abrightboy | No One's Born Broken

Malcolm tossed his shirt away, along with Raylan's undershirt, leaning down to kiss him, sliding his hands over Raylan's shoulders.

Straddling his hips, Malcolm slid his hands down Raylan's chest as he sat up and paused.

"...Is this a bullet hole?" he asked, running his finger over a divot there.

He hummed a rough note into the kiss as Malcolm's hands spread over his shoulders, his own moving across and around Malcolm's ribs as he sat up, only to settle briefly on his hips. His fingers had started to tug Malcolm's belt loose when the smaller man paused and fingered a familiar dent in his chest.

He bent his head to look down before letting it fall back. "Yeah. About a year, year and a half old now. Got unlucky.." Malcolm was sharp and well versed enough to deduce what Raylan might have suffered for it, so Raylan didn't bother elaborating. Pity and sympathy wasn't something he was used to, and that wouldn't ever change.

Malcolm leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss there, before continuing along the lean lines of his body to reach his belt, tugging it open, then his button and fly so he could start shimmying his pants down over his hips.

He knew how 'unlucky' could go. He'd been recently stabbed.

The kiss was sweet; more than, and plenty to convey all Malcolm needed it to. Raylan's fingers continued their task, tugging Malcolm's belt and button open before Malcolm was scooting back out of his reach. As his pants were being shimmied down, he was hastily toeing and kicking off his boots to make shucking his pants off easier.

Malcolm was crazy if he thought that Raylan was going to not reach for him back as soon as his pants were off.

Malcolm pushed his own pants off while he was there, then slid back up Raylan's body, his hand trailing up Raylan's ribs, eager to kiss him again now that they were properly entwined, skin to skin, his other hand threading up into Raylan's hair. As the kiss broke, he smiled warmly - happily - almost right against his mouth before kissing him again.

Everything was manageable when Raylan was with him. Everything.

He breathed out a little moan of satisfaction as Malcolm slid up against him again, just as eager to meet that kiss and wrap him back into the security of Raylan's arms. Raylan leaned into him as his hair was invaded and smiled back at the smile he felt against him, humming again as he sank back into the bed, bringing Malcolm with him.

Raylan's hands spread up over his thighs and hips, pulling him close as he breathed him in and enjoyed the warmth of skin. But the more they kissed, the more he was stirred and he hitched a rough sound as their cocks rubbed together, soliciting another lift of his hips.

Malcolm also gasped at that friction and, after another very thorough kiss, tore himself away from Raylan to rummage in the bedside table for lube. He practically pounced back into Raylan's arms, the tube clutched in his hand, for a heated kiss.

Raylan's everything followed Malcolm for a moment as he tore himself away and readily accepted the near pounce back onto him with a spread of his smile as he met the new kiss just as hungrily. He spread his hands up Malcolm's back pinning him momentarily against his chest before he relented, hands moving again over and down Malcolm's frame to grab his ass as they kissed.

Not in any rush, Raylan was taking his time and letting Malcolm drive the speed at which they moved.

Malcolm was wavering on a fine line between a sort of bliss and a sort of mania. He wanted to feel this instead of everything he felt in the hospital. He wanted to linger in the way Raylan's lightest touch made his heart full. He wanted to linger in feeling wanted. In feeling really loved, exactly the way he was, whether he could get better or not. In happiness. In the idea of an actual future that seemed increasingly tangible if still infuriatingly far away.

His need was almost desperate in the way he pressed against Raylan as he kissed him, how he responded to his touch, every noise that he couldn't help from the back of his throat, how he clutched the tube he hadn't opened yet because he was already overwhelmed, but he still wanted that too.

The kiss broke and he lifted his head to look at Raylan's face, his gaze wandering it tenderly, his free hand coming up trail down his cheek, then to cup his jaw as he kissed him one more time before, already a little breathless, he sat up, shuffling back a little as he popped the tube open, spreading lube over Raylan's length.

He could sense the conflict, the undecided mania, and could only lean into it. Too soon he'd have to leave and go back to a place that he hated as much as he loved, in all it's complexities; go back to pretending that he was empty. Go back to being kept company by his gun and whiskey bottle instead of being warmed by Malcolm's affection.

