Raylan didn't hesitate in heading towards the kitchen once James was sat down, getting a small bowl of warm water, a few rags and a bottle of whiskey. He came and pulled the coffee table closer so he could perch on it again - it was a really good spot to sit! - and clear his hands. The bottle was handed to James, and the cloths were set to soak a little in the water.
"You fought well," he starts, wringing out one of the cloths and handing that over as well to let James wipe what he wanted to away. "Wouldn't've wanna bet on either of you, if I'm bein' honest. Could have gone either way."
James happily takes the bottle of whiskey when it's handed to him and drinks deep. There's a grunt of acknowledgment when Raylan compliments his fight, even if he feels like he could've done more, done better, but he would always be his worst critic. He takes the warm cloth, reaching to set the bottle next to Raylan so he can use the cloth to wipe his face, dabbing at cuts and bruised areas, and smearing dried blood in an attempt to wash up. He'll soak it with whiskey to dab at his raw knuckles with a hiss and a soft curse.
"I was holding myself back for Sweeney's sake." He'd promised not to break or try to kill Sweeney, that was never his desire for that fight, so there had to have been some amount of control on his side of things.
"I know." Simply stated. "It was the right thing to do, followin' those rules. Pullin' punches in that kinda way takes effort." Effort Raylan wasn't sure he had but he operated on a different behavior wave length and philosophy than James.
"I still think I prefer random fights and bar brawls, if I'm bein' honest. But maybe I just take takin' a life with a little more.. respect to it, I dunno." This was him trying at communication, instead of lopping his opinion off and canning it away.
"I can lose my temper like that without murderin' a man."
"I won't lie and say it wasn't difficult." But luckily for Sweeney there was something else in him, twisting around in his chest and guts that was able to hold back that darkness long enough and allow him to keep his wits. It was that part of him that desired to feel the pain of each strike, to bleed, to let Sweeney beat him till he was satisfied rather than try to tear him apart for laying a hand on him.
"I can't." He murmurs bitterly, "But you already are familiar with that demon."
He didn't feel like beating a dead horse. Raylan knew that darkness has been in him since he was a boy. Knew how he struggled to control it. How it would just lash through him and gain control in the midst of his anger and before he knew it he has a bloody body beneath him and iron on his tongue. It had nothing to do with his respect for taking a life, and everything to do with being unable to control it and basically blacking out.
Though, if he's honest, he'd put more people in the hospital than actually kill them. Half the time someone was there to pull him back and snap him to reality before he was able to beat someone to death. He'd killed at least one man and nearly killed a school-age boy in his youth. The rest were broken and terrified of him. Or cursed his name.
Flint puts the bloody rag into the water in favor of freeing his hands so he can carefully tug his shirt off. He struggles a bit, hissing as the adrenalin has long worn off and has left him with that dull, angry ache wanted.
There's no hesitation in him reaching forwards to help tug James's shirt off, hands going in to get the rag before James does and gesturing him to scoot forward a little so he was better in range. He had wanted to help from the beginning, but it felt wiser to let James tend to his face first, to let him get some of what was weighing him down off his shoulders first.
They weren't running from this, and Raylan wasn't scared.
Raylan knew it was a problem that James had, the way his rage took over. But he really did believe that James would find a way to get it under control. To not let himself be driven by the thing inside him all of the time.
"You can," he says quietly. "It's gonna take a hellish amount of work and some reinforcement, but.. I know you'll be able to. Flint is what happened when you were pushed to it. I think we can help work you back towards James. You're already takin' steps in the right direction, darlin'. And I'm not gonna stop believing in you, no matter how many times you say that. We're all capable of it; just not all at the same speeds or in the same way. We'll figure out how we need to case it so that it works for you. Somehow."
There's a softly murmured, barely-there thanks and he won't reach for the rag again, knowing Raylan would do it instead. He shifts forward with a soft sigh, good eye on his lover's face, watching his brow knit as he works and keeping himself still to allow it.
