Malcolm x Raylan: Cowboy Surprise

Art was suspicious right off the bat when Raylan took a week off with the express note that his phone would be Out Of Order til the next Monday, but the Chief Marshal wasn't going to look gift horses in the mouth. Not when it suggested he'd have a few days of peace, until Raylan caved to turning his phone back on again. Still, he watched the younger Marshal walk out of the office and promised himself to check into the state of Harlan within 3 days to make sure that the place wasn't on fire. The smoke would reach him before he called, he was sure.
But Art didn't have much to worry about - Raylan had no plans on staying in the state for his vacation, beyond one day spent closing up Arlo's and securing it the best way he could before getting on a plane to New York City. He wanted to surprise Malcolm - it'd been near two months since they'd last seen each other and frankly, Raylan was tired of missing him. They'd called and texted, stayed in a fairly consistent, if odd houred, touch but it wasn't the same.
Once he landed, Raylan rented a car and navigated his way towards Malcolm's apartment, stopping to grab a bouquet of flowers. It was.. Extra, but Raylan didn't want to show up empty handed, just in case. Thirty minutes later, Malcolm's door buzzer was being hit, like Raylan was here to deliver something. Well, he was, but that was half the fun.

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"Oh my god," he exclaimed, partly from the play of sensations and partly because he was already imagining what it would be like to do this to the firm lines of Raylan's long, lean body.
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He lingered, pressing kisses down Malcolm's ribs before breathing a hum as he brushed the tip of his nose up Malcolm's center line so he could eye the guy who'd turned his world on it's side. "Don't ever be 'shamed of those noises," he said, accent a little thicker in the moment.
But the eye contact, broken up by wisps of his wayward bangs, was short. Raylan slowly kissed his way down Malcolm's stomach, off hand sliding up his leg to come up and start tugging his belt open.
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Especially when Raylan looked at him from down there like that.
Don't ever be 'shamed of those noises drew an incoherent sound from the back of his throat.
And then Raylan was opening his belt. Oh. Oh.
Well, he'd have never done this on his mother's couch, where staff could walk in... but he didn't want it to stop. There was no staff here.
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His lips took a detour across the velvet soft skin of Malcolm's lower stomach before making his way back up his body. Soon enough, Raylan was hovering back over him and kissing him again with the same measured exploration, tongue rolling in to taste coffee and scotch to match the fine fabric against his arm.
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When the kiss broke, he was breathless. His eyes wandered the contours of Raylan's face.
"You're amazing," he murmured.
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"I bet you say that to all the cowboys," he teased quietly, eyes narrowing fractionally with playfulness before Raylan was kissing him softly, breaking it a few moments later so he could continue. "No real practice on this particular field, but I think we'll figure it out together."
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He swallowed at Raylan's assurance. "You're doing great," he whispered, clearly an understatement based on the naked adoration on his face, before lifting his head to meet Raylan's mouth again, wanting more of that tender passion, more of the trail of heat Raylan's hands left wherever they fell. more of this intimacy that went well beyond the physical.
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It might look like nothing, especially with the raw knowhow and practice that Raylan had, but the sliding hand up Malcolm's chest was a new battle as Raylan was paying full and unbroken attention to the fire Malcolm put in his veins.
Yeah, there was no question - he was in love and there was no saving him.
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"Did you really do this when you were a teenager?"
Hot athletes really had it all.
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He'd suggest that they try it sometime but he couldn't introduce an idea he couldn't follow through with but, he'd like to.
"Nothing to hold up to a collage closet. How'd you get in there anyway?"
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Just for the hell of it, Raylan kissed him again, lingering selfishly on his lips. "But I hope it doesn't hold a candle to this."
He doubted it would.
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"Hm? Candles? Oh. No. Definitely not," he replied breathlessly, his other hand tracing circles on the back of Raylan's shoulder with two of his fingers. "Nothing's ever held a candle to this."
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Of course, there was a difference in making out and the slow exploration that Raylan had chosen, however subtle, but this kind of lazy, pillow talk exploration felt like it went hand in hand with sex. Maybe that was just his personal experience too, once he was old enough to appreciate being aroused without immediately stickin' his dick into something for gratification.
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"I've...done it a little. Nobody had ever done it to me before now... And I've laid in bed talking to lovers before..." He smiled a little self-deprecatingly. "I think... it's a level of intimacy one maybe doesn't have the patience for the first few times and... I've only been with a couple of people...long enough." He looked at Raylan, his eyes scanning his face. "And one of them's you."
SOFT FACES
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He didn't see how he could ever find anyone else both relentlessly attractive and endlessly tolerant of his issues, where he could lie on a couch with them largely clothed and feel more vulnerable and connected to them than he's ever felt naked and entwined.
"I don't want to expand that number. I want... this."
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But he was grinning again, completely unserious in the warning. He was happy, and even though he knew this moment itself wasn't going to last forever, he didn't want to think about the ugliness out in the world or what it could bring to their doorstep. He was too happy with possibly having a doorstep, in such a way.
"Might have to soundproof the bedroom in Miami for other reasons too," he finished with a bounce of his eyebrows as he leaned down to busy Malcolm's mouth with his own.
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"Snoring isn't a problem," he murmured when it broke. "I don't sleep much." He kissed him again. "Can't be woken when I do." And kissed him again.
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He liked the steady drum of sound under his ear and the way breath sounded underneath him.
"Its not weird that we're talkin' like this after only two months, right?" He'd tried, goddamnit, he had.
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"Well, it's not really two months. I was in Kentucky two months ago. But a couple months before that, you were in New York. And we met a few months before that and I stayed at your house... so really it's been over six months."
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"I'm not sure I want to say..." he admitted. Of course he immediately relented. How could he not tell that face anything it asked? "I had... interest. Before that. So when it happened... I hoped it meant something."
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I say we start the next morning (once it's morning proper) in a new thread under the header