tinstar | Slingin' from the hip, never the heart.

Unless he got sign otherwise, Raylan was geared to go full tilt but all it would take was a word to stop him. In this state, he might have to be hit to snap out of it enough to listen but he'd stop as soon as it was registered.

Tim's moan comes with a tight grip of him around Raylan's cock, and he moans with his partner, feeding off the sound, fucking harder with the very specific purpose of driving Tim over the edge. Hell, in the moment, Raylan was fantasizing about taking Tim to bed, sleeping for a few hours, and waking him up again with a cock in his ass. If he fucks him right, will he earn the right to stay the night? To wrap Tim up in his arms, to wake up next to him?

He watches Tim stroke himself, grunting softly at how good it looked and enjoying the view before his free hand bats Tim's away so he can take over, long fingers matching the pace of his hips.

"I wanna be the only thing that makes you cum tonight."

Edited 2025-03-24 01:35 (UTC)

Tim would be hard pressed to stop him right now. Everything is white hot pleasure and sheer bliss, each of Raylan's relentless thrusts pushing him that much closer to the edge. Heat is pooling rapidly low in his belly, and it's not because he's drunk, or because he went out tonight with the intention of being picked up by a stranger and didn't. It's because Raylan is the one setting all of his senses on fire right now.

This can't be a one time thing. Ultimately, if all Raylan wants is a one night stand, there's nothing to be done about it. Tim will accept that this exhilarating, mind-blowing night is the only one he gets. But if there's a way to convince Raylan that this should happen again, and then again and again, he's going to find it.

There's control in the way that hand replaces his own, and laced within the words Raylan speaks. A sense of dominance that has Tim fully losing his mind, his moans starting to hold an edge of desperation.

"You're about to," he manages between labored breaths, because he can feel that pressure building and building and building, and it'll only be a matter of time before he's shaking apart entirely.

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.

What he didn't expect out of this was for Raylan to be so chatty, but he's not complaining. Quite the opposite, in fact-- each word in that honeyed accent spurs him on further, turning his grunts and moans into something more desperate and heady. If he weren't so drunk, if Raylan didn't feel so damn good slamming into him, he'd be making more of an effort to swallow down his own noises so he could hear more of Raylan's. As it is, their groans mix and linger between them in a way that's too intoxicating.

It's only a few short moments before Raylan's getting what he wants. He can only swear, a short string of fucks and Jesus Christ as he's pushed right over that edge, hot and sticky cum striping his stomach and chest. His whole body tenses and tightens, back arching fully off the couch as he throws his head back. Both arms wrap around to dig his fingers into the other man's shoulders, practically clinging as he rides out wave after wave of sheer euphoric pleasure.

His ears are ringing and his head is swimming and it's insane just how much better this was than the many nights spent with his fantasies and right hand.

Watching Tim unravel beneath him was better than his imagination could have ever crafted, the half panted swears and the arch of Tim's back shoving Raylan over his own edge. His hips and his hand doesn't stop their sweet assault, unloading with a shuddered breath that shivered down his whole body. His hips bury him deep for it and while his hand lets Tim go, his hips can't help but continue to thrust, slowing down to a stop like a machine that has to wind down.

Raylan needs a few heartbeats, eyes dark and glassy, before he lowers himself down a little. He keeps their stomachs and chests apart but bends his head to rest it on Tim's shoulders as he deals with the whiteout of his vision and the drumming in his ears. Goddamn.

"Jesus," he mutters against Tim's shoulder. He was gonna need a minute before he moves again.

Another hard shiver runs through his body from head to toe, groaning softly at the feeling of hot semen shooting deep inside of him. He watches the beautifully controlled way Raylan shudders apart -- hair falling into dark eyes, pupils blown out with lust -- and commits every detail of it to his drunken memory. At bare minimum, he'll be thinking about that expression every time he jerks off for weeks.

Tim laughs softly, because yeah. Jesus. The tempo of his heart is trying to slow, hard breaths beginning to even out, but his mind still feels clouded with a dizzying afterglow. His hand moves back into Raylan's hair, fingers idly winding around and through the soft locks, now a bit damp with sweat.

"Yeah." He can tell without even moving that he's definitely going to be stiff and sore tomorrow. "We should've done that sooner."

