All it takes is that hand under his shirt sending sparks like a live wire across his skin for him to decide that, no, Raylan isn't going anywhere. He's just as into this as Tim is, and that little arch of his hips proves it. A hundred different fantasies he's had like this, late at night, alone, frustrated. Now it's happening and his imagination couldn't possibly have prepared him for how Raylan's mouth actually tastes.

He's fueled by Raylan's encouragement, but instead of sliding his hand further, he removes it completely. It's only so he can move, swinging a leg over Raylan's lap to straddle it with more practiced ease than a drunk man should have. His jeans are uncomfortably tight, and he can tell when he shifts his weight down that Raylan's just as hard in his own pants.

He breaks the kiss, pulling in an unsteady breath before ducking his head for the other man's throat. He hovers a second before placing an opened mouthed kiss against the side of Raylan's neck, teeth scraping dangerously against the skin. The idea of leaving a mark behind that he can stare at at work is a very tempting one.