Fuck, Malcolm was beautiful. Raylan had him pegged as an attractive type fellow when he'd ambled into the Lexington Marshal's offices and over their couple of cases and the time they'd spent together, Raylan figured he'd just about seen most of Malcolm's faces, from the manic enthusiasm to the chill profiler's calm with a knife to his throat, to the screaming terrified kid in a man's body that he had to many too many feelings about, but watching that flutter and the way Malcolm's shoulder's tensed with that inhale cemented the idea for all it was. This was going to be something that played a lot in Raylan's head, when he might allow it in the quiet moments of the rest of his life.

Letting Malcolm guide his hand, Raylan looked down and gently grabbed hold of their combined girth. This he could do. Every man knew how to handle himself and Raylan was sure that those baselines were pretty fucking universal. No, the weirdest part about it was the subtle throb of Malcolm's heartbeat that he could feel through his cock, that he was sure would vanish under more intense sensations later. His brow flicked in a pinch, mouth coming open a little before he bit at the back of his lip to keep it shut as his palm caught a bit of his own precum, adding a short but noticeable streak of slick against their skin.

When Raylan looked back to Malcolm, it was for nothing more than to note where he was so he could plant his lips appropriately back on Malcolm's.