orangetoughguy | log post II

What can I say? With a mouth like that...what else was I supposed to do.

[Freddy asks upon receiving that kiss to his cheek. Damn, he fucking swallowed. He feels warm all over even though he just unloaded, the kid reaches out to take that hard dick in his hand.]

So what're we gonna do with this one?

You put me to work.

[Not a complaint. A statement that goes with the red marks at his shoulders that'll probably be a bruise.]

That?

[He hisses at the touch and wraps his arms around Freddy's torso.]

Wanted to wait up for you. Cuz you said twice fella.

[As though Freddy forgot.]

It might take a while. Do you think it can last?

[Freddy's strokes are firm but slow. Achingly slow. Because yeah, he didn't forget, and he is going to stir up the biggest blast possible for when he is ready to go.]

Sure can.

[Though right now, under that touch he's panting in and out like a rodeo bull. A paw claws at his arm but does nothing to rush it.]

I wanna fuck you.

How.

[Talk dirty old man, work the kid up again even though he doesn't necessarily need images to get hard for Lawrence Dimick all over again. This is just fun. Besides, he fucking swallowed, just how far can he push this guy before he takes matters into his own hands?]

Well. [A gulp of air and a swallow. He shifts his hips to sit diferently. Not wanting to thrust with that leisurely stroking...and wanting to so very badly.]

I sucked you down once. I don't gotta do that again. Too bad there's nobody do that for us.

[Teasing. Though Larry's gotta think about it.]

Think I'll just bend you over the arm of the couch. Mmmmm. Maybe against the wall.

[Careful there Lawrence Dimick, you're not the only one getting ideas from that curious remark. Freddy nods once, accepting that answer as well as acknowledging what may be a subtle suggestion. God he'd love to fuck or get fucked in front of this old man, let him watch and want. Of course with a whole something between them they could both get some of that. It's an idea, though for now it's only an idea.]

Would you fuck me like that in Vegas?

[On the run from the long arm of the law, having to fuck in alleys, in cars, on motel beds, in bathrooms. It's viciously dirty and most appealing when you can imagine it from the comfort of your own safe home. Go figure.]

[Hopefully an idea that'll get him hot again.]

Would I? [Larry laughs that it's a question at all.] We could stop on the way there. It's a long drive you know. At least once in the car, if it's warm enough outside, along the highway.

[The kiss to Freddy's face isn't so sweet anymore. It's almost like a bite.]

People are goin' by so fast, they don't pay mind to anything around them.

[Oh yeah, it is. Real hot. He's already thinking about the many ways to do it along the highway or with a third person or along the highway and with a third person. That's fucking hot, as hot as the prick of teeth he feels on his cheek. Still doesn't compare to the prick in his palm though.]

We could go to one of those strip joints, the classy kind where the girls have those rhinestone tassels. I'd fuck you in the commode just for looking at'em.

[That prick in his palm is still hard, maybe even harder now. Larry groans and lets his head fall back. His hips are shaking.]

I'm gonna look at em all right. So you better bring lube. [Even though he'll have some of his own. Aw shit, picturing those glittering tits with the promise of the kid coming in his ass it's almost too much.]

We'd get a room to overlook the strip. I'll fuck you on the balcony lookin' at all those lights.

I'll make you spit on it for extra measures.

[He's still stroking but slow and steady to keep him good and ready without getting too close to he edge. Already Freddy's developing his own hard-on, for the second time tonight.]

Would you smoke a cigar while you screw my brains out? [The kid asks while sitting up. He's pretty fucking ready himself.]

Fuck me hard against the tiles or the door?

[The man can't keep staring at the ceiling. Back to Freddy, pulling and positioning to kiss his mouth. Larry reaches to place a hand close to Freddy's groin, trying to get a gauge of how far he's along by only the brush of his finger tips.]

After. Wouldn't want to burn you...would I?

[Ah, there we go, kid. A fucking wonder.]

On the tiles so don't wear somethin' too nice.

[Or wear something nice enough that getting it dirty only makes them harder. For that other question Freddy just shakes his head, too caught up in holding and being held to answer in words. No he wouldn't wanna get burned.]

Shit, I'm ready. I'm ready for you.

I'll try to remember, Sheriff.

[Been quite sometimes since he's said that. And he's got no problem with saying it. ]

Get up.

[For a moment he almost takes the shirt off.]

Want me to keep it on?

[That makes him smile a little, then up the kid goes, dick still so fucking hard and just like the rest of him's aching for the old man's body. Again.]

