orangetoughguy | log post II

[Oh yeah, that'll do. Better to press together.]

You don't gotta be miserable, tough guy. Not here, not when you're with me.

[And he means it, it's not all words said with a hard-on Freddy can probably feel by now.]

Be happy, huh?

[Happy? He's happiest with this old man, better than he has been before he met Mr. White.]

I get by pretty good since you came along.

[The kid nods, he can't deny that at all. Nor can he deny feeling that hard pistol he's packing. He grinds up against him. Fuck Larry's worth all those damn diamonds in the closet. Let the firefighter or nurse whichever lady's on the door guard his prize.]

Then I need to keep it up.

[Whatever it is that makes him happy despite of the pin-ups, quitting the hard drugs, working for a thinly veiled syndicate.]

Fuck. This is the life.

[Grinding or no grinding. Being here, being able to live like this isn't the City, but Beverly Hills, together.]

Don't jinx it.

[Freddy insists with mild distraction as he works to roll them both over, to put the dog on top. Once there he kisses Larry's solid well-formed jaw, down to his chin, his neck, over his chest whether or not there are buttons to undo in the way. Lower still. He's going for that hard up piece because if the kid won't easily accept the diamonds, the least he can do is show the old man that ice don't change nothing.]

Don't want nothin' to get stolen.

[Joking, but hey. People get jealous of riches. Diamonds and wonderful, attractive companionship get snatched up. On his back, he pulls at Freddy's shirt, up on either side to touch his stomach, back then his head as he goes lower.]

Jesus, you get me hot. [Always. No matter what's up. Does it really all not matter in the end? Diamonds, records and badges?]

[Here let Freddy help you, Larry. The kid pulls his shirt off only to toss it aside somewhere on the kitchen floor. It don't really matter much where. His fingers start working on the front of the other man's pants, eager to undo and take him out.]

And I need this so I guess it all works out.

[Freddy remarks in a cheeky tone. It goes without saying Larry gets him hot too, doesn't it? The younger man leans down to blow on the tip of his cock, hand already wrapped firmly around it.]

Guess?

[He breathlessly laughs. The cheek looses potency when he's got a dick in his mouth. Larry slays his legs more so that Freddy can make himself comfortable on the floor.]

Fuck, kid.

[Larry leans up enough to watch Freddy work. Hips twitch but don't move. Issues fall away right here.]

Not yet.

[Another cheeky remark before he hoods his mouth over Larry. He still hasn't given the man an answer with regards to the diamonds, he still hasn't told him about what he said to the cheerleader, maybe he won't where the latter is concerned. Not yet anyway, no need to get paranoid or serve a call to action if she keeps it to herself.]

Do you like that?

[Freddy asks while licking up and down the shaft.]

[A long low moan rolls out. Life's not so bad on your back, in your kitchen chasing a serious, troublesome talk with a blow job. He takes all of this to mean that things have a way of working themselves out. At least he hopes that it does, Freddy would lay down the law (no pun intended)... Larry assumes. Maybe. It takes awhile for the truth to come out.]

Goddamn, I do. I love it. [There's an urgent clutch at his hair. Larry's knees bend a little and squeeze Freddy on either side.]

Good...

[That clutching's got green eyes look across the expanse of his torso, from belly to chest to those warm brown eyes. Larry's way too fucking good to this stupid kid. Again his lips purse, tight and around him while his palm curls around his balls. This stupid kid with the taste of Marlboro and Jose Cuervo, among other things soon, on his tongue.]

[He tries so hard to be good for a fucking criminal. Though if he had it his way he'd blow away anyone who stood in the way. Vampire, cops or nose sons of bitches, whatever it takes to keep the kid safe and sterling. What does it matter what depths he sinks to in the end? Larry isn't trying to be a martyr but shit, he'd do anything for this man.]

Freddy. [It's not a warning yet, but his voice is tight and urgent. His chest is rising and falling with each pant. Now he can't stop his hips from moving with his mouth.]

[No words this time but there's an unmistakable sound of his mouth accommodating the pushing motion. He's not going to take it off that dick, not now. The heel of his palm puts pressure on his heavy balls, kneading them like doing so might coax him to come sooner. Freddy wants to the ability to say he'd do anything for Larry, but he knows that's not the case. On the other hand the old man wouldn't want him that way would he? They saw what a mess he made when he forgot he was a cop. In that form he was willing to do anything for Lawrence Dimick, Mr. White, under the assumption what Freddy wanted was what Larry wanted too.]

[What Larry wants is for Freddy to never change from what he is, from who he is. That was one of the many disturbing things about what he was like, not remembering that he's a cop. That he's not scum. It was dangerous, foolhardy and just not the whole picture he'd come to appreciate and see.

Larry moves, careful as he can manage this desperate, panting and grunting. His hands clench and release his hair a little like a pleased feline.]

Tough guy, I'm gonna blow.

