abrightboy | No One's Born Broken

Malcolm nodded.

"That's fair," he conceded. "But... for the record... if you ever want to ask me anything...... I want you to feel like you can ask."

Raylan nodded. "I do. I have. I am," he said, gesturing with each statement. He shifted in his seat a little as he continued. "You've spent your whole life listening to what other people think is best for you. I do not aim to be counted in their ranks. I'm not here to tell you how to live or deal with whats in your head." He was here to help.

And that's all he wanted to do. Not impose some false idea of reality on will alone. That would only be more damaging.

Malcolm looked utterly charmed for a moment, blinked and looked like he was going to say something, then didn't, then looked at Raylan.

"You noticed that, huh?" he said with a huff of a laugh, fingers fidgeting with his glass.

"Kinda hard not to, after being around a few times. I don't hear much choice in your stories. You got one choice and you made it, and it was the right one. And then.. all that was.. taken over and it doesn't.." Raylan looked over with a heavy breath. It didn't seem like Malcolm had been given much choice back.

"Like I said before. You're strong as hell to have accomplished what you have over everything else." Raylan chased the words and the still twisted feeling in his chest back down with a wash of bourbon.

Malcolm wasn't accustomed to being described as 'strong'. It was implied by Gil sometimes. With most people, the gist was 'clever but mentally frail'.

He watched Raylan's face for a moment, then got up, abandoning about a finger of bourbon and half a bowl of soup to walk around the table and straddle Raylan's lap, sliding his arms around the Marshal's neck and pressing a lingering kiss to his mouth before burying his face in the crook of his neck.

"Here's another choice of mine," he murmured into Raylan's skin.

Raylan watched Malcolm and his face as he processed that and set his glass off to the side on the table as Malcolm slid over him, freeing his hands to wrap them around Malcolm's back and kiss him back with a soft inhale of breath.

When Malcolm tucked his head into Raylan's neck, he rested his head's weight on him gently as he sighed again as he absorbed the comforting weight and warmth.

"I can get behind this one too," he murmured back. "I just wanna see you happy. Whatever that looks like."

"Everybody tells me that. When they want me to do something I don't want to do," like go on vacation, like eat more food, like not working so much, "when they're breaking up with me...." He lifted his head and looked Raylan in the eye. "You actually make me happy."

He nodded with a slight movement as Malcolm talked. He knew. It was part of the reason he wanted to prove Malcolm wrong in it. Just in a singular human instance. Even if it was just him holding to a more true sentiment of the statement.

The confirmation that he made Malcolm happy made Raylan smile crookedly, stupidly, and reach out to pull Malcolm back into a kiss. They were circling around It again, even if Malcolm didn't realize and Raylan knew it was going to be hard to keep that promise of cementing how he felt in an inarguable way pressed down and hidden.

"Good. Just keep me up on how I'm doin'. Don't let me start slippin'."

Malcolm smiled broadly at that.

"I don't know; you seem like an Ever Vigilant kind of guy, but I'll hold you to the high standard you've set," he teased, running his fingers down along Raylan's neck to fidget at the strap of his undershirt.

His eyes lingered there a moment, then he raised them back to Raylan's face. "It's late. Take me to bed."

Raylan smiled crookedly in return, teeth not quite peeking out from the scant break in his lips and he glanced down at the fingers fussing with the strap of his shirt, sharply aware of the heat that it started to coil low in his stomach. When he met Malcolm's gaze again, the smile broke into a grin at the question and Raylan leaned forward to kiss him again.

"That I can do," he muttered against Malcolm's lips as he half lifted, half guided Malcolm off his lap and to his feet. If he were stronger, he would have just scooped Malcolm up and carried him to the bed but frankly, Malcolm was mostly muscle and a little heavier than Raylan had expected the first time. But instead, Raylan pulled Malcolm's shirt from his trousers so he could spread his hands over the smooth hot skin underneath, using the lean of his weight to guide them towards the big bed that Malcolm had gotten with the room.

"That you can do," Malcolm agreed heartily, smiling into the next kiss, letting himself be backed into the bedroom and towards the bed as his hands tugged Raylan's undershirt up from the waist.

What Malcolm knew objectively: sex had never, in his life, been as good as it was with Raylan. What Malcolm suspected: that only partly had to do with Raylan's level of experience and had largely to do with how wrapped up in him Malcolm's emotions were. Raylan's touch felt like love and it made everything so much more potent.

He pushed the undershirt up his body and let the kiss break as they got to the bed so he could pull it off over his head and toss it aside.

Humming a rough note of approval at Malcolm's hands moving up his body, Raylan lifted his arm so the shirt could be discarded before he started tugging Malcolm's tie open so he could get to the buttons underneath while he stole Malcolm's lips for another needy kiss.

Raylan knew what he was doing; he was pouring all his feelings into every touch and caress, hungry for what he had and more. Everything he couldn't ask for yet. Everything he needed.

The kiss broke with a heavy breath as Raylan fought with the last few buttons so he could push Malcolm's shirt off. "I don't know if you thought to bring any.. supplies with you, but if not, hotel lotion isn't that bad," he muttered, hands coming down to Malcolm's belt.

"Of course I brought supplies," he breathed. "I was coming to see you."

And considering keeping his hands off of Raylan once they were alone somewhere was not something that would ever cross his mind.

"More than a single use worth," he added with a smile. "I have a few days here, you know," he informed him happily as he worked Raylan's belt open. He looked up at his face. "I have to stock up on you."

