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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

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.

Raylan pushed up onto his elbows as Malcolm sat on the edge of the bed, finally noticing the bruise across his back too. He followed Malcolm out of bed, stopping him when he got to the dresser with a soft touch.

"You've got another one here," he said, fingers drifting oh so gently under the line of bruise. "Don't do anything crazy with your back or yoga." Raylan pressed a kiss to Malcolm's shoulder before stepping to the side to pull out his own clean clothes, boxers and jeans.

He still had to go to work, after all.

Edited 2020-09-04 14:17 (UTC)

Malcolm twisted in an attempt to see over his shoulder, but even he wasn't that flexible. He pulled on a clean pair of sweatpants. "What did I do?" he asked. "How did I manage that?"

He rummaged around to find a clean t-shirt and pulled that on too.

"Slamin' yourself into the railing I'd imagine," he said as he stepped into his jeans and pulled out an undershirt to pull on, doing so as he padded towards the closet to pull out a working shirt.

"We're gonna start lockin' the terrace door too," he continued as he pulled the shirt on, leaving it open as he came past again, stopping to kiss Malcolm and head for the bedroom door.

"I'm going to start the coffee."

Malcolm trailed after the kiss just a moment before Raylan was heading to the kitchen.

He slipped into the bathroom and pulled up his shirt so he could look at his back in the mirror.

Hrm.

He looked more closely at his wrists. It would be obvious to anyone with minimal training that the marks were made by human hands. Long sleeves today. Especially if he went out to get supplies for the herb garden or to get a tea.

He wandered into the living room after freshening up, leaning over the island to watch Raylan work on the coffee.

"How...how are you feeling?" he asked.

Raylan looked over his shoulder at the question while he sat the filled kettle on it's warmer and turned it on, busying his hands afterwards with scooping coffee into the press.

"You mean after last night? Tired, mostly," he admitted easily. "If nothin' too crazy happens today, I won't be sorry. Though I imagine I should expect to be given some shit for yesterday," he continued with a smirk as he turned to lean on the counter as the water beside him started bubbling.

"Where you think you're gonna start your day?"

"I wa..." He started to gesture towards the terrance, then paused as his brain caught up.

"Shit for yesterday?" he echoed, looking at Raylan with slightly wide eyes. "What? Why, because of last night?" How would anyone know about that? "What kind of shit?" He was babbling. Shut up, Bright.

The sudden ramble of ideas is what made Raylan smile crookedly, not the slight panic on Malcolm's face, though that was hard to overlook.

"Because of yesterday. Probably good natured shit, but you never know. We mighta offended Art by goin' around his plan. Next time, by the way, they call the shots, not me." Well.. Most of the time. "Art's the boss."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject