log post II

[orangetoughguy]

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

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[orangetoughguy]

[They must have some kind of all knowing bastard link because when Larry grabs him by the ass cheek Freddy grabs him by the face cheek. Those fingers are gripping him tightly, holding onto him green eyes to brown eyes as his orgasm starts to subside. The riding and thrusting motion slows with it until the kid's just settled in the old man's lap, cock still buried deep.]

Motherfucker... [Breathe, Newendyke.] Fuck, I'm all over you...

[Quite literally. His limbs are kind of sprawled around the guy and well, he's left an ample amount of identifying fluid evidence on his skin.,]

[whitetwoguns]

[He had no plans to look away. Those eyes have a hold on the old man anyway. Larry squeezes at his ass for the sheer pleasure of possession.]

Uh huh. [Pant, pant. Swallow.] I love it. Feels so good. [After a work day no less. Brown eyes smile as he leans forward again. His tongue is against Freddy's again and pushing farther between his lips. Sprawling limbs are begging to be soothed by paws even if they have evidence on them. Only evidence of a good party of two. The chair is still in gear. It's taken a back seat to Larry's attention.

There's no comparison to Mr. Orange after all. The salty slip of sweat and a bit of his own load don't alter the old man's liking of his flavor.]

Excellent gift.

[orangetoughguy]

[These lips part to invite his tongue inward as his own works against Larry's. It's no massaging chair but it's something. Freddy's hands fall away to settle on his shoulders, then one falls farther to brush along a wildcat.]

Mmm...mmhuh. [Another lick of his lips.] You better like it.

[It's an aggressive remark except Larry ought to know it's anything but. Freddy loves to fucking please, if he had a tail it'd be wagging right now. Tiredly too. A minor shift and he's lifting himself off the old man's cock, slow and steady. There's a dull burn when he's left empty.] It's gonna...treat you right, for a long time.

[The chair he means.]

[whitetwoguns]

[Swapping spit like teenagers. Forty three can fit more than a few teenage lifetimes.]

Then I better make use of it every day.

[The chair? Freddy himself? Who is to say? He flexes with the touch at his tattoo. Larry releases a breath he didn't know he was holding as the kid pulls off completely. There we go. Both arms wrap around the kid.]

Sure is comfortable, I can tell you that.

[orangetoughguy]

[It fits about three fourteen year olds to be exact. Freddy's age fits only two. Funny how that works out. Off Lawrence Dimick now but not out of his lap, the kid turns a little to better settle sideways in this equally comfy spot. White's no chair but damn he'd make a good one, does he know that?]

Good. [He nods once, mouth pressing along the solid line of his jaw.]

[whitetwoguns]

[Three teenagers to Freddy's two is still more. Not enough to feel bad about. How can he with the euphoria he's feeling.]

So is there cake?

[He's idly smoothing over the hair on Freddy's arm. ...the bird didn't make any noise. This may be the best day ever.]

[orangetoughguy]

[Prior to blowing his load that smoothing would have sent a shiver down his spine, now it just warms his limbs, making Freddy feel more comfortable like he's sinking into a massaging reclining chair too.]

I think you just ate it.

[The kid quips ever so casually. Eventually someone's gonna have to get up to clean this mess, but why bother now?]