orangetoughguy | log post II

[A little bit, yes. He's tense from all that skirting, all the needless repetitions of "I'm okay." and the obvious not mentioning that man's name to begin with. Why he shows up in this manner they'll never know, stupid fucking city. Stupid fucking city that's given them this too.]

God. [Huff.] You're so good, baby.

[Freddy stretches his arms forward all the way out, making slow and steady movements to rest his hands at the top of the headboard. The sharper angle makes for sharper impact inside him and the leverage lets him push back, not by much but it's something. His arms are gonna be sore in the morning, it's fucking worth it.] Come on.

[Needless because the old man just knew it was a smoke screen. It's unnerving to have that piece of shit fall out of nowhere. He doesn't need to be in their city. Yeah, it's their city.]

Got my dick all [groan] nice and tight.

[Woah, careful because he's moving. The angle is perfect, more so than before.]

Harder? Faster?

[Both are within the realm of possibility again. Larry wants to hear it though he is picking up the pace. Gotta treat the kid right.]

Wouldn't do anything--else with it.

[Larry's dick, he means. His breath hitches. Hearing the old man ask is like a thumb rubbing his cheek, sweet and tender.]

Not too fast.

[He directs, hopefully not to Larry's distaste.] Hard and deep. [That oughta treat his dick right too.] Grind me.

[Not too fast, and deep he can do. Grind? Oh yes.]

That. [He leans over, and licks up the kid's shoulder blade sloppily. There is no proof that everything's going to be okay, that they'll be just this way in LA if...when they get back, so he'll comfort and be tender whatever way he can.]

Better here [pant, pant the sheets on the old man's bed that is moaning along with them.] than in a commode.

Uh huh.

[Freddy grinds back when he feels Larry's mouth on his shoulder. He's a fucking anchor, this old man. Freddy couldn't do shit without him, he's convinced, at least not as happily. It only means he doesn't know what he'll do if...when they go back to LA. If anything, if what others say is true and they do go back to the very point from which they came, he's determined to tell Larry what he really is. Because it's the right thing to do.]

Better you--than anyone else. [Here comes another groan for that hard up muscle behind him.] Okay, harder.

No one better than you, tough guy.

[Harder it is, and more grinding until he slams away. Oh shit is that ever good. Larry moves his fist around Freddy's cock in the same way.

How could he possibly not feel the same way he's feeling right now to the kid if they just zap back to where they had been? Even in Quantum Leap, you remember where you've been eventually. This overwhelming sense of adoration and possessiveness can't be swept under any rug, the old man figures. Somehow when they get back, if they get back. He'll take care of the kid. Can't just walk away from this.]

Oh fuck. [Naturally is kisses are turning to bites.]

Fucking shit.

[That's a gasp of pleasure if you couldn't tell, Mr. White. Those hard thrusts are getting him right where it matters, piercing his prostate over and over. The addition of a paw to his cock just electrifies outside with the inside. Bites are icing on the whole fucking cake. He'd take a bite of Larry and eat him too if he could but his hands are tied.]

Nngh. God, Larry. [His name manages to squeeze past grunts and groans. The kid's already getting wet, real tense as he was. Being bound keeps him from coming too soon.] You're gonna wreck me.

[Truthfully if they weren't fucking Mr. White would believe Mr. Orange was wounded all over again. The fit is also a matter, Larry can feel the right spot that is getting him so desperate and aims for it head on again and again.]

Just what I want you to do. [Tightly wound and worked up means that when it's all gonna be over, the both of them will be mellow as shit. Larry's balls feel tight and shit he's got to work harder to get the kid to come first. His hand around the kid's cock tightens up some and he rubs on the tip, for fear of hurting the man he's not going to fuck him any harder.]

Show me what you got, Freddy.

[The sound that comes out of him is a mix of a seemingly wounded groan and hot panting.]

Uh huh.

[Kinda hard to show the old man what he's got when all he's got to do is bend back and forth, not even by much either. But if that's the only option left to him then the kid will take it. He meets Larry's thrusts head on again and again, brushing close against the fine line between this and pain. The thumb on his cockhead is the last straw, Freddy can feel how wet he is.]

I'm gonna come. [Just as planned. It takes only a handful more of hard deep thrusts to get the younger of the two shaking then spilling all over in Larry's fist. His back bows even more while his own fists clutch the top of the headboard.] Fuck.

Yes. [It's a hiss of approval and let's not dismiss a feeling of accomplishment. Larry keeps his hand moving, damn it's warm between his fingers. Now he only grinds, right into the hilt.]

There you go, baby. Yeah. Every bit. [Words rush out, clipped and shorter than they are.] I'll be right. There. [Oh fuck, he can't hold it. And he has no idea how long he's been leaking precum. It doesn't matter. Larry lets loose.]

