The last thing Raylan wanted to do was treat Malcolm as fragile as everyone else did in an area that wasn't particularly insensitive and frankly, Malcolm was a tiny tank. Now that he knew what he was doing, Raylan was more sure of himself and eager to please.

He held Malcolm's gaze as his speed picked up, until he slipped his still slick hand between them to stroke Malcolm almost lazily, a contrast to the snapping of his hips. He loved those little noises, and worked for them.