Grunting out a rough note, Raylan's hips lifted into the shifting weight and rewarded Malcolm for his movement by going back to his tighter, lazy stroke as his head tipped back to accomedate his kisses. He liked being touched as much as he liked touching and while Raylan had never been really affection starved, emotionally or physically, he'd never been needy quite as mindlessly as he was with Malcolm.

It was a new level.

"Yeah. Maybe not a 55 gallon drum but." The next breath he let out was just as throaty as his off hand slipped away from Malcolm's throat to around the back of his head. As tired as he was, there was no way in hell he was rushing this. He was going to soak up every second and drop of Malcolm's attention and affection.