tinstar | Malcolm x Raylan: Cowboy Surprise

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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Malcolm lifted his head to look at him with a sly smile.

"...Did you say you had an hour...?" he asked innocently, shifting to slide his hand just under the edge of Raylan's undershirt. "Because that's plenty of time to waste a bit of today in bed and still get some coffee in you before work..."

Raylan cracked open an eye at Malcolm, lips curling into a broader smile as he shifted his hips a little with a gentle tug of Malcolm's shirt. His off hand was pinned by the situation, but once Malcolm had been urged on top of him, he could do the same and slip his hands under Malcolm's shirt, fingers playing with the waistband of his sweats.

"A whole hour," he replied with a grin as he started pushing Malcolm's shirt up and off him. After last night, if there was one thing Raylan could use, it was some good old fashioned physical reinforcement. "What ever shall we do with it?"

On top of Raylan was always a pretty exciting place to be. On top of tousled Raylan in the first light of morning was a damn hot way to celebrate not being a sidewalk pancake.

He tossed his shirt aside, then kissed him eagerly, letting the heat build.

"I've never been bored in your company," Malcolm said breathlessly as it broke, actively pushing his undershirt up.

Raylan hummed shortly into the kiss, greedily running his hands up Malcolm's shapely back as he was kissed, drawing a sharp breath through his nose as he lifted his head into while it broke away. Yes, this was definitely better than the alternative of the night before.

What would he do without Malcolm?

"Good," he breathed as he lifted his shoulders to help peel off the shirt and toss it to the side, one hand reaching up to draw Malcolm back down into a deep kiss as his other slid back down to grip his hip with a faint lift of his own. "I'd hate for you to get bored," he managed roughly when it broke.

The most of an answer Malcolm could muster was a breathy, incoherent noise before he dove into another, hungrier kiss, his hands sliding down Raylan's sides to find his waistband. Pants needed to be off. He pushed at them blindly, unwilling to break the kiss to manage it more easily.

God he loved those noises, stomach tightening under Malcolm's passing hands and Raylan lifted his hips to better allow the cotton to be pulled down. He helped with a little shifting of his feet that allowed him to grab some fabric with his toes until the pants were officially lost in their sheets. Nearly fully erect, Raylan didn't want to waste much time in getting to touch all of Malcolm, hands moving up to start pulling his down too.

Malcolm shifted his hips, ostensibly to help Raylan get his pants down, but it was a move orchestrated to create a delicious friction of that erection against his stomach as he claimed another heated kiss.

When the sweatpants got far enough down, he kicked them off impatiently, eager to feel Raylan's skin. He shifted his hips forward again, creating more friction for both of them and it made him hum into Raylan's mouth.

He groaned tightly as Malcolm shifted, meeting the kiss hungrily once he could and thoroughly enjoying the almost tease of their skin together. His fingers dented Malcolm's thighs for a long second at the hum and the velvet heat against him before they started moving, hooking his thumbs briefly in the crook of where Malcolm's thighs met his hip, and continuing on from there to move over and around Malcolm's ass, gripping and lifting him a little, forcing their centers together a little tighter.

They had time and Raylan wanted to take it. There was no rush out of the bed or Malcolm's heady affections.

Malcolm wanted the intimacy, more than anything. After the near disaster of the previous night, feeling wanted and desired and loved still was everything. He was a lot of kinds of a mess, but what had happened the night before was pretty intensely as messy as he got. And Raylan had made it very clear that it changed nothing.

As Raylan's hands slid over his ass, Malcolm's hand tightened on his shoulder and he broke the kiss to shift half off of Raylan to fumble in the drawer and grab the lube before shifting back over him, looking down into his face with a vulnerable tenderness before kissing him again.

Raylan was grateful that Malcolm was here, hot and alive and on top of him. That might have been part of the drive that started this; the inarguable assurance that love making brought. He needed it. They benefited each other in more than one way.

It was in Malcolm's reach over and fumble that Raylan noted the blooming bruises and a slight horror coiled in the back of his mind. But Malcolm didn't seem to note the slight widening of his eyes as anything more than an intensity to feel him some more. He let it go from his mind for now, helped hastily along by Malcolm's lips on his, mind happily going back to the more primal, lizard brain emotional need that Raylan succumbed to so easily.

Raylan's hand slid up over the bottle that Malcolm was holding, gently tugging it from his grasp as his off hand smoothed up over Malcolm's side before pushing at Malcolm's chest, urging him upright so that he could pop the top and messily pour some on their lengths. Using his other hand to catch the excess, Raylan rubbed them slick, letting his cock drop from the collective as he lifted his chin a little, saying, "Lift up."

Once Malcolm hand, Raylan moved his hand down, smearing the rest of it across Malcolm's center and cheeks, pulling his cock up to position it as he urged Malcolm onto him.

There was a bruise across Malcolm's back that neither of them had noticed yet; his own work from scrambling hard against the railing in panic. He fought hard in his sleep; his demons were formidable enemies. None of it was Raylan's fault. Those bruises had Dr Whitly to thank as much as all of Malcolm's mental health ills did.

Malcolm slid onto him with something that was somewhere between a contented sigh and a moan, starting with a slow rhythm that brought him close to slipping out each time before taking him all the way in again.

Soon, he picked up the pace just a little, easing it upwards rather than racing to frenzy.

