orangetoughguy | log post II

[Oh he lets him pull back, just enough to look at those worked up lips.]

Hell no. I wanna leave it up your ass.

[And then there's a shudder for the licking. Fingers curl tighter to pull (urge) Larry back up on his feet. Then he's pushing (directing) the old man over the bowl. It's not horribly dirty but it's no immaculate commode either.]

Bend over. Grab the pipes.

[Pulled up he is. The slight pain springing from the man handling only turns him on. Up on his feet and then turning around. Paws grab the pipes as he bends over. He'll even spread em too.]

Like that?

[As though he needs to ask. The Flamingos filling in the blanks between this rough talk. I only have eyes for you.]

Edited 2011-04-28 05:17 (UTC)

[From behind he brushes his knee between those thighs.]

Just like that, tough guy. Don't turn around.

[The knee departs as Freddy starts doing something back here. A little bit of digging, there we go. He peels up the end of the roll of tape and wastes no time in wrapping it over then around and through the pipes, threading Larry's wrists with them. Not too loose yet not too tight. His pocket knife cuts that off and he sets both on the paper dispenser.]

I bet you got lube on you, you're always ready to fuck on the go. Right?

[Initiating a professional police pat down. Because it's Freddy and because they're in a commode it can't be bad. Right?]

[Between the fuckin' thighs. Oh shit.]

Whatever you say.

[Baby. Tough guy. Cowboy. Anything works right now. The stretching noise of tape being peeled off of the roll takes his breath away. There it is right in front of his face being taped to the fucking pipes.]

Uh huh. I do. You gonna find it?

[It's hard not to lean into those hands as they're patting him down. He better fucking find it.]

Eventually.

[Freddy says, ever the flippant take no shit cop as he pats along that body, from shoulders down to sides then around his legs. Whoops looks like he missed it on the first go. Meanwhile his hard on is sticking straight up, pushing against that denim covered rear.]

You ever think about what it'd be like gettin' fucked by four other guys in the commode?

[He doesn't say LA County sheriffs for Larry's benefit. He knows the only cop he really likes is Freddy Newendyke...and Christie Love...and maybe the busty blonde in Police Academy. Oh hey here's the lube.] Got it.

[That is fuckin' hard back there. Is this gonna take long? Huff, huff.]

Not in no commode. [The truth rolls right on out while he's sweating it out.] But four at once...it's crossed my mind. [He licks his lips trying to not sound so desperate.] One's enough to get the job done like I need.

[Phew! Thank God.]

Now what.

Yeah? When? How?

[Like in his movies? How about when a new kid in a leather jacket told a story about taking a possum piss in a train station commode? He's working Larry's jeans open now seeing as how the old man can't do it himself. Tug tug, they're off his hips enough to unveil his dick and ass. The former Freddy strokes a couple times, gotta get him worked up after all.]

What you need's pretty modest. Now I'm thinking I gotta step up my game.

[Stroking still, slow and steady.]

The showers. Everybody all around.

[Words don't come easy at all. While he is horny as fuck there's only one cock on his mind, that's the one that's behind him rather than in him. The bathroom air is far more cold on his skin. Could be overly sensitive.]

Freddy.

[Growling low. That's not what he wants. His hands are fixed in place nonetheless he tries to move.]

Come on.

I like your ideas.

[The kid whispers behind the old man's ear. He doesn't even need the sound of his voice to get the message, his body language says it all. Freddy's hand leaves Larry's cock to coat his own with a little more lube. Saliva and this oughta be enough, especially when he has no plans to use his fingers, especially when Larry's far more experienced than he is. He or his body will tell him if he needs more.]

I gotcha, cowboy.

[He puts a foot between those legs to spread them just a little more before he pushes up against White. Slow and firm to get in first.] How's that? More?

Because you'd get in on it, wouldn't you?

[Straight out of the shower and part of the group mentality. That's how it goes in films. Being out of those hands even when they're not moving as fast as they could be get him squirming.]

Oh fuck.

[There we go. He feels the moisture and pressure up against him.]

More. So much more. Stick it in.

You're damn right--[Swallow.]--I would. Nobody else gets to call the shots...when it comes to you, baby.

[Freddy presses a kiss to the back of Larry's shoulder then uses this leverage of weight upon weight to lean into him, easing between his thighs. More he said, so he'll give it all he's got. Fuck it feels so tight in there, he hisses for every deeper inch.]

You full yet, tough guy?

That's because no matter what I'm yours.

[Like that talk, kid? He can give you more. Words and moving back against that cock are about all he can do. Wait, no. Not quite. Larry curves his back and firms his stance to take that slow sliding cock.]