I want you to do what you want to do.

[It's not a cop out answer, not at all. He just wants to see, well, what Larry would do.]

[Anyone ever tell Freddy he looks good in nothing, standing there hard as a rock? Larry slowly pulls the shirt off. Once it's off, he drops it to the couch and is on Freddy in a flash.]

Fuck you.

[Paws, jaws and brute strength all used for the better. Larry pulls Freddy to the arm of the couch.]

Bend over. Don't move.

[The old man's only getting the lube in reach, but again, it's the rush of authority.]

[Oof. It's like getting rushed by a linebacker or bear or something cause Larry's no lightweight. God does Freddy love it or what? He squirms not out of protest but out of challenge, the better to make them both hot and hard. Well, hotter and harder.]

Fuck.

[And who gives one about the shirt at this point? The kid bends over the arm, more like flops over it actually. With his ass up he's got to lick his lips in anticipation. Legs spread a little. He fucking loves this man.]

[That shirt is actually in reach if Freddy still wants to keep it at hand. Larry lubes up his cock first, getting an eyeful of the kid bent over. He stays standing close enough so Freddy can see too.]

How do you want it, baby?

[Now behind, the better to spread lube to his ass.]

How else can I get it?

[That's a rhetorical question actually. There are just only so many ways Larry can put his dick in Freddy at this juncture. As for depth and pace, well, he knows how the kid likes it. Loves it. They don't always need tape or public places or certain words for that matter. Freddy can see the S from here but he kind of likes the crumpled look on the floor. Not only has he uncovered Larry's secret identity, he now knows the man under the suit under the supersuit. Not that he didn't already know before.

Ooh. The feeling of that man poised for entry and the coolness of fast warming lube makes him shiver.]

Put it in me. Now. [Aw hell, the kid's begging.]

Now?

[Doubt is just in words. Larry can't wait any longer. They've fucked enough times to be countless and it's still a rush, making his heart race and insides shaking. It takes a few touches, a talk, words that he had hoped one day to hear...

Both hands at Freddy's hips, the old man eases on in.]

Aw, fuck.

[Easing, remember, old man. He's easing.]

Ohhhh shit...

[That's a low hiss for you, Lawrence Dimick, as Freddy curls his back to better ease onto his dick in kind. He's loved this since Black Magic Woman but when he came to understand the rest of it, well, maybe it's a work in progress still, slow in some respects or too fast in others. Sometimes it hurts, sometimes it doesn't. Oh who gives a fuck though, he's crazy on Mr. White.]

That's it, Larry, the whole thing baby.

Take it all up your ass.

[Hot damn, he's huffing and puffing. The way Freddy's back contours and curls like a wildcat of his own. What he felt when that Santana song hit the airwaves was like a mountain, to now it's nothing but a speed bump. Mr. Orange loves him.

They're roommates. They're partners. Why can't they have a new life?]

I am, baby. Jesus.

[He groans low and long, hands holding onto the sofa arm for leverage.

A new life--besides this one--requires sitting down and finally reconciling their biggest difference. Even in thought Freddy can't really handle it. All their talk about Vegas, New York, all of it to him is the very ideal thing they could have. Maybe that's saying a lot because none of it includes a picket fence and a dog. Maybe they're just not that kind of guy.]

Fuck. [That's a huff.] Fuck me. [That's a plea.]

Fuck you until you come again.

[Who needs a picket fence? And a dog wouldn't work when you're on the run. All Larry wants is to have a future with this man. Wherever. However. They won't be able to hold hands taking a walk, they won't be able to lock lips at the doorstep to start the day. Who needs that though? Growing up, Larry accepted that to be impossible anyway. This right here, it's exceeding any expectations.

He rocks his hips against Freddy in a steady motion, working it's way harder striving to strike directly against his prostate. The old man is sure he won't be able to last long. He's trying to prove himself wrong.]

Just what I want. S'what I deserve.

[He says with a tone of question only because Larry here can be the judge of what Freddy does and doesn't deserve. Fuck that feels so fucking good. He's already groaning again, hair flopping into his eyes that narrow with each impact.]

You sweet son of a bitch.

[Christ the kid presses his face to the couch, making a steeper angle that feels so much sharper and probably feels a little tighter on the old man's end. He's got it right about this exceeding all expectations too, which ain't to say Freddy's were low to begin with. Just, who would've fucking thought? He said it once and he'd say it again, he doesn't regret it.]

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