the_cupbearer | psl for Raylan: post-shootout

"You know I do," Ganymede chuckled, taking the time for interruption and shaking his head gently. "Dig into me all you want, Raylan. And once you've done that, we can talk about the rest of what happened today." Like the fact that his friend-sometime-lover shot two people and is human, and emotions will result. Emotions Raylan historically does not deal well with. Ganymede, however, is, and he has all the patience in the world for it.

He reached over and brushed his fingertips over Raylan's wrist, trailing up his forearm affectionately and intending it to support his friend with no pressure exerted. He knew the impulse to bottle everything up, he'd done it before himself and it never really ended well. "You know I'll be fine--got all my shots and everything, and it doesn't hurt that much." The bullet graze hurt, there was no erasing that just yet, but it was hardly debilitating.

Not that he wouldn't tease about it being agonizing and rendering him helpless if it made Raylan laugh.

"I hope I at least get a kiss out of it after the lecture."

The wrist closest to Ganymede was relinquished to settle on his leg as the Marshal drove, smirking at the start of Ganymede's first statement, but it fell a little at the promise that he expected to hear something about Raylan's shooting. It wasn't something he generally talked about with anyone except his whiskey bottle.

Ganymede's voice was always soothing though and Raylan let his ears indulge, smiling again at the soft tease and glancing over.

"More than if you're well behaved for it." He takes and lets a deep breath out of his nose. "You wanna tell me how you found yourself cut and held hostage? We know they weren't tryin' to rob the bar, all four hundred and somethin' that was left in the til. So what were they after?"

Ganymede knew exactly how well the prospect of talking about the shooting was likely to go, but he was implacable in the face of that falling smile. He twisted their hands, fingers slotting in between each other as Ganymede's thumb trailed gently over Raylan's knuckles. Each ridge and valley of bone and skin was familiar, and the motion soothed him gently, providing more comfort than any of the efforts the EMTs had gone to.

"You know I can behave if I have incentives," he murmured, teasing just a little. They'd teased around the concept before, once or twice; he trusted Raylan to remember. Though at the following questions Ganymede merely shook his head. "One of the girls--one of the new hires, I don't know her very well. She'd been tangled up with some boy, a real idiot by the looks of him, and apparently it ended badly. I didn't know how badly, but she requested a shift change, presumably to get away from him. His friends took issue with that, it appears."

He sighed it out, pushing his free hand over his hair away from his face. "I hope you can understand why I wasn't going to hand anyone else into that."

Oh, Raylan remembers, faint smile pulling again with a bounce of his eyebrows and a glance over at the seemingly younger man. As much as he might be happy to take that easy road out, he had a feeling that Ganymede wouldn't let him escape the topic so easily. Part of him saw it for what it was, someone who cared for him, trying to help him vent something that absolutely was getting pent up as it always was. The other parts wondered if Raylan would be able to accomplish that seemingly simple, secretly complex task.

He's silent for a long moment, humming a note with a faint nod at G's explanation.

"We need to get you up to speed on how to disarm someone when you're that close. The options that are available, the ways you can.. stop this kind of thing from happenin' in the future, the next time you decide to be a stand up gentleman."

Of which Ganymede was, an absolute gentleman that Raylan struggled to imagine being violent, which meant everyone else would struggle too. He would feel better if Ganymede was able to defend himself. When he had to.

Ganymede listens, to his credit, and only lets out a very faint sigh when Raylan tells him that about disarming someone. If it were any other day, any day where he hadn't been treated for the last two and a half hours like he was some kind of stupid boy who'd gotten himself hurt by being foolish, he'd have swallowed the comment that tumbled out of his mouth without further thought. Any other day and he'd have kept the illusion intact of him being utterly normal, albeit youthful-looking.

But today was not any other day. Maybe it was a mark of how comfortable he felt around Raylan, given how he knew the other man was about his work; there would be every attempt given to de-escalate, but once violence was the only good option left, it would be the last one. It was a attitude Ganymede happened to share, though his fuse was significantly longer than most people's, and he knew that about himself. Largely it was part and parcel of what he'd been made and the long intervening years of his life.

"If it had been only me I'd have killed him and been done with it." But it hadn't been only him, and Ganymede was if nothing else aware enough that he was not a gun guy. He hadn't wanted anyone else to be hurt through his misadventure or miscalculation, especially someone for whom the wound would be much more of a problem.

Edited 2024-08-14 18:13 (UTC)

"There's still things that can be done," Raylan replies softly, glancing over from the road. "That's all I'm sayin'."

God he couldn't wait to get a drink.

"How would you have done it? Killed him, if it were just you."

"It only takes sixty-six pounds of torque to disrupt the spinal cord," he says equally gently, through he doesn't look back over at Raylan just yet. "He might have gotten a shot off before I could either stab him or break his neck. But it's unlikely I'd have died."

Extremely unlikely he'd have stayed dead either way. "I told you once I don't favor guns, and I was truthful. But it doesn't mean I am incapable of violence." He knew very well Raylan struggled to see him as anyone who could do harm, and Ganymede can't fault his friend that. But he is very, very tired of having to maintain that illusion at all costs.

"Are we going to your place, or mine?" he asks finally, after a moment of quiet between them.

Raylan didn't struggle at all in seeing Ganymede as someone who could be violent, only that he hadn't seen it yet and there was always the question of where the Line was. And how bad it might be if someone crossed it. That was the real nugget of golden truth, for any man.

"Mine." Safer there. Ganymede could go to his apartment tomorrow if he felt comfortable doing so, but for at least 24 hours, Raylan wanted him somewhere secure. He had questions about was G had just said, 'unlikely I'd have died', but it was a conversation that could wait until they were behind closed doors and comfortable. With a whiskey and the bulk of the terrible day behind them.

It didn't take him long to get to his hotel room, the one he'd chosen to stay in for the past two years, and get them inside, locking the door behind them and taking off his gun to toss on the dresser with a sigh.

"You want a drink?"

"God, yes," Ganymede sighed, shoving a hand over his hair as he relaxed the moment the door was shut. "Though I'll tell you for nothing, I have better booze at my place. For next time."

He sat down heavily on the end corner of the bed, face twitching when the motion pulled at his stitches uncomfortably, making him rub his hand over the bullet track. It sucked, and it would hurt, but he could feel the skin and muscle slowly beginning to knit back together. "But before that...come here for a minute. Please?"

"I know you do." Of course he did. He gave more of a damn about it than Raylan did. All Raylan needed was a bottle of Jim Beam and it was the only thing he ever stocked. If he stocked more, if he stocked better - he might have to look at if he's an alcoholic and no one wants to do that.

His hat is deposited on top of his gun and he doesn't hesitate in angling his stride over to stand in front of his lover. A hand comes up to cup his face.

"I'm glad you're okay," he says with a deep, serious sincerity. "I heard you'd gotten shot and all I saw was red."

"I didn't intend to get shot at all." He hadn't been overextending himself trying to be a hero; he'd just been trying to defuse a situation that was already bad, and rapidly moving to worse. And when Raylan had shown up...it had been impossible not to feel relief wash over him like a heavy blanket.

Ganymede closed his eyes when that hand came up to mold along his jaw, and all the tension abruptly left him, leaning heavily into Raylan's chest, cheek pressed to the soft fabric of his shirt. His hair was still plaited back in the long, thick braid he habitually wore it in, trailing down his spine though he tugged it over his shoulder, absently pulling on the end as he took several measured breaths, deep enough to feel his ribs expand. "I saw you when you came in and he aimed at you, and I was scared. I didn't--and don't--want you hurt because of me."

Free hand slipping naturally around G's shoulders as Raylan embraces him, thumb rubbing back and forth across where it could in what comfort he could give. He knew that his appearance sometimes brought relief, but it did little in the aftermath of things, when the adrenaline finally fades.

