There are muffled little groans pressed into their mouths as they furiously make out. His thigh easily goes where it's guided to hook around a slender hip as their bodies press and roll together making him gasp and moan. He's painfully hard well before Raylan finally comes up for air and he's arching under him with each roll of his hips making desperate, breathy noises. One hand still holds a firm handful of ass, opposite where his leg is wrapped around him. The other hand digs his fingers into Raylan's back as they rut.
There's a quick shake of his head at the question, "No, I don't care." He pants, breathless. His head is spinning with the alcohol and arousal, he's not really thinking or caring. Those things can be for future Flint to worry about. And he's also not really worried too much about the mechanics of top or bottom either. Maybe he should be, but all his feral brain wants is release and to not think for a little while. To not fucking care for a little while. At least Raylan doesn't have much to worry about, Flint didn't fuck whores, he rarely fucked at all and it was really only Miranda on occasion. So he's one of the cleanest pirates in existance.
Pulling back but leaving their hips together, Raylan hand walks himself close enough to messily get into his beside drawer, pulling out a small bottle of baby oil. There was no debate about how this was going to go - Flint was too drunk to Drive and Raylan was too hungry for the touch, the affection no matter how rough they would get.
It didn't hurt that in the nights that Flint had been gone that Raylan had spent too much time thinking about what Flint looks like freely unencumbered by anything.
The cap was spun off and Raylan pushes back further, using his knees on the edge of the bed as he fills his hand and quickly smears it around their cocks, stroking both in his fist before pulling back a little more. "Spread for me darlin'."
Once James had, Raylan would stream some oil between them, growling softly in appreciation of the view as he shifts to use his cockhead to smear it around Flint's hole. He didn't wait to recap the bottle; he looks at James from under his eyelashes and starts pushing in.
It wouldn't take but a second to screw the cap back on but this had to come first. Some gentle invasion, some physical connection beyond their skin touching.
James groans softly as the rutting slows to a stop so that Raylan can lean over and get the lube. He lays under the other, cock throbbing and head spinning, running his hands all over his body. Those palms spread out up his belly, over his chest and shoulders, back along his ribs, then up and down his spine to dig his fingers into the top of his ass and small of his back as the other moves. He'll let him go when he sits back to pour oil on them, moaning and rocking into the slick fist as he strokes them both.
It's fleeting, but he can't deny now those words twist in his belly and make his cock bounce against his stomach with need. There's a brief thought back to when Raylan had told him to spread'em to be frisked, and if that happened now there would be a completely different response. He swallows and lays back, pulling his knees up to spread his thighs and angle his ass, curling a little at the waist. He's not nearly as limber as his College counterpart but he grips the backs of his knees to hold his legs up. He worries his bottom lip at the feel of that cool slickness, or the tease of his cockhead over his hole, keeping heated eyes locked on Raylan's the entire time.
He's zeroed in on the other to keep the thoughts from flooding in, from making him feel guilty for giving this to someone else. He doesn't want to think about Thomas right now. He doesn't want to think about anything but the man easing into his body. His lips part as his head tips back, moaning softly at the slight but welcome discomfort. It's been much longer for him than it has been for his College counterpart so he's tight but eager. He hisses but breathes through it and forces his body to relax, and it's not long until his body is adjusting and welcoming the other in deeper.
Those hands roaming him, appreciating everything they could reach, was intoxicating. Just as living out Francis's passing collage fantasies were. There'd been a lewd primal need to be slick against the pirate, to see him come undone and be taken over by one of the only thing grown men welcomed taking them over. It was the best way to escape how much he had missed James's company and the way his lips turned up in a smirk or the way his brow furrowed when he was considering something or-
Once he's gently bullied his way past the ring of tight resistance, groaning under his breath, he forces himself still, giving James a chance to adjust and him just enough time to cap the bottle and toss it on the pillows. With his hands free, he spread his hands down and back up James's thighs, palms strong and slick, he leaned his hips into it, pushing slowly as he watches his lover's face for any sign he should stop. But with a careful shallow thrust or two, he was buried root deep and fully shuddered with a faint roll back of his head and a murmured, "Fuck."
Tucking his hands into the crook of one of Flint's leg, he gently brushes the fingers holding the second away so he could guide it out to the side a little. The position James had rolled himself into looked.. a little uncomfortable. Once that was done, he flashes James a roughish smile and starts moving in long, slow thrusts.