Raylan's terminology and so appropriate, though he never seemed to 'stock up' on enough to keep him from feeling inconsolably lonely once they were separated again.

Once he got Raylan's jeans open, he moved reluctantly away from him, stepping out of the bedroom to drag his bag inside the doorway and riffle through it, finding the tube under his clothes and tossing it to Raylan before returning to push his pants down over his hips, even as he leaned up into a new kiss.

The answer made Raylan's everything twitch a little. It shouldn't have been a surprise, it almost wasn't, but it was incredibly hot to hear. He, himself, had stopped really thinking about it, still dealing and overcoming accepting doing it at all with such raw, unguilty pleasure, so the news that Malcolm planned was heady.

Enough so that Raylan almost followed him, just to not stop touching. But the brief break allowed him to toe off his boots and socks in time to catch the bottle of lube, free hand already eager to slip around Malcolm as he leaned down into the kiss. The bottle was tossed up onto the bed for the moment so he could hold onto Malcolm, shuffling out of his jeans before doing much the same to the smaller man, greedy to pull them onto the bed.

Malcolm had hopes the first time he visited after the gala night. This particular preparation could definitely be called a plan.

He laughed in delight as they tumbled onto the bed, quickly claiming Raylan's mouth for another kiss, one arm pinned under Raylan while the other hand reached up to touch his face as they kissed.

"Of course, once we have an apartment here," he noted breathlessly, "it'll have its own supplies..."

His lips curled into a smile as as their lips met, free hand spreading up Malcolm's shoulder as he rolled onto his back, bringing Malcolm with him and freeing both their trapped arms. He hummed again as the kiss broke, smiling again as Malcolm continued.

"Reinforced wall straps and everything. We're gonna need soundproofin' for other things." Like the way he was enjoying the curve of Malcolm's hips meeting his ass meeting his legs and all the firm muscle underneath it. "And a discreet way to get more lube," he finished lifting up kiss him again as one hand came in and up Malcolm's chest. "Cause you got me wantin' to do a lotta things," he murmured against his lips as his hand wandered back down and between Malcolm's legs to teasingly stroke him.

Malcolm squirmed with need under his hands, pushing his hips into that stroke.

"What sorts of things?" he asked roughly before claiming a particularly hungry kiss. "Because I can get the lube," he promised, kissing him again.

"Like teasing you," he half growled in pleasure into the kisses as his grip loosened to just a ghosting of his palm in the stroke as his off hand moved up Malcolm's side, fingers dancing at the side of his throat as Raylan kept his lean up into it to bite softly at Malcolm's lips when they dared leave.

"See if I can't blow your mind without touchin' your cock at all. Just because of me inside you." He was grateful for the closeness; he could hide his slight embarrassment at being so vulgar and open about what he wanted to do. But he was still a guy and he sank into dirty, dirty ideas when he was revved up. If Malcolm was anyone else, or a woman, he'd be more inclined to just.. do them.

But he didn't want to do something that would send Malcolm into a flashback or something - there was so much violence and mental abuse, Raylan didn't want anything about this to connect to that. He couldn't handle being the cause of that.

What he got was a pleased curl of Malcolm's mouth at the notion. One of life's small mercies - or fairly large mercies, even - was that, with all the abuse he'd taken, he'd never been sexually abused. It was possibly one of the areas of life least like a minefield.

The notion that Raylan got dirty ideas about him was arousing as hell. Not only because he was so breathtakingly hot - he was - but because he hadn't been completely sure of his comfort level in even being with a man when they started this. For him to be comfortable enough to start growling dirty somethings in Malcolm's ear was a solid cinderblock in their foundation.

Malcolm shifted his weight to create some friction for Raylan, feeling him already hard against him and making sure that slid against his thigh when he moved.

"I'll make sure that apartment gets the big bottle of lube," he promised, lowering his head to nip and kiss along Raylan's jaw and then his throat.

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.

Malcolm had to pause at the 55 gallon drum remark. He was laughing too hard.

"I'm sorry," he said, burying his face in Raylan's chest, still laughing. "This isn't sexy, but I actually pictured the 55 gallon tub of lube in the corner of the bedroom." He looked up. "What do you do with something like that? Put a doily on top and call it a night stand?" he said, still laughing at the mental image.

Malcolm's laugher made Raylan grin and shrug with his face at the question.

"The answer oughta be obvious. Buy and blow up a kiddie pool and have college girls wrestle in it; sell tickets," he answered with a chuckle.

Malcolm grinned.

"Oh that's why they sell 55 gallon drums of high quality water based lubricant. We're going to be rich," he declared, pressing a kiss to Raylan's sternum right at the base of his throat, then continuing his trip along that line, letting his stomach graze Raylan's cock as he moved.

Raylan's laughter ended in a breath as Malcolm started moving, chin lifting up slightly, briefly before Malcolm started moving down. He was too hard, too ready, to not get some gratification as his hips lifted again into Malcolm's skin, not minding the skip of their skin together.

"Aren't you already rich? Or are you lookin' to be completin' with Bill Gates?" His accent got heavier the more into anything he was, and while his mind provided projected path data, he couldn't dare to hope to dream.

Malcolm looked up at him from the bottom of his ribcage.

"I don't know about Bill Gates. Maybe Ted Turner. We'll start a lube wrestling league, get our own pay-per-view channel..." He nipped just above Raylan's belly button. "Of course the college girls will be well compensated; we have to encourage higher education for women," he said matter-of-factly, wriggling down a little more. Wriggling wasn't, strictly, necessary but gave maximum friction.

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