orangetoughguy | phone post

[Hey, he's had to make do with less. He can't keep from making another throaty noise when he feels Orange's hands on his ass, and at once he has to pull his own hands away from himself. He can't let himself be tempted too easily like that, not now, not when he has no idea if he'll ever get this chance again, whether in the City or back home. He moves an arm to rest under his forehead instead, making a buffer between his face and the damn carpet, while the other idly flexes, waiting for Orange's next move.]

[What a cynical approach, Orange couldn't imagine that, then again he can't imagine living in a place where you can be twenty-five for as long as you can afford the time. Do people still engage in prostitution? Probably, that's a vice that'll never go away, but signing off a part of your life for an orgasm seems extreme. Anyway, a little more saliva spreads over the older man's entrance, enough to keep him wet as Orange opens the condom to roll it on himself.

Briefly he wonders if it might hurt Raymond considering how long it may have been since the last time he took it up the ass. Does the guy thrive on a little pain? Sure he's tough but that doesn't mean Orange should be enabling someone else's risky behavior. Fuck it. He presses the tip of his cock against Raymond, letting the lube on the latex settle a bit. Slow and fucking steady. He doesn't doubt the other man might grow impatient, he can suggest his desired pace if he wants, however Orange is the one who's been fucking men frequently for the past year and a half. He knows a clencher when he feels it.]

[Oh, Freddy. Raymond could tell you all about the going rates for flesh in his jurisdiction, but this isn't exactly the time for it.

It most definitely has been a long time since he's taken it from anyone, but some experience just doesn't go away. There's a brief moment of tension when Orange presses against him, but it quickly gives way to Raymond rubbing back against him, the closest he can come to saying come on already without actually saying it. He's not going to beg for it like a damn whore, but he doesn't want to waste any time either.]

[What if Orange wants him to beg for it? Hehehe. No the younger man wants this too and can't be arsed to tease around anymore than he already has. He pushes into the other man at a moderate pace, easing in as much as he's sinking into however far Raymond's body is willing to let him go. Freddy's grip high on his hips remains firm to keep the guy in place.]

Jesus Christ, man.

[The timekeeper is as tight as his sour face implies and goddamn does it feel great. He's tight enough Freddy has to urge Raymond to help him out a little by pulling him back on his cock. He won't start fucking him until his shaft is over halfway in. The build up usually allows him to then push balls deep. Orange is already getting off one knee for the leverage to move a hand from Raymond's hip to Raymond's shoulder. The first thrust is a hard solid one, all that officer's physicality redirected towards a purpose it wasn't really meant for.]

[Jesus Christ is about damn right, and Raymond almost says as much himself when Orange pushes in. He opts for another moan instead, long and low as he rocks back onto his cock, only to have it cut off by a sharp inhale at that hard thrust. Yes, goddamnit, this is what he's fucking needed all this time, even if he's been too proud to admit it, even to himself; he's needed a good, hard fuck like this, even if it's with someone he wouldn't have expected, even if it's on the floor of a cheap motel room.

But while he's thinking all this, he sure isn't going to vocalize any of it. The closest he'll come to that are the moaning and groaning noises he's already making, the arch of his back, the clutch of his hands at the carpet, the knit of his brow and the slack of his jaw. Hopefully that will be all the feedback Orange needs.]

[Orange could stand to receive a little more vocal feedback but he's normally a vocal kind of guy so it just goes with the territory. The fact that Raymond's on the floor with his ass up, letting another man--younger and probably below his own rank--fuck him silly is evidence enough. The groaning could border painful but he trusts Raymond would let him know when enough's enough. It might be a rough desperate kind of fucking but Orange isn't out to hurt anyone, he doesn't want to be that kind of guy.

Cop to cop though, the standard he takes with the timekeeper is just a little different by virtue of the fact he believes Raymond holds a different one for himself. So he probably won't mind the series of solid thrusts he delivers, one after the other, right? It's enough to probably rock the man's whole body forward, watch out for fucking rug burn. Then the hand on his shoulder is traveling up to grasp his dark hair and pull his head back.]

[Of course Raymond doesn't mind. He wouldn't have come back with Orange in the first place if he was going to mind whatever he had to dish out. Not that Raymond would ordinarily let himself be fucked in this position by just anybody, least of all a subordinate, but this isn't his world — the rules are different here, and Orange isn't his subordinate.