Flint's heated, blown, and glossy gaze was drinking in the way Raylan looked over him as he pushed into his body with restrained ease. He gave soft, puffed noises of pleasure with each roll of those hips, encouraging but distracted with committing the sight of Raylan's relieved enjoyment to memory. As the other grips one leg, but guides the other, he'll wrap his thigh around his waist and hook his heel under his ass. His hands fall to the bed briefly, shifting under the other as Raylan starts to slowly fuck him, punctuating each thrust with a moan.
Again he's busy just being enamored by the beautiful man above him, moving in him. It lasts a few heartbeats of just feeling each other as one before he's reaching for Raylan to pull him down, fisting a hand in his hair as he leans up to meet him and capture his mouth in a hungry, passionate kiss. His tongue presses in to twist in a mimicry of what their bodies are doing. It's deliciously overwhelming, and he knows it won't take much for him to come undone. Not after it's been so long, his stamina isn't the same, he's too starved for it to have much control. Beads of precum already leaking from the tip of his cock onto his belly.
The soundscape of Flint, of them both, were going to live in the back of his head for as long as the Barge would let him, and there was a selfish part of him that wondered how many he could elicit from Flint, how many nights they could twist themselves into pleasure to avoid the pain. Before his devolved thoughts could get much further, Flint was reaching for him and there was no hesitation in him leaning down, hands already shifting to move his weight as he hums a moan into the kiss.
Weight splayed on one hand in the bed, Raylan's tongue wrestles with his, hips picking up pace to a nice steady rhythm as his hand settles somewhere on the low of Flint's side, fingers denting in as he starts to fuck harder. It all felt desperate and needy and perfectly messily impulsive. Breaking the kiss with a roll of his head, Raylan's senses narrowed down to Flint's clutch and embrace as they panted into each other's shoulders, hips driving now with the weight and speed of a man working steadily towards his own ends. The sound of flesh slapping flesh filled the room to pair against their sounds and Raylan nuzzled his way into to prop his head on his shoulder as he let nothing in the world exist except them.
It was all about Flint enjoying himself; when he went over the edge, Raylan would follow, too drunk to have the stamina to survive that kind of clenching pleasure with a drive for more.
The world was spinning by the time the kiss broke and he wraps himself around the other, holding on for dear life. The noises the other pulls from him with the rise of his clip from driving to absolutely punishing nearly surprise him. He's keening and unbidden, fingers gripping tight in the hair at the back of his head or digging in near his spine. His thighs widen to give those hips room to slam into him, the cacophony of sex filling the room. It's glorious and perfect, in all its drunken, sloppy, and blind lust.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he's aware of how well they fit together or how perfectly close they are in this, completely wrapped up in one another until it's hard to tell where one begins and the other ends. He wouldn't have it any other way, panting and breathless in the crook of Raylan's neck, crying out for more, grunting, animalistic and sensual. Nothing else existed, just this, just them, filling him and drowning out anything and everything else.
It hits him hard, despite the dulling effects of the alcohol in his veins fighting off his reason or care. His body is absolutely on fire, while electricity rips through his every nerve and sets him alight. His thighs tighten around that slim waist as his body clenches and rocks with his orgasms, shuddering in his throes. He bites down on the shoulder under his lips to muffle the desperate cry, but unlatches a moment later to pant and murmur more noises of praise and ecstasy across his skin. He paints his belly, feeling the other stutter and fill him a short moment after. Along with those bite marks will be red, angry lines across his back from dull, short nails.
He loved the tight, moving grip across his skin and hair, and the smell of the heat and sex. This was one of his favorite ways to truly shut off his brain for a few minutes and there was a reason he was good at it.
The bite on his shoulder, the clawing on his back earns a louder sound of approval as his body works, hard and frantic against that strong leg around him, to his own blinding end with a slam and a tensing of his whole frame, the muscles under all his leanness standing out. After what felt like a blissful forever and with a few more stuttered thrusts, Raylan relaxes with a panted "Goddamn," across James's shoulder, but doesn't quite yet open his eyes or go anywhere.
He wanted to soak up the feeling drumming through his body, the way he could feel James's heartbeat under his own, the way he didn't feel bad at all for this arguable break in control or manners.
A few, soft kisses were peppered over the freckled skin as his hips pull back enough for them to decouple, but his weight sank back in as he props himself onto his elbows so he could look down into Flint's face, off hand lifting to stroke his cheek down to his chin so Raylan could hold it steady as he came down for a soft, gently kiss - a stark contrast to the fevered intensity of their fucking.
