[Collins muttered something along the lines of 'damn straight ya would' before bursting into laughter at Raylan's response. He wasn't sure if either one of them were taking it seriously but he also didn't care either way.
He shook his head as his laughter died out.] Aye, I've heard it. Never thought too much of tha bed as one of 'em. Got better things ta do than laze in bed.
[Though he couldn't say he had never taken up with a good book and wasted half a day completing it.]
Ah, you do laugh, [he notes, grin staying just as broad as it was before. Of course Raylan wasn't taking it seriously, he naturally assumed that no one was really serious about it, not without some more signals. There was too much danger in assuming and he wasn't as confident as some of the others around here in launching himself into that area.]
Don't tell me we're gonna argue about how long it takes before one goes from enjoyin' not bein' upright to lazin'.
I want you to know that I'm gonna pass your request up to the Admiral for one very specific reason. Hazard a guess as to why?
[Collins gave the lawman a 'fuck you' for the comment on him laughing but the smile didn't die down for it. He couldn't, however, keep the roll out of his eyes at the next line about the semantics of lazing about. His mood still not ruined, he almost went into a speech about the topic--but Givens's last statement and question caught Collins's attention.
He hummed softly and cocked his head at the lawman.] I know yer gonna tell me whether I ask or not, so out with it, bull.
[Yeah, this kind of banter he understood. He bobs his head in a slight concession at the statement and keeps his pace.]
Maybe so, but askin' is half the point. Literally. I'm gonna do it because you asked. You gotta be willin' to advocate for yourself sometimes, Collins. Good things can come of it.
[He regretted his earlier decision to roll his eyes because this deserved it oh so much more. In fact, so much so that he allows for the duplicate despite the tackiness of it.]
Dear fuckin' Lord, bull. Don't give me that pocket full o' bullshite. What tha hell did I e'er do ta make ya think I'm a pushover? Go fuck yerself ya fuckin' twat.
[His jaw tightens a little and he shakes his head with a sigh out of his nose.]
Explain to me how darin' to ask to make the smallest fraction of your life more comfortable makes you a fuckin' pushover. You're not beggin' for basic rights, you're takin' advantage of shit that's freely given without any strings. Hell, a good conman? Would be takin' this ride for all its worth.
[Raylan stops and doesn't step back at the invasion of his space, his eyes sharpening and tightening around the edges - he might be a friendly type, but that didn't mean he wasn't prepared to scrap at a moments notice if he had to. But he didn't think Collins was really egging for a fight.]
[Collins blinked rapidly, taken aback momentarily. Then his head tilted slightly to one side like a wild dog considered its options. His lips twitched downwards but anyone with a brain could tell it was an attempt to keep them from going in the opposite direction.
He took a step forward and rose up on his toes to get into Givens's face.]
How 'bout you get that fuckin' bed and find out what else I have in mind.
[The playful suspicion of Collins flirting was completely confirmed with all that, the step in, the unveiled bravado in the offering, and Raylan flashes a grin and leans in, bringing their faces well within kissing reach. Fuck it, why not. He was on his way out anyway and he never cared much about the ethics behind the argument that others might make.]
Computer - Givens House.
[As the fields are hidden from view by sprouting walls, Raylan claims Collins mouth with a rough, dominate kind of passion, one arm wrapping around him as the rest of the room manifests. It's nothing fancy, but it's clean and the bed is large, and most importantly, there was a goodly number of doors between them and the 'outside' area of the Enclosure.]
[The rough kiss wasn't a surprise but the change in scenery was. Fortunately, he was too distracted to care about how strange it all was to watch the backdrop shift around them. It did occur to him that it was smart and convenient. They didn't have to go anywhere and there was much better than the dirt and grassy plains with the room that sprung around them.
Collins reciprocated the kiss hungrily--and as Raylan would quickly find, the Irishman was not the gentle type. His actions were aggressive and his passion was more like an attack than showing affection. He used his teeth to tease, nibble, and bite almost more than his tongue to taste the lawman.
