Ganymede smelled like sweat and blood and gunfire, life and fear and victory over the ultimate enemy - death. They'd made it, they'd survived and Raylan was already a little drunk on Ganymede's closeness. As he always was. He breaths in the musk with a little note of appreciation for the legs around him, for the scratching of his back and hums another little note.

"All yours," he purrs, lifting only just enough to pull his shirt up over his head, leaving him dressed in the a-line undershirt that rode up his hip as he comes back down to kiss Ganymede breathless again. He wanted to make sure the man was gasping before turning the soft scrape of his lips down Ganymede's jaw and towards his ear.

"And here to make you think about nothin' other than us movin' together." The sentiment comes with a lean in of his hips, erection already well evident. "Let's get you outta that shirt."

Normally, he'd just start helping that process along, but G was hurt. They had to be careful in some spots.