God he loved the way that sounded coming out of Malcolm's mouth, a breathy prayer, a heady compliment and Raylan groaned his own soft approval at it as Malcolm's hand found his shoulder. His weight was bore on his knees and the one hand under Malcolm's knee that bent him backwards, so Raylan used that leverage to keep his pace even. This wasn't a race to orgasm, this was a hedonistic appreciation of this new thing he was doing.

He stroked Malcolm slowly, hips moving almost teasingly to the both of them, not burying himself hilt deep just yet. No, he wanted to find out what Malcolm look and sounded like begging for more, whether he used his words or not.