He wasn't shy about moving into Givens's space as the arm wrapped around him either, pressing his body intrusively against the other man. More than that, he gripped Givens by the arms and began to force him backwards--it didn't matter if the bed was in that direction or the wall or some other sturdy structure, he seemed determined to put Raylan against it.]
[Part of Raylan had expected to get punched for it, but he didn't expect anything around or close to 'affection'. That wasn't what this was and if he was being honest, he missed the roughhouse push and shove of this kind of meeting. Collins wasn't the first murderous, domineering kind of man Raylan had kissed (and more), and he certainly hoped Collins wouldn't be the last.
He lets Collins push him back, hand fisting into his shirt as they move and hip catching on a small table, making him grunt into the kiss, the movement and ferocity of it introducing the taste of hot iron onto his tongue - a split lip that stung a little as his shoulders finding wall make him grunt softly again, the sound followed by a chuckle as he breaks the kiss so he can reach up, grab his hat, and toss it off to the side. The gun at the small of his back and the way it dug in was ignored; he doesn't hesitate in bending down to restart that kiss, hand unfisting to start pulling and pushing Collins jacket off.
He had no idea how far this was really gonna go, but goddamned if he wasn't interested in finding out.]
[The taint of blood was practically lapped out of Raylan's mouth whenever the Butcher tasted it. When his tongue found the split it lingered, and his lips sucked on Raylan's lip before biting sharply into it. The additional taste of iron excited the Butcher.
He growled as Givens pulled away, his pale blue eyes sharp with greedy lust and focused deadly on the lawman as the bull took the time to toss his hat aside. The response was instant whenever Givens returned, the Butcher moving to meet the lawman and resume the violent kiss.
Collins didn't shy away as Raylan began to undress him. He shrugged out of the suit jacket and it was practically thrown away once he got it off his last hand. He immediately began to take off his shirt as well--if they were doing this in a bedroom, they might as well do it right. Once that was done his hands were on Givens in an instant, starting at the stomach and pulling the lawman's tucked shirt loose, ripping the buttons off as he pulled the sections apart and eagerly put warm hands against bared flesh. His blunt nails raked down the lawman's chest, leaving streaks.
Raylan would find, through sight or touch, many scars on Dennis Collins's skin. His chest had a bullet hole near the shoulder and various cuts from what had probably been combat knives or a bayonet. His arms had smaller scratches on them, some recent but others much older and faint, almost disappeared. It was his back, however, that bore the brunt of it. The damage there was mostly old, too old, implying that most of it was from the man's youth. A litany of crisscrossing scars that were small enough to be from a thin switch to larger welts that were the size of a thick leather belt. There wasn't an inch of the Butcher's back that wasn't covered in these scars.]
[The nipping got a hiss that slipped into the chuckle the followed.
Collins's jacket disappears and Raylan's momentarily grateful for the fact that they're both wearing button ups of some type. He could replace the shirt, and he tore off his ribbed a line tanktop underneath. He shudders with another half snarled hiss of breath at the scratching, left hand reaching behind to the small of his back to pull the gun and discard it with a clatter on the side table that had no doubt left a bruise on his hip. He still had his service weapon on his right hip, but he'd get to it.
His right hand grabs Collins wrist, now empty left coming up to fist into the back of Collin's hair as he swoops in, breath hot against Collins's ear with his command.]
Tell me what you want. Tell me how you want this to go.
[He only gets a glance at the gallery of scars on Collins's chest but no matter the extent of them, he wasn't gonna stop and marvel. That being said, he hadn't felt Collins's back yet. He's only got three himself, one on his upper right forehead, half in his hairline, a gunshot wound on his lower left midsection, and a graze on his left bicep that was fresher than the rest.]
[Collins tried not to stray from the action at hand but he couldn't help it if the familiar clatter of the gun on the table slid his eyes over towards it. His momentary distraction caused his mouth to slow as his mind took off at the speed of a run-away train, but his logical brain managed to convince him that it wasn't worth ruining the sexual moment with the lawman just to try to play with the gun however 'innocently'. His actions resumed speed as he tore his eyes away and focused on what he was doing.
