiles under a light laugh before it's his hand on the back of Larry's head now, the better to press their mouths together.]

[Why bother? They're going to be knocked askew again.]

Somethin' for you. [Larry pulls their hips together to directly groin against him, that's not a dance move. He kisses him like he's a teenager, caught up in affection, preoccupied with touch. Maybe that's why they're like magnets. So many ours in the day they spend apart. Out in public they gotta play nice, keep it covert. It's all gotta spill out somewhere.]

[Whoa. Freddy takes a deep breath for that sudden though not unexpected...extremely close contact. It feels great, dance move or not. Instinctively he purses his lips again, parted to slip his tongue like a teenager, caught up in the moment. Both arms are around Larry now, giving him all the affection he's got in the dark.]

The feeling's mutual, old man.

[He manages to say this between kisses. There are other unspoken sentiments too, but Freddy doesn't have to say them for Larry to know they're there...right?]

[That could be a grunt in the back of his throat that gets caught. Call it the Freddy Newendyke effect. Arms loop around his waist. He can taste Marlboros along his tongue, inviting him deeper into the old man's mouth. Fuck it's got him starting to breathe heavy.

There are so many things expressed this way, things Larry wants to say but knows it's best not to. Freddy's still a kid. Things are probably moving so much faster than it should. He's never done this before. Straight out of his mouth, though that was so many months ago. Did he have any idea it'd get here? All wants aside, did it ever cross his mind?]

[Anything that crossed Freddy's mind was all hopeless rock and roll fantasy. He still had a job to do at the time and he knew it, wouldn't let other things get in the way, to a point. Are there limits? Do limits matter anymore when it comes to them? Freddy doesn't consider himself a kid the same way Larry does, not anymore. He's been supporting himself since he dropped out, he's been on the force for six years, he's gone undercover, he's been shot at twice and lived to tell the tale. Freddy Newendyke is no kid. He's just a kid at heart, maybe heart is where all his kiddishness remains anymore, and he's got a lot of heart for Lawrence Dimick. Who knew.]

Mmf. [Freddy sounds against pressing mouths and probing tongues.] Larry...

[All that heart, all that kiddishness that only Lawrence Dimick sees only makes him protective. Already he considered himself to be something of a private guy, polite to anybody unless you crossed him. The more he gets out of Freddy, the more he wants to give. Until what? Until there's nothing left?]

Yeah, [pulling back in for one more lick at his bottom lip] baby? [Lips migrate to below his ear, so he can answer.]

[Oh God that feels so fucking good. He tilts his head to grant better and more access for that big old bear. Every kiss feels both fucking burning with urgency and soothing in its warmth.]

Think you'd dance with me at Rockefeller Center?

[Yeah, Freddy has to ask. It's the easiest way to express how much he wants to keep Larry's company, beyond this world. Beyond Los Angeles.]

[In the dark you can't see freckles or scars, for a moment he feels as though maybe that is a ghost of what was a vampire bight it's so damn faint. The question, the implications, make him pull up his head. Is it too dark to see eye to eye? Larry'll try anyway.]

Yes. If you'd want to.

[Would Freddy really want him to? All those eyes on them? He doesn't want to lose this. Not here, not there. Would braving it out where his ass could be a smudge on the pavement? How is that any different than being at gun point with Eddie and Joe Cabot. It's a treacherous step that Mr. White would take.]

We should go up to the Empire State Building too.

Why not?

[The unspoken part is how in New York City nobody knows who Freddy Newendyke is. Some people might know Lawrence Dimick there, either as Alvin or any other alias, but Mr. White has a rock solid reputation. Who would question that? It's something Freddy's noticed working on the other side of the law; people will look the other way if you're feared enough or in Larry's case he likes to believe respected enough.]

That'd be nice. [Eyes are seeing green to brown.] Then web up between the twin towers and go flying.

They got dance halls too.

[With their music. A city that never sleeps, and never gets into nobody's business if they can help it. All of Larry's contacts are underground. He'd make them understand, if they didn't? Well, forget them. None of them are all that near and dear of friends.]

We should practice before then.

[Sorry. e can't help it. A smile tugs at his face making wrinkles at the cheeks and corners of his eyes.]

I'm gonna have to get a spider bite first.

[He quips. There's all sorts of irony in that remark even Freddy doesn't know yet. But either way he does know the old man meant dancing. Still he returns the smile.]

I don't mind practicing.

How could I forget?

[Could it be that Larry is actually getting used to the Marvel, DC infused jokes infused here and there? Because he gets this is about Spider Man. That mean he's racking up a few gold stars?]

All about moving to the beat. We'll work on that.

[Because that is the only thing to sort out for their return to the real world. If only. Hard to tell from where they are but it could be Phil Collins in the air tonight.]

We got time.

[He nods, more than willing to work on it, work on whatever they need to. The kid didn't just jinx it by saying they do have time at all though, did he? His fingertips roam upward to feel along the collar of Larry's shirt. Nothing's wrong with Phil Collins, is there something in the air tonight?]

And I learn fast. [Here we go with that again.]

[Thank God. Yes, they do. That is, if Larry doesn't fuck it up. Damn, that's not what he's thinking. Not really. He just hopes greatly that he never jumps the gun.]

Sure do.

[The old man moves to pop open a few buttons on his shirt, then take a hold of Freddy's hand to place it at his sternum. Soft cotton is interrupted by the feel of an ink design.]

[At first the kid doesn't seem to notice something's different about that shirt. Soft cotton, that's pretty normal. But ink? And ink that Larry appears to be making him feel? With a purpose? He almost believes maybe the guy's just hinting at him to start divesting him of his clothes...which Freddy starts doing happily so. Button by button.]

Don't tell anybody.

[He's close enough to whisper into the man's ear which may be a ploy to be near enough to lightly scrape his teeth against his ear while he's putting the pieces together.

It was difficult to find a shirt like this that would fit him the way he likes it. All for a purpose though.]

log post II

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)