Raylan was breathless too by the time the kiss broke, and his eyes searched Malcolm's with a hint of worry - had something happened? Was he okay? But the hand at his cheek and the way Malcolm looked at him eased those concerns and Raylan nipped at his lips as they kissed again, letting a little noise pull from his throat as Malcolm pulled back again.

Letting out an uneven shuddering breath as Malcolm's hand worked him, Raylan's stomach tightened and jumped as he involuntarily pressed himself up into the touch, and he kept his eyes on Malcolm, soaking in as much of him as he could in the moment.

After a few generously lubricated strokes, Malcolm squeezed a bead onto his fingers and reached back to apply it to himself, if only because you couldn't have too much. Then he tossed the tube aside, leaning down for a hungry kiss, then slowly working himself onto Raylan's cock, breathing out a deep breath as he settled him all the way in before he started moving in a slow but increasingly urgent rhythm, his eyes falling to Raylan's face.

Raylan moaned into the breaking kiss as Malcolm worked himself down, hips twitching as he resisted the urge to thrust, eyes fluttering before they half opened and locked on Malcolm's face to watch the passing pleasure of being fully seated. He moved his hands up, one tucking into where Malcolm's hip met his thigh, right hand moving up onto his ribs as they started moving, his own hips matching speed as he caught another sound behind his teeth.

"Fuck you feel good," he managed roughly, gaze finally breaking away to take in the rest of the image of Malcolm riding him.

Malcolm breathed out a smile at that, unable to keep himself from picking up the rhythm. He leaned forward, propping his hands on Raylan's shoulders, looking down into his face like he was soaking it up, his breath shallow and ragged.

After a moment, he sat up a little without breaking the rhythm, reaching down to stroke himself in time with them, ready to meet Raylan where he was at.

Despite what he might have wanted to do, his body was running on automatic, and he felt himself not just matching but pushing up into every thrust, more than eager to feel them together again and again.

As Malcolm sat back, Raylan groaned again, fingers denting into Malcolm's hips. God that was the best sight, watching Malcolm work himself without anything that followed him haunting his face, and maybe it was a bit of ego, but the fact that it was him driving the smaller man to distraction only made Raylan thrust harder.

He wasn't going to last long, and this time, it was Malcolm that got the warning, a rough cursing of his name before Raylan was unloading into him with a pinched face and a bowing body.

Better than distraction. Raylan had a net positive effect on him that beat the hell out of all the medication he'd been taking most of his life.

Raylan just managing to grunt his name before he came was some kind of magic. He let his head fall back as he rode it out, his own orgasm following messily onto Raylan's stomach as he stilled with a strangled sound, lingering there a moment until he felt he could get his legs under him again.

Still breathing a little heavily, he untangled himself from Raylan and padded to the bathroom, giving himself a quick wipe before returning with a warm, damp washcloth to gently clean Raylan up before tossing it onto the pants he'd previously discarded on the floor and crawling onto the bed to curl up alongside his lover.

He pressed kisses to Raylan's temple and cheekbone and jaw.

"How long do we have?" he murmured, burying his face in the crook of Raylan's neck.

Raylan was still breathless by the time that Malcolm curled up beside him, having meet all the little kisses with faint leans of his face into the affection and it was with a deep breath that he shifted to tangle himself back around Malcolm, legs and all. He pressed his face into Malcolm's hair to breathe in the faint prick of sex underneath the shampoo he'd used that morning.

'Hopelessly in love' would be how he'd later internally articulate it.

Humming softly, Raylan looked at his watch. "'Bout an hour if I'm bein' safe."

A long beat passed. "I don't wanna go," he whispered. He had to. He wanted to if only to get what he needed to get done, done and get back to this. "Let's just.." He sighed deeply. "Lay here for 85% of it. Give you somethin' to remember tonight when you wake up." Give him something to hold onto since Raylan couldn't be there himself.

But his tone said it all - stiff upper lip or something like that. There was no use in being childish and lounging in their misery; better to look at the silver linings, what few there were.

