abrightboy | The Lengths That I Would Go To

Entry tags:

The Lengths That I Would Go To

The killer was moving around the country. Malcolm Bright could see the pattern, but he wasn't working for the FBI these days and they weren't exactly taking his calls. Short sighted of them, but they did fire him on suspicion of being crazy. The NYPD's jurisdiction was New York. With the killer beyond its borders, they handed it upwards and left it at that.

Let it go, Bright, had been Gil's sage advice. You can't catch every killer in America single-handedly.

Challenge accepted, some part of him retorted, though he'd only nodded mutely and forced a smile. Gil knew he hadn't simply let it go, but he wasn't going to have him followed to stop him doing anything stupid, either. He didn't have the will or the resources to keep tabs on Malcolm Bright 24/7 and Malcolm Bright knew it.

His mother, on the other hand, had extensive resources, so he simply didn't tell her he was leaving town. He did arrange for Ainsley to feed his bird, so the truth would come out eventually, but he'd be several states away by then.

He rode the bus. There was something oddly comforting about the anonymity of being in a crowd of strangers who had no interest in him whatsoever. He stared out the window and watched the country go by. When he stepped off the Greyhound in Lexington, Kentucky, he walked to a nearby hotel and checked in, then headed straight to the US Marshals office. There was no point in trying to talk to the FBI. If he was going to stop a killer from killing again, he needed someone in law enforcement to listen to him. The pattern suggested the next murder would happen in one of the rural communities around Lexington and it would be precipitated by a young woman's disappearance. He needed law enforcement with local knowledge, specifically.

He wandered into the Marshals' offices in a tidy three piece suit, charcoal grey with a burgundy tie perfectly knotted at his collar. He got a few suspicious sidelong glances but nobody asked if they could help him. He cleared his throat.

"Um, hello? I'm wondering if there's anyone here I can talk to about murder." He held up his hands. "Stopping murder, specifically, not... like... smalltalk."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

Yes, right - Raylan was used to one button and a zipper, but once he got past the first two, he could go back to kissing Malcolm like he was starved for him and let his hands take back over. Pushing Malcolm's pants down and kicking off his own, Raylan didn't hesitate in pulling them together with a sharp inhale through their kiss at the rush of skin on skin, his hands taking to enjoying the unbroken swath of Malcolm's back and ass for a long moment.

With a shake to his breath, Raylan's right hand drifted forward, running the backs of his fingers across the front of Malcolm's hip before moving almost indulgently slow down his legs. God, he was soft in all the best ways and firm in all of them too.

In the time it took Malcolm's trousers and underwear to hit the floor in a pool around his feet, he'd already forgotten about them. If he tried to take a step, he'd probably trip over them. For the time being, though, he was content to let his fingers wander down the lean ridges of Raylan's chest and stomach. As Raylan's hand shifted around Malcolm's hip and lingered there, Malcolm glanced up at Raylan's face, checking in before proceeding.

"Okay?" he murmured.

Just to make sure.

This time, Raylan needed the brief break from Malcolm's lips and the heady heat of their kiss, hazel eyes staying low as he looked over the angles of Malcolm's neck, the definition of his chest and the cut of his hips. His fingers drifted up and down over that long patch of Malcolm's skin, throat bobbing with a faint lift of his chin as he swallowed thickly again.

Nodding mutely, Raylan finally lifted his still hungry gaze back up to meet Malcolm's, wanting to watch the reaction of his wandering knuckles as the vertical path took to a horizontal one, unfamiliar fingers drifting into the soft hair to find and drift up Malcolm's cock, half touching his own as he went.

"Tell me if I do somethin' wrong," he said, words only managing to get through the tightness in his throat.

Malcolm's eyelid fluttered at the contact and he sucked in a breath.

"You...you can't really do anything... wrong," he said breathlessly.

He took Raylan's hand.

"Here, let me show you something..." he said softly, wrapping Raylan's hand around both their cocks, then his own hand over top of it, guiding it in a slow, experimental stroke and then another.

He looked up at Raylan's face.

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.

He met those lips with a messy enthusiasm. Raylan seemed to have a handle on things, as it were, so Malcolm slid his hand up over his hip and around to his ass, then up the small of his back, his other hand resting on the firm contours of his chest.

Raylan's fist moved steadily, gaining a sense for so much in one hand and keeping the pressure on the lighter side - there was nothing great about friction burns, but right now it and every other touch they were sharing was too good to stop just yet. Malcolm's hand on the small of his back made Raylan struggle between wanting to be right against him and wanting to keep exploring their combined shape, earning him a nice curve of Raylan's body as he balanced that out.