That's why he isn't complaining for a second, not when Orange thrusts hard enough to grind his whole damn body into the carpet, and certainly not when he pulls his head back. That doesn't mean the noise he makes then isn't one of surprise, but it sure isn't a bad one.]

[The sound Raymond makes is satisfying and encouraging. Orange quickens his pace, sacrificing a little depth for speed. He can't lie, watching the other man's body rock back and forth beneath his makes him lick his damn chops. If Raymond wants a hand on his own cock he'll have to take care of it himself because Orange is too focused on plowing the guy into (hopefully) a stupor. He loosened up well enough, to Freddy it's just an invitation to give his ass everything it's been missing for who knows how long. Any glow off his arm is completely forgotten, ignored, even though it stands out in the dim lighting. Yeah, in case it wasn't clear before, Orange left one of the lights on. If only Raymond could fucking see himself now.]

[Raymond still hasn't moved a hand to take care of himself because he knows that if he touches himself at this rate, he'll come in an instant; despite his not wanting to waste any time, he also wants to milk this as long as he can. It's for the same reason that it's probably for the best that he can't see himself right now.]

Jesus— [The word barely comes out as a moan, and his eyes flutter shut with it. Even without touching himself, he's so close he can barely stand it.]

What's--that?

[Orange huffs between his words. He heard Raymond loud and clear, he just wants to pull a little more noise out of the guy. There's something uniquely satisfying about hearing a guy like that brought down to his knees, as if being up his ass wasn't already enough for Freddy Newendyke. Fingers in his dark hair twist then turn, letting go, only for the flat of his palm to pin Raymond's head against the carpet, his forearm, whichever counts as the ground. He takes his other hand off the guy's hip where red marks leave an imprint of his being there so he can pull the glowing arm behind his back, bent up like a restraint. He wants to put some of his weight on Raymond's back so every following thrust is pushing down against his prostate.

The timekeeper might be sore afterward but Orange intends to make it all worth it.]

Jesus Christ—

[When he feels the position his arm is being pushed into, Raymond automatically, reflexively tenses up — but then he feels the pressure against his prostate, and he can't fucking stand it anymore.]

I'm gonna come— [He can barely get the words out between ragged breaths, and if Orange doesn't get the message, then he'll know it soon enough.]

[Oh he got the message. Now he has only a fraction of a second to decide if he wants Raymond to blow his load now or later. How much does he care to have the older man in his company? How much does it matter to him that Orange hasn't come yet? How angry does Freddy want to be with himself. Fuck that too, he's been taking it up the ass without a single hand on his cock and he's already ready to unload. That's something.]

Do it.

[Orange groans at the back of his ear, aware of his own approaching orgasm, but he's not ready yet. He doesn't ease off his pace or his grip on Raymond. He doesn't care how unclean it is to let him come on the carpet, people get paid to scrub that shit. Hell sometimes it goes undetected. The second Raymond's tightening around him Freddy'll shift to a more grinding motion, hard to fuck a guy when his ass is clenching like a vice.]

[That groan is all Raymond needs before he's finished. He comes with a gasping moan, his body shuddering with the force of it, and it's all he can do to keep from grinding back against Orange in the thick of it. The hand that isn't pinned at his back finally reaches to stroke himself, pumping out all he's got as he rides his climax out.

Fuck, but he hasn't come like this in too damn long.]

[The way his body writhes and his breath puffs makes Freddy loosen his grip as if to time the diminished tension with the fall of his release. He doesn't know Raymond very well but it doesn't take knowing him as a person to understand his body language. Orange takes to combing through the hair at the back of his head before his fingers move farther down, rubbing and kneading his nape, until he's eased most of his own weight back onto his knees. You done there, Raymond?

It's only after it seems the guy's milked out all the cum in him that Orange pulls out. He peels the condom off, the tip of it still empty so it doesn't make a big mess when he just tosses it aside. Both hands are on Raymond's hips again to bring his rear back as if he might penetrate the guy bare...but he's only pushing his thighs together. Orange is working his cock between his cheeks. It's not the same as being inside him but it'll do and really he doesn't think Raymond's in any state to protest Freddy coming on his back.]

