orangetoughguy | log post II

Big. Fuckin' big.

[The sound he makes when Larry pulls him by the hips borders on pained but he hasn't cried out the safeword so it's probably not an issue yet. This angle has the old man doing something fucking brutal to his prostate and Freddy loves every second of it even though he sounds like he's fucking dying. Really fucking dying. Anyone else who could hear them might think the kid said 'no' to begin with. It's that fine line between getting off and getting depraved.]

Fuck! [He swears interchangeably with high reedy gasps. Each strike makes his muscles contract, makes him tight and the feeling more intense for everyone. Jesus Christ are his eyes actually tearing?] Does it feel good, tough guy?

[Me gusta comes to mind, what little Spanish Orange actually knows.]

[That's exactly how he feels, big and brutal. The name John Connor isn't ringing in his ears, so it's alright. Even if Freddy was saying no or stop Larry'd like to believe he can. Oh shit he sounds like he's being split apart.]

You feel fucking great baby. [Pant, pant.] So damn tight like [he swallows the saliva that's trying to dribble down his chin and fall to down the steep slope of Freddy's arched back] you're gonna swallow me.

[Both paws grip at his hips, holding him hoisted. Careful now, old man. Don't drop the kid on his head or nothing. Larry's balls are starting to swing the way they're slapping up against Freddy. If this was their other apartment people would be knocking on the walls. Would they do that at Freddy's even under surveillance? He's pretty sure they can be heard in this joint the way they're going.]

I feel like I'm swallowin' you you're damn far up in me you son of a bitch.

[Freddy even coughs which is only half for effect and half because he's getting his brains fucked out. Jesus. He's been fucking Lawrence Dimick for a little less than a year now and he still wonders where the old man learned to fuck like an animal. There are answers for sure, some not as nice as others. Either way Mr. White is a motherfucking professional not letting the kid drop on his face. Even though the bed's soft his nose still appreciates it. But eventually he's gonna have to come down.]

Make'em--keep lookin'...make'em know what you do to me, Larry.

[He manages all those words in between groans and gasps and the occasional yelp. Who they are though, well they could be the Silver Surfer, the cops, anyone. Back then Freddy knew for a fact they couldn't see his entire apartment or else he would have been the butt of a couple five knuckle shuffle jokes. On the other hand he can think of a few guys he'd love to have watching Larry fuck the shit out of him, watching and stroking their own dicks knowing they'll never have it so good. A few girls too actually though they don't have dicks to stroke and what girls do doesn't occur to him at all right now thank you. Whoops is that precum?]

I'm gonna come. Get in real deep, put your hand on me.

Down your fuckin' throat.

[Harder. Faster. Shit. Larry knows that's precum now, not the lube. His thighs are shaking and stinging with contact. This is the big time, old man. Don't fucking stop. Decades of fucking experience don't let him down. A whole damn year for them out of the worst day of his life. Make it all count.]

Plow you. Ride you into the goddamn ground. [Growling bear strikes at the kid's back and slides his sweat slicked palm into his hair again.]

You gotta do it hard.

[He let's go and even though he's the one taping him up, screwing him like a loose wrench, Larry listens. That paw grips the kid's cock that all this time has been hard and dangling.]

Do it. I will.

[He practically dares the old man to split him apart even though he knows it won't happen. They'll ride that fine line because there's a promise not to hurt each other so bad ever again. This aches but it's the kind that hurts so fucking good.]

Oh shit.

[Green eyes flash open when he's down on his face again but his hair is still in a paw's grasp. He can see that silver scowl, disapproving not because of what they are but because this is clearly dicking around when there's a world to protect. Hey superheroes need to have fun too or else they'll all turn out like Batman. Freddy laughs a little at his own thoughtful joke but it's short-lived. Quickly it turns into a cry for a hand on his cock, a cock hard up in his ass, and his load spilling out.]

Jesus. [And Lord have fucking mercy.]

