errantechoes | (no subject)

Tim practically whined when Raylan pulled his hand away, mourning the loss of friction. He couldn't remember the last time he was this needy and desperate or the last time he was this fucking turned on. He groaned when Raylan's hand was on his cock again, and he brought his leg up higher, partially hooking it around Raylan's waist so he could rock their hips together with Raylan's hand in between.

The contact, even just against his own hand, made Raylan gasp. He pulled away from the kiss, head bowed as his hips moved, involuntarily grinding down against the deputy beneath him. The sensation was electric, shooting through him, lighting up all of that pent up desire that he'd so blatantly ignored since they'd started this. After a few breaths, he crushed his mouth against Tim's again, letting his fangs dig in hard against his lip this time.

Fangs sinking into his lip should not feel that damn good, but Tim let out a startled noise that was some mix of pleasure and pain against Raylan's mouth. The sharp pain part of it threw everything into a sudden focus for a moment, making him acutely aware of the bed against his back and his heart thumping hard in his chest and Raylan's weight against him before the soft pleasure part made everything fuzzy again. He clung to Raylan tighter to make sure he didn't try to pull away, rocking his hips up hard, groaning low in the back of his throat.

Raylan sucked at that lip, but it wasn't enough anymore. None of it was enough. He broke away from the kiss, his whole body moving against Tim's, lips falling back to his throat. Without delay, he found a new spot, a little higher than the first, his fangs sinking in again. Blindly, he reached for Tim's hand, grabbing him by the wrist and dragging it down between them. Trying to show what he wanted, before he started tugging at Tim's boxers, trying to get them out of the way.

Raylan was being rough and pushy and Tim loved it, craved more of it. It made him want to be pinned down and wake up with bruises. Fangs sinking into his neck sent his thoughts scattering, though. "Fuck, fuck," he groaned, tipping his head to bare more of his neck. He got Raylan's message loud and clear. Licking blood off his lips, he used both hands to blindly shove Raylan's jeans and boxers down, fingers wrapping around his cock once Tim had access to it. His grip was firm as he stroked, forcing himself to start out slow.

Those fingers felt far better than anything he'd ever expected, drawing a moan out of him as he inadvertently drove his fangs harder into Tim's neck. He was barely even drinking anymore, just focused on breathing. On the overwhelming sensations of that hand, of the movements beneath him, of the man's breathing and heartbeat, of how he smelled, how he tasted. He finally got Tim's boxers down enough to start returning the favor, stroking his cock firmly.

Tim gasped at the feeling of fangs digging harder into his skin, tapering the sound off into a needy whine at the end. He arched his hips up into Raylan's hand, panting and pushing for more. He twisted his wrist to a better angle, one that allowed him to start stroking faster. His mind was too hazy to really concentrate on pacing himself, and the rate they were going at wasn't even sort of fit for slow build ups anyway.

Focus wasn't even an option anymore. His bite wasn't even all that deep, a trickle of blood, and still he was spilling more than he actually swallowed. He dragged his tongue over the wounds, just making more of a mess. His hips bucked and rolled against Tim's hand, desperate and demanding. They'd had a slow, torturous build for months. That was over with, now. He could feel that heat building deep inside him, but it still wasn't enough. His own hand continued to work Tim over, stroking him with desperate urgency.

Tim shivered, and he didn't even care that it was getting messy, that the blood was getting sticky on his neck and probably spotting the bed under him in places, or that his mouth was still bleeding a little, leaving him with that taste of copper he had an unnatural fondness for. A combination of having been so awfully worked up even before Raylan had properly laid him down and how much the bite turned him on and Raylan's hand working him over so fucking nicely pushed him to the edge faster than he thought he'd ever gotten there before. It was long before moaning loud and coming hard, arching and clinging to Raylan with his free hand, the other one jerking his cock unsteadily.

When Tim's release collided with Raylan's senses, it damn near knocked him senseless, and certainly left him unable to breathe for a moment. Having denied himself any involvement with anyone since he'd been turned a few months ago, he hadn't been anticipating that. The very scent of it was enough to turn his mind to nothing but white-hot nothing. Perhaps it was because of that wallop to his senses, or maybe the sheer length of time he'd waited for this, but he barely got in a breath or two once his head somewhat cleared, and he was hit by his own release. A strangled groan tore out of his throat as he made his own mess. The white-hot sensation wasn't just in his head, it shot through every inch of his body, his hips bucking hard against Tim's hand.

Tim stroked Raylan through his orgasm, his grip becoming right and proper again once he finished working through his own. He still clung tight to him, not letting go until Raylan was finished. Only then did he relax into the bed. His leg dropped down from where it'd been hooked around Raylan's waist, and slowly, he let the arm he had been holding onto him with fall back down to his side. He was spent, eyes closed as he tried to catch his breath. Thankfully, the fuzzy feeling that came with being bitten hadn't worn off yet, so he couldn't bring himself to care or even particularly notice the wrecked sort of state he was in, with blood on his lips and neck and come smeared on his hand, which had since released Raylan's cock. He absolutely had zero intentions of moving for the time being.

Raylan practically melted down beside Tim. So much tension that usually kept him rigid as a board had finally been taken care of. Now he was pliable as a cat in the sun. That euphoria he'd so often felt after feeding was increased a hundred fold, leaving him in a blissful, warm place where thought wasn't allowed. He just pressed close to Tim, arm draped across his chest, more content than he'd been since he'd left Florida. He didn't seem to care he was a mess with blood still smeared over his chin.