Then paused again as Givens grabbed his wrist and hair, and whispered into his ear. He almost immediately balked at the hold on him, his arm twitching away from the hand at his wrist automatically. It wasn't enough to break the grip but the action spoke clearly of his discomfort.
He bit into Givens's ear as retaliation, hard, and if he jerked away there was a good chance the bite would produce blood as Collins refused to let go. Until he was ready.
The Butcher's voice was low and rough as he growled at Raylan.]
You pinned against this wall lookin' good enough ta me. Ridin' my cock. Ya can do that fine, can't ya cowboy?
[Well, the man asked. And who needed a bed anyway. It was just a come on earlier, he didn't actually need the fucking thing. This was much better.]
[Raylan's grip only tightens into an iron grip as Collins twitches, snarling in a breath of air at the bite and turning his head into the Irishman's, half a beat from cracking their skulls together. The pain made him see red in a way he did not normally introduce into this kind of play, not unless it was belts and promises of security, neither of which were welcome here.
He didn't wanna let go of either of his hold points, but he opts to let go of Collins' hair, long lean gunslinging fingers reaching down to feel and grab the Irishman's aforementioned cock, judging what that ask really was.]
Say please.
[Deep down, Raylan was something of a petty kind of man and what Collins envisioned within that statement asked a lot from a man like Raylan Givens. Either Collins would try to fight him to take or he'd do as he was told.]
[The Irishman's cock was already hardening due to their little prelude but it was the touch of those long fingers and warmth of the lawman's palm against it that really made it stiffen tightly in his pants. He leaned into the touch, pressing forward with his whole body and pinning Givens against the wall.
His lips passed over the bloody bite he'd left in Raylan's ear with the ghost of a touch.]
I told ya, bull. I ain't tha beggin' type.
[His tongue darted out to lap at the red liquid, tasting iron and chuckling in pleasure. Then next instant he bit into the same area again.]
[With no real leverage and no inclination to get any, Raylan doesn't fight it, wrist gripping hand loosening slightly, enough that Collins would be able to yank it away if he wanted - he wished he could turn off the part of his brain that measured and weighed every fractional movement, from the amount of pressure he used to when he let it go, what would be inferred from the permission of it, the relent of it, and what he let that hand do, but he couldn't. The math of survivalism was engrained in his bones, and Collins set all of his alarm bells to the fullest extent.
That didn't stop the twist of pleasure in his stomach, his hand starting to roam and stopped with a harder grip as he's lanced with a white hot spear of pain of Collins' bite, earning a half furious -] goddamnit, you a fuckin' cannibal? Bite somethin' you ain't gonna tear off.
[There was a cautious hiss as he was gripped hard at his base but it quickly metamorphosed into a dark chuckle at Givens's words. He didn't reply verbally but his next actions started with a line down the lawman's jaw alternating between kisses and sharp little bites as he worked his way.
Collins discovered the looser grip on his wrist and as he pried it free he rocked into the hand stuck somewhere between more pleasure than outright pain. He wanted that hand to go back to what it was doing before it interrupted itself. In the meantime, he now had one free hand and it settled more gently on the lawman's chest, no intent to help keep the bull pinned. The scrape of nails down Raylan's torso was more faint this time as the hand worked its way down and then set to unfastening Raylan's pants.]
[There was very clearly a line that could be ridden here and with slight easement of Collin's nipping kisses, Raylan eased his own grip, sighing lustfully at the attention and not fighting Collins taking his wrist back. His hand did go back to what it was doing, moving over and up to Collins' waist band as it's mate came to settle on the man's hip.
He didn't expect to hit any belt - why would Collins be in not 1930's pants, but there was no avoiding his own. Thankfully, nothing about it was hard to figure out and his cock wasn't directly in Zipper line of fire.]
You go tearin' parts off me, I'm gonna object. Makes me wonder if you'll even do the courtesy of spittin' before you start fuckin' me. [It was a tease, promise. Only sort of though.