[Freddy can probably taste it on the backward slide through from his throat. Fuck...can he fit that far? The pressure at his balls, that feel tight and snug under his hand.]

[Mouth too occupied for anything else this kid just nods once, twice, movements indistinguishable from his head bobbing up and down on that cock. He can taste Larry enough to mix saliva with precum, making his shaft even slicker. Freddy can't say the words but it's so obvious from his movements, he wants this old man to blow.

Bare chest to the floor, nestled between Larry's hard legs covered in wiry hairs, he's never felt more like he belonged anywhere else.]

[Not moving away tells him so much. Those legs on either side of him compress more to hold him some other way.]

Freddy. [This time it's not a warning, it's begging.] That fucking mouth of yours. Fucking...Freddy.

[And there he goes. For a moment Larry feels like he knocked a hole in the floor the way his head falls back and his eyes roll shut. Each wave that breaks over him has his whole body shaking. If those paws are holding too tight, causing any pain, he doesn't mean it.]

[Freddy only feels the sting of his hair being pulled but it helps to keep him in place just right to feel that hot burst in his mouth without choking on it. That wouldn't be pretty at all, not that he doubts Larry would respond right away. Knees on the kid and his hands on the old man he's not going anywhere and neither is a single drop of his load, save for whatever slips past his lips when he brings them up to the tip. Freddy licks down the center groove slowly once he's sure Larry won't buck anymore...this is after he swallows a little bit of him of course.]

Yeah, Larry?

[He has the audacity to ask while his stroking hand slows its pace.]

[If he felt he was chocking at all, Freddy can bet on his own life Larry'd be moving in a heartbeat. Even the rapid hard heartbeats that follow one after the other. Without any coaxing, he's given up all he's got right down into Freddy's throat. He hardly realizes that his eyes have been closed long.]

Get the fuck up here.

[Damn if he could have a second go. The grip of the kid's hand, it feels excellent, firm.

Though really, the star is that mouth.]

Okay.

[Freddy can't lie, he loves giving Larry not just the pleasure of his mouth but also the pleasure of an answer as simple as that, like the bear's got full authority on this loyal dog. It's sort of the case and it's sort of not, carrying with it a brief fantasy in which he doesn't have to hold himself accountable for anything else except this old man's happiness. Things aren't that easy and they'll never be that easy, just the way it should be, but a little respite between his legs? Fucking worth it.]

What do you want?

[He asks after relinquishing his dick to crawl up along that torso, back to being face to face with a man who ought to be a badge's lovely foe.]

[A gulp of breath before he's covering his face with presses of his lips. It's not worship, but fuck, what else can it be. This loyal dog has a man who loves him so. Mr. White is a bad influence. He can't be solely responsible, yet not innocent.]

Smug son of a bitch.

[He finally settles to pulverize his mouth, tasting for any drop of salty come. He swallowed.]

I wanna watch your face as you come.

[As he says this he's going for his pants.]

[Let it be know Freddy is not unprepared for the attack on his face, his mouth, everything those hard lips can manage. He purses his own whenever theirs come into contact, tasting Chesterfields, liquor, and that unique flavor only Larry has. His tongue still wet with semen slips into Mr. White's eager to taste the entire clash of flavors. Oh, and then there's that command.]

You're gonna have to make me.

[He dares Lawrence Dimick with narrowed green eyes. Freddy hardly interferes with the way those paws go for his pants. He's hard too.]

[Button, fly, and a fabric ah, there he goes now. Large fingers wrap around him. They move up and down Freddy's length with more certainty as he welcomes the man's tongue. That clash is complimenting as it is mismatched. What about them isn't though? Pulling back, he sighs with feigned exasperation.]

Have it your way then. Since you won't yourself.

[The old man doesn't want it any other way. On top of him, on the floor close to that face. Naturally his fist tightens.]

Oh fuck.

[That puts the burden on Freddy to stay on his hands and knees doesn't it? Well, forearms and knees now. His face contorts in expected fashion, stimulated with no end in sight, well at least not so soon. He breathes close to Larry's cheek as his hips pivot forward like he can just fuck that fist however he pleases.]

Kinda isn't it.

[Now it's his turn for cheek.]

I mean, you got your dick in my hand.

[In case that was forgotten by anyone at all. Here though, he move faster.]

Lay on your side.

[And he's not gonna stop. Just means he'll have to handle with more care.]

[Green eyes narrow again for that cheek. Fff. But he's too far invested in thrusting into those fingers to fight fire with fire. Dick in his hand and all. When Freddy does try to get a word in all that comes out is a hitched groan for that sudden increase in speed.]

O--kay.

[Breathe, Newendyke. Be careful too, Dimick. He slowly slowly...rolls onto his side. No need for an accident.]

[Larry turns onto his side too, better to face the guy, and encourage more movement if that's what he wants.]

Better?

[He asks nipping at his chin and moving to his throat.]

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