Those idle fingers in his hair gets a soft, sighed out hum of a note and he huffs a breath in agreement, dropping a kiss onto the hickey that was darkening on Tim's neck. Pushing back up onto his elbows, Raylan smiles down at Tim, answering as his hips shift to dislodge himself from Tim's clutch.

"No time like the present, hmm?"

He didn't dare ask if it was going to happen again. Instead, he would enjoy his view of Tim underneath him, the comfort of the weight of his legs on Raylan's, and not try to worry about what came next. Cuddling post sex was one of Raylan's favorite activities but that was less easy to do on a couch covered in wetness that would be quickly getting cold.

"You got paper towels or somethin' in the kitchen? Unless you go real old-school and hate your shirts."

Edited 2025-03-25 18:50 (UTC)

There's a soft, pleased noise from Tim when Raylan pulls out. He settles back into the couch for the time being. If he tries to stand right now, his legs will be trembling, and it seems like a bad thing to try to combine with the unsteadiness he already feels from the alcohol. Besides, Raylan seems more than content to take charge of the cleanup, and Tim wants the chance to get more unfettered views of that lean body.

"Not my drinkin' shirts," he mutters, and reaches down to snag his flannel from beside the couch, balling it up and throwing it towards the open door of his bedroom with surprisingly good accuracy given his inebriation.

The apartment is small and open, so he's able to just point across the room where the kitchen is half visible. Traditionally, this is where things get awkward, and where Tim typically dips out before the dust has even settled. But, well-- this is his place, and he knows without a doubt that Raylan would leave if he made the desire known, and maybe that's why that desire isn't there at all.

Tim isn't usually the kind to want that close contact after sex, but he also usually doesn't invite people in, or fuck someone whose last names he knows, or want to do it again in the near future. He bets Raylan would look fantastic tangled up in his bed sheets, and he's quiet as he tries to figure out the most nonchalant way to invite Raylan to stay.

Raylan pulls back slightly, giving Tim the room to chuck his shirt and chuckling at the dedicated resolve about it. He gets the nod of direction and nods himself, slowly and carefully (and reluctantly) pulling himself back up onto his knees and onto his feet. He wasn't a hundred percent stable, but he was less drunk than Tim and less likely to cause himself some head injury from a fall in their most vulnerable situation.

Confident in his body, Raylan wasn't embarrassed to be seen naked or, apparently, to stroll across Tim's apartment to the kitchen. Quickly wiping himself down, he gets a glass of water and a few more paper towels and pads back to Tim.

"Figured a swallow or two of water wouldn't go amiss. All that noise we made. You're not gonna get complaints in the mornin', are you?"

Now that his only task was done, he was going to have to figure out what to do with himself. Sitting back down was, somehow, not an option. You just didn't put your bare ass on another man's couch like that. So, instead, he hunts for his pants, fishing his boxer shorts out from them. If nothing else, it might look like he's getting dressed, rather than stalling.

Tim watches openly and unashamed as Raylan crosses the room, taking in the lovely curve of his ass and the nice set of his shoulders. He could easily get used to this, Raylan walking confidently through his apartment wearing nothing at all. Too easily, maybe. But that doesn't stop him from watching on the walk back either, and goddamn are those hip bones tantalizing. If he were a little younger and a little less drunk, he'd be angling for round two right now.

"I hope so," he answers, with a little bit of a shit-eating grin.

He takes the water first, not realizing how dry his throat is until he's taking a drink. Setting it aside, he goes about cleaning himself up, wiping at his stomach and chest before shifting a little stiffly to clean up Raylan's bodily fluids on him, too. The paper towels are tossed, also accurately, into a nearby trash can before he pushes himself into a somewhat more upright position.

God, yeah. He's gonna be sore as hell tomorrow. Following suit, he finds his boxer briefs and pulls them on, still moving a bit gingerly. Really, he's just doing a bit of stalling of his own. His heart skips uncomfortably in his chest before he speaks again.

"Could try for more of 'em in the mornin'."

To hell with a little younger; catch Raylan more sober and two rounds were achieved easily enough, with gusto. Maybe some part of it was an eternal fight against his age. He did well in things that made him a man and old age threatens to steal it from him. Maybe it was just pride and health.

