He can feel the grin enough to imagine it in his head - grins always felt like a victory, Tim had high standards sometimes. (Or, Raylan's jokes were just that bad, which was very possible.) Either way, as soon as Tim was in his shirt, the hand on his ass moves up so Raylan can hastily work the other buttons free and tug his shirt out from his waistband. Tim dealt with his undershirt easily, the fabric moving aside and Raylan didn't hear his own grunt as Tim bites, only lets himself get carried on the wash of arousal.

"Fun until you're the one gettin' the questions."

Fuck that felt good.

He pushes and pulls at Tim's won overshirt, peeling it off and discarding it to the side somewhere so he could come back to try and do the same to the undershirt that was strikingly like his. There were too many layers between them and goddamnit, he wanted to leave some marks himself.