orangetoughguy | log post II

Oh I'm street legal...but I ain't no angel either. [He shivers in Larry's hold.] Guess you gotta think of me as an honest devil.

[He brushes his head against Larry again only to tilt it in time to meet that kiss. Mouths mash together firm and warm, wanting. He may as well be saying he loves Lawrence Dimick's entire body. Fortunately Freddy's hand is doing all the talking for him in that arena.]

Christ. [The kid manages to groan out into the old man's maw. He's thrusting a little now and moving his own hand in time.]

Handsome devil. [With the face of an angel. But he's not so innocent. Who the hell is? Not Larry. Devils burning together make more sense then an angel and a devil, if such mythical beings exist at all. Not all cops are angels. Not all criminals are devils neither.

Working with hands alone has the old man running so hot. It's like he's the one being taken apart stretched over the couch with practiced ease. Moving with Freddy's hand he finds them fairly matched in pace.

He has to pull back to breathe properly. Hard to tell who's saliva is sticking to his lip.]

You gonna fire that thing off [a short moan slips out] right here?

[They got clothes and rags and a tissue box around right? All that considered, Freddy nods once.]

Yep.

[His nonchalance doesn't last long. Already green eyes are narrowing for the hot fist around his own dick. Is this going to be some kind of jerking contest? By all means he started on Larry first, but Freddy's younger and goddamn that paw knows what it's doing.]

[It's too good to refuse those hands, that's what Larry's finding. He pants and leans forward to brush his mouth against Freddy's cheek.]

Bring it. [Can it be a contest even though there aren't any losers? Does the kid know how wonderful it is to touch another man and know he'll still be there?] Fire at will.

[Now he's the one to pull back and just rub the head. Larry is trying to urge the kid's pace.]

Oh fuck.

[Urging he is and getting him there he's doing well and good. Freddy leans closer to Larry, hand on his shoulder the only thing keeping him from falling into him. Keep it up, he's close, so fucking close. Firing at will isn't a bad option it seems, the tip of him is already wet.]

Larry. I'm gonna come.

[That's your warning there, Mr. White, before the kid starts writhing. He's practically fucking that fist.]

[Now this is a fucking privilege too. Larry repositions to let his fist be fucked. The precum feels so warm in the creases of his hand. He's ready to feel the real thing.]

Come, baby. I'm gonna be right behind you. [Watching him, breathing in the smell. And knowing that it don't always take tape, lube and the whole nine yards to get him off when he could work the kid's cock with his hand is a heady fact to process.] You look so fucking good all ready to blow.

[And Freddy may know his hands are feeling wet now too.]

[Almost....almost. There. The kid fucking goes off the same time Larry here says blow, perfectly punctuating the act. He groans heavily against him, first heavy and thick then thin and reedy. Does he really look that good? Not that he's gonna argue. Release puts a temporary dent in the way his own fist works. Not for long though, already he's pumping Larry faster and faster, wanting to reciprocate because this honest handsome devil gives as good as he gets.]

Come on, Larry.

[Pow, bang and zoom. Strong stuff. The sticky fluid webs between his fingers. And God he loves it and this man.]

So fucking close. [To his orgasm which isn't to say he ain't close to burying himself in Freddy's mouth like his cock is trying to sink into his fist harder, faster.]

Oh shit. [A few more quick motions on Freddy and he moves his messed, dirty hand over the kid's right on him. Coupled with the fast, brutal motion, he comes.]

[Oh the kid would hood his mouth over Larry to get that load on his tongue if it weren't for their close quarters. Freddy may be a little smaller than average but he's no flexible contortionist. Having that wet paw over his though? It compensates very nicely. That mess webs together as fingers milk firmly.]

That's it, tough guy. The whole thing.

[No mouths, no ass, no tape, no nothing needed. That alone is almost worth getting off twice.]

[To be able to kiss his mouth without a fuss, it's good enough for him.]

I love it.

[Woah. That was close. Larry moves with Freddy's hand until he's damn sure there's nothing else left. He can feel their combined loads over his groin and stomach.]

