The first hold, the deep bury of his length down Tim's throat earns a breathed out "Fuck," fingers tightening in Tim's hair like Raylan would hold on with the confidence of a bull rider. They loosened a little a moment later as Raylan registers that he's gripped. It wasn't that he was trying to be gentle, per se, only that he didn't know what Tim liked, what he didn't like. Part of the fun was always finding out.

There had never been any doubt in his mind that Tim was good at this, but it was different to be under those imagined skills and if Raylan had any sense of mind, he might be a little self conscious about the half, back of the throat moans that Tim was earning. His hips thrust up shallowly, unable to stop himself, restrained only by Tim's arm. Heat was already starting to coil low in his stomach and he was torn between choosing to let himself go down the path of unload down Tim's throat and pulling the man up so they could finish together. It hardly seemed fair, only one of them getting off, and Raylan wasn't sure if Tim would let him into a shower with him.

"How hard do you want it," he husks out with a breath. "How far down your throat can we bury it." It was a question, even if his tone didn't help that suggestion.