"This thing has had its hooks in me long before Flint, that's the trouble. I was dealing with this ugliness as a boy." He supposes it was probably born out of his abuse and hurt. That toxic thing in the men of his time telling him he couldn't cry or show weakness, it had to come out in violence and anger.
"Good." He sighs, "I... I need someone to believe in me and never stop because I sure as hell have trouble believing in me at times."
Raylan was dutiful in the tender way he dabs at the edges of James's lips, the cut on his cheek from Sweeney's fist.
"No matter what idea I might suggest to you darlin', it'll only ever be in the hope of finding the thing that clicks right, and helps you. I know how ugly that darkness gets and I know how easy it can be to fall into it and how good fallin' into it feels. Everyone wrestles with that demon differently. But if you're anythin', you're strong and stubborn. We'll figure it out. Together."
He pulls back to rinse the rag.
"And it's okay if it takes time. That's all we got here. Nothin' but time."
He's listening. The words are getting through to him even as his focus seems to be staring more at Raylan's face, his lips as they move and reveling in his careful, attentive touch. It's the way the adrenalin from the fight and the pain and waning anger, is mixing as it comes down and floods his system on the way out. It's the sudden heat pooling south and the electricity in his spine. He's tired and aching, but far from done, his body is just making a hard left turn into hornyville. Feeding off the energy from earlier to reroute it into a carnal fire.
It's a distraction he still desperately needs and would love to lose himself in. What's really turning him on is Raylan's unshakable devotion and faith in him. He's just tumbling head over heels all over again, being carefully twisted around his little pinky. He doesn't know what he's done to deserve such a good, equally stubborn man to fight for him this hard.
Before he even realizes what he's doing, instinct and passion are taking hold of him and he's half-lunging through the short distance to capture Raylan's lips in something hungry and full of fire. He doesn't care that his body is still screaming, or that there's still iron on his tongue. His hands spread over Raylan's knees and up his thighs as he leans into it and half crowds him back onto the table.
He wasn't foolish enough to think that he'd change any minds in one night, in one conversation, but he did, at least, feel like James was listening to him and that was good enough. Sowing seeds that might sprout one day. It being accepted was more than enough.
There was Something in James's eye, but he didn't expect the sudden forwards surge of the broad man towards him. The kiss is taken with a hum of surprise, hand shifting to drop the rag in their laps to slide around James's neck and hold onto him. He didn't know where this was coming from or why, but questioning it was out of the question. He would never argue James's affection, especially with the intent that hand had on his thigh and the intensity of the kiss, like James was trying to consume him.
Raylan lingers in it for a moment before he pushes forwards, aiming to put himself on the couch next to James so they can crowd properly if they want. Even if this was just a very intense kiss, Raylan could still clean him up from the couch too, so it was a win all around.
Those hands move up to grip slim hips as Raylan shifts his weight to push back and move onto the couch all without breaking. Once his lungs are burning he finally breaks, breaths falling off his lips with a rasp as his cock is pressed, half-hard against his hip in his now too-tight pants. He sits, staring into Raylan's eyes with his one good one, panting softly before he just throws caution to the wind and closes the distance between them again to crowd him back onto the couch.
He's kissing him with heat and passion, mind completely overrun with his lust and need. He doesn't want to think, he doesn't want to talk, he just wants to fuck and he's giving himself over to the rush of heated adrenalin spiking up his spine and back down into his cock. The fight had only been the start, like a rough sort of foreplay. He'd gone into it hoping to just shut his mind off of everything and just feel, just ache. He'd got some of what he wanted but now? He needed more, more of something only Raylan could give him. And as long as the other isn't pumping on the breaks, he's going to continue.
His hands start wandering, eagerly pushing up or pulling open Raylan's shirt to get to skin. Then fiddling with getting his pants open.
It was nice to be grabbed like this and Raylan hums softly as the kiss breaks, staring back at James like he could get some insight into that beautiful stubborn mind. He was getting this sense this wasn't just an intense kiss and the energy in which James moved towards him told him he was right.
