Chapter Text
Tim was trying to figure out if he'd ever seen Raylan this drunk when he realized Raylan had never seen him this drunk. They were both talking loudly, laughing at lot, and couldn't stop grinning. Tim felt more content and comfortable than he had in a long time, and he was greatly enjoying Raylan's company.
Raylan and Tim had had the week from hell. First the two-day prisoner transport (which they both hate doing), then the hours-long foot chase through a swamp that ended with them returning empty-handed (and Art immediately screamed at them for coming back to the courthouse absolutely covered in mud and muck), then some botched paperwork (that was Raylan's fault) that led to even more paperwork trying to fix it (Tim did most of it), and then finally Raylan's current fling stormed into the courthouse to scream at him about something trivial in front of everyone... and then told him to fuck off and stormed off in a huff. (Art yelled at Raylan for that spectacle, so Raylan got yelled at twice in a span of a dozen minutes.) Tim would've found that last bit funny under normal circumstances, but after the week they'd had, he felt bad for his partner.
At least it was Friday.
When Raylan had returned to his desk after Art's scolding, Tim looked up at him and simply asked, "Drinks?"
Raylan immediately sighed, "God, yes. All of them."
Even though it wasn't quite quitting time, he'd grabbed his hat and jacket and headed for the elevators, with Tim close behind him. Both of them diligently ignored the pointed look Rachel shot at them.
They had gone to a bar near Raylan's apartment, figuring he would be the one to get too drunk to drive, as he'd just been dumped by his fling and yelled at by Art. Besides, Tim was fine with taking a cab if he followed suit. Raylan had dropped off his gun, holster, and badge at his apartment; Tim left his gun, holster, and badge locked in a small case in his SUV. They didn't want to tarnish the Marshal image if they got too drunk and Raylan made a scene.
Now, after two shared pitchers of beer and at least a couple (few) bourbons each, it was very clear neither of them would be driving anywhere.
Raylan was really enjoying seeing Tim drunk. He'd seen him tipsy before, but not so drunk he got silly. Tim's adorable, goofy grin was plastered on his face, and he was outright laughing at a lot of Raylan's jokes and stories. And his attention was solidly on Raylan. It had been for at least an hour. Raylan found himself warmed by this; he liked those intense (and fond) big blue eyes riveted on him. And so he was determined to keep his partner's attention solely on himself.
Raylan was dominating the conversation, telling funny (and somewhat embellished) stories about random work-related adventures from his time in Miami. These were interspersed with a few lighthearted stories from Tim about his Army days -- but he was sure to keep far away from anything heavier. Raylan was progressively getting more and more relaxed, both from the alcohol and from Tim's obvious comfortableness with him; his movements were looser, his gestures bigger, and his affection for Tim was clearly showing.
It was in the middle of one of Tim's stories -- this one about a running joke among his unit where they kept hiding one guy's possessions, and all playing innocent about it -- that Raylan forgot to hold his tongue. He had been fondly studying Tim as he spoke, and growing warmer and more content as he watched his partner. He loved watching Tim talk. Tim really didn't do that enough. It gave Raylan an excuse to unabashedly stare at him.
"God, your eyes are pretty," Raylan sighed contentedly, without totally meaning to say that out loud.
Tim froze in surprise. His eyebrows quirked up in the middle, and his crooked smile spread until he was grinning again. He chuckled, clearly a little thrown by Raylan's comment and not totally sure how to interpret it. If he were sober, he might have hidden his reaction better. "You flirtin' with me, cowboy?"
Raylan was looking at him intently. He was also smirking, but his eyelids were lowered a little, and not just from the alcohol. Well, fuck it. Raylan had opened this door; might as well see where it led. "Maybe." He didn't look away.
Tim was still smiling his crooked smile as he studied Raylan for several moments. He honestly couldn't tell if Raylan was teasing him, or if there was some element of truth there.
Raylan was still watching him with that charged look.
Tim broke eye contact as he reached for his beer. His smile was faltering. "Thought you didn't swing that way." He tried to make it sound like he was playing along with the joke. He took a long drink of his beer, still without looking back at his partner.
Raylan casually shrugged, and let his eyes wander around a little. The smirk was still on his lips. Tim looked back at him and gave him a look that clearly read, Oh, bullshit. Raylan met his eyes again, raised his eyebrows, and defiantly held Tim's gaze. After a moment, Tim underscored his reaction by saying it out loud: "Bullshit." Raylan didn't waver in his expression or with their eye contact, but he did quirk his lips slightly and shrug one shoulder again.