No wonder people got hooked on this shit so fast. Tim couldn't remember the last time he felt this fucking relaxed. Certainly not since the army, and he couldn't ever imagine feeling this way when he was growing up, not with his daddy around. Even drinking himself to sleep didn't do this for him. He found that as soon as Raylan was pressed closed to him that he liked that, and he wanted Raylan closer. But the most he could muster the energy to do was shift so his temple was pressed against Raylan's hair.

Raylan wasn't thinking. Thinking would interrupt this feeling of warmth and comfort that was unlike anything he'd ever felt before. Without it being a conscious choice, he just let it all go and stay gone. And he was content stay right there, pressed against Tim's side, until some outside force acted upon him.

The high that came from the bite was great, better than any drug available, really. But it faded a lot faster that most drugs did, and even given how many times Tim had been bitten in such a short span, it wasn't too terribly long before he became aware enough to notice how messy and sticky he felt. He shifted, tucking an arm around Raylan's waist and pulling him closer. "I need to shower," he murmured.

Raylan made a sound of disapproval, just tightening his own arm around Tim. He would hold onto this feeling for as long as he possibly could. "Later," was all he said, a grumble against Tim's shoulder.

Tim smothered a smile against Raylan's hair. "You could come shower with me," he suggested. But even as he said it, he was shifting closer to Raylan, indicating he didn't actually plan on moving if Raylan didn't want him to.

Raylan just nuzzled as close as he could. He muttered something that, if listened to closely and by someone who knew him well enough to understand him might pick out the compelling argument of "Don't wanna." Mostly, he didn't want to get out of bed and lose this warm feeling.

It was compelling enough for Tim. He settled into the bed, against Raylan, letting his eyes slip closed. He knew even as he did so, that he was likely to doze, maybe actually fall asleep. That was okay, though, because there weren't many places he felt safer than in Raylan's presence. It was a lot like when they'd worked together, knowing Raylan had his back as much as he had Raylan's. There was something different about it now, and though he couldn't place what, it was comforting all the same.

Raylan so very much wanted this content little cloud to stay over them always. But like with all good things, it started fade far too soon. It started with subtle things, things that could be ignored. His shoulder getting sore from the position he was laying. Becoming aware of being sticky in sensitive areas. The less appealing scents of blood and sex as both started to dry. The smell of Tim, so close to him and the sound of his heartbeat. All reminders of what they'd done. What he'd done. And all at once he could hear the TV in the next room, and the traffic outside, and feel just how cold the room was. Finally, he muttered something about a shower as he pulled away. "Alone," was all he said clearly. He pushed out of the bed and headed for the bathroom.

Edited 2015-03-24 09:34 (UTC)

Tim hadn't fallen asleep, but his eyes were closed and he was quiet and content and comfortable. That is, until Raylan extracted himself from Tim's arms and retreated to the Bathroom of Solitude. God, he was exhausted, and not just from the sex or the blood loss or the way he was starting to crash from the high. He was mostly tired of Raylan, of the pushing and pulling and fighting that went with getting what he wanted. There were easier ways of getting this that didn't involve backing Raylan into a corner every time and letting himself get pushed away afterwards.

Finally, he pulled himself out of bed, straightened his clothes as he moved to examine himself in the mirror. He was almost startled by how wrecked he looked with blood smeared across his neck and mouth, pale and roughed up and strung out. He went about cleaning himself up the best he could, scrubbing the blood away with his sleeve until there were just two sets of puncture holes, one slightly neater than the other. By the time Raylan got out of the bathroom, Tim would be clipping his gun and badge back to his belt.

When Raylan emerged, his hair a damp mess from being towel dried, he was wearing only his boxers and undershirt, the rest of his clothes in his hands. The shower had given him time to clear his head, to push it all aside. Because he couldn't drag Tim into doing something like that again. Feeding on him was bad enough, but what they'd done? He'd crossed a line so far, he couldn't even see the line anymore. It was to the point that he fully expected to at least get berated for it. He knew full well what sleeping with CI could do, it worse than bedding a standard witness. And he hadn't really given Tim a chance in the matter. It could never happen again, and it was best if the never even talked about it.

"I think I saw a burger place down the road," he offered, knowing Tim would need to get something in his stomach soon. "I'll grab you something while you get cleaned up." He gestured back toward the bathroom. "Water pressure's shit, by the way."

The offer was tempting. Not just because he was way hungrier than he thought he was and a shower sounded fucking fantastic, but also the idea of staying close and letting himself be taken care of was appealing. Because it would've been easier for him to let Raylan keep doing this, pushing him away and letting him come back. It was harder to remove himself from it, to not fall back into the pattern. Raylan wasn't allowed to be a dick and then act like he cared.

Tim kept his back to him, spending way more time than necessary on getting his gun and badge adjusted comfortably on his hip. He ran his tongue along the inside of his lower lip, feeling it sting where Raylan had bitten him. "I'm fine," he said, and was so good at keeping his voice sounding as casual and unimpressed as usual. "I'll pick somethin' up on the way home and grab a shower there."

That surprised Raylan. He'd expected Tim to want to stick around for a while, if just to recover his strength. "Like hell you are," he scoffed. "Now sit your ass down." The last thing he needed was Tim dozing off at the wheel from blood loss making him sleepy. It was a long drive back to Lexington, pitch dark and full of hazards. He knew the drive well and could do it in a drunken haze if he had to, but Tim hadn't made the trek nearly as often.

There was a part of him, a large part, that wanted nothing more than to follow that order. He almost did, his fingers hesitating on his gun holster, tightening around it like he wanted to pull it back off. But he didn't, and he reached for his jacket instead, still not looking back. He knew if he did, whatever weak walls he'd managed to build up while Raylan was in the shower would come crumbling down. "Really, Raylan. I'm a big boy. I think I can see myself home."