This felt better, giving himself up to Malcolm and the speed and lines the New Yorker may have had. It didn't hurt that he'd thought about what Malcolm would look like propped up over him like this and now that both his hands were free from weight bearing, he could slowly run them up Malcolm's back and explore the firm muscles he found there. His head drummed with the kisses and the heat left in their wake, though Malcolm could have just been superheating the moonshine in his system.

"Hey," he murmured back, unashamedly enjoying the way Malcolm seemed to be looking through his masks and bullshit. The fingers under his chin made him lift his face a fraction, happy to be moved into whatever position Malcolm wanted to meet the kiss. His hands paused their exploration for a moment as he breathed Malcolm and his taste in, but slipped back around the smaller man in an almost possessive embrace.

Beautiful, was the answer of how Malcolm looked, wild hairs and all.