With a subtle shiver, Raylan broke the kiss but there was no chance of him going anywhere or too far away from Malcolm's lips. "You're gonna have to bring out whatever fancy liquid silk passes for lotion. If being a teenager taught me anything." The streak of precum that had been slick a few pumps before had already dissipated and he wanted to enjoy this to it's fullest.

"Oh right," he panted, swallowing hard. His lack of preparation for this was coming into view: he had not been expecting to get laid. "Bathroom." He glanced over his shoulder. It was so far away.

It was a full agonizingly delightful pump of his hand around them before Raylan was pulling Malcolm forward a little, kissing him with the same kind of easy hot passion he was touching them with before almost gently disengaging as he sat his weight as bare ass back onto the couch arm.

"Better that you go get it," he said, trying to be sultry with a little peek of a grin. "I wanna enjoy the view."

"Hm?" For the briefest second, Malcolm thought he meant out the window, but he was too embarrassed to say so. "Oh. Right." He stepped back a few steps, then - with the heat of Raylan's body fading on him - he turned and padded into the bathroom, riffled through a drawer, and then headed back. He paused as he was passing the kitchen island, picking up Raylan's new hat and putting it on his head. It was a little big, but it sat okay on him, though he was keenly aware he couldn't possibly look as dashing in it as its owner did. He picked up the front affirmation card from its holder and started walking again as he read it.

"I am the architect of my life; I build its foundation and choose its contents." With a faint shrug that was mostly in his face, he tossed it over his shoulder. "Sounds sensible to me." He tossed the tube in his other hand to Raylan before he reached him.

And what a view it was. Raylan watched the very shapely man with a new appreciation as he rolled himself to lean against the back of the couch, and wasn't able to think about anything other than the yoga Malcolm did in the mornings. He'd worked for such a nice ass.

The sudden snatch up of his hat made Raylan crack a broader grin that rolled into a chuckle at the somehow haughty, perfectly New York way Malcolm moved wearing nothing but his hat and the unbothered way he read and flicked away the daily affirmation card. If he didn't know better, Malcolm could have been completely clothed and walking down the street, perfectly at ease with his own everything.

Raylan caught the bottle as he stood back to full height, appraising the hat. "Could do with a size smaller for ya," he admitted, tilting his head a little to push the brim up with a single finger and bring the rest of Malcolm's face into view. "But it doesn't look bad. Even if I can still see you in a suit wearin' it."

Still grinning, he lifted it off Malcolm's head and put it on his own, complete with the little flick of his head needed to get his sex mussed hair under it and not out the sides. "C'mere," he said, off hand free now to slide back over Malcolm's hip. "Let's sit down." Moving around to the front of the couch, Raylan dropped the bottle on the leather next to him before he sat himself, hands eager to receive Malcolm's weight and pick up where they left off.

Malcolm slid into Raylan's lap, a knee on each side of his hips, giving them a little squeeze with his legs as his hands slid up over his shoulders and over the back of the couch so he could lean in and kiss him again without dislodging his hat.

Definitely more dashing on its owner.

Raylan lifted his chin a little, lips curling as Malcolm slid over him and his own spreading up and over Malcolm's legs before curing around the high of his ass and around the small of his back. The kiss nudged the hat back a little on Raylan's head anyway but not near enough to knock it off.

He let his hands wander lazily in their kiss until it deepened again, stirring his need back into the forefront. His right came around to brush up Malcolm's stomach and chest before coming back down to collect their cocks in one hand. Reluctantly, his left hand left Malcolm's hip to draw the cold lotion bottle against the man's leg. The click of the lid opening would have felt like it echoed if it weren't for their heavy breaths filling the apartment.

Malcolm closed his eyes for a moment as the bottle touched his skin, letting his head fall back as his breath came fast and shallow, lifting suddenly at the pop of the cap. The anticipation of sensation was its own delicious brand of overwhelming.

There was something amazingly hot about that drop back of Malcolm's head, and Raylan was almost reluctant to look down so he could make as little as mess as possible, hissing with a soft breath at the contrast of temperatures and groaning tightly from the back of his throat at the new level of slickness around them. With that help, Raylan could pump them a little more quickly in a tighter fist. With a click of the lid and his free hand, Raylan reached up for Malcolm, pulling him back down into a hungry kiss as his hand worked their lengths.