Raylan lets James crowd him without any protest, falling back into the corner of the couch as his legs made room for James to sit between them, one hand settled onto the side of James's face as the other helps adjust his weight back. He hums throatily into the kiss, tongue wrestling with intent as James's hand wander, back arching to let him push the Henley he was wearing up as his hands spread over James's shoulders, hips lifting encouragingly as his zipper gets attacked. His cock was already on the rise; Raylan liked the rough just as much as he liked the soft and if this was how James wanted to turn off his brain, Raylan had no arguments.
"You suggestin' I shoulda taken my boots off," he husks after their kiss breaks, hands pulling and tugging until his shirt is off and tossed to the side, ironically near Pumpkin, who gave them both a Look before getting comfortable for his round two of naps.
The kiss breaks with his breaths rasping in soft pants. He nods and answers with a breathy, sexy little "uh huh."
He'll push back onto his knees to help Raylan pull off his boots and he'll toss them to the floor as Raylan tugs his shirt off the rest of the way. His fingers hook in his jeans next to tug them down and off quickly leaving the other naked and spread out under him on the couch. He unzips and undoes his own jeans before bending down to capture Raylan's lips again for a deep, hungry kiss of tongue and teeth. He breaks as his lips wander down Raylan's throat to nip at his pulse. One hand remains, bracing his weight, while the other wraps around Raylan's cock to start stroking him from base to tip.
Raylan chuckles, a deep pleased sound from his chest as they stripped him naked in what felt like record time and he hooks one leg behind James's ass as he comes back down, just as eager to meet the kiss as his hands were to work into James's jeans so he could grab his ass. His chin lifts with a little sigh of contentment as the nips trail down his jaw and neck, groaning shortly at the rough hand around his cock.
He pushes James's jeans down as far as he could, one palm moving around to greedily wrap around James's cock, stroking him in time with James's pump. His free hand slides up and over James's shoulder, shifting so it can curl around the nape of his neck and hold him as they moved.
Raylan knew better than to talk; this wasn't about talking or any of the praise he had stored away - James looked very good in jeans and Raylan should tell him - this was about the physicality of it all taking over. Brains shutting off for a moment for carnal lust and need.
The feel of Raylan's hands working into his jeans to grab his ass makes him absolutely feral every time. He's near to aching by the time his clothes are pushed off his ass and those deft fingers wrap around his cock. He groans low, pressing his forehead against the junction between neck and shoulder as he starts to roll his hips into the stroke of Raylan's hand. His own massaging from base to tip, tugging at the foreskin to slide and unsheath his head so he can thumb over the cleft or gather the skin up in his grip to work him to hardness.
It's not enough and with a snarl he's pulling back so he can grope at the table for the little hidden drawer. He'll get it open to get the lube out they've got tucked away, glad for it when he doesn't want to pull away from Raylan for even a second.
He'll pour some lube out over his length to let Raylan work it in with his stroking, moaning louder at the feeling. He'll squeeze a good amount onto his fingers so he can reach down between them and rub his slicked digits at his backdoor. He's not going to be patient enough to properly prep Raylan but he's pressing in and scissoring two fingers to loosen him up some.
He kisses Raylan again with some heat and hunger, before pulling away and sliding out of his fist to line his cock up at his entrance and push himself into him with something eager and rough in the taking. He breaks to huff, and grunt as he works himself into the base. One hand gripping Raylan's thigh, the other digging into the arm of the couch to brace himself. He's panting hard before he even starts to fuck Raylan. Knowing damn well they should probably have a towel down or something, but he's not thinking straight. He's moving with his need and lust, wanting to slake something primal in himself.
He loves being able to feel James like this, to know that he could make the captain make these sounds, and loves feeling it in kind. James's hands were strong and rough, capable and nimble in ways that made Raylan's knees weak, and any time they were on him, he was in their personal heaven. It didn't take more than a few seconds for James's attention to encourage him to hardness and his cock bounced at the snarl that James gives as he pulls back.
If this is what happened every time James got into a fight like this, Raylan might have to stop him less often.
