[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.]
[Collins was doing very well for himself to start - Raylan didn't fight the push back, hands creeping over Collins hips anyway, fingers pushing under the waistbands in the hopes of encouraging them to drop by the virtue of gravity alone. For a few seconds there, as Collins is lilting and honestly amazing accent in his ear and following it with hands that Raylan could appreciate, he thought that maybe he had found a lull in the roar of this all. He could be okay with this.
Then the Irishman struck, breaking his nose with a sickening crunch and making Raylan's eyes water as blood starts gushing, only to stop as - body bending over the fist in his stomach as his breath leaves him - his nose glows with a divine light, break being undone by forces that weren't anywhere around. The magic did fuck all for his wind being stolen and one hand flies back up to grab Collins's pushing hand's wrist, back into that iron grip. His other only manages to grab at Collins's forearm, short nails digging into the flesh as he aims to stop the man.]
[It wasn't the lawman's hands that stopped Collins from continuing his endeavor. It was the sight of the magical glow that made him pause. That made his blood boil in uncontrollable anger.]
Fuckin' magic. [His growl was so vehement that spittle flew.] You just another witch, lawman? Or are you in bed with one?
[He watched as the blood flow stopped before it had truly even begun and it was that victory taken from him that made his anger rise. Instead of some sweet melody the percussion beat heavily in his head and he wanted to make this man bleed again. Make him bleed till he couldn't anymore.
He ripped his hand away from the lawman's body and circled his arm till the hand at his forearm lost its grip and then he went for the lawman's throat.]
[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.
Instead, he curbed his predilections in favor of another kind of desire. One that had a reward at the end instead of another enemy while on board this damned boat. His hands curled aggressively around Raylan's hips, fingers digging into the flesh hard enough to leave bruises. He could only hold back so much.]
Patience, bull. You get what I want you ta get, when I give it to ya.
[He finished with a pointed bite to the soft spot just behind the jaw and close to the ear where he'd whispered his words. He didn't linger too long to taste if he broke the skin this time and instead moved to attack the lawman's mouth in rapacious fervor. Only a distraction as one of his hands relinquished its hold and moved to grasp the lawman's cock.]
[Collins was doing very well for himself - Raylan didn't fight the push back, hands creeping over Collins hips anyway, fingers pushing under the waistbands in the hopes of encouraging them to drop by the virtue of gravity alone. As Collins is lilting and honestly amazing accent in his ear and following it with hands that Raylan could appreciate even as he knew he'd feel the pads of Collins grip on his bones long after this was over, he starts to think that maybe he had found a lull in the roar of this all and his brain flits through images of Collins bending him over the desk table next to them, hand fisted in Raylan's hair, Collins holding his wrists with a belt around his neck-]
Wanna see you- [Is all that Raylan got out before Collins interrupted him to send a whole new twist down his spine. For all the masculinity that he had, for as much as he put up behind that to dare people into taking him as anything else, the idea of someone else calling the shots in this way, the idea of riding a very dangerous edge that terrified him and thrilled him at the same time - nothing can happen except a little shame, in the end. Raylan inhales sharply at the bite, meeting the crash of lips and furious lust with the same heat he was given, cock twitching into the touch as his hips lean forward encouragingly.]
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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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Then the Irishman struck, breaking his nose with a sickening crunch and making Raylan's eyes water as blood starts gushing, only to stop as - body bending over the fist in his stomach as his breath leaves him - his nose glows with a divine light, break being undone by forces that weren't anywhere around. The magic did fuck all for his wind being stolen and one hand flies back up to grab Collins's pushing hand's wrist, back into that iron grip. His other only manages to grab at Collins's forearm, short nails digging into the flesh as he aims to stop the man.]
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Fuckin' magic. [His growl was so vehement that spittle flew.] You just another witch, lawman? Or are you in bed with one?
[He watched as the blood flow stopped before it had truly even begun and it was that victory taken from him that made his anger rise. Instead of some sweet melody the percussion beat heavily in his head and he wanted to make this man bleed again. Make him bleed till he couldn't anymore.
He ripped his hand away from the lawman's body and circled his arm till the hand at his forearm lost its grip and then he went for the lawman's throat.]
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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.
Instead, he curbed his predilections in favor of another kind of desire. One that had a reward at the end instead of another enemy while on board this damned boat. His hands curled aggressively around Raylan's hips, fingers digging into the flesh hard enough to leave bruises. He could only hold back so much.]
Patience, bull. You get what I want you ta get, when I give it to ya.
[He finished with a pointed bite to the soft spot just behind the jaw and close to the ear where he'd whispered his words. He didn't linger too long to taste if he broke the skin this time and instead moved to attack the lawman's mouth in rapacious fervor. Only a distraction as one of his hands relinquished its hold and moved to grasp the lawman's cock.]
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Wanna see you- [Is all that Raylan got out before Collins interrupted him to send a whole new twist down his spine. For all the masculinity that he had, for as much as he put up behind that to dare people into taking him as anything else, the idea of someone else calling the shots in this way, the idea of riding a very dangerous edge that terrified him and thrilled him at the same time - nothing can happen except a little shame, in the end. Raylan inhales sharply at the bite, meeting the crash of lips and furious lust with the same heat he was given, cock twitching into the touch as his hips lean forward encouragingly.]