Honestly, the fact that Raylan was letting Collins do anything at all made the Irishman the luckiest fucker on the boat right now.]
Well, I could always use tha blood from ripping a piece of ya off ta lubricate if it'd ease yer worry about that. Then we'd both get what we want.
[That was also a tease. Mostly.
It didn't take Collins any time to unfasten the belt or deal with the zipper so he must have been familiar with the items already but Givens wasn't wrong about Collins's wearing more old fashioned clothing. He kept up with the latest fashions of his time but not every piece he owned, even back home, had all the newest technology or fashion sense stitched into it. He was quick to pull the lawman's clothes down and expose him, his mind already set on the final goal.]
Horrifyin'. [Plainly stated, sweetly marred by his heavier breath as his dexterous digits move through the button enclosure quickly. As he went to feel Collins again, this time inside his pants, fingers curious if Collins went commando, Collins is pulling away and pulling his pants down. Raylan can't help but laugh a little, the whole gesture very reminiscent of childish 'pantsing' instead of hot, rough sex, but he also had nothing to be ashamed of.
Raylan was, in a few words, well endowed and leaned against the wall with his swimmer's leanness. Near 8 inches, solid thickness and uncircumcised, his hips pushed out a little before he pulled the rest of himself forward and straight, shoulders back off the wall.]
Your turn, [He grins and lifts his chin with the words, toeing out of his boots so he could kick his pants aside.]
[Collins couldn't help but look at all of Raylan whenever the lawman's movements kept him at bay. The sight of the other man was almost enough to make a man jealous--and some out there definitely would be--but Collins had gone through his entire life with what he had (short, prematurely bald, but with an easy athleticism) and refused to allow it to bother him. These days it really didn't even register. Instead, he licked his lips appreciatively and pushed the lawman deceptively gentle back against the wall once the clothes were gone.]
You want a show?
[He whispered into the marshal's ear. Oh how he wished he had a knife to play with right now. Longed to slice the bull's skin open and add his own permanent mark to the canvas in front of him. His hands raked possessively up and down Raylan's torso just at the thought of it.
There was no warning for what happened next: Collins punched Givens in the mouth with a short, quick jab. Another follow-up punch hit the tall man in the abdomen--the solar plexus to be more exact--to keep him light on breath. But Collins wasn't finished with Raylan, merely getting started. He pressed the bull back up against the wall whether the man was ready to straighten back up or not.]
No show. Ya take what ya get.
[But he did make a point of spitting into his hand before he reached down to run a single finger down Raylan's member. It wasn't for that. He kept going, reaching back up to the lawman's ass and starting graciously with one finger slipping inside to prep and gauge.]
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He shook his head as his laughter died out.] Aye, I've heard it. Never thought too much of tha bed as one of 'em. Got better things ta do than laze in bed.
[Though he couldn't say he had never taken up with a good book and wasted half a day completing it.]
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Don't tell me we're gonna argue about how long it takes before one goes from enjoyin' not bein' upright to lazin'.
I want you to know that I'm gonna pass your request up to the Admiral for one very specific reason. Hazard a guess as to why?
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He hummed softly and cocked his head at the lawman.] I know yer gonna tell me whether I ask or not, so out with it, bull.
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Maybe so, but askin' is half the point. Literally. I'm gonna do it because you asked. You gotta be willin' to advocate for yourself sometimes, Collins. Good things can come of it.
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Dear fuckin' Lord, bull. Don't give me that pocket full o' bullshite. What tha hell did I e'er do ta make ya think I'm a pushover? Go fuck yerself ya fuckin' twat.
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Explain to me how darin' to ask to make the smallest fraction of your life more comfortable makes you a fuckin' pushover. You're not beggin' for basic rights, you're takin' advantage of shit that's freely given without any strings. Hell, a good conman? Would be takin' this ride for all its worth.
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I'm not a conman. And I'm not here ta enjoy tha ride I didn't ask fer. Go ta hell.
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Answer my question.
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It ain't about 'advocatin'' fer myself. I take what I want, do what I want fine enough. Don't need you tellin' me how ta live my life.
