Hearing Tim like this was intoxicating.Tim held himself together so well, so effortlessly to the outside world that getting to see him on the edge of unraveling felt to Raylan like he was getting to watch something that only happened once every ten years or something. Or, perhaps, it had just been too long since Raylan let himself enjoy this kind of engagement.

He moans again at Tim's prediction, swearing softly under his panting- "Fuck, you feel so good" as his own pool of imaginable heat coils around the small low of his back. He had to restrain himself; had to strike the right balance between fucking Tim hard and deep and his own orgasm. The small grunts and half moans that had been slipping out with his breath had gone unheard by his own ears but they got louder as he pumps, as he races Tim towards climax, fully intending on following with him.

"I wanna watch it paint your chest, I wanna see how much you've wanted this." He didn't normally talk like this, but there has been something in the quality of Tim's sounds that egged him on towards it.