The boxers snap in place and instead of getting his jeans, Raylan grins at Tim's shit stirring nature and the results that it would no doubt get, grabbing his half finished whiskey and emptying it down his throat. He tries to look busy kicking one boot upright, but watches sidelong as Tim gets up and pulls on his boxers. He was a little sad that stretch of skin from chest to knee was getting covered up, that unbroken line was always a delicious one. He bends down and gets his jeans-

The invitation made his heart skip a beat. Of course he was going to say yes. Only an idiot would get dressed and leave after that suggestion. He was a weak man sometimes, but this one didn't bother him. There was nothing wrong with wanting contact, connection. Wanting Tim. Right? He looks over and after a heartbeat of his own, drops his jeans.

"We talkin' six AM wake up?" He gives Tim a crooked smile and ambles closer, pushing his limits and sliding his hand around Tim's waist as he steps in. "Do I get to be the big spoon?"

There's a second where Tim thinks Raylan's going to turn him down. And while he'd accept it, because it's honestly probably for the best, it would really fucking suck. It's not like he puts himself out there often. Or at all. Which has less to do with rejection and more to do with not wanting to saddle anyone else with his baggage. This is likely just a step in the direction of making things messy and complicated anyway, so maybe Raylan's right to call it here--

But then the jeans clatter back to the floor and Raylan's hitting him with that crooked smile, and Tim almost can't believe that worked. Just like that, Raylan's staying the night. They'll wake up intertwined with wandering hands and he'll be able to experience Raylan again in a whole new light.

His mouth twists in that way that indicates he's trying not to smile, hands sliding flat up Raylan's chest and shoulders, crossing arms loosely behind his neck. He doesn't even mind that he has to look upwards a few inches to view Raylan properly. There's even something he likes about it.

"You can try to sleep in," he offers, "But I plan on makin' it real hard."

He didn't quite expect Tim to go full arms around his neck, an easy but intimate posture that somehow suggested to Raylan that they could get comfortable standing like this together. It made something in his chest go warm. Yes, this was probably going to be messy, definitely complicated considering their job, the position they both held in the office. But that had never stopped Raylan before and he knew Tim had baggage. They all had it in some manner, and Tim's flavor of baggage wasn't something Raylan minded. He would support Tim, regardless of what was happening between them. If things went south-- well, he'd deal with that bridge when they came across it.

For right now, all he wanted was what Tim was offering. The chance to lay down properly in a bed, wrap himself around the sniper, and pretend that this wasn't going to be complicated. Better to look at everything in the morning anyway.

"Oh, you know I love a challenge," he chuckles as he bends to steal Tim's lips in a kiss, one hand sliding down to rest on the top of his ass.

"Lead the way, darlin'."

Almost every aspect of this situation is foreign to Tim. They're at his place, spending the night together, about to fall asleep all tangled up. It's so far removed from the string of one night stands with no last names that he subscribes to. The one thing that is familiar about it is Raylan, and that creates a sense of security that he's not used to outside of them kicking down doors together. But it's enough for Tim to lean into what he wants instead of shy away from it.

The alcohol also helps. Kind of a problematic amount, but that's just more of that baggage.

"I know, it's usually a pain in my ass."

And now he can mean that figuratively and literally. He smirks into the kiss, giving Raylan's hair a light tug before moving to lead the way. His stomach does something stupid and fluttery at being called darlin', but it's studiously ignored. He points out the bathroom as they pass it, and kicks the flannel he'd thrown into the doorway toward a laundry basket.

The bedroom is much like the living room in that there's not much in the way of personal belongings. A dresser with a TV across from the bed, which is impeccably made with neat creases and lined folds. There's another framed photo of the same older blonde woman on one of the bedside tables, and next to it a very battered copy of The Wizard of Oz.

The light switch is ignored, but he turns on the lamp beside the bed as he starts to pull back the bed sheets, moving a bit stiffly each time he has to bend at the waist.

The tug in his hair earns a hum and a flash of impishness in his expression as the kiss breaks, playful eyes following Tim before the rest of his body did. Ironically, he thought of the same exact joke - wasn't he a real pain in the ass now - but he didn't know how comfortable Tim was with that kind of commentary. He knew how comfortable he was about it, but that comfort depended entirely on if he felt secure in his situation. Tim and his apartment were safe. Tim had- no, shared - some secrets that Raylan did; on the plainest level, they faced the same threat.

Raylan gets to enjoy the full view of Tim's back as they're led along, him glancing around the room, eyes lingering for a moment on what must be a picture of Tim's mother before his attention is drawn to which side of the bed Tim got in on. Important information. The stiff movements get a smirk, but Raylan doesn't say anything until he crawls into the sheets next to Tim.

"I snore too loud, just elbow me real hard."

He waits until Tim turns off the light to drape a loose arm over Tim's waist, scooting fractionally closer. He unabashedly loved this shit, though it was always better if they fell into tangles for those post sex cuddles he enjoyed so much. Once they were both settled, Raylan pushes his luck a little further and drops a kiss onto Tim's shoulder without a word - a silent 'Thank you' before he drifts off.

"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.

In contrast, Raylan has spent plenty of time in random beds and was an old hat (badumtish) at getting comfortable next to a new body. Not that he wanted to be loud about that, but he adjusted around Tim's adjustments and settled easily. He could nap anywhere to start with, so being laid out in a bed with a person he gave cared about meant that he drifts right off to sleep.

He had his own good and bad nights, a few nightmares of his own but nothing that came near to the trauma of real war. His nightmares also tended to have a trigger - too much dangerous stress after a particularly gruesome or thinnly won gunfight, sometimes the ugliness that they saw on the street or in the jungle, or when he was too deep in his own head. Something he would call regular for someone doing their job. It kept him from bed all together, sometimes. Obviously not a problem tonight.

The draw up out of the blissful black of sleep was a quick one, Tim only getting a few of those kisses in before Raylan's waking was announced with that sharp intake of breath through his nose and a soft hum that shifted into a moan as Tim's fingers trace over and across him, finding the mostly hard length of morning wood. His hips lift into the touch, hand sliding off his stomach and pushing its way under Tim's arm, fingers looking for hip or thigh or- anything really. Contact. Encouragement. All he knew was that he was warm and bed lazy and he welcomed however Tim wanted to greet the day.

It makes sense that Raylan's quick to wake. Tim is, too; it's the nature of their jobs, providing a sense of awareness that's always ready to be flicked on at the drop of a hat. Or in this case, a kiss of the neck. It's nice, feeling the hum in Raylan's throat beneath his lips. Raylan's hand finds his hip, and Tim let's it stay there for a moment while he traces lazy fingers over the dips of hipbones and the curve of Raylan's thighs, only ever brushing feather-light touches along Raylan's length as he does.

This only lasts for a few moments though. Last night was incredible, but he never got the opportunity to find out what Raylan's cock tastes like. And now he's in the perfect position to do just that. Without stopping the gentle kisses along Raylan's clavicle, he shifts to put himself between his partner's legs, bracing a hand on either side of Raylan so that he's hovering. He kisses down the center of his chest, over the lines between the muscles of his stomach, shifting himself further beneath the sheet as he goes.

This could easily devolve into something more hurried and eager eventually, but for now it's only 6 AM, and Tim's content with taking his time.

For right now, they had forever. A mindset that had gotten Raylan in trouble for being late more than a few times. It was always worth it. Finally cracking an eye open, Raylan smiles that lazy crooked smile as he shifts where needed to let Tim more easily fit down there, hand moving to settle on Tim's arm as he watches from under heavy lids.

Who didn't love this kinda wake up. He only gave half a thought to what Tim might think about what he found down there - circumcision was common among most people, which always made the reaction to him being uncircumcised a 50/50 draw on where they'd land. He was also glad he cleaned himself up before they came to bed last night.

It would be a lie to say he hadn't thought about Tim between his legs, spreading him out the way he had the sniper the night before, but he didn't know about how he would really take that. It had been years. But a blowjob was like a handshake, get a grip and hold on.

Tim is faultlessly punctual, something that became engrained in him in the very first week of his basic training. It's hard to shake the 'fifteen minutes prior to fifteen minutes prior' mentality. Then again, he's not typically waking up with a devastatingly handsome man in his bed, and he can't say he'd be terribly mad if he was a little late for the first time in his career with the marshals.

Though it would be suspicious if they came in late together, especially in combination with the purple-red marks he knows decorate his throat. He's not really concerned about that right now, because he's gotten himself settled between Raylan's legs and can see what he's working with.

