orangetoughguy | log post II

[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.

That's a mouth full. [Hard not to grin, however lazy of a grin it is.]

I work with only the best.

The best is what you get.

[At least Freddy tries his best to do right by Larry.]

log post II

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