No. [Fuck, he can't help but moan low.] Almost. Fucking--please. Give it to me. [Oh yeah. He feels tight and stretching. There really is no rushing it. The old man is two seconds from a slip, he can feel it.]

[Oh yes he fucking likes that talk. No actually he fucking loves it. White belonging to no one but Orange? That's almost a twist considering he's the one who took Freddy under his wing. It makes Freddy feel special even though he knows he already is. Just hearing it brightens green eyes close to a toasted amber. Makes him want to gun that ass too but he knows better.]

You're good to me.

[He utters along those broad shoulders. This deep he can place both hands on Larry's hips to guide himself through that last stretch. It won't be long now until he's easing into a thrusting motion. Steady first. He'll get harder and faster when he knows the old man's ready.]

S'what you inspire outta me. Fucking wonderful.

[That's what the kid is. This too. Jumping him in a commode at the car wash. How long did he have this in mind?]

Baby. Oh fuck.

[There we go. All the way in now. Small victory because they're not fucking yet. The motion, steady and controlled feels good but not what it could be. Larry angles more against the thrusting.]

Fuck me like you know you want to.

[He throws a look over his shoulder catching a glimpse of that man in charge.]

[A couple hours. Maybe since he went to bed thinking he wasn't as kind to a faithful bear about the tricky toucan like a loyal dog could have been. Is this really quality time spent together though? If the coupe fits... Freddy exhales slow and steady again. Being buried this deep in Lawrence Dimick without fucking him yet is torture, but once he's in he knows he can go at him.]

Okay, Larry.

[Another kiss, this one low on the back of his neck before Freddy stands straighter to start thrusting. The first ones are solid but measured, deep without pulling too fast. The ones that follow are faster strokes, more rapid until he's falling into a rhythm.]

Like this, cowboy? Riding the fuckin' daylights outta you? [Huffing and puffing. Fucking Larry the way Larry fucks him is no easy task.]

[Yeah, well, he didn't see it coming. Not one little bit. This is way better than the Spiderman game. Far more action packed.]

Like that. Oh damn. Yeah. So good. [The lips at his neck for the brief moment, he'll have to fully enjoy them another time. Zero complaints. Larry tries to grind back on Freddy when he's buried in to the hilt.]

I love it like this. [And he's trying to keep it down and stay vocal for Freddy's enjoyment.] Fucking plowing me.

Fucking screwing the shit out of you.

[Freddy adds not as a correction but as further color to this excursion. His fingertips are digging into Larry's skin, making half-moons that don't cut through him but are certainly leaving marks. Each impact is like a shove forward however he takes care not to impact him so hard that his face has to hit the tiles, seeing as how Larry has no hands to guard his handsome profile. One, two, hard slams and then he's grinding flush up against the old man. The kid wraps a palm around his shaft to jerk.]

You take it so fuckin' good, Larry. Sweet ass.

[His other hand vacates the hip to pinch said ass. Both grips so to speak keep that rough and tough body completely full on his dick. If only he was tall enough to lift Larry onto the balls of his feet. Has he ever had a man do that to him? Freddy has, by this man right here, and he fucking loves it. Hm well wait a second, get creative Newendyke. He pulls out halfway while one foot goes up to plant down on the seat, leaving a most unsanitary shoe print.] I love you, baby.

[Leverage gained, he guns it right back into that ass, angled not just towards his prostate but also upward.]

So damn deep in there.

[Shaking him to the core like a jack hammer. Larry feels like he's close enough to the tiles to make his breath fog over the black and white. Close but not that fucking close. Hot damn there's that hand around his cock.]

That dick in me--[no words from that at all just a grunt for how it feels. The old man is about to loudly protest what feels like a pull out. Those words are too sweet for the moment of feeling so bereft in the middle. Wait. Nevermind. Back on in and up and--] Oh God!

[This grown man's body is fucking shaking with strain to stay against that. Right up on the balls of his feet in fact. If he could brace himself on the wall to push back harder he would in a heartbeat. Precum is the kid's fingers. How can it not at this point?]

Like that. Shit, you're gonna make me fucking come in no time. Can't help it with you all big and in so deep.

[Big? So deep? If this kid had a fucking tail it'd be wagging right now. Shit don't let him notice (for too long) your willingness to please and get a treat out of it, Newendyke. Freddy shakes his head like he's trying to get floppy locks out of his yes.]

That's the point, old man. [Huff puff.] Make you come right in the palm of my fuckin' hand.