"You came back," he whispers over his lips, with a sound of quiet awe in his voice.
"Mmmn," He hums, completely content and high off the sex. He holds Raylan close, bodies thrumming and throbbing with their still racing hearts only just starting to slow. His veins feel full of molten lava, his extremities feel tingly and his thighs are trembling. He doesn't think he could move if he wanted to right about now. It feels good, so incredibly good, even with the other still deep inside him. There's a soft noise of discomfort when he eventually pulls out but he's glad the other doesn't roll over out of his arms.
He smiles softly at the little kisses dappling his skin and presses his cheek into the touch. He'll kiss the other slow and gentle in kind, tasting him as if for the first time and just savoring every bit of it. To his words though he can't help but give a little chuckle.
"Of course I did, I promised I would. A few days later than intended but here I am." He nuzzles him lightly and plants a peck at the corner of his lips, then down along his jaw. One hand raises to comb through his hair fondly, the other spreading down the small of his back, where he still lays between his thighs.
"I don't want to move, but we might stick together before long..."
"Slightly more bruised than when you left, I see," he notes, fingers ghosting over the bruises. Now that he had more or less caught his breath, he was more than happy to languish in the attention of Flint's hands. This was more familiar than it should be and totally new all at once, both thrilling, and terrifying him just a little.
"Just wanted to match, huh? An' here I went to get it all cleaned up." It had all be because of what James had said. Not for this - the sex, however amazing it had been for a drunk quickie.
Quirking his lips, he glances down between them with a rolling lift of his eyebrows, smirk splitting into a crooked grin as he looks back into James face. "If you think those strong ass legs of yours can hold up in my shitty shower, I suggest we take this all in there. Might sober you up a little and you can tell me what happened to your face, hmm?"
Maybe it was some of the supernatural weirdness that messed with things, but the solid strike he'd got from Min Gang had healed enough to leave some bruising behind. It's a miracle his lip didn't split open again with their heavy make-out, not that he believes that would've deterred either of them. A little coppery taste in the heat of things can be sort of hot.
"Mn," He turns his head to kiss the palm of the hand touching his face, "I got into it with Pagan's Dad. That fucker deserved to have his nose broken. Least it was a little fun, he fought back. Wouldn't have been as entertaining otherwise." As for the rest? He shifts a little, wiggling his toes and trying to get the feeling back.
"I'll get there, somehow, that idea sounds too good to pass up."
There it was again, the little tug on his heartstrings. Flint really should stop being so dangerous. For both their sakes. Whatever this was, whatever they had, it worked right now. It worked well enough that his subconcious had already started growing some claws; sharp reminders of reality that he had to hope would hold him back.
"So long as it's a little punchin' and not a little hoistin'. Trust me." He knew well enough, not even knowing what Pagan's dad might have been on about. But Pagan or his father weren't here right now, so Raylan wasn't inclined to spend any effort of thought on them. He'd rather hum his approval, steal one more chaste, almost playful kiss before pulling back and up suddenly. He was nothing if not a resilient man.
His left hand was offered out with a smooth, charming smile. "My good sir," he invites, doing a fair job of tamping down his accent to something that might, with work, be a sad sad parody of Flint's very soft highbrow accent. The good news was that it leaned more general American than not.
"I thought about it." He admits, "Punched him twice and he backed off. I let him go." See? He listens. Folks are getting through to him. It's not his fight anyway. He just wanted to punch the fucking homophobic, abusive sack of shit.
He quiets when Raylan steals a chaste kiss and hums softly into it like it's the most delicious thing he's tasted. But there's a soft noise of disapproval when the other pulls away and gets up, leaving him feeling cold and exposed. Still, that charming little smile is enough to light him up again and he'll reach for the offered hand with a little laugh at the attempt of an accent switch.
He'll move, feeling some pleasant aches through the alcoholic buzz and grunting as he gets to his feet with the help of his lover. He wobbles a little, knees somewhat unsteady between the booze in his veins and the leftover tremors of orgasm. He leans into it a little on purpose, staggering just so he can press up against Raylan for support and wrap his arms around his waist. He kisses along his shoulders and the nape of his neck.
"C'mon, you've made a damn mess..." He gives a little bump in the direction of the bathroom, dragging the other along before he lets go and slips away into the bathroom.
"Some people just need to get clocked a few times," he grants easily in the space that he could. The fact that Flint restrained himself was good - a small step in the right direction and one that Raylan knew wasn't cemented. Everything here was a work in progress and that was exactly how it should be.
