orangetoughguy | log post II

[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.]

Oh yeah.

[The kid grunts then gasps as his leg twists with Larry's, providing an anchor of sorts as well as leverage to keep fucking away in his big paw.]

Like a roll...in the bed of a pick up truck.

[Don't ask why that image comes to mind, it just does. If he were sixteen and this handsome fucker came by with a cigarette dangling from his mouth, yeah, Freddy'd let him have it.]

That pick up be in some driveway?

[It's not in his pocket. Larry uses both paws now, both stroking in separate directions leaving a thumb to rub over the top.]

Or how about outside, under the stars? Summertime'll be here before we know it.

[Larry pulls his head up, watching for any change of expression. Though it strikes him that this is something like the position they had with the kid on the ramp, bleeding. Brown eyes blink it away.]

The shocks would give more bounce.

I like the idea. [Grunt.] Of being outside. [Huff.]

Somewhere no one's gonna find us...cause they're right next door but they got no reason to come out lookin'.

[The kid swallows, writhing from those separate movements that go so damn well together. He's thinking beer cans and cigarette butts in the flatbed, loud noise from the nearest establishment designated as their rendezvous. People could come out any moment and catch them, but they won't cause nobody ever comes out back to this area. As for the shock, well...]

Depends on your suspension. [Car talk? While getting handled? Surely that's like an added treat.]

It's gotta happen then.

[Christ, he's a good looking motherfucker.]

We gotta scope out the right car and place. Even with the right suspension that's not the only noise we need to worry about keepin' down, huh?

[Oh yeah. If it's gonna be near nightfall there will be crickets and a few birds. The muted hubbub of people close but far away to add to the experience.]

Hard to keep it down, don't you think?

[To prove a point, both of Larry's hands move in the same direction hard.]

You wanna borrow a truck?

[Freddy rushes the words under a deep sigh because fuck yes it's hard, too hard to keep down. His hips keep moving in that same way and now it's his own hands curling into Larry's hair, stroking, squeezing, touching. They'd have to borrow one or buy one. Mostly though, for Freddy, it's something he'd like to experience in Los Angeles or even in Fresno or hell Milwaukee. A good harmless memory in their own world, like getting those tacos. Which isn't to say what they have here is second rate, not at all, but a kid can dream for that ultimate rock and roll fantasy can't he? No harm in that either.]

I'm gonna come. Fuck.

[He squeezes his eyes near shut before guiding his mouth to Larry's jaw. Oh wait the old man wanted to see his face right? Freddy leans back, cheeks flush and floppy hair swaying as his dick starts to leak out the very beginnings of his orgasm.]

For starters. If we like it, we can keep it. Shouldn't own a car without a test drive, you know.

[Watching him move, fuck his hands and paw him...the whole package makes Larry breathe heavy too.]

Come away, hotshot.

[Just like he would if they were in a pickup about anywhere. They'll have memories there in their neck of the universe. Larry holds onto that hope with both hands.]

I'm watchin' you.

[He slicks the kid's lips with his saliva, there'll be a kiss at the end of it like he wants.]

You dream--real big--

[That's the best he can come up with knowing grand theft auto is really nothing doing for a guy like Lawrence Dimick. Shit just looking into his brown eyes he knows this man is a fucking felon and that's alright with Freddy Newendyke because he's Larry too. Larry who held his hand in the car and held him on that fucking ramp. Larry who wanted to fuck him when he saw the kid swaggering in his jacket.]

--Larry.

[He groans, spilling over into those hands that cradled him when he was fucking dying. His expression looks pained but that wave is brief, just a physical reaction to losing it on those thick fingers. How close this kind of gesture is to actually dying is a bit morbid but the French got it right, because just as he did on the ramp, his expression changes to heady affection.]

Goddamn...

Ain't no other way to dream.

[Lawrence Dimick had always been a big dreamer. Someday he was gonna be a ball player, astronaut, explorer and then he was gonna get a big house with a wife and a lotta kids. Then he was going to strike rich, live big and happy with...someone. Then he was going to live outside of the law like an old time cowboy looking to settle down someplace when the mood struck him. And then he met Mr. Orange. And big dreams were living through the day and making sure they got out alive. Now it feels like there's no ceiling, no matter how ridiculous it's alright to dream big.

After all, he gets to fuck that kid who can swagger like a pro in a leather jacket. And he's not writhing on death's door. The similarity between the way Freddy emotes to that fucking day and now doesn't slip Larry's attention, the transition is absolutely different though.]

Gimme all you got now. Don't cheat me.

[As though that were possible. Larry is on that mouth again, full force. His fists move more slowly but keep a move on.]

[Those are dreams he'd love to make come true somehow, even if they're substituted fantasies. He's curling inward now as he writhes, fingers tightening as the one in his hair moves to anchor onto Larry's shoulder. His breathing is reedy and thin, just like that fucking day, until there's nothing left in him and even then Freddy's thrusting. Slower, but still thrusting.]

Christ...

[That's muffled into the old man's mouth. Finally the kid's stilling, but that only pertains to his hips. Between their lips he's still moving, tongue licking out the insides. He leans back only briefly.] I think you got it all.

[The warm, wet substance all over Larry's fingers isn't blood. May there never be another day like that fucking day. He never wants to feel Freddy's blood on his skin again. This on the other hand, well, within the next few days if not tomorrow would be good. The kid is addicting.]

Yeah.

[He does have it all. Though brown eyes look down anyway. Two hands, one mess and zero regrets. He lifts them up and out of the way. Side by side and skin to skin. More mouth to mouth too with this lovely foe.]

Thanks, partner.

[Took the edge right off of things.]

[All things work a certain way for a reason right? Take for example how Freddy finds that tequila towel within reach for Larry to wipe off his hands. They could clean those fingers with their mouths, certainly, but right now he wants to occupy the old man's with his own.]

Sure thing, cowboy.

[He breathes between kisses. Fuck if he ever has to give this up. That would be cruelty. Criminal.]

[Hands clean, somehow absolved. Even though there are moments when he blames himself for Freddy being shot at all. A man can't think of those kinds of things when you're speeding to the rendezvous. And now, it's all done. Nothing can be fixed.

His hands smell like tequila.]

Now I don't wanna move. Good going.

[Thank fucking God there's no one else to expect comin' on in here. Will anything be this good again?]

Lucky it's your house ain't it?

[Technically their house. Finally the kid rolls from his side to his back, green eyes looking up at the kitchen lights.]

Clean up can wait.

[Don't be going to far. Paws reach for him to get a grip on arm or fabric.]

Ours.

[Larry can't picture them living anyplace else. Wasn't it the kid's favorite choice anyway?]

Monkeys and diamonds aside [and after coming] how was your day?

[It sure was. Freddy's never lived in a place like this before, the city outside the apartment included. He can feel those paws on him, warm, tequila tinted, and comforting. Monkeys and diamonds aside...

Green eyes lower from those kitchen lights to nothing in particular.]

It sucked.

[He still hasn't told Larry why. Should he?]

But it's better now. [There's a little smile here as he snakes his arm to rest on the old man's broad chest.]

log post II

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