"God damn it!" he swore, dropping it on the carpet.
"Oh shit," Larry snorted, fishing the pathetic little nub from the floor before it did any damage.
"Next time we need to make brownies, man," Freddy offered, "that's the quickest delivery method. Outside a bong or something."
"I think your mom might notice that."
"Hah! So she's not okay with this. I knew it. You're a corrupting influence."
Freddy flopped over and stared dreamily at the wall. Everything seemed so constant yet so ephemeral all at once. He blinked and swallowed thickly, stealing a quick look at his companion.
"Your mom knows I smoke. I'll tell her you got in late."
"Did you tell her about the other night?"
The words were out before Freddy could reel them back in. He froze, both terrified and giddy. Larry stared at the television screen, jaw clenched. "I don't think that's a line of questioning we should pursue, kid."
Freddy was quiet. He considered Larry's answer carefully. It meant two things; that he'd definitely seen, and that he hadn't breathed a word to Freddy's mom.
"You got any tattoos?"
The subject change was without subtlety or elegance, but Freddy was past caring. Larry glanced over at him, both surprised and wary.
"A few."
"Can I see?"
"Why?"
"So I can jerk off to them later. Duh."
Larry almost flinched and Freddy collapsed into near-hysterical laughter. He felt like he was floating above his body as he rolled off the couch. The carpet was rough, his skin hypersensitive. He gasped for breath.
"Jesus, you okay?"
A large hand touched his face and Freddy stilled. The laughter stopped. Larry was close and god damn if his eyes weren't the deepest, richest brown that Freddy had ever seen. He licked his lips.
"Just show me one. You saw my cock. Please, I just wanna see one."
It seemed like neither of them were breathing. Larry stared down at him, eyes wide. Terrified. He finally let out an unsteady breath and pulled down the collar of his shirt. Past the collar bone, past the top of his pectoral muscle; defined and tanned a copper-brown. Freddy licked his lips, not tearing his gaze away. He saw a lion's claws and an eagle's beak, drawn in simple, near-archaic lines.
"What was that?" he breathed.
"Griffin," Larry shrugged, readjusting his shirt.
"That is so fucking awesome."
Freddy closed his eyes and hummed in contentment. The weed was starting to make him famished. Or sleepy. He couldn't decide.
"Do you want to make some popcorn?" "Tell you what, I'll go make it. You stay right there, okay?"
Larry's voice was soft and concerned. It made Freddy's heart flutter and he promptly hated himself for it.
Re: Orange/White: Daddy Kink AU: Untitled (9b/?)
"Oh shit," Larry snorted, fishing the pathetic little nub from the floor before it did any damage.
"Next time we need to make brownies, man," Freddy offered, "that's the quickest delivery method. Outside a bong or something."
"I think your mom might notice that."
"Hah! So she's not okay with this. I knew it. You're a corrupting influence."
Freddy flopped over and stared dreamily at the wall. Everything seemed so constant yet so ephemeral all at once. He blinked and swallowed thickly, stealing a quick look at his companion.
"She's gonna smell this, you know," Freddy finally continued, voice quiet.
"Your mom knows I smoke. I'll tell her you got in late."
"Did you tell her about the other night?"
The words were out before Freddy could reel them back in. He froze, both terrified and giddy. Larry stared at the television screen, jaw clenched.
"I don't think that's a line of questioning we should pursue, kid."
Freddy was quiet. He considered Larry's answer carefully. It meant two things; that he'd definitely seen, and that he hadn't breathed a word to Freddy's mom.
"You got any tattoos?"
The subject change was without subtlety or elegance, but Freddy was past caring. Larry glanced over at him, both surprised and wary.
"A few."
"Can I see?"
"Why?"
"So I can jerk off to them later. Duh."
Larry almost flinched and Freddy collapsed into near-hysterical laughter. He felt like he was floating above his body as he rolled off the couch. The carpet was rough, his skin hypersensitive. He gasped for breath.
"Jesus, you okay?"
A large hand touched his face and Freddy stilled. The laughter stopped. Larry was close and god damn if his eyes weren't the deepest, richest brown that Freddy had ever seen. He licked his lips.
"Just show me one. You saw my cock. Please, I just wanna see one."
It seemed like neither of them were breathing. Larry stared down at him, eyes wide. Terrified. He finally let out an unsteady breath and pulled down the collar of his shirt. Past the collar bone, past the top of his pectoral muscle; defined and tanned a copper-brown. Freddy licked his lips, not tearing his gaze away. He saw a lion's claws and an eagle's beak, drawn in simple, near-archaic lines.
"What was that?" he breathed.
"Griffin," Larry shrugged, readjusting his shirt.
"That is so fucking awesome."
Freddy closed his eyes and hummed in contentment. The weed was starting to make him famished. Or sleepy. He couldn't decide.
"Do you want to make some popcorn?"
"Tell you what, I'll go make it. You stay right there, okay?"
Larry's voice was soft and concerned. It made Freddy's heart flutter and he promptly hated himself for it.
"Okay..."