It was pornographic, the way James looked, thrusting into his now slick hand as he pours that lube and Raylan can't help huffing a breath of laughter that slipped into a moan at the digits pressing against him. It was amazing to think that his body was more used to this now, to take the invasion so easily, to be so willing to spread and loosen for his lover. Raylan hums low in the back of his throat at the hungry kiss, leaning up into it and tongue wrestling back, panting softly as James pulls back.
There's no helping the moan that's half hitched, caught in the back of his throat as James so delectably shoves himself in, narrowing Raylan's world down sharply to just them. He wraps his slick hand around James's propping arm in preparation for what his everything told him was coming. A hard and welcome fucking, and he wanted a little leverage to help keep James from fucking him over and off the arm of the couch.
That hand on his thigh grips tight, digging his fingers in as he fucks into Raylan, head bowed and back arched. He's a chorus of panting, grunts, and snarls as he moves, but the angle isn't deep enough, he needs to go harder. So he'll shift his grip and push Raylan's long leg up to spread him out more, rising up on his knees as he angles his lover's ass, half curling him against the couch, testing his flexibility. He'll slam down into him, driving harder and faster, fist white knuckled where he's propped himself up on the arm. He wants to pull the lewdest cries from Raylan.
Raylan is already grunting out pitchy sounds of pleasure, fingers of his free hand clawing out at James's moving hips as though he was trying to pull the thrusts in harder. "Ah fuck-" he manages between punctuated gasps, "Ride that ass hard baby, use it." His cock twitches and throbs at the dare of the words, at the lewdness of the command as he keeps himself from reaching down to touch himself too soon.
He grunts out another breath as James bends him, moaning tightly again, louder than before when James starts slamming properly, hand grabbing at James's arm as he struggles to find a breathing pace to match, to make him feel like he was getting a full breath between his whoreish sounds. The Captain did good work, Raylan's chest pinpricking with sweat as he caved to his needs, hand slipping from James's arm to reach between them and stroke his cock, panting as he's used. He wanted to cum with James and so held out, keeping his strokes long and slow and torturous in its juxtaposition of James's sweet abuse.
James certainly gives as good as Raylan begs for with every sharp slap of his hips meeting the meat of his lover's thighs and ass. Sweat drips off his brow as he grunts, moaning and snarling as he drives himself blindly and relentlessly toward his end. It's blissfully not long of working deep and punishing into Raylan before he breaks with almost a withered sigh of relief and a shuddering moan. He bucks, hips stuttering and jerking through his throes as he pours himself into him, cock throbbing and spilling every last drop of his load. It's lewd and messy, his hand leaving Raylan's leg hooked over his shoulder as he grips his hip.
He's lost in it for a moment, bent, trembling, barely holding himself up as his mind washes out blank and white hot. The euphoria swells and his mind is quiet and empty. It's a few heartbeats before his vision comes back and he can focus on the man under him as they pant and vibrate together. It takes him a minute to realize he should make sure his lover has come, looking down to be sure Raylan finished before gently unwinding his lanky limbs so they can lay together in a little more comfort when he pulls out and collapses onto him with a sated sigh.
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"You fought well," he starts, wringing out one of the cloths and handing that over as well to let James wipe what he wanted to away. "Wouldn't've wanna bet on either of you, if I'm bein' honest. Could have gone either way."
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"I was holding myself back for Sweeney's sake." He'd promised not to break or try to kill Sweeney, that was never his desire for that fight, so there had to have been some amount of control on his side of things.
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"I still think I prefer random fights and bar brawls, if I'm bein' honest. But maybe I just take takin' a life with a little more.. respect to it, I dunno." This was him trying at communication, instead of lopping his opinion off and canning it away.
"I can lose my temper like that without murderin' a man."
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"I can't." He murmurs bitterly, "But you already are familiar with that demon."
He didn't feel like beating a dead horse. Raylan knew that darkness has been in him since he was a boy. Knew how he struggled to control it. How it would just lash through him and gain control in the midst of his anger and before he knew it he has a bloody body beneath him and iron on his tongue. It had nothing to do with his respect for taking a life, and everything to do with being unable to control it and basically blacking out.