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And what is it that you do want, Collins, maybe we start there.
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He took a step forward and rose up on his toes to get into Givens's face.]
How 'bout you get that fuckin' bed and find out what else I have in mind.
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Computer - Givens House.
[As the fields are hidden from view by sprouting walls, Raylan claims Collins mouth with a rough, dominate kind of passion, one arm wrapping around him as the rest of the room manifests. It's nothing fancy, but it's clean and the bed is large, and most importantly, there was a goodly number of doors between them and the 'outside' area of the Enclosure.]
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Collins reciprocated the kiss hungrily--and as Raylan would quickly find, the Irishman was not the gentle type. His actions were aggressive and his passion was more like an attack than showing affection. He used his teeth to tease, nibble, and bite almost more than his tongue to taste the lawman.
He wasn't shy about moving into Givens's space as the arm wrapped around him either, pressing his body intrusively against the other man. More than that, he gripped Givens by the arms and began to force him backwards--it didn't matter if the bed was in that direction or the wall or some other sturdy structure, he seemed determined to put Raylan against it.]
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He lets Collins push him back, hand fisting into his shirt as they move and hip catching on a small table, making him grunt into the kiss, the movement and ferocity of it introducing the taste of hot iron onto his tongue - a split lip that stung a little as his shoulders finding wall make him grunt softly again, the sound followed by a chuckle as he breaks the kiss so he can reach up, grab his hat, and toss it off to the side. The gun at the small of his back and the way it dug in was ignored; he doesn't hesitate in bending down to restart that kiss, hand unfisting to start pulling and pushing Collins jacket off.
He had no idea how far this was really gonna go, but goddamned if he wasn't interested in finding out.]
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He growled as Givens pulled away, his pale blue eyes sharp with greedy lust and focused deadly on the lawman as the bull took the time to toss his hat aside. The response was instant whenever Givens returned, the Butcher moving to meet the lawman and resume the violent kiss.
Collins didn't shy away as Raylan began to undress him. He shrugged out of the suit jacket and it was practically thrown away once he got it off his last hand. He immediately began to take off his shirt as well--if they were doing this in a bedroom, they might as well do it right. Once that was done his hands were on Givens in an instant, starting at the stomach and pulling the lawman's tucked shirt loose, ripping the buttons off as he pulled the sections apart and eagerly put warm hands against bared flesh. His blunt nails raked down the lawman's chest, leaving streaks.
Raylan would find, through sight or touch, many scars on Dennis Collins's skin. His chest had a bullet hole near the shoulder and various cuts from what had probably been combat knives or a bayonet. His arms had smaller scratches on them, some recent but others much older and faint, almost disappeared. It was his back, however, that bore the brunt of it. The damage there was mostly old, too old, implying that most of it was from the man's youth. A litany of crisscrossing scars that were small enough to be from a thin switch to larger welts that were the size of a thick leather belt. There wasn't an inch of the Butcher's back that wasn't covered in these scars.]
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Collins's jacket disappears and Raylan's momentarily grateful for the fact that they're both wearing button ups of some type. He could replace the shirt, and he tore off his ribbed a line tanktop underneath. He shudders with another half snarled hiss of breath at the scratching, left hand reaching behind to the small of his back to pull the gun and discard it with a clatter on the side table that had no doubt left a bruise on his hip. He still had his service weapon on his right hip, but he'd get to it.
His right hand grabs Collins wrist, now empty left coming up to fist into the back of Collin's hair as he swoops in, breath hot against Collins's ear with his command.]
Tell me what you want. Tell me how you want this to go.
[He only gets a glance at the gallery of scars on Collins's chest but no matter the extent of them, he wasn't gonna stop and marvel. That being said, he hadn't felt Collins's back yet. He's only got three himself, one on his upper right forehead, half in his hairline, a gunshot wound on his lower left midsection, and a graze on his left bicep that was fresher than the rest.]