Chuckling at the almost dramatic lean into him as Flint's weight comes up and steadyish, but easily wraps his arms around James to be the rock in the waves of whiskey and rum, humming his pleasure at the attention as his hands spread on the broader man's back, one hand sliding down to almost cradle the top side of his ass, some where between globe and hip for a soft squeeze before he's being dragged along, laughing softly for it and following once Flint lets go, with a "Oh, I made a mess, I see how it is."
"How'd ya like it," Raylan asks as he steps past, hand drifting along Flint's skin as he did and over to the shower tap, kicking on both handles and opening the shower diverter. "I prefer my showers more on the hot side than not, but I'm willin' to settle on tepid, though not without some argument. Dunno what they got in the inmate showers but I'm willin to wait if you don't wanna share. I will be sittin' by the door though to make sure you don't slip and bust your head."
Little things like showering by yourself was something Raylan knew was a valuable thing. No matter how wild their hormones got, he wouldn't be able to ignore the reality of the situation. He also knew there inmates that lived in warden cabins, so he wasn't worried about what anyone else might think.
Flint hums at all the wonderful little touches and attention, stepping aside a little to let Raylan handle the shower and watching with some curiosity as he leans in the doorway. It's a simple setup, but even the Inmate Showers were something he quickly got used to, but still marveled at on occasion. He listens to the endearing talk about the water or if he wanted privacy and just can't hold back the soft, appreciative, yet fond smile. It's cute, but also puts into perspective the different times they came from. How something so simple as a shower, let alone a private one, was a luxury to him. Plumbing on its own was something he didn't have until the Barge, though they had ways to pump water onto the ship for use. And kept the drinking or cooking kind in barrels.
"I'm not picky," He starts, "I'd just be happy it's hot."
As for taking one alone, he shrugs, "I mean, maybe for the first few minutes to just soak it in and clean up. But you can join me if you want."
He tips his head, "I don't mind company, if we'll fit comfortably in there."
A nod toward the shower, "I don't think you have to worry about me slipping though. The floor looks solid enough and we aren't dealing with the rocking of a boat on waves."
He pushes off from where he is to let his hand drift along Raylan's lower back, resting on the opposite hip as he leans in and gives him a little peck at his jaw.
"I appreciate the concern though. This is... it's nice. Compared to anything I'm used to." He doesn't want Raylan to think him ungrateful.
Raylan liked touching his lovers, liked making sure they were okay and comfortable. Being comfortable was underrated by folks nowadays but with James, Raylan felt like he understood what luxury was in the face of the harsh reality and turns of life.
"Hot it is," he confirms, adjusting the spouts accordingly. "We will and I do. Want to, that is." Turning to meet Flint as he steps in, smiling at the close company and the kiss, his hand tightens briefly where it was secured around the man's waist.
"I want you to be comfortable here," he says, features softening around it's already warm and loose edges. "That's all it is. A place where you've got the option of a door that no one's gonna come through if you don't want 'em to." His smile spread a little.
"Gimme a yell when you're ready for company, huh? I'll work on changin' the sheets. You got me out here havin' an extra set and everything."
Flint definitely understood the luxury of being comfortable, there's only so much of that you can find on a ship out at sea or a pirate-filled island. Comfort had been a home he kept with Miranda, a few miles away from Nassau proper. Tucked away for no one to bother or find. He appreciated what Raylan has done for him, giving him a place comparable to what he once had, as best as they could do on this Barge.
He ducks his head a little and smiles, looking up at the other from under his eyelashes, not shy but coy and flirtatious. He'll reach for Raylan when the other pulls away, gripping his forearm to stop him short.
"Hey." He steps in and pulls the other in as he kisses him softly, echoing his thanks in the gesture instead. He brushes his fingers over his cheek and jaw before pulling back with a smile.
"I'll have to see to fixing up my cabin, I want to be able to give you the same." He nods then turns for the shower, reluctant to break eye contact, but he'll eventually duck in and shut the curtain to just, bask in the warmth of the water being sprayed over his body. He'll splay his hands out over the walls to bow his head and let it run down his neck and back. He throws his head back to smooth his fingers over his damp skull and rub the wet droplets over his face and eyes. He'll find the soap and quickly scrub up after a good long soak in the heat.
When he's nearly finished he'll call for Raylan. "All clear. C'mon in."
It was a good look on James, that coy, devilishly enchanting little smile, one that Raylan could only hope to see there more often. He was stopped easily with that hand on his forearm, lips breaking into a smile of his own as he was pulled in and curling into the soft kiss as his hand spread across Flint's waist.
He could get used to this warm feeling stirring around in his chest. He couldn't help but like how James made him feel, especially when he kissed him like that and doubly so with the declaration. His lovers didn't usually care about his comfort in such a way; they usually just took him as he was and didn't give it a second thought.
As Flint breaks away and gets into the shower, Raylan watches until the curtain is drawn before walking back out into the bedroom. After a brief inspection of the mess they made, the blanket is taken off so he can collect the topsheet they soiled. Thankfully, things were viscous enough to not have seeped through enough to bother this late at night and it's pitched into the far corner of the room against his closet door.
But with Flint's call, Raylan left the rest of it for after the shower, padding into the bathroom and announcing himself with a- "Watch out, make room." - Before pulling the curtain enough to step in with a crooked grin, shoulders breaking the stream from the showerhead to run wide rivers down his chest.
"How'd you like the soap?" It smelled of leather and oak, a subtle scent that Flint had already smelled, even if he hadn't realized it until now.
Flint finishes up the last of his scrubbing, but keeps the bar of soap in hand as Raylan makes his way in with an announcement. He steps back to the back of the shower to give him plenty of room and there's something indescribable that happens when the other joins him and smiles at him like that. He feels different, but it's good. Great even. The shower alone had been so calm and quiet, enough to cool his heels and realize his thoughts were silent. And now? With Raylan here it's like somethings just clicked into place, right where it belongs. He's happy. He's forgotten what it felt like.
Later he'd probably blame all the warm fuzzy feelings on the alcohol, but for right now the world was quiet and nothing else mattered but them and that's all that he ever wanted. Raylan Givens was quickly becoming an addiction if he could give him nights like this all the time.
"I like it, but now I smell like you. I might have to get my own bar at some point." To keep here, so there was something that smelled like him for Raylan to be reminded of when he wants something pleasant to think about.
"Turn around, I'll get your back if you get mine."
"I hope that's not a problem, smellin' like me." His smile stayed broad, but he'd had complaints before, however good natured it had been. Tipping his head back, Raylan raked his fingers through his too long hair and got it wet before turning around.
"Don't go to hard though, you seem to have left some lovely reminders for me."
"No, I'm definitely not complaining." He watches the way the water rolls over his skin and how Raylan tips his head back to dampen his hair and just how hot he looks sleek and wet. He waits till he turns around and plants a kiss on the nape of his neck.
"But it's only fair, if I'm going to be smelling you on me all day, that you get the same." He gives a little nip at his shoulder and then starts scrubbing, his other hand idly tracing the red marks with a hum of approval.
"If they don't stick I'll just have to make more." Not tonight anymore, he's getting sleepy, between winding down from great sex and all the alcohol in his veins. He's too relaxed to want to ruin it.
"I'd love the same," he admits over his shoulder, lips still pulled into it's cant, weight sinking back into the kiss and twitching in soft approval at the nip on his skin. He, like Flint, was ready for bed but tomorrow was a new day and them showering, like everything else they'd done, would live in the back of his head as possible promises of what might come.
"No matter how I get it." But was was more important right now was them getting clean and once Raylan was cleaned and Flint's back was scrubbed which came with a soft wrapping of Raylan's arms around him as he soaked in the heat and the company. Better to get them into bed and under the blanket sooner rather than later.
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There's a quick shake of his head at the question, "No, I don't care." He pants, breathless. His head is spinning with the alcohol and arousal, he's not really thinking or caring. Those things can be for future Flint to worry about. And he's also not really worried too much about the mechanics of top or bottom either. Maybe he should be, but all his feral brain wants is release and to not think for a little while. To not fucking care for a little while. At least Raylan doesn't have much to worry about, Flint didn't fuck whores, he rarely fucked at all and it was really only Miranda on occasion. So he's one of the cleanest pirates in existance.
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Pulling back but leaving their hips together, Raylan hand walks himself close enough to messily get into his beside drawer, pulling out a small bottle of baby oil. There was no debate about how this was going to go - Flint was too drunk to Drive and Raylan was too hungry for the touch, the affection no matter how rough they would get.
It didn't hurt that in the nights that Flint had been gone that Raylan had spent too much time thinking about what Flint looks like freely unencumbered by anything.
The cap was spun off and Raylan pushes back further, using his knees on the edge of the bed as he fills his hand and quickly smears it around their cocks, stroking both in his fist before pulling back a little more. "Spread for me darlin'."
