log post II

[orangetoughguy]

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

Comments

[whitetwoguns]

The chumps that run it don't want any trouble so...they don't call the cops. Unless you wanna wear cuffs or something.

[Seventeen actually. Hah. Fake IDs weren't even checked at the door. The old man loves Milwaukee.]

Oh but it's a good one. [Something is waking up. The old man grinds back, one dormant bulge to another there's bound to be something happening.]

That clock on the VCR right? Says it's 11:23.

[Paws slip under his shirt to move up the kid's back.]

[orangetoughguy]

Cops got better things to do than bust kids at theaters anyway.

[He would know. Back on the beat his training officer would call it a garbage call. Stupid shit to cover when there are real crimes happening. Oof, now there's a particular grind that gets the kid moving just right. These hands rub down to Larry's sides now.]

Does it? Shit you drank a lot of coffee, what're you gonna do all night long? [Orange wonders with the best shit-eating innocently curious face.]

[whitetwoguns]

Harmless.

[It's a hurried breath out. The old man's putting more into it now, getting hard rather fast. That's no spell of a black magic woman. Just Freddy.]

I think I should do something to wear myself out.

[Larry tilts his chin up to take a nip at his mouth and ruin that face.]

Something hard.

[One had decides to slip south at Freddy's back to clutch at his ass.]

[orangetoughguy]

I'm here to help... [Orange volunteers like the good man he is, knees spreading a little wider to better lay flush against White.] If you got any ideas.

[Provocation? Maybe. Except it'd sound a lot more threatening if the kid didn't choke on a groan for the grip to his ass and the mouthing to his face. Already Freddy's pulling his hands off Larry to start peeling off his shirt.]

Don't blink. You might miss the good parts. [Of 'the show' so to speak. No nightmares here.]

[whitetwoguns]

[Oof. Direct contact now there's no doubt about it that the old man's got a stiff one for Freddy.]

Not for long at all.

[The more skin revealed the more those paws can touch on. Or paw rather, that one doesn't want to let go of Freddy's rump yet. He squeezes and rolls the flesh between his fingers.]

[orangetoughguy]

[Amidst low restrained groans those touches also evoke a few choice words.]

Sounds like you're gettin' at somethin' there, Larry. Wonder what.

[Freddy questions 'curiously' as he grinds against the stiff one. Lo and behold who should provide an answer but a certain toucan? Flap flap flap. Sam lands on the back of the couch to croak in the old man's ear. E-ee-e-e-e-ee-e. If they throw him some fruit he'll go into his cage peacefully.]

...Wanna head upstairs? [There, a compromise between man and bird.]

[whitetwoguns]

You're smart. [Oh fuck man. He pushes Freddy even closer against him to really stick it to him.] I know you probably have it figured out by now.

[Sleep deprived and horny as hell he can't hide the groan of frustration at the big colorful beak in his peripheral vision.]

To your bed?

[Whichever one he goes to he's not going to get up out of it for at least eight hours. He's pretty sure it'll be a toucan free zone.]

[orangetoughguy]

My bed'll do.

[Freddy nods, eager to get a move on as well...but he'll still have to toss the colorful buzzard a piece of sweets to keep Sam happy too. Pat pat to the old man's shoulders, he climbs off his lap clearly hard from the experience and does a quick shuffle to the kitchen. Here bird, have a kiwi.]