It really is a blue moon for Tim to come across a dick he doesn't want to put in his mouth, and that's definitely not the case here. He's far from disappointed. Delighted, actually. It wouldn't be his first uncircumcised dick, but it is a very short list he wished was longer. He makes a very pleased noise low in his throat, ducking his head to place a gently nipping kiss against Raylan's inner thigh. He wraps long, nimble fingers around Raylan's length, stroking firmly but slowly so he can watch as the skin slides back to fully reveal the head. With his gaze trained up again, he leans forward to drag his tongue flat over the tip.

The sound from Tim was reassuring and while there was no part of Raylan that doubted Tim knew what to do with a cock with a sock, there was a relief that came from hearing it. One that will be re-enforced as Tim goes further. There had been a whole slate of things Raylan's brain had been readying itself to face in the light of the morning, but those were completely forgotten as he keeps his eyes down, entranced by the whole situation.

They could plan the plan for work when his brain was actually functioning on a higher level.

It was amazing how sensitive those spots that never got touched were. Raylan sucks in a short sharp pinch of air at the nipping kiss, thighs spreading a little to give Tim whatever he wanted, and held it until it slips out of his mouth with a soft moan at the firm stroke. His stomach flutters with a shudder of pleasure at the lick across him and his hands search for any way to touch Tim, even if it's a drape of his fingertips on a forearm. They already itched to card through Tim's hair, but he didn't want to rush a single second of this.

Those were some delightful noises. Quiet but loud in the silence of the morning, unbidden by the clinging haze of sleep. As long as he can keep drawing those moans and gasps past Raylan's lips, it's going to be a fantastic morning. And maybe it's greedy, but even with the clarity of being sober, he already knows he's going to want many more mornings just like this one.

He gives a few more strokes before settling his grip at the base, his free arm coming up to rest heavily over Raylan's hips. It'll give him something to hold onto, and allow Tim to keep him in place when he inevitably starts trying to shift upwards. He drags his tongue from base to tip, swirling it around the head a few times. He repeats this process twice, really and truly taking his time, before finally taking it past his lips, sinking his mouth down lower and lower until it meets his fingers around the base. He stays like that for a few seconds before slowly pulling back and adopting a lazy pace for bobbing his head.

Everything was suddenly hooked and contingent on Tim taking his whole length, Raylan's breath caught in the back of his throat as he was teased. The sweet promise made by Tim's tongue kept him on a tightwire, right hand creeping over to softly grip his forearm. Touch was an anchor for him, something helped him feel like he had some control on floating off into pleasure.

Tim swallows him down and Raylan can't help but groan, low and tight from the back of his throat at the wash of lusty relief, and puts Tim's restraining arm to use. His hips lift slightly with the sound, but it only takes a little pressure for him to force himself to relax into the bed and let Tim wind him up. That thought alone, Tim being the one to wind him up twists with his desire in his chest, a feeling that is batted away in favor of focusing on how good Tim feels around him.

His off hand slides into Tim's hair, settling on his head but not pushing or urging. He already wanted to bury himself into Tim like he had last night and the small part of him that could have coherent thoughts only hoped that he got to wrap around his partner one more time before he has to face the possibility that this was just a one night stand. The possibility that they've ruined their working relationship. Right now, there was just this.

They have a few hours before they're expected to be anywhere. Even with part of that time taken up by Raylan needing to stop back at his place for at least a change of clothes and Tim needing to be dropped off at his car, it's plenty of time to have a lot of different kinds of fun. With any luck, they'll eventually be fully intertwined and will stay that way until the clock starts ticking too late.

He feels Raylan strain briefly against his arm, just as encouraging as the hand sinking into his hair. His slow, steady pace begins to increase, stilling every so often with Raylan's cock buried deep in his throat, holding it there for a few seconds each time before continuing. His tongue works around the length, taking his time with finding each of Raylan's sensitive spots to drag more of those lovely noises out of him. He's very intent on finding out just how much he can make Raylan push against his arm, just how hard he can get those hips bucking.

What he'd really like is to have those hands tight in his hair while Raylan slams his cock into the back of Tim's throat, leaving him gasping and watery-eyed. Maybe he'll get that this morning. Maybe another time, if there is another time. The maybes and possibilities feel endless right now. An unpredictable future, because even now, Raylan's keeping him on his toes.

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.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject