"Don't gotta tell me twice," Tim murmurs, but his voice holds an unmistakable teasing tone.
It takes him a moment of shifting to truly get settled. He expects to have more trouble with it than he does. It's easily been years since he's shared his bed with someone in this capacity, and having another body behind him feels strange at first. But it's Raylan, and that means the arm that settles over his waist is safe, and the kiss that's placed on his shoulder is soothing. It only takes a short moment for Tim to properly relax, leaning back somewhat into Raylan's chest as he falls asleep.
--
Tim doesn't dream that night, and that means it's a good night. Bad nights are plagued by nightmares, which are the only dreams he ever has anymore. Those result in him waking up in a blind panic, ears ringing, teeth gritting on sand that's not there, nose burning from invisible gunpowder. And for the rest of the day, he's never quite able to get that dryness out of the back of his throat.
The right amount of alcohol helps to stave them off. So does the right kind of bone rattling sex, and he got both last night.
Sunlight is just starting to seep through the curtains, but like always, it's Tim's natural biological clock that causes him to stir. They've shifted throughout the night, Raylan on his back and Tim on his side just a few inches away. It's nice, waking up first. It means Tim has a moment to lay there and stare at his partner in the morning light.
First, he's taken by the reality that Raylan's even there, that last night really happened and it wasn't all some very elaborate, vivid, alcohol-fueled fantasy. But then there's the fact that Raylan looks unfairly gorgeous like this, sheets pooled at his waist, hair a tousled mess, expression relaxed to the point of almost vulnerable. Tim almost doesn't want to ruin it, but, well--
He did say he was going to make it hard to sleep in.
He inches closer until he's pressed along Raylan's side, leaning up so that he can press slow, gentle kisses along the stretch of skin that's Raylan's collarbone, gradually working up his neck. One hand snakes beneath the sheets, fingers trailing lazily over the delicious curve of those hipbones before ghosting along the side of Raylan's cock.
no subject
It takes him a moment of shifting to truly get settled. He expects to have more trouble with it than he does. It's easily been years since he's shared his bed with someone in this capacity, and having another body behind him feels strange at first. But it's Raylan, and that means the arm that settles over his waist is safe, and the kiss that's placed on his shoulder is soothing. It only takes a short moment for Tim to properly relax, leaning back somewhat into Raylan's chest as he falls asleep.
--
Tim doesn't dream that night, and that means it's a good night. Bad nights are plagued by nightmares, which are the only dreams he ever has anymore. Those result in him waking up in a blind panic, ears ringing, teeth gritting on sand that's not there, nose burning from invisible gunpowder. And for the rest of the day, he's never quite able to get that dryness out of the back of his throat.
The right amount of alcohol helps to stave them off. So does the right kind of bone rattling sex, and he got both last night.
Sunlight is just starting to seep through the curtains, but like always, it's Tim's natural biological clock that causes him to stir. They've shifted throughout the night, Raylan on his back and Tim on his side just a few inches away. It's nice, waking up first. It means Tim has a moment to lay there and stare at his partner in the morning light.
First, he's taken by the reality that Raylan's even there, that last night really happened and it wasn't all some very elaborate, vivid, alcohol-fueled fantasy. But then there's the fact that Raylan looks unfairly gorgeous like this, sheets pooled at his waist, hair a tousled mess, expression relaxed to the point of almost vulnerable. Tim almost doesn't want to ruin it, but, well--
He did say he was going to make it hard to sleep in.
He inches closer until he's pressed along Raylan's side, leaning up so that he can press slow, gentle kisses along the stretch of skin that's Raylan's collarbone, gradually working up his neck. One hand snakes beneath the sheets, fingers trailing lazily over the delicious curve of those hipbones before ghosting along the side of Raylan's cock.