[Raymond makes another low noise at the fingers in his hair and at his neck, sounding far more pleased than anything else. He's still in such a haze that it isn't until after Orange has already pushed his thighs together that it occurs to him to wonder just what he hell he's doing back there.]

What are you doing? [He asks it while propping himself up just enough to start craning his neck over his shoulder, but he doesn't go any further than that to find out for himself. He doesn't particularly mind it, either; he just wants to know.]

I'm gonna come on you.

[Duh. What does it look--er, feel like? His terse reply is more due to his building orgasm than it is due to rudeness, but Raymond can interpret it however he likes. It doesn't change the fact that Orange is spilling warm semen down the top of his ass, some of it going a little farther up his lower back.]

Fuck.

[His nails might be making half-moon circles in Raymond's skin.]

[He doesn't even care, not as long as he's still riding this sweet post-coital buzz.]

Mmm. [He hangs his head again, letting his body relax even further and fall completely pliant against Orange. He knows this sensation isn't going to hold out much longer, so he's going to enjoy it while it lasts.]

[When Orange is finally spent he gives Raymond's rear a final firm squeeze then pulls away from him to sit on the floor against the bed. He's shirtless, his jeans are open, briefs pulled down his hips, and his cock is still out unabashed. It's hardly sensual and not even remotely sweet, it wasn't supposed to be. Looking at Raymond's body though, mostly naked with cum staining his back, loose in the limbs and all around for that matter, Orange feels a bit pleased with himself.]

Still gonna--stick with gum..?

[Freddy pants as he reaches for his cigarettes. The action's not clumsy but the efficient nature with which he removed their guns is gone.]

[Raymond's panting too, and it'll be a few moments before he moves out of his slumped position. Even then, he doesn't move much, only sliding down to flatten himself against the floor and roll onto his back. There's a definite ache with the change in position, but it's not enough to make him wince.

He's still panting as he rests a hand on his chest, and he turns his head just enough to get a good look at Orange.]

Haven't lived for seventy-five years...just to get taken out by fucking lung cancer.

.....

[Puff puff. Orange just kind of looks at Raymond then shrugs over his answer. Maybe the others are really telling the truth about how in the future smoking makes a man a pariah. In the meantime, lung cancer doesn't scare him. Ugh, the ash tray's on the table though and he doesn't want to get up yet.]

[Raymond doesn't particularly feel like it either, even though he knows he's in sore need of a shower, not just for the mess on his back but also the one he just rolled in. He stares up at the ceiling instead, and it takes him a moment before it occurs to him that for once in his life he can afford to indulge in doing nothing for a minute or two.

He's almost gotten used to not minding the clock. Almost. But it's still nice.

He isn't sure whether it's that realization or Orange's silence, or maybe some mixture of the two, but something prompts him to embellish his previous answer.]

Besides...kicked the habit decades ago. Wouldn't do me any good to pick it up again.

Hey I'm not gonna kick you back into it if you don't want it. I'm not that kind of guy.

[He shrugs again, this time waving the cigarette whose cherry tip finally falls on the ground oops. Sigh. Okay Freddy gets off his ass to grab the tray. While he's on his feet he'll tuck himself back into his jeans, smoke hanging from his lips, eyes on anything but Raymond's.]

[Raymond makes a noncommittal noise in response, still keeping his own eyes fixed square on the ceiling.

He can't laze around like this all night. Even if he had all the time in the world (which he might as well, as long as he's in this city), his own body won't let him.

He pushes off the floor and into a vaguely upright position with a short grunt, pushes a hand through his hair, and spends a moment deliberating whether to pull his pants back up or just take them entirely off.]

I'm going to get a shower, unless you want one first. [Off it is.]

Go ahead. [Orange concedes with another nod in the direction of said shower, but before Raymond can head off--naked--he speaks up again.]

Keep it to yourself, okay? [A pause as he considers clarifying.] I'm undercover.

[He's already gotten to his feet, pants kicked off at the ankles, when he catches Orange's drift. He looks at him with an even stare.]

I know. [It wasn't hard to figure out, honestly, between what Raymond had already learned of the other named-by-colors in the City and how shifty and defensive Orange had been every time the subject came even close to being broached. It wasn't just experience alone that led him to rise through the ranks back home, after all.

A beat passes.]

Do you want me to keep... [He makes a vague hand gesture. Hopefully it isn't too vague.] This to myself, too?

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