[The old man's body jolts. He thought the kid was holding him tight before. He grinds up against him and rocks as much as he can without hurting him. Regardless of how damn easy it is to place him this way and that, he's not about to hurt the man. Right now it hurts so good. His body is humming and tense.]

Good, tough guy. Real fucking good.

[Larry swallows but this time his saliva is on Freddy. Not like he's gonna mind right now, right? Hot damn the feel of his load in his hand... This was what he really wanted when he took that green eyed hooker to the room.]

Fucking---[the kid takes his breath away. Larry leans forward and grabs a fist full of Freddy's hair as he cries out against his back as he blows it big time.]

Edited 2011-08-03 05:44 (UTC)

[Freddy's rocking and grinding back hard and flush up against him, tight and well stuck on his dick as his body pumps out what's left of his load. Shit life is great right now.]

Thanks.

[He means it--er. Did Larry just...he did. Well not that the kid minds or anything and it is kind of funny that they'd make such a mess all over each other. See, silver guy? This is what being human is all about (Ben Grimm would beg to differ). Oof, he arches under the old man's weight, head tilted up in his grip.]

Your turn cowboy. [Right away that cocksure attitude melts into another low moan for the feeling of heat Larry leaves inside him. Motherfucker makes him feel so alive.] That's it, put it all in me. Let'em know what's yours.

[And what's Newendyke's for that matter.]

[Grinding feels amazing, better than amazing they're flush against one another as close as Siamese twins. Larry is shaking all over, his load launched right on in the kid, where he had wanted it to go since they started. Even before that today. Was it all lust though? The old man liked his delivery, his swagger. He seemed like a nice young man, trying his best to find a balance.]

You're my baby, all mine.

[Hopefully one of them can walk straight tomorrow. See that, Mr. Silver? Mr. White got the man good. Forty-three years old and still a heavy hitter. Still kind of a fag. He'd feel guilty if he didn't love every passing second. Mess or no mess, though there really is a mess. Sweat, saliva, semen all signs of a good, good fuck.]

...okay there?

[He hasn't caught his breath yet but he will sit up and let the kid breathe.]

[Someones Freddy still wonders if they're right for each other or just right for the time being but every day feels right and hell every month and now for a whole year. A year is a long time in Freddy Newendyke's world. Sometimes he wonders if it's only a drop in the bucket for someone like Lawrence Dimick. Can he blame the kid for holding on to some skepticism here and there? He's young, inexperienced with commitment, but not naive enough to buy into the idea of first love for keeps. Maybe he hasn't lived enough to understand yet. Can Mr. White be that patient? So far so good.]

All mine too. [He makes another grind, slower but no less firm, to punctuate the parts of Larry still stuck in him. Fuckin' Freddy's is what that is as long as Larry'll have him. As for who might not be walking straight tomorrow, well, he doesn't regret a second.] I'm okay, I'm cool.

[Huff and puff, he rather likes the feeling of being curled up and cramped under the bear, still snug on his cock and covered in God knows what, but when he's given extra space he does take a deep breath.] Damn. What the fuck were you mining for?

[As if that's really a complaint on the kid's part.]

[There's no such thing as perfect, except Larry is sure that the're damn near close to that. From coffee in the morning to late night tacos or whatever else, it seems as right as a dream. Even when they've gunned down zombies, dodged Blonde and fuck so much else. How did they get so lucky.

Larry's not the marrying kind, he's in it for the long haul as long as there are signs to tell him right.]

I heard there was some kinda gold or city of gold. Something like that.

[Paws aren't clawing anymore just smoothing down his back his sides.]

Cool son of a bitch. Lemme let you go.

[Tape first. Then he'll pull away. Oof. Woah. Okay. It's doable. Tricky but doable.]

[Freddy snorts at that.] Do I look Mexican to you?

[That's a joke of course, he's got nothing against chicanos, he just happens to have more in common with their pasty ghosts than their living. Oof okay the kid relaxes for the process. Pulling a couple hairs out is par for the course but it's not that bad and still worth the mess. It's having Larry vacate him that he briefly and unceremoniously mourns but needs must. They can't go on living like the result of a nuclear accident, that's not the kind of mutant Freddy dreamed of being.]