Malcolm lifted his head and looked at Raylan, again reaching up to lay fingertips along his face.

"I always think about things like this when I wake up by myself," he confessed. "Thinking about the sound of your voice helps me calm down."

He shifted his head so he could look down at Malcolm at the fingers on his cheek, oblivious to the slight double chin it gave him. "Yeah?" He shifted back. "Good. You can call me if you need too. I might not be completely coherent, but I can give you plenty of fresh voice. And hearin' you will be nice too."

He loved when they talked, anytime they talked. Even if it wasn't about anything important, he could close his eyes and pretend that Malcolm was there with him, bright eyes and complementary hand gestures and all.

"I'd like that," he said softly. He shifted to lean over Raylan's chest so he could reach to kiss him gently, then stayed there, looking down at him. "Thank you for being here. I don't know what kind of basketcase I'd be right now if I hadn't called you." A beat. "If I didn't have you to call."

Raylan hummed a little sound into the kiss, hands shifting with Malcolm for maximum contact, one drifting over his shoulder as the other settled at the midline of his back as he looked up at him just as softly.

"You would have found a way to get through it," Raylan promised quietly. "You're not weak or fragile when it comes to dealing with the shit life's thrown at you." He kept it firmly in the front of his mind that Malcolm had been on meds for twenty something years and survived everything without Raylan so far.. It kept his ego in check.

"But I'm glad I'm here too so you don't have to," he continued, off hand moving from his shoulder to slide around the side of his neck, thumb brushing out along Malcolm's jaw. "Anytime you need me." It was a solemn promise.

So few people gave him credit for inner strength, sometimes he defied the image of fragility just to be contrary and sometimes he almost started to believe it.

But he was to the point where, in some fashion, he always needed him.

'Miami Miami Miami' he told himself. It would come. They could survive this until then.

As the hour ticked over, Malcolm reluctantly got up off of Raylan, sliding to the edge of the bed to pick up clothes, handing Raylan's over; he didn't have any others.

When he got to the hastily discarded undershirt, he picked it up and looked at it for a moment before pulling it on himself, then went to his drawer and got out the clean one Raylan had given him and handed it over. Then he pulled out a pair of fresh sweatpants and tugged them on.

The people that saw it knew what it was. Malcolm was as strong as he was weak, a delightfully contrary soul that he was utterly unable to hide and he was as much a savior as a victim. Raylan could see how he wasn't everyone's cup of tea but that was only better for him, in the end.

He soaked in the hour of contact, the soft touches and little kisses and what little smiles he could get from Malcolm before sighing deeply as Malcolm pulled away. Just as recluctantly, Raylan sat up and slowly started getting dressed, lips quirking a little as he watched Malcolm straight up steal his shirt. It made his heart beat a little faster. He'd always liked seeing his lovers in his clothes, and they, for the most part, liked to steal them.

He didn't mind any he might have to replace.

Once he was put back together, tie loose around his neck as he double checked what little he'd brought with him before looking over at Malcolm.

"I don't think I've ever heard you be silent this long," he said, not having heart enough to even manage to make it sound teasing as he crossed the room to pull Malcolm up into his arms and into a kiss again. He kept it firm but chaste, full of heart and only a fraction of the heat that they both knew could be stirred.

"Remember. Any time you need," he said softly. "I'll see you soon, okay?"

Malcolm bit his lip and nodded, still clinging to him.

"I'll come down as soon as... I'll let you know what happens with Dr Whitly."

He let out a shaky breath and let go of Raylan.

"Text me when you land?" he asked, looking up at his face, managing to largely keep his own from crumbling.

He nodded back in return at Malcolm's answer and let him step back without stopping him.

"I will." Raylan stood there dumbly a moment before he turned around and headed towards the door, fingers fishing his keys out of his pocket as he collected and slid on his hat. He paused as he opened the door and looked back at Malcolm before offering him a soft, consoling smile and stepping out.

If he lingered, he wouldn't leave. If he didn't leave, he'd get called back and that would be worse. He'd have to explain why he hadn't come back.

The drive to the airport was the worst part of it all.

No One's Born Broken

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