Once James had, Raylan would stream some oil between them, growling softly in appreciation of the view as he shifts to use his cockhead to smear it around Flint's hole. He didn't wait to recap the bottle; he looks at James from under his eyelashes and starts pushing in.
It wouldn't take but a second to screw the cap back on but this had to come first. Some gentle invasion, some physical connection beyond their skin touching.
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It's fleeting, but he can't deny now those words twist in his belly and make his cock bounce against his stomach with need. There's a brief thought back to when Raylan had told him to spread'em to be frisked, and if that happened now there would be a completely different response. He swallows and lays back, pulling his knees up to spread his thighs and angle his ass, curling a little at the waist. He's not nearly as limber as his College counterpart but he grips the backs of his knees to hold his legs up. He worries his bottom lip at the feel of that cool slickness, or the tease of his cockhead over his hole, keeping heated eyes locked on Raylan's the entire time.
He's zeroed in on the other to keep the thoughts from flooding in, from making him feel guilty for giving this to someone else. He doesn't want to think about Thomas right now. He doesn't want to think about anything but the man easing into his body. His lips part as his head tips back, moaning softly at the slight but welcome discomfort. It's been much longer for him than it has been for his College counterpart so he's tight but eager. He hisses but breathes through it and forces his body to relax, and it's not long until his body is adjusting and welcoming the other in deeper.
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Once he's gently bullied his way past the ring of tight resistance, groaning under his breath, he forces himself still, giving James a chance to adjust and him just enough time to cap the bottle and toss it on the pillows. With his hands free, he spread his hands down and back up James's thighs, palms strong and slick, he leaned his hips into it, pushing slowly as he watches his lover's face for any sign he should stop. But with a careful shallow thrust or two, he was buried root deep and fully shuddered with a faint roll back of his head and a murmured, "Fuck."
Tucking his hands into the crook of one of Flint's leg, he gently brushes the fingers holding the second away so he could guide it out to the side a little. The position James had rolled himself into looked.. a little uncomfortable. Once that was done, he flashes James a roughish smile and starts moving in long, slow thrusts.
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Again he's busy just being enamored by the beautiful man above him, moving in him. It lasts a few heartbeats of just feeling each other as one before he's reaching for Raylan to pull him down, fisting a hand in his hair as he leans up to meet him and capture his mouth in a hungry, passionate kiss. His tongue presses in to twist in a mimicry of what their bodies are doing. It's deliciously overwhelming, and he knows it won't take much for him to come undone. Not after it's been so long, his stamina isn't the same, he's too starved for it to have much control. Beads of precum already leaking from the tip of his cock onto his belly.
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Weight splayed on one hand in the bed, Raylan's tongue wrestles with his, hips picking up pace to a nice steady rhythm as his hand settles somewhere on the low of Flint's side, fingers denting in as he starts to fuck harder. It all felt desperate and needy and perfectly messily impulsive. Breaking the kiss with a roll of his head, Raylan's senses narrowed down to Flint's clutch and embrace as they panted into each other's shoulders, hips driving now with the weight and speed of a man working steadily towards his own ends. The sound of flesh slapping flesh filled the room to pair against their sounds and Raylan nuzzled his way into to prop his head on his shoulder as he let nothing in the world exist except them.
It was all about Flint enjoying himself; when he went over the edge, Raylan would follow, too drunk to have the stamina to survive that kind of clenching pleasure with a drive for more.
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Somewhere in the back of his mind, he's aware of how well they fit together or how perfectly close they are in this, completely wrapped up in one another until it's hard to tell where one begins and the other ends. He wouldn't have it any other way, panting and breathless in the crook of Raylan's neck, crying out for more, grunting, animalistic and sensual. Nothing else existed, just this, just them, filling him and drowning out anything and everything else.
It hits him hard, despite the dulling effects of the alcohol in his veins fighting off his reason or care. His body is absolutely on fire, while electricity rips through his every nerve and sets him alight. His thighs tighten around that slim waist as his body clenches and rocks with his orgasms, shuddering in his throes. He bites down on the shoulder under his lips to muffle the desperate cry, but unlatches a moment later to pant and murmur more noises of praise and ecstasy across his skin. He paints his belly, feeling the other stutter and fill him a short moment after. Along with those bite marks will be red, angry lines across his back from dull, short nails.
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The bite on his shoulder, the clawing on his back earns a louder sound of approval as his body works, hard and frantic against that strong leg around him, to his own blinding end with a slam and a tensing of his whole frame, the muscles under all his leanness standing out. After what felt like a blissful forever and with a few more stuttered thrusts, Raylan relaxes with a panted "Goddamn," across James's shoulder, but doesn't quite yet open his eyes or go anywhere.
He wanted to soak up the feeling drumming through his body, the way he could feel James's heartbeat under his own, the way he didn't feel bad at all for this arguable break in control or manners.
A few, soft kisses were peppered over the freckled skin as his hips pull back enough for them to decouple, but his weight sank back in as he props himself onto his elbows so he could look down into Flint's face, off hand lifting to stroke his cheek down to his chin so Raylan could hold it steady as he came down for a soft, gently kiss - a stark contrast to the fevered intensity of their fucking.
"You came back," he whispers over his lips, with a sound of quiet awe in his voice.
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He smiles softly at the little kisses dappling his skin and presses his cheek into the touch. He'll kiss the other slow and gentle in kind, tasting him as if for the first time and just savoring every bit of it. To his words though he can't help but give a little chuckle.
"Of course I did, I promised I would. A few days later than intended but here I am." He nuzzles him lightly and plants a peck at the corner of his lips, then down along his jaw. One hand raises to comb through his hair fondly, the other spreading down the small of his back, where he still lays between his thighs.
"I don't want to move, but we might stick together before long..."
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"Just wanted to match, huh? An' here I went to get it all cleaned up." It had all be because of what James had said. Not for this - the sex, however amazing it had been for a drunk quickie.
Quirking his lips, he glances down between them with a rolling lift of his eyebrows, smirk splitting into a crooked grin as he looks back into James face. "If you think those strong ass legs of yours can hold up in my shitty shower, I suggest we take this all in there. Might sober you up a little and you can tell me what happened to your face, hmm?"
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"Mn," He turns his head to kiss the palm of the hand touching his face, "I got into it with Pagan's Dad. That fucker deserved to have his nose broken. Least it was a little fun, he fought back. Wouldn't have been as entertaining otherwise." As for the rest? He shifts a little, wiggling his toes and trying to get the feeling back.
"I'll get there, somehow, that idea sounds too good to pass up."
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"So long as it's a little punchin' and not a little hoistin'. Trust me." He knew well enough, not even knowing what Pagan's dad might have been on about. But Pagan or his father weren't here right now, so Raylan wasn't inclined to spend any effort of thought on them. He'd rather hum his approval, steal one more chaste, almost playful kiss before pulling back and up suddenly. He was nothing if not a resilient man.
His left hand was offered out with a smooth, charming smile. "My good sir," he invites, doing a fair job of tamping down his accent to something that might, with work, be a sad sad parody of Flint's very soft highbrow accent. The good news was that it leaned more general American than not.
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He quiets when Raylan steals a chaste kiss and hums softly into it like it's the most delicious thing he's tasted. But there's a soft noise of disapproval when the other pulls away and gets up, leaving him feeling cold and exposed. Still, that charming little smile is enough to light him up again and he'll reach for the offered hand with a little laugh at the attempt of an accent switch.
He'll move, feeling some pleasant aches through the alcoholic buzz and grunting as he gets to his feet with the help of his lover. He wobbles a little, knees somewhat unsteady between the booze in his veins and the leftover tremors of orgasm. He leans into it a little on purpose, staggering just so he can press up against Raylan for support and wrap his arms around his waist. He kisses along his shoulders and the nape of his neck.
"C'mon, you've made a damn mess..." He gives a little bump in the direction of the bathroom, dragging the other along before he lets go and slips away into the bathroom.
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Chuckling at the almost dramatic lean into him as Flint's weight comes up and steadyish, but easily wraps his arms around James to be the rock in the waves of whiskey and rum, humming his pleasure at the attention as his hands spread on the broader man's back, one hand sliding down to almost cradle the top side of his ass, some where between globe and hip for a soft squeeze before he's being dragged along, laughing softly for it and following once Flint lets go, with a "Oh, I made a mess, I see how it is."
"How'd ya like it," Raylan asks as he steps past, hand drifting along Flint's skin as he did and over to the shower tap, kicking on both handles and opening the shower diverter. "I prefer my showers more on the hot side than not, but I'm willin' to settle on tepid, though not without some argument. Dunno what they got in the inmate showers but I'm willin to wait if you don't wanna share. I will be sittin' by the door though to make sure you don't slip and bust your head."