Tim pointedly sat back in his chair and blatantly stared at Raylan, like he was throwing down a gauntlet. "Since when?" Though he was challenging Raylan, he was still drunk and therefore a bit amused by this, so he didn't sound as disbelieving as he might have sober.
Raylan's eyes wandered a little as he grabbed his beer and took a drink. "Since always, I suppose," he mused lightly. "It's not a common thing for me. But it's happened a couple times." He took another swig of his beer.
Tim's eyebrows went up. Against all prior contrary evidence of Raylan's sexuality, he supposed it was possible there was truth to the cowboy's claim. Tim could understand the desire to keep non-straight sexuality under wraps -- they were in Kentucky, after all, and also in a profession similar to the military in terms of a Don't Ask, Don't Tell expectation. Tim wasn't exactly in the closet, but he definitely didn't ever offer up information about his sexuality. Raylan had never asked, but Tim figured the man at least suspected he was gay.
And wait, was Raylan saying that he'd been attracted to men a couple times, or that he'd been with men a couple times? The thought of Raylan with a man... Tim was momentarily distracted by fantasies he'd had many times before while jerking off: Raylan, naked, in his bed, begging for it--
Raylan's voice, still a light, casual tone, interrupted Tim's thoughts. "I mean, you're the only guy I've found attractive since I came back to Kentucky. So it's not like I've had many opportunities to flaunt it." Raylan's eyes were disinterestedly roaming the bar.
If Tim's eyebrows had jumped any higher, they would have left his face entirely. "Me?" he spat out incredulously. "You -- you -- think I'm good-lookin'?"
Raylan's eyes shot back to Tim, and a slow, playful smile bloomed across his face as he realized the meaning behind Tim's question. Confident he knew the answer, he teased, "Why Tim, are you sayin' you find me attractive?"
Tim barked a laugh, and shook his head at Raylan's question -- which, according to Tim, clearly should have been rhetorical. "Oh come on, Raylan, you're the sexiest thing in Kentucky, and you know it." Tim huffed in (fond) exasperation and took another drink of his beer.
Of course Raylan knew he was attractive. But Tim stating that compliment like a fact... he felt a flush of heat go through him, and couldn't help but grin. "Just in Kentucky?" he teased.
Tim laughed, and ducked his head for a moment. When he looked back up at Raylan, both of them grinning, he suddenly became aware of how close together they were sitting at the little table. His chair was turned a bit towards Raylan's, with his knee close to bumping the side of Raylan's chair.
Tim played up his reluctance to the admission as he waved one hand dismissively at Raylan: "All right, you want me to say it out loud? Fine. Yeah, you're about the sexiest thing I've ever seen. You happy now?"
Raylan had a playfully devious look in his eyes, peering at Tim from under his Stetson. (God, he looked so good in that hat. Tim hated and loved Raylan's hat for exactly that reason.) The cowboy leaned sideways in his chair, towards Tim, and dangled a long arm over the arm of the chair, his fingertips brushing Tim's thigh, just above his knee. Heat shot up Tim's leg and warmed his groin. He realized he was already halfway hard (when did that happen?), and was breathing a bit harder.
"Not quite yet. I wanna hear what you want to do to me." The words poured out of Raylan's mouth like honey.
Tim stopped breathing.
Raylan's eyes were locked on Tim's. Raylan wasn't backing down. Tim had still been harboring doubt that Raylan wasn't serious about this, and had been subconsciously waiting for him to reveal it was a cruel joke all along. Now those fears were making a ruckus in Tim's brain, because if he continued down this path, there would be no going back, no way to play it off like he had been joking all along, too.
Raylan was looking at Tim like he wanted to tear off his partner's clothes, right there in the bar.
Tim barely remembered to breathe again.
Raylan correctly guessed, with all the confidence in the world, "Or are you waitin' for some proof that I wanna fuck you?"
Well, there went Tim's air again. Hearing those words come out of Raylan's mouth were delicious enough already; having them directed at him made him almost cum in his jeans right then.