[Again the sound that comes out of Freddy sounds closer to a whine and whimper than gasps of pleasure. Right now they're one and the same, a true mark of what Lawrence Dimick can do to him, with or without the tape. The grinding feels so fucking good, it can only get better with Larry letting loose inside him.]

God... [He breathes, finally steadying only to reassert some balance then tilt his head back against the old man. This time the kid grunts.] Come in my ass.

[That's an order. Oh good, looks like Larry is listening. He presses his body flush up against that bigger one, not about to tolerate losing a single drop of his load. Again there's grinding, the better to milk everything out of him. Mellow as shit will be an understatement.]

[Oh shit, maybe he is killing the kid after all. Larry feels like he's rapidly expiring too.]

Fucking--[Words get caught up in his throat and turn into a low growl. Freddy doesn't need to ask to have the old man fill him with semen. Feels like the kid has a suction going.]

That's it... Fuck I love havin' you in me.

[Freddy groans under the feeling of heat pooling near his stomach. Maybe it's just his imagination doing it but he swears he can feel the entire load Larry's left in him. His muscles tighten, urging to keep them together unless the old man tries to force his way out. That wouldn't be too comfortable.]

Fucking beautiful...

I love bein' in you, you son of a bitch. [The paw lets go of Freddy's cock and up is ribs.] So [and he's got no shame in dragging out the word] good.

[He's got no where to be. Why leave it so soon?]

You alright?

[Larry'd cut him loose the moment he needs it. Woah though. The difference between the before in after, he feels like a fucking zen guru. Calm only kind of covers it.]

[Those fingers, wet and otherwise, crawling up his torso make him shiver real nice and warm. Like a man fucking possessed, claim staked, and various other metaphors that pretty much amount to loving fucking Lawrence Dimick in every sense of them words.]

I'm alright. [He nods. That floppy hair's a little weighted down from a light sheen of sweat. His arms and legs and ass, everything feels fucking constricted, he's ready to just fall on his side if it weren't for the headboard and Larry's dick.] You?

[Finally his thighs seem to relax, enough for Larry to start pulling out.]

[There are shitheads who would think that it's impossible for it to work out between an old man and a kid like this, though it's only fifteen years. The detail that makes it more complicated is who they are. A cop and a criminal in some City that's outside of their time and space. All these things don't matter right now because it's not in Freddy's skin or a part of Larry's body.]

Fine. [Pulling out now. Carefully.] Hell, kiddo, you took it so well.

I've had good practice.

[With none other than a professional named Mr. White too. He punctuates his words with a low hiss as Larry leaves his body, then once they're separated he just as slowly lowers himself to the bed. Flop. Right on his side.]

Cut me loose.

[Peeeeling away the tape at Freddy's wrist Larry does his best to try and not yank out too much hair.]

Clearly you're a pro. The Olympics are comin' up. Ever think about that? [Clink. The belt is on the floor now. And flop creeeak the old man is right at his side.]

Be sure to take a breather before you head out for more of those car guys.

[The Transformers that is. Car guys. Whatever. Larry wraps his arms around that wiry body.]

You a marathon kinda guy or something?

[Freddy asks. Now that his arms and legs are freed they feel fucking weightless. When his thighs move he can still feel a little trace of stickiness between them. Maybe he should shower, but the kid doesn't feel like moving, and the old man's invited him to stay in his bed anyway.]

Marvel Transformers. [He corrects before draping an arm and hooking a heel over Larry.] Thanks.

Nah. Intensive performance sort is more like it.

[In case the kid forgot. Larry's hand dips low above his groin. It's not gonna go nowhere. And he encounters some of the man's load. A shower will come. Later. Whenever that is.]

Marble what? [Sorry this readjusting and fitting together is distracting.]

[. . . . . . .]

Nevermind.

[He snorts and shakes his head for the mistake. Nothing doing though, the gratitude for the toys and for this still applies.]

[Heavy, deep sigh.]

Car guys is easier to remember. Sorry, tough guy.

[Larry rest his head near Freddy's. A few floppy strands brush against his face.]

Glad you like em.

They ain't all cars though.

[Freddy notes for Larry's benefit. Would he call a tank or a jet plane a car? Didn't think so. Here though he gives a smile.]

You sure know how to pick'em.

Marvel Transformers. [That's it right? Right? It's marvel or marble.]

I was trying to pick out who was familiar.

[The kid forms a little handgun with his fingers to point at the old man.] You got it.

[As for picking out who was familiar...] I taught you well.

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whitetwoguns - 2011-03-05 02:06 (UTC) - Expand

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orangetoughguy - 2011-03-05 03:08 (UTC) - Expand