Though, if he's honest, he'd put more people in the hospital than actually kill them. Half the time someone was there to pull him back and snap him to reality before he was able to beat someone to death. He'd killed at least one man and nearly killed a school-age boy in his youth. The rest were broken and terrified of him. Or cursed his name.
Flint puts the bloody rag into the water in favor of freeing his hands so he can carefully tug his shirt off. He struggles a bit, hissing as the adrenalin has long worn off and has left him with that dull, angry ache wanted.
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They weren't running from this, and Raylan wasn't scared.
Raylan knew it was a problem that James had, the way his rage took over. But he really did believe that James would find a way to get it under control. To not let himself be driven by the thing inside him all of the time.
"You can," he says quietly. "It's gonna take a hellish amount of work and some reinforcement, but.. I know you'll be able to. Flint is what happened when you were pushed to it. I think we can help work you back towards James. You're already takin' steps in the right direction, darlin'. And I'm not gonna stop believing in you, no matter how many times you say that. We're all capable of it; just not all at the same speeds or in the same way. We'll figure out how we need to case it so that it works for you. Somehow."
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"This thing has had its hooks in me long before Flint, that's the trouble. I was dealing with this ugliness as a boy." He supposes it was probably born out of his abuse and hurt. That toxic thing in the men of his time telling him he couldn't cry or show weakness, it had to come out in violence and anger.
"Good." He sighs, "I... I need someone to believe in me and never stop because I sure as hell have trouble believing in me at times."
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"No matter what idea I might suggest to you darlin', it'll only ever be in the hope of finding the thing that clicks right, and helps you. I know how ugly that darkness gets and I know how easy it can be to fall into it and how good fallin' into it feels. Everyone wrestles with that demon differently. But if you're anythin', you're strong and stubborn. We'll figure it out. Together."
He pulls back to rinse the rag.
"And it's okay if it takes time. That's all we got here. Nothin' but time."
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It's a distraction he still desperately needs and would love to lose himself in. What's really turning him on is Raylan's unshakable devotion and faith in him. He's just tumbling head over heels all over again, being carefully twisted around his little pinky. He doesn't know what he's done to deserve such a good, equally stubborn man to fight for him this hard.
Before he even realizes what he's doing, instinct and passion are taking hold of him and he's half-lunging through the short distance to capture Raylan's lips in something hungry and full of fire. He doesn't care that his body is still screaming, or that there's still iron on his tongue. His hands spread over Raylan's knees and up his thighs as he leans into it and half crowds him back onto the table.
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There was Something in James's eye, but he didn't expect the sudden forwards surge of the broad man towards him. The kiss is taken with a hum of surprise, hand shifting to drop the rag in their laps to slide around James's neck and hold onto him. He didn't know where this was coming from or why, but questioning it was out of the question. He would never argue James's affection, especially with the intent that hand had on his thigh and the intensity of the kiss, like James was trying to consume him.
Raylan lingers in it for a moment before he pushes forwards, aiming to put himself on the couch next to James so they can crowd properly if they want. Even if this was just a very intense kiss, Raylan could still clean him up from the couch too, so it was a win all around.
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He's kissing him with heat and passion, mind completely overrun with his lust and need. He doesn't want to think, he doesn't want to talk, he just wants to fuck and he's giving himself over to the rush of heated adrenalin spiking up his spine and back down into his cock. The fight had only been the start, like a rough sort of foreplay. He'd gone into it hoping to just shut his mind off of everything and just feel, just ache. He'd got some of what he wanted but now? He needed more, more of something only Raylan could give him. And as long as the other isn't pumping on the breaks, he's going to continue.
His hands start wandering, eagerly pushing up or pulling open Raylan's shirt to get to skin. Then fiddling with getting his pants open.
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Raylan lets James crowd him without any protest, falling back into the corner of the couch as his legs made room for James to sit between them, one hand settled onto the side of James's face as the other helps adjust his weight back. He hums throatily into the kiss, tongue wrestling with intent as James's hand wander, back arching to let him push the Henley he was wearing up as his hands spread over James's shoulders, hips lifting encouragingly as his zipper gets attacked. His cock was already on the rise; Raylan liked the rough just as much as he liked the soft and if this was how James wanted to turn off his brain, Raylan had no arguments.