If you gotta. [And the second he's free he'll stretch all over the bed too.] So far so good, nobody's complaining.

[Neither Silver Surfer nor any fuzz.]

No. But something about you, I can't say no to. There's about one other thing I can think of that makes it go down like that. [Before anyone thinks of something unsavory he'll answer with] Tacos.

[The hard part is over--and literally separating is damn hard right now. It's the last thing the old man wants to do. This man fits him like a glove.]

You mean about the noise? I think they'd be hollering cuz they're not involved, cuz it's over already.

[He'll flop close to that sprawled body. The better to dot his skin with a few presses of his mouth like they're freckles.]

Tacos. [Good save, Dimick. Freddy snorts anyway then shakes his head.] I'm not hungry, I'm kinda full.

[And in need of a shower shit they didn't hit the bath after coming from a sweaty game of catch either. These sheets will need to be washed. Later though, like this weekend. If only Larry could have seen Freddy's place in all its clutter. He would have liked to show him his music set up, no one appreciates a good record anymore except music aficionados and old dudes. Guess which one Larry fits.]

It's a private party anyway, except for that guy.

[He waves a hand at the alien. Ooh, those kisses are nice. Freddy reaches up to run his fingers through Larry's hair.] Thanks, Larry.

Still?

[Paw pats at his back end, it's a pat not a blow.]

I wouldn't wanna step out again anyways.

[Laying here is where it's at. A year ago he put down a month's rent for a place on Joe's turf. Nothing fancy, all he had was a few suitcases. That's the lot of a rambling man.]

Anytime, baby.

[Closer now to meet his mouth. That metallic faced man keeps on scowling. What the poor man don't know can't hurt him.]

Yeah, still.

[He repeats with a mild dose of sarcasm for the pat to his reddened rear. Fff. Oh but he'll roll onto his side and meet that mouth halfway, kissing once, twice.]

Whenever we get back. [Not if, when. Maybe Freddy Newendyke dreams too big.] I'm gettin' you a Dodgers cap and you're gonna wear it.

[How come he tastes so good? Makes a grown man cry. The old man pulls back to look at the kid skeptically.]

How come? It was only one win. That's all. Fluke. Baseball is full of em.

[That's not a no Freddy.]

[Strrrreeeetch. He bridges his fingers behind his head and lays staring up at the ceiling now, looking a little smug. Somehow they're not even on the right end of his bed either, the pillows are where their feet are oops.]

Do I gotta beat you at Dodger Stadium too?

I'll wear a Dodger hat when they go up against the Brewers and win. Then you gotta wear mine.

[Unless the old man plops it on the kid's head again. Larry is sure to clear away the lube and find a spot that's not too dirty to also lay.]

And we'll both place a bet because they'll be money coming in from either end.

[And he'll grab a pillow too.]

Okay I'll take that bet.

[He sits up enough to hold his hand out to shake on it while Larry does whatever it is he's doing. Always the one to get the bed ready for actual sleeping, this man. This kid could sleep anywhere, on a bed, on the floor, on a couch, in a backseat, at a desk, under a car (true story), but his favorite place is admittedly right next to a bear these days.

Can things really return to normal like that once they get back to LA?]

[Oops. He was all wrapped up in the pillows. Now he'll shake that hand, a good solid one. He'll maintain that hold to pull the kid down to rest against the pillow too.]

Thanks, kid.

[For the year. For this moment. Larry has to believe that there's going to be more to this. It's the fuel that keeps this engine rolling.]

[Oof. Okay he has to admit (again) that pillow is pretty comfortable. Freddy shifts here and there to get more snug against Larry, sheets pulled up to his waist. Fucking surreal, living here, being with him...like a good comic book or a Rush album that keeps him company when he's got no one else.]

Don't sweat it, old man.

log post II

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