Raylan lowered his hand on Tim's thigh so his palm was making contact, and then slowly slid it up Tim's leg. His eyes dropped to the same place, and the corners of his mouth quirked up in a devious, triumphant smile as his fingers came within an inch or two of the noticeable bulge in Tim's jeans. As his eyes flicked back up to Tim's, he gently began rubbing his thumb back and forth, dipping it towards Tim's inner thigh.
Tim still wasn't moving or reacting to Raylan, but his breathing was erratic. He belatedly realized Raylan had asked him a question. He finally managed, in a strangled deadpan, "Yeah, some proof would be nice."
Raylan grinned lewdly at him. "In that case... wanna get outta here?" His thumb was still stroking Tim's inner thigh, a little closer than before; his fingertips were moving a little, threatening to touch -- but never quite making contact with -- Tim's erection.
Tim didn't say anything for a moment, his brain still trying to warn him about this all being a joke. But his brain was quickly ceasing to function as those gorgeous, big hazel eyes continued to stare into his, burning with intent. "Yeah," Tim breathed.
Raylan immediately stood up and turned toward the door. As Tim stood to follow him, he noticed Raylan's jeans were also much tighter than normal, due to a gorgeous bulge at his groin. Tim nearly swooned as he stood, he was so turned on.
They exited the bar into the slightly chilly night (which neither man felt at all), and Raylan set a brisk pace towards his apartment, a few blocks away. Tim was trailing behind him, drunk and painfully hard, his head reeling with this sudden turn of events.
They were about halfway there when Tim caught up to Raylan, falling into step one step behind him, when Raylan suddenly pushed up the front brim of his hat, whirled on Tim, caught him by the shoulders, and shoved him against the building they were passing. Tim's reflexes were slowed by the alcohol, so before he could react, Raylan's mouth slammed into his, quickly followed by his whole body pressing urgently against Tim's. Tim let out an involuntary groan as Raylan's upper thigh pressed and rubbed against his aching cock, and he felt Raylan's hard cock pressing and rubbing into his abdomen. And then there was his mouth... Oh god, his lips, his tongue -- Raylan's tongue was in Tim's mouth, and Raylan was urgently licking and sucking and nibbling at Tim like he had to completely consume him to stay alive.
Any lingering traces of doubt to Raylan's interest in him were burned from Tim's mind with the searing heat of their mouths and bodies pressing together.
Tim reached up and grabbed at the shirt over Raylan's chest with one hand; the other hand clamped down on Raylan's hip, strongly encouraging the small grinding motion his hips were dancing against Tim. Raylan made a soft, throaty moan as he complied and ground his hips harder against Tim.
Raylan took one of his large hands off Tim's shoulder and wrapped it around the back of his neck, guiding his head to tip slightly more to the side and a little back. When Tim readily complied, Raylan used the angle to thrust his tongue even deeper into Tim's mouth. Tim heard the desperate, throaty moan before he realized it was his. God, he couldn't remember the last time he was this turned on. Was this even happening? How could this amazingly sexy cowboy be desperate to fuck Tim's brains out? But Tim was too aroused to question it further, so he put it out of his mind.
The hand grabbing Raylan's shirt also flew to Raylan's hip, and Tim unabashedly ground their hips together, guiding Raylan with his strong hands. They were full-on humping each other, pressed against a building on the street. Neither man had noticed anyone else around, but they were drunk and hadn't really been looking. This thought flitted briefly into Tim's mind -- there might be people around who'd see them -- but he really couldn't care less right now. Raylan, the sexiest man he'd ever met, was close to making him cum in his pants.
Tim had been making some desperate whimpering noises without realizing it, and Raylan pulled his mouth back from their kiss, both to catch his breath and to grin at Tim. Tim's eyes didn't open; his head dropped back against the brick building and he continued to grind their hips together, his mouth open and his face a slight grimace of pleasure. "Oh god," he panted, his mouth wet and red. Raylan could tell, for how hard and ragged Tim was breathing, that he was already getting close to cumming.
Raylan was similarly panting. As much as he didn't want to stop, his apartment was only a couple blocks away, and he wanted them to do more than just dry-hump each other to orgasm. He reluctantly pushed back from Tim, whose eyes immediately snapped open, his face written in confusion and frustration at the loss. Raylan grinned at him and planted a hand on his own hip as he readjusted his hat back to its usual position.
"Let's get to my apartment. Now."
Tim's eyes shone in understanding. He nodded once.
Raylan turned on his heel and strode off, with Tim right behind him.