The grunt earned a half breathed growl of need that left Raylan's eyes darker under the tilt of his brow as the kiss broke, his hands forcibly loosen from Malcolm so he was able to slip away at all. His head dropped back with heavy breaths, eyes following Malcolm as he moved. No, he liked this. The lines of Malcolm as he moved, the way he looked when he was aroused and ready, the way that Raylan was the reason for it.

He didn't know what was in the bottle Malcolm held specifically, but he knew what it was for. He thought, for some reason, that he'd be scared or awkward about where this was heading but those concerns, practically speaking, fell out a window once he let Malcolm kiss him again.

Raylan slid his hands back up Malcolm's legs as he was climbed over, lips happily stolen up in another kiss, breath a little ragged as Malcolm pulled back, but as soon as those slick fingers wrapped around him, Raylan breathed half a tight sound from the back of his throat, eyes fluttering closed for a moment as his mouth opened, but he wasn't going to miss watching what came next. Hooking his fingers behind Malcolm's knees, he watched with no small amount of lusty fascination as Malcolm positioned and slid onto him. His eyes darted up to Malcolm's face, lips curling with a equally tightly groaned moan as he was taken in. Once Malcolm was fully seated, Raylan shuddered in pleasure, hands sliding up to grip into Malcolm's hips as he lifted his own with a more focused exhale and a softly muttered "Fuck," of sheer sexual delight.

How did this feel this good?