orangetoughguy | phone post

[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?

[He knows. He knew. Well of course he knew. He's an old guy and an old cop. Orange doesn't even nod, he just taps his smoke on the edge of the tray. When Raymond refers to the other thing, what just happened between them, he really really considers the pros and cons of it. He couldn't give a goddamn flying fuck about people knowing he fucks men, he's past that finally. His primary concern is White...even when it shouldn't be.]

That's your prerogative.

[Oh fuck, Newendyke, don't make such a hardass-covering-a-softass looking face. He's bound to see right through it.]

[Of course he sees right through it. Who you think he is, Freddy?]

I don't make it my business to go spreading other people's business around, not under any circumstances. [Well, most circumstances.] But if you need me to cover for you...

[He trails off, leaving the statement open. The tone in his voice now is different from what he's used with Orange in the past, more like one he'd use with a comrade than a known crook he's happened to have a few friendly conversations with.]

[Cover for him? Really? After he's just fucked the guy's face into the floor? Maybe it wasn't as impersonal as Orange tried to make it, he is a bit of a tryhard sometimes. He actually looks at Raymond for a brief moment.]

Don't ask, don't tell?

[Because when it comes to certain things and certain people, Freddy can't stand to be a liar. He can be fucking Baretta one second and the worst undercover alive the next.] You?

[He doesn't make it his business to go on and on about his exploits either but it's nice to reciprocate the specifics.]

[Raymond isn't one for emotional attachment, but under circumstances like these, he isn't exactly one for impersonality either. Fucking a guy he barely knows is one thing, but fucking a guy he might have a reason to look out for? Well, that's entirely another.]

Sure. [And then, with a slight shrug:] It doesn't matter to me. [As long as it's not public news front and center, he doesn't much care who knows who he's been fucking, or that he's been fucking, for that matter.

Except for Ivy, of course. But then, she's young enough that he figures that should go without saying.]

Alright.

[Orange says with a nod of agreement. It sounds like they have some sort of semi-spoken understanding anyway. That's part of why he looked to Raymond first. Maybe it was stupid of him to presume he could trust the guy but he's turning out to be not such an asshole or just an asshole after all.]

[Congratulations, Freddy, now you know him exactly as well as the timekeepers under his command. (Minus the part with the sex, that is.)

He nods in return, saying nothing else but keeping eye contact with him until he finally turns away. Off to the bathroom he goes.]

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