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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[whitetwoguns]

[White exhales thickly. A hand stops clutching at the rug to reach back to thread into the man's hair. He smells like sweat and testosterone. It's the scent of a man, not a cop.

When he believed this was the last, necessary push until he had him all for his own for sure there was no need to wrap up. The old man wasn't a sailor. And he fancied that Orange didn't get around all that much. At least that was what he thought at first. On this end of a hard, hot fuck it's easy to believe otherwise.

Christ almighty this cock feels so good deep and solid in his ass, even better with the extra heat of his load.]

Y'did me so damn good. Oh man.

[orangetoughguy]

Cause you're good, White.

[Orange counters casually. He presses another kiss to the back of his neck, another to where it meets his shoulder. How can he want to be with someone who's not only a crook but someone he's known in a handful of meetings? It feels so fucking strange, like White's read every chapter in one sitting and Orange wants to give him more. That's not what a cop should do but it's what this man wants.]

I'm gonna pull outta you.

[He whispers this warm against shadowed skin as a precaution.]

[whitetwoguns]

[Take a good long look at this, old man. Take it all in. Memorize how the man's breath feels on your skin, how well he fits into your ready body.]

Okay.

[He knows that he'll want this feeling again. But will he want it as much as he wants to live free? This man is a cop. This man could do him in.]

Aah.

[It's not a cry of pain. Just a noise he can't help.]

[orangetoughguy]

[He doesn't want to leave those thick fingers on his hair but he's going to have to. Orange straightens up with both hands on White's hips again to slowly pull away. Painstakingly slow enough it evokes another hiss from him for the tightness he feels upon separating. When that's accomplished he plunks back down on the fur rug. A messy fur rug. Huh.]

Is that gonna cost me?

[The kid asks, nodding at the stain on the pelt. He's not trying to say he won't pay for it...but he's on a cop salary, so...]

[whitetwoguns]

[White eases up to be on his hands again. Both of them. Though once more for the road and all for Orange's pleasure does he keep positioned, legs splayed.]

Nothin'.

[Seeing as he's paying for far more than he bargained for as it is. He reaches for his trousers to get a smoke.]

[orangetoughguy]

[Before you know it he's licking his lips over the sight of White splayed out on all fours like that, freshly fucked. But the moment passes quickly because...well, because he's not supposed to be attached. Don't get fucking attached, Orange. He takes a cue from White and reaches into his own pockets for a smoke.]

Cool. [Light up light up, drag. Keep your words short and simple.]

[whitetwoguns]

[A few seconds more of reveling in the glow of being good and freshly fucked. This shit can't go like this.]

You can stay as long as you like.

[Though the moment his eyes are closed, the moment he leaves, he may not find Orange. Maybe he'll know it already.]

[orangetoughguy]

I'm gonna have a couple smokes and think about it.

[Orange nods once, streaming smoke from his nose. It's pretty honest one way or another, but the curious matter of it is his casual wording: a couple smokes means more than one and more than one means more time to think, giving him more time in White's company. Maybe they'll talk, maybe they won't, but he's giving it a chance. He happens to like just watching this old man too, it's worth a shot.]