Raylan was transfixed and willing captive to the moment, unable to help himself in watching it all with a slight fascinated, lust hazed amazement, palms sliding down to loosely hook around his knees. His hips lifted and sank with each movement, giving something firmer for Malcolm to spear himself on.

Moaning tightly at the uptick of speed, Raylan's hands moved back up to help sink Malcolm's weight more heavily on him, swearing softly as he looked up to watch Malcolm's face.

Malcolm's face was tipped back, eyes closed, sun from the window dancing across his skin. As he picked up the pace some more, he leaned forward, claiming a messy kiss as he gave in to the need, letting his hips speed up the way they wanted.

This was one of those moments that Raylan would think back on anytime he was lonely and missing Malcolm desperately. For all the issues that Malcolm had, he was a beautiful human and man; Raylan wished he could lend Malcolm his POV so he could see just how wonderful he was.

He resisted the urge to grab Malcolm's cock for all of 4 seconds before succumbing, just to watch Malcolm enjoy himself. He wrapped a hand around Malcolm and stroked in time, down when Malcolm sunk and withdrawing as he rose. Raylan ached to see Malcolm lose it and come undone around him.

Malcolm gasped against Raylan's mouth at the hand stroking him and he braced himself with a hand on each side of Raylan's head so he could keep his face close to Raylan's face.

"Raylan..." he whispered, breathess with exertion as he worked them both with quickly needy thrusts.

"Fuck," he swore tightly, hips moving a little faster as he arched up to kiss him again. He'd hold out til Malcolm did but not much after that. They were both a little too wound tight.

They'd had a tough night. They were both clinging to their rock in a storm.

Malcolm gasped and coiled, trying to keep his hips rocking even as he curled inwards, shuddering through his climax before renewing his efforts with vigor.

Raylan grunted, letting out fragments of his breath as he curled up into Malcolm as he tightened around him and climaxed with a shudder. His hips slowed in time with Malcolm's until they were still and heavy in their bed panting. Raylan slid his hands up around Malcolm with a sigh as he leaned his head onto his.

"I love you Malcolm. Just so you hear it today."

Malcolm give him a tender, lingering kiss.

"I love you, too," he murmured.

He carefully pushed himself up. "Wait here," he said, padding naked to the bathroom to wipe himself off, then returned with a warm, damp cloth to clean Raylan up. He tossed it into his discarded sweatpants and crawled back into bed to snuggle up to Raylan, sliding a hand along his chest to rest there.

"How are we doing for time?"

Raylan's whole heart was put into that lingering kiss and he shuddered again as Malcolm withdrew, staying where he was only because Malcolm asked him too. A soft smile was given to him as he was cleaned up and the smile broke into a grin as Malcolm crawled back in to snuggle.

"Ya know. It's the craziest thing but I do not care how we're doin' for time. Art can handle me bein' late if I am." This was for them. This time was for them and he would fight Art for it too.

Looking down his chest, Raylan ran his fingers over Malcolm's blooming wrist, silently going through how he could have done things more softly. How he'd do things more softly next time. Yes, Malcolm was here for his firm grip. But he was also hurt for it. Raylan could do better.

As Raylan's fingers ran along his wrist, he turned his hand palm up so he could catch them when they arrived there. He gave them a squeeze. He saw something cross Raylan's face; he could guess what.

"I'm okay, you know. Better than. You didn't do anything wrong. You protected me. The horrors in my head put up a hell of a fight. I could have hurt you. I could have dragged us both over the railing. I could have pushed you over the side. Imagine if I woke up and I'd pushed you over the side," he said pointedly. "How could I live with that? Restraining me is the only way to protect me if I fail to restrain myself. With whatever force is necessary."

He leaned up and kissed him gently.

"Most people don't want to see or deal with this... part of my life. You're the only person I know who'll fight it for me. The only one."

He kissed him again.

"Good thing you're the one I'm going to spend my life with, huh?" he added with a self-conscious smile.

Raylan looked over at the squeeze, the faint worry and guilt plain on his face. He knew all the logical reasons and arguments and had nothing to say against them. Malcolm was right; he subverted the worse.

The kiss helped, though the hand around Malcolm's side might have hinted to a little desperation he felt.

"I'll fight whoever you want darlin'. Includin' you, if I have to.. but maybe I can do it a little less rough. I hate seein' these on you and knowin' I caused it." He glanced over at Malcolm. "The good outweighs the bad but that don't mean I can't do better next time."

"Martin Whitly caused it," Malcolm said firmly. "Let's remember who the bad guy is," he added, shifting up onto his elbow so he could kiss him more easily and linger there in his space. "And it's not you."

There was so much trust and belief in the eyes above him and Raylan couldn't find it in himself to argue. He wasn't the bad guy per say, just.. He didn't know. It had to stew.

"It's not you either then." But the argument in whole didn't sit right with him. Scapegoating some of the responsibility off onto a soul that would relish the attention of it, good or bad. It was giving Martin Whitly more credit than he deserved.

Raylan reached up to draw Malcolm down into a soft kiss. "He's not welcome in this bed either. You ready for some coffee?"

He smiled as the kiss broke, nodding and then kissing him one more time before getting up to turn and sit on the edge of the bed to look around for his shirt. A fresh bruise was blooming in a straight line across his back, a few inches below his shoulder blades. He spotted the shirt and picked it up, considered it for a moment before tossing it onto the little pile with his pants and the washcloth and padded over to the dresser to get a fresh set of both.

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