Malcolm Bright

Raylan drank it in, following with his own load and a slight curl of his lips in raw high as he felt them both throbbing with afterthrows in his palms, his hips jutting a little with each pulse of sensation. The edge being satisfied allowed him to overlook the too familiar feeling of cum being on his chest; that too, he could handle.

Being 17 once had it's perk, after all.

He milked them for a second before gingerly pulling his hand away, not wanting to hit that too pleasurable high string of over sensation, and pulled Malcolm back into a much less aggressively needy kiss. Raylan could linger now, in the afterglow of it all, with a little less need for unfettered boldness to get him through.