"You suggestin' I shoulda taken my boots off," he husks after their kiss breaks, hands pulling and tugging until his shirt is off and tossed to the side, ironically near Pumpkin, who gave them both a Look before getting comfortable for his round two of naps.
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He'll push back onto his knees to help Raylan pull off his boots and he'll toss them to the floor as Raylan tugs his shirt off the rest of the way. His fingers hook in his jeans next to tug them down and off quickly leaving the other naked and spread out under him on the couch. He unzips and undoes his own jeans before bending down to capture Raylan's lips again for a deep, hungry kiss of tongue and teeth. He breaks as his lips wander down Raylan's throat to nip at his pulse. One hand remains, bracing his weight, while the other wraps around Raylan's cock to start stroking him from base to tip.
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He pushes James's jeans down as far as he could, one palm moving around to greedily wrap around James's cock, stroking him in time with James's pump. His free hand slides up and over James's shoulder, shifting so it can curl around the nape of his neck and hold him as they moved.
Raylan knew better than to talk; this wasn't about talking or any of the praise he had stored away - James looked very good in jeans and Raylan should tell him - this was about the physicality of it all taking over. Brains shutting off for a moment for carnal lust and need.
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It's not enough and with a snarl he's pulling back so he can grope at the table for the little hidden drawer. He'll get it open to get the lube out they've got tucked away, glad for it when he doesn't want to pull away from Raylan for even a second.
He'll pour some lube out over his length to let Raylan work it in with his stroking, moaning louder at the feeling. He'll squeeze a good amount onto his fingers so he can reach down between them and rub his slicked digits at his backdoor. He's not going to be patient enough to properly prep Raylan but he's pressing in and scissoring two fingers to loosen him up some.
He kisses Raylan again with some heat and hunger, before pulling away and sliding out of his fist to line his cock up at his entrance and push himself into him with something eager and rough in the taking. He breaks to huff, and grunt as he works himself into the base. One hand gripping Raylan's thigh, the other digging into the arm of the couch to brace himself. He's panting hard before he even starts to fuck Raylan. Knowing damn well they should probably have a towel down or something, but he's not thinking straight. He's moving with his need and lust, wanting to slake something primal in himself.
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If this is what happened every time James got into a fight like this, Raylan might have to stop him less often.
It was pornographic, the way James looked, thrusting into his now slick hand as he pours that lube and Raylan can't help huffing a breath of laughter that slipped into a moan at the digits pressing against him. It was amazing to think that his body was more used to this now, to take the invasion so easily, to be so willing to spread and loosen for his lover. Raylan hums low in the back of his throat at the hungry kiss, leaning up into it and tongue wrestling back, panting softly as James pulls back.
There's no helping the moan that's half hitched, caught in the back of his throat as James so delectably shoves himself in, narrowing Raylan's world down sharply to just them. He wraps his slick hand around James's propping arm in preparation for what his everything told him was coming. A hard and welcome fucking, and he wanted a little leverage to help keep James from fucking him over and off the arm of the couch.
NSFW Gifs in links
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He grunts out another breath as James bends him, moaning tightly again, louder than before when James starts slamming properly, hand grabbing at James's arm as he struggles to find a breathing pace to match, to make him feel like he was getting a full breath between his whoreish sounds. The Captain did good work, Raylan's chest pinpricking with sweat as he caved to his needs, hand slipping from James's arm to reach between them and stroke his cock, panting as he's used. He wanted to cum with James and so held out, keeping his strokes long and slow and torturous in its juxtaposition of James's sweet abuse.
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He's lost in it for a moment, bent, trembling, barely holding himself up as his mind washes out blank and white hot. The euphoria swells and his mind is quiet and empty. It's a few heartbeats before his vision comes back and he can focus on the man under him as they pant and vibrate together. It takes him a minute to realize he should make sure his lover has come, looking down to be sure Raylan finished before gently unwinding his lanky limbs so they can lay together in a little more comfort when he pulls out and collapses onto him with a sated sigh.