His lover splayed him out so easily on the bed, hemmed in by his much lankier partner; Raylan had him beat in reach, he knew that, though they were the same height, and not much different in weight. But he wasn't pinned, not restrained as much as kept in close where every part of the other was in easy reach, and Ganymede could feather his hands out over the sweep of Raylan's ribs and waist, tugging his shirttails free from his belt, tripping over the maddening and suddenly-arcane buttons holding it closed. He wanted to touch skin, and feel the warmth of his lover pressed tightly to him. He loved the way Raylan's chest felt against his back, one arm heavy on his waist when they slept together, and his breath fluttering against his shoulder and neck.

Ganymede opened his thighs to pull his lover in closer still, short nails gently scratching at the small of Raylan's back, lips still pressed together. "God, you're beautiful," he breathed, the tip of his nose brushing his lover's cheek. "And you're mine."