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Then paused again as Givens grabbed his wrist and hair, and whispered into his ear. He almost immediately balked at the hold on him, his arm twitching away from the hand at his wrist automatically. It wasn't enough to break the grip but the action spoke clearly of his discomfort.
He bit into Givens's ear as retaliation, hard, and if he jerked away there was a good chance the bite would produce blood as Collins refused to let go. Until he was ready.
The Butcher's voice was low and rough as he growled at Raylan.]
You pinned against this wall lookin' good enough ta me. Ridin' my cock. Ya can do that fine, can't ya cowboy?
[Well, the man asked. And who needed a bed anyway. It was just a come on earlier, he didn't actually need the fucking thing. This was much better.]
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He didn't wanna let go of either of his hold points, but he opts to let go of Collins' hair, long lean gunslinging fingers reaching down to feel and grab the Irishman's aforementioned cock, judging what that ask really was.]
Say please.
[Deep down, Raylan was something of a petty kind of man and what Collins envisioned within that statement asked a lot from a man like Raylan Givens. Either Collins would try to fight him to take or he'd do as he was told.]
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His lips passed over the bloody bite he'd left in Raylan's ear with the ghost of a touch.]
I told ya, bull. I ain't tha beggin' type.
[His tongue darted out to lap at the red liquid, tasting iron and chuckling in pleasure. Then next instant he bit into the same area again.]
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That didn't stop the twist of pleasure in his stomach, his hand starting to roam and stopped with a harder grip as he's lanced with a white hot spear of pain of Collins' bite, earning a half furious -] goddamnit, you a fuckin' cannibal? Bite somethin' you ain't gonna tear off.
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Collins discovered the looser grip on his wrist and as he pried it free he rocked into the hand stuck somewhere between more pleasure than outright pain. He wanted that hand to go back to what it was doing before it interrupted itself. In the meantime, he now had one free hand and it settled more gently on the lawman's chest, no intent to help keep the bull pinned. The scrape of nails down Raylan's torso was more faint this time as the hand worked its way down and then set to unfastening Raylan's pants.]
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He didn't expect to hit any belt - why would Collins be in not 1930's pants, but there was no avoiding his own. Thankfully, nothing about it was hard to figure out and his cock wasn't directly in Zipper line of fire.]
You go tearin' parts off me, I'm gonna object. Makes me wonder if you'll even do the courtesy of spittin' before you start fuckin' me. [It was a tease, promise. Only sort of though.
Honestly, the fact that Raylan was letting Collins do anything at all made the Irishman the luckiest fucker on the boat right now.]
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[That was also a tease. Mostly.
It didn't take Collins any time to unfasten the belt or deal with the zipper so he must have been familiar with the items already but Givens wasn't wrong about Collins's wearing more old fashioned clothing. He kept up with the latest fashions of his time but not every piece he owned, even back home, had all the newest technology or fashion sense stitched into it. He was quick to pull the lawman's clothes down and expose him, his mind already set on the final goal.]
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Raylan was, in a few words, well endowed and leaned against the wall with his swimmer's leanness. Near 8 inches, solid thickness and uncircumcised, his hips pushed out a little before he pulled the rest of himself forward and straight, shoulders back off the wall.]
Your turn, [He grins and lifts his chin with the words, toeing out of his boots so he could kick his pants aside.]
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You want a show?
[He whispered into the marshal's ear. Oh how he wished he had a knife to play with right now. Longed to slice the bull's skin open and add his own permanent mark to the canvas in front of him. His hands raked possessively up and down Raylan's torso just at the thought of it.
There was no warning for what happened next: Collins punched Givens in the mouth with a short, quick jab. Another follow-up punch hit the tall man in the abdomen--the solar plexus to be more exact--to keep him light on breath. But Collins wasn't finished with Raylan, merely getting started. He pressed the bull back up against the wall whether the man was ready to straighten back up or not.]
No show. Ya take what ya get.
[But he did make a point of spitting into his hand before he reached down to run a single finger down Raylan's member. It wasn't for that. He kept going, reaching back up to the lawman's ass and starting graciously with one finger slipping inside to prep and gauge.]
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