orangetoughguy | log post II

Entry tags:

logging

log post II

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

[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.