Little things like showering by yourself was something Raylan knew was a valuable thing. No matter how wild their hormones got, he wouldn't be able to ignore the reality of the situation. He also knew there inmates that lived in warden cabins, so he wasn't worried about what anyone else might think.
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"I'm not picky," He starts, "I'd just be happy it's hot."
As for taking one alone, he shrugs, "I mean, maybe for the first few minutes to just soak it in and clean up. But you can join me if you want."
He tips his head, "I don't mind company, if we'll fit comfortably in there."
A nod toward the shower, "I don't think you have to worry about me slipping though. The floor looks solid enough and we aren't dealing with the rocking of a boat on waves."
He pushes off from where he is to let his hand drift along Raylan's lower back, resting on the opposite hip as he leans in and gives him a little peck at his jaw.
"I appreciate the concern though. This is... it's nice. Compared to anything I'm used to." He doesn't want Raylan to think him ungrateful.
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"Hot it is," he confirms, adjusting the spouts accordingly. "We will and I do. Want to, that is." Turning to meet Flint as he steps in, smiling at the close company and the kiss, his hand tightens briefly where it was secured around the man's waist.
"I want you to be comfortable here," he says, features softening around it's already warm and loose edges. "That's all it is. A place where you've got the option of a door that no one's gonna come through if you don't want 'em to." His smile spread a little.
"Gimme a yell when you're ready for company, huh? I'll work on changin' the sheets. You got me out here havin' an extra set and everything."
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He ducks his head a little and smiles, looking up at the other from under his eyelashes, not shy but coy and flirtatious. He'll reach for Raylan when the other pulls away, gripping his forearm to stop him short.
"Hey." He steps in and pulls the other in as he kisses him softly, echoing his thanks in the gesture instead. He brushes his fingers over his cheek and jaw before pulling back with a smile.
"I'll have to see to fixing up my cabin, I want to be able to give you the same." He nods then turns for the shower, reluctant to break eye contact, but he'll eventually duck in and shut the curtain to just, bask in the warmth of the water being sprayed over his body. He'll splay his hands out over the walls to bow his head and let it run down his neck and back. He throws his head back to smooth his fingers over his damp skull and rub the wet droplets over his face and eyes. He'll find the soap and quickly scrub up after a good long soak in the heat.
When he's nearly finished he'll call for Raylan. "All clear. C'mon in."
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He could get used to this warm feeling stirring around in his chest. He couldn't help but like how James made him feel, especially when he kissed him like that and doubly so with the declaration. His lovers didn't usually care about his comfort in such a way; they usually just took him as he was and didn't give it a second thought.
As Flint breaks away and gets into the shower, Raylan watches until the curtain is drawn before walking back out into the bedroom. After a brief inspection of the mess they made, the blanket is taken off so he can collect the topsheet they soiled. Thankfully, things were viscous enough to not have seeped through enough to bother this late at night and it's pitched into the far corner of the room against his closet door.
But with Flint's call, Raylan left the rest of it for after the shower, padding into the bathroom and announcing himself with a- "Watch out, make room." - Before pulling the curtain enough to step in with a crooked grin, shoulders breaking the stream from the showerhead to run wide rivers down his chest.
"How'd you like the soap?" It smelled of leather and oak, a subtle scent that Flint had already smelled, even if he hadn't realized it until now.
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Later he'd probably blame all the warm fuzzy feelings on the alcohol, but for right now the world was quiet and nothing else mattered but them and that's all that he ever wanted. Raylan Givens was quickly becoming an addiction if he could give him nights like this all the time.
"I like it, but now I smell like you. I might have to get my own bar at some point." To keep here, so there was something that smelled like him for Raylan to be reminded of when he wants something pleasant to think about.
"Turn around, I'll get your back if you get mine."
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"Don't go to hard though, you seem to have left some lovely reminders for me."
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"But it's only fair, if I'm going to be smelling you on me all day, that you get the same." He gives a little nip at his shoulder and then starts scrubbing, his other hand idly tracing the red marks with a hum of approval.
"If they don't stick I'll just have to make more." Not tonight anymore, he's getting sleepy, between winding down from great sex and all the alcohol in his veins. He's too relaxed to want to ruin it.
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"No matter how I get it." But was was more important right now was them getting clean and once Raylan was cleaned and Flint's back was scrubbed which came with a soft wrapping of Raylan's arms around him as he soaked in the heat and the company. Better to get them into bed and under the blanket sooner rather than later.