Tim's almost smiling by the time their lips meet. It took a bit less goading than he expected, but that was the beauty of alcohol. Was there a small part of him that felt guilty for calling Raylan out so late at night for a favor, inviting him inside, and then plying him with bourbon until the walls came crumbling down?
No, actually, there wasn't. He's thought about this since the first day Raylan strut into the office.
Raylan kisses exactly how Tim imagined -- assured, in control -- and his mouth is pliant beneath his partner's. The hand from the back of the couch slides along the nape of Raylan's neck, fingers intertwining with the soft locks of hair there. His head tips, teeth nipping experimentally at Raylan's lower lip.
A part of him thinks if he moves too fast, he'll spook Raylan off. But the whiskey makes him confident and comfortable, and his free hand find Raylan's thigh, long fingers sliding inward until the find the in-seam.
no subject
No, actually, there wasn't. He's thought about this since the first day Raylan strut into the office.
Raylan kisses exactly how Tim imagined -- assured, in control -- and his mouth is pliant beneath his partner's. The hand from the back of the couch slides along the nape of Raylan's neck, fingers intertwining with the soft locks of hair there. His head tips, teeth nipping experimentally at Raylan's lower lip.
A part of him thinks if he moves too fast, he'll spook Raylan off. But the whiskey makes him confident and comfortable, and his free hand find Raylan's thigh, long fingers sliding inward until the find the in-seam.