log post II

[orangetoughguy]

third person narrative, action bracket spam, anything goes
log post I | log post II | log post III

Comments

[orangetoughguy]

I fuckin' love you too, old man.

[It comes out easier this time, maybe because he's--they're--riding out the comedown of a hard release. Maybe it's because after saying it once and understanding it's mutual it's no longer something to fear. Freddy lets go of the wildcat only to bend that arm to stroke through Larry's thick hair. If he could keep the big guy on top of him, inside him, like this for as long as possible he would.]

[whitetwoguns]

[The jabber jaw of a Newendyke can say so many things, and this is something he's sure never going to tire of hearing. Second time in and it makes his chest feel tight, though it all could very well be because Larry's fucked him like a jack hammer.]

No fucking asshole compares. [To Freddy and his own, hell okay it's heartfelt. Slowly he's gotta sit up, sad to leave the grip of that hand in his hair. It can't be comfortable with his bulk belt over like that.]

[orangetoughguy]

Hah hah real funny.

[The jabber jaw jabs onward. The hand to Larry's hair turns into an affectionately firm 'pat' to the head but he relinquishes that mess eventually.]

Jesus Christ. [Bulk or not Freddy's still feeling far more between his thighs than any weight on his back. Larry's no beast of burden.]

[whitetwoguns]

[One paw is rubbing up and down Freddy's back, then to his rear end close to where Larry's disappeared.]

Y'all right? I'll move.

[Fuck how they fit together, physically work together it's a feat and a marvel. Not that the kid is any green horn or fucking small. And the bear of a Dimick isn't all that huge... they're a mismatched pair he wouldn't want any other way.]

[orangetoughguy]

I'm good I'm good. [Freddy flaps his own paw, oh but that rubbing feels so damn nice...] Get off me.

[So he can turn over and look up at you instead of looking over his shoulder at you, Lawrence Dimick.]

[whitetwoguns]

[A chuckle before a hitched breath as he pulls out, nice and easy. The rubbing continues even when he's free of the kid's form.]

I don't need to check? [To see if he's okay. All kidding. Fucking hell he feels like he's light headed or something.]

[orangetoughguy]

[Aaaaand flop. He's sprawled on the sofa now, on his back and looking up at Larry thoroughly well fucked.]

Yeah you're a real gentleman.

[It's an honest sentiment couched in a joke. The kid reaches up to pull the old man against him tiredly. Wouldn't anyone after going for two rounds?]

[whitetwoguns]

[Timber! Larry makes like he's going to fall directly on top but braces himself on the back of the couch and settles on Freddy.]

Were it counts. Otherwise you know I'm a real dog.

[And he wants another smoke. Not a cigar though. That'll be saved for a special occasion. Thick fingers reach for the top of the other man's head.

Larry realizes that Golden Girls are on now.]

[orangetoughguy]

[That fake out gets a brief look of preparing-for-the-shock out of the kid but whew the old man doesn't do as planned. That's best for the both of them, honestly. Fff. Dirty blonde hair flops this way then that.]

Don't kid yourself.

[He knows Larry can be a mean junkyard dog but more often than not, he's a pretty good guy. Freddy snakes an arm around him, craving a smoke too but that craving pales in comparison to the need to just lounge lazily with this cowboy.]