Malcolm gasped at Raylan's grip, the heat of Raylan's cock and Raylan's hand against the cool of the lotion on his skin and as his mouth met Raylan's again, a gutteral, needy sound broke from his throat.

His strokes weren't frantic or meant to race them towards any edge, and he kept them evenly measured as he turned his hand a little with some of his strokes, letting their tips push through the ring of his fingers together. He was nothing if not attentive, even to himself. There was a lot more here to enjoy than the happy ending.

He couldn't bring himself to break the kiss yet but when it finally did, Raylan slid his hand down Malcolm's neck, thumb brushing along his collarbone and the inner edge of his throat as dark unwavering eyes watched him in all his short breathed, needy glory.

Malcolm's pupils were blown with pleasure and he couldn't help bucking his hips against Raylan's hand just a little, his hands sliding down his shoulders and back up and across them, meeting his gaze and holding it.

Raylan kept his pace, dark eyes locked on Malcolm's too blue ones, no mind give to what, technically they were doing, and more to what he was feeling.

"Part of me has wanted to kiss you to lookin' just like that since the first night you spent with me," he admitted roughly, stomach jerking slightly at the buck of Malcolm's hips. That's what he wanted, the taste for it somehow left on his tongue without a kiss to put it there.

Malcolm was, quite frankly, undone. His hair was tousled and starting to fall in his eyes with each restless motion. Kiss bruised and giddy in the light of affection and touch. The reveal surprised him.

"Really?" he gasped breathlessly. "...I wouldn't have guessed." And he was pretty good at reading people.

But maybe not about that. He didn't assume anyone was interested in him like that. He didn't think he brought a lot to the table that people would want on the table.

"Then I'm doin' my job," Raylan managed, hand still moving and his own hips lifting into the motion now as his free hand gripped at Malcolm's waist, too aware of the hat that sat back on his head. He'd already said so much, he didn't doubt that Malcolm understood, but the slip had been a deep secret of his that was only appropriate to share now. Else, never.

Malcolm deserved to feel attractive and loved and wanted and Raylan knew full well what to do with those sympathetic feelings; jar them like Helen's preserves and put them on some back shelf to be forgotten about.

With a rough grunt of a breath, Raylan slid his hand back around Malcolm's neck and pulled him down, happier to busy those pretty lips wit something other than self doubt.

In light of Raylan's confession, there was something more profound in the kiss when their lips met again, and Malcolm pressed closer to Raylan, wanting more contact, wanting more of Raylan's warmth, his fingers moving up his chest to his shoulders before he slid his arms around Raylan's neck.

When the kiss broke, Malcolm's face was still close to Raylan's, searching it and studying it. Raylan was classically handsome. Tall and lean and dangerous. He must have been able to have anyone he wanted.

Why Malcolm, if it wasn't just proximity? He wasn't going to question it too closely. It felt nice to be wanted. It felt nice to be wanted by someone who knew he had problems and was okay with it.

Questions that would be better asked in the light of day, if Raylan had been allowed to have an opinion of it, but Malcolm was still here, a fraction of a way away from his face, looking like he could see right through all the walls that Raylan had slammed up long ago. Raylan's off hand drifted up Malcolm's back, keeping him close in his lean so that he could steal a brief kiss when he wanted.

The slide of Malcolm's arms was just enough to dislodge the already stressed tilt of Raylan's hat, sending it tumbling to the floor, but Raylan didn't care and wouldn't let Malcolm leave him any fraction for it.

Why? Raylan didn't know. Why had he taken that chance with some fractured guy who related too closely with him? Later Raylan would come around to the quick escape that his leaving allowed him being the biggest relief, but Malcolm would be one to haunt regardless, even if this never happened again. Raylan met Malcolm's gaze with a unique intensity that had no shame, despite his situation in all of it.

Malcolm met each stolen kiss enthusiastically, until he felt his climax nearing and he gasped, clutching Raylan's shoulder, a little concerned about disappointing him.

But it had been a while. He wasn't sure he had it in him to hold on much longer.

"Raylan..." he breathed in warning.

"What," he breathed, stealing another kiss as his hand moved a little more quickly, wanting more to see Malcolm succumb to primalism than be any type of cruel kindness, and feeling his own climax coil at the small of his back.

"It's okay," he assured with a rumble of his timber coming with the tightness of his own orgasm, edging there, waiting for the Malcolm's release before he indulged himself. He didn't think Malcolm needed the reassurance, but he kind of did, even if it was for himself.

Edited 2020-04-22 02:37 (UTC)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject