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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"Maybe tea will be in between," he suggested, reaching for Raylan's shirt, looking to tug it right off. "Like a tea break."
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"Coach always told us to make sure to hydrate," he said, voice rougher than before as he undid Malcolm's trousers. He wasn't rushing, but after the long day and little chance for indulgence, Raylan would be happier once they were naked and together and unbothered by anything other than each other.
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"Did we put the chain on the door?" he asked uncertainly.
He was not okay with the idea of his mother walking in while he was having sex.
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"Let's do that. Last thing I want is your mother seeing my ass." Or what he was doing to her son. Raylan slid the chainlock home and threw the bolts before curling a finger at Malcolm as he strode towards the bed and threw himself down on his back, hands reaching out for the man who had turned his world upside down.
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Raylan felt stupid, a little, for how deeply he was into this, but he was and he couldn't get close enough to him, couldn't get enough of the paradise Malcolm offered him every day.
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He didn't think it was stupid at all. It was divine, every touch. Who could fail to be into it?
He was easily encouraged to straddle him, propping himself up with a hand on either side of Raylan's head so he could kiss him with increasing hunger.
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When it broke again, he husked out a few words. "Get the lube. I wanna feel you around me."
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When his lungs started to burn, he broke it and popped the cap on the lube bottle in one motion before sinking back into the bed. Once Malcolm sat up, Raylan squeezed some out into his hand and slicked himself down.
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"I think about this - mmph - at inappropriate times when you're not here," he confessed breathlessly.
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"Tell me about it," he half commanded from below. "I wanna know what goes through your head."
Raylan had felt dirty enough, with the things that wandered around in his head when Malcolm wasn't there; his adrenaline spiked at the idea that Malcolm thought about him too. It was natural, of course, but it felt like it'd been a long time since anyone thought about him like that and got to get exactly whatever their minds created.
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"You do look great over a couch," he managed with a hitch of a sound as his hips kept moving. "Panting into your good leather as I fuck that perfect ass of yours. Making you say my name."
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"And when you get home?" he asked, just as roughly breathless as before.
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"I love hearing you say that," he said, hips snapping harder for his leverage. But the truth of it was, he'd be right behind Malcolm.
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THAT ICON IS CHEATING
THAT ICON IS TRUTH
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