[He's on the balls of his feet. Fucking good show, Newendyke, now keep him there. The exertion's making Freddy's forehead bead with sweat. If the commode were colder his breath would be misting along Lawrence Dimick's back. Fucking hard thrusts back here, he doesn't know how much longer he can go on without making Larry come first. That fist pumps faster over his cock, concentrating on the head. Come on, old man. Freddy had a head start, literally but he's got something to prove too. Larry has to come first or his pride'll be in pieces.]

[Pant, pant, pant. It's echoing in here, isn't it? Some boy group are crooning a hit about a fella and his black denium trousers and motorcycle boots. Was it louder in the hallway? Too many things to worry about that aren't how the tip of his cock feels or how Freddy's feel against his prostate. ...Things that do not matter.]

I'm gonna goddammit I'm gonna.

[So close. He's grinding back at the sharp angle with his head down and ass up while he's standing just so. The more the kid's had moves it feels like the more wet it comes.]

Bout there. Fuck.

[Larry doesn't quite have an eagle on his back but whatever Freddy is it's predatory. Still however this isn't working. Well it is, but it isn't working the way it should, ideally. Whoa Newendyke when did this become a competition? A fucking race? Damn right it is. Without thinking twice Freddy lets go of Larry's hip to grab him by the hair. He pulls the old man's head back firmly yet not too far, just enough to form a beautiful curve in his spine. His hips are still pushing, still fucking that tight ass, and his fist is still desperately trying to milk that load out. Now it's Freddy who's leaking.]

Shit Larry don't dry up on me.

[He threatens. Begs. Threatens. ...Begs. At least the kid's got agility on his side, he maintains his balance easily while still thrusting in and out of the guy.]

[No, he sure doesn't. He's got a tattoo sure. It isn't a heart proclaiming love to anyone. Maybe it's because he's the private type but there's no need for a permanent ink marking to relay who in this wide world he loves. He lets this man lure him into the commode of an establishment, tape him to the piping and ravage him.

The shifting of hands and positioning, hot damn. He's pulled into it willingly. The angle and rough touch are just the ticket.]

Gonna get real tight 'round you.

[That's about all the warning that Mr. Orange in charge is going to get. His already tight hold clenches as the old man unloads into that animated hand. Larry's gone. Maybe from the angle he's pulling at Freddy can see his eyes roll into his head as the old man breaks out into shivers. Knees lock to ensure he won't slip and chip a tooth. His mouth hangs open to groan as softly as he can manage.]

[Where ink is concerned Freddy would never ask for Larry to scribe his name or color or some symbol of him to join the wildcat. That's just not the Newendyke way. Similarly Larry ought to not have the same expectations; the kid's only markings are freckles and scars which have done him well so far. Why change it?]

Fuck I feel it.

[Groan. That is tight. Then his breath hitches and it's almost like his dick is caught in the constriction. Actually it is which puts a stop to Freddy's thrusting. Carwash commode sex isn't worth an injury. Green eyes catch a flick of brown ones. His fist is still jerking but the one in his hair releases eventually to curl his arm around the other man's waist, practically embracing him.] That's it baby, gimme what you got.

[Some of it he feels dripping between his knuckles. The rest flicks on the john, in the water. Nothing doing, it's just a carwash commode.]

[To be honest how much more binding and significant can a tattoo be compared to matching gunshot wounds? Those will age with them. No matter where they go or what they do, those scars will be there. They shouldn't change a thing.]

Jesus.... [He hisses and attempts to grind back. The real kicker is that fist milking every bit out. He sees the water in the bowl below ripple. Hard straight shot besides what can't help but stick to the skin of the hand that made it happen. If Larry could he'd grab a hand full of Freddy's blonde brown hair rather than the cool piping. The weight of an embrace is so fucking sweet for a rushed, hard screwing.]

Fuck baby [huff he's trying to catch his breath now] ...I love you.

[Definitely true. Those scars will be there until the day Freddy dies, both gunshot wounds and both attained in such a short amount of time. It's kind of a miracle how he survived and ever under the wing of one Mr. White. From holding hands in the backseat to this? Who needs a tattoo.]

Uh huh. [As intense as coming back from the dead ain't it? That's the dirty thought running through his mind. If only his childhood church knew.] Motherfuckin' beautiful.

[He said the words. Those unnecessary yet coveted words. The kid tightens his hold around the old man's waist to turn that grinding back into fucking. Erratic hard fucking that only a man who can honestly say they love him deserves. It doesn't take more than a handful of shakes and shivers and slams before Freddy's writhing behind Larry, filling him up as promised.] Shit Larry.

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