You know how to work a dick. [And he should be proud of it is the implication. Because this isn't a locker room and there's no one else to see he's very liberal on the way their mouths mesh together.]

[That's okay, because whatever closeness Larry has in mind Freddy is thinking the exact same thing. No complaints on this end for sure. He smiles a bit for the praise before licking the corner of the old man's mouth, kissing along his solid jaw.]

I've had practice you know?

[That hand moves slower now, not yet languid and lazy but certainly slower from the comedown.]

Makes for fucking perfect. [Now it's his turn to tilt his head this way and that to give his mouth free reign. Mr. Orange was fucking his hand thinking of him before the heist. Larry had his green eyed hooker, and here we are. Still blows his mind.]

License or no license. You know what you're doing.

[Fuck if he could go hard again sooner... ]

You still got one more gun to go.

[Larry's shirt can do the cleaning. Their apartment is always warm enough to be comfortable in various states of undress.]

I told you I learn quick.

[Oh yeah and fuck his own hand desperately he did to the very thought of Mr. White...among others, but mostly Mr. White and nowadays only Lawrence Dimick. They've come pretty far to land in this nice home with nice ladies hanging on the wall like their dicks are hanging out while there are handguns on the table. Next to a bucket of chicken. It's almost criminal.]

Right back to business huh? Alright alright.

[That's right the least Larry can do is loan him that shirt. Wiping up doesn't take much but Freddy grabs a couple tissues just to make sure the job gets done. He tosses the wad into the nearest can from his seat. Slamdunk. That he starts working on the second gun with his pants still undone is just for Larry's benefit, he's the only one who gets them.]

[There's an opportunity to mention stopping on skates but it's not that good of a joke. Though in every other way, Larry knows that the kid is dead on. Fast at learning how to mimic a criminal, fast at becoming a pro at fucking... Not so kid like at all.]

Hey, no lip. I might have something nice for you for doin' that for me.

[Criminal life style? Maybe. Mr. White wouldn't want to live any other way if he had the choice. Cleaning gives him more opportunity to touch over his dick hanging out. Makes the whole gun cleaning process even more enjoyable than before.]

[Hey stopping on ice is a different story okay? Just leave it at that, fff.]

Like what a bucket of chicken?

[That's a quip for you, Lawrence Dimick. Click click, shtick. That gun is coming apart at the seams much like its owner did under their fists.]

[Well. Yes. It is a different sport entirely. That's why it is not mentioned too. Plus, why spoil the mood?]

No. That's for you anyway. [He clicks his tongue disapprovingly. That's a given.]

I was thinking more of a foot rub. Maybe a back rub in there. Depends on how I feel.

I'll take both.

[Freddy says, claiming his prize without hesitation, all while still casually tending to the metal gun with complete ease. You offered, Larry.]

One area per gun. I suppose that's fair.

[He says as though reluctant to lay hands on Freddy again. Fat chance.]

You want it in your room?

[Not at all in any rush to move anywhere or get more or less clothed.]

I'm feelin' generous so I'm leaving that up to you, my man.

[Turn of phrase, not meant to parallel boyfriend or anything, nope...]

Are ya? Huh.

[The old man mulls it over as he finds himself a cigarette on the coffee table. All of his needs are within reach food, drink, smoke, weaponry and this man, his man.]

How bout your bed. More room to work with.

[Exhale of smoke, watching it curl up into the air. The record is coming to an end.]

If you don't mind it being unmade okay.

[As if making the bed is any kind of concern here. How long has it been since Freddy got to have a real bed anyway? Long time. Pipe cleaner out, he's working a little faster with this one than the first, something to do with lack of tension, maybe.]

I can make due. I guess.

[Puffing on his cigarette, the old man is leaning back again, watching. He moves the ash tray to have it sit on his chest. Not much longer.

The kid did use to sleep on the couch. Of course a bed is where he wants to be. Larry likes to go there, somehow it always ends up smelling more like Freddy than his own bed, even though they have taken to swapping. There are a few nights now and then that Larry sleeps alone. It doesn't feel that right to do anymore.]

log post II

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