"It won't be the last gun pointed at me, darlin'. My draw just has to be better. And it is. I've done this high noon shit more than once." It's what he would be doing his whole life, riding that line between life and death, fate held in a breath and a heart beat.

"I do it so you don't have to. " He does it so no one else has to. So single mothers and abused souls who don't have it in them don't have to do it. "They're just men who chose poorly. Ain't worth half a thought, they chose their paths."

Raylan's presence brough more relief than he knew, at least for Ganymede; he'd been there, he'd stayed until the end--hell, they were here together in Raylan's apartment. Motel room. Whatever. It was nicer than some places Ganymede had lived, and he was willing to take the company however he got it, as long as it was his lover. "I know it won't be," he murmured, the fingers of his free hand curling absently around one belt loop of the man's trousers, pressing as if the gentle tug would bring Raylan closer than he already was.

"I wouldn't want you to be anything but who you already are," Ganymede said quietly, purposefully not moving the hand across his back and shoulders, lifting his head as one hand traced its thumb across mcross Raylan's lip, feeling the swell of muscle and heat of skin under him. "Just... Kiss me, and shut me up for a little while.'

It's hard to truly believe that statement, that he doesn't want Raylan to be anything than what he already is - a few near death experiences would probably change that sooner or later, as it always did. But that was down the road and right now, Ganymede had asked for something simple. Easy to do and sinking into something that doesn't require any thought about what they've been through was Raylan's weakness.

So he does as he is asked, bending down to kiss the seemingly younger man and move their weight back onto the bed. Yes, he would kiss. Kiss and worship Gaynmede down to the bone if he was allowed, long fingers already getting impatient with the fabric that kept him from G's soft skin so selfishly. It didn't matter that Gaynmede was hurt or it did matter, but it wasn't going to stop them. Raylan understood that too. A little pain was a good reminder, a good motivator and sometimes the silver-lining on the high that was their own arousal.

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."

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.

"I want you all over me," Ganymede breathes gently, head tilting up and away under the scratch of Raylan's goatee, one hand skating up his lover's back and the other pulling at his shirt, trying to get it off without unbuttoning it, tugging ineffectively. "On me, inside me. Come on," he moans, voice kicking up at the end whe Raylan slides his lips up towards his earlobe. He bucks up, stronger than most everyone gives him credit for given his willowy shape, forcing his head back against the sheets.

"Please, please, please," he sighs, breath coming faster and thicker, slinging one of his knees around Raylan's hip to pull him in flush against his front, squeezing gently and showing that his own erection is already at full mast behind his jeans, the denim keeping his cock pressed to his belly. "I don't want you to be gentle, Raylan."

Raylan pulls back and helps his lover out of his shirt, fingers quickly undoing his own belt and top button before freeing Ganymede from that too. He had never had any issue not being gentle when Ganymede wanted it, but it wasn't something he easily or lightly assumed. But when given a green light, there wasn't any hesitation.

"Kick off your shoes," he says with a dark and husky rumble, toeing off his boots and kicking them to the side so he could shuck his jeans and start pulling Gaynmede's off. He only cared about the first leg, enough to get things free, enough that he could swoop in and consume Gaynmede's cock to the back of his throat. It was only half for distraction, his free hand fumbling into the nightstand to grab some lube. The blowjob would only last a few glorious skilled seconds - Raylan enjoyed giving oral sex as much as he liked receiving it - before he was popping off and moving forward, slick cock pressing into and past Ganymede's tight ring with a groan as he claims the man's mouth again.

The jeans Raylan peeled him out of like a fruit shell, turning inside-out with a throaty chuckle as he kicked off his shoes, scooting back on the bed until his lover swallowed him down and made him bow up like a taut string. "Oh--god, Raylan," he gasped, swallowing thickly, one hand barely coming up to cradle the back of his lover's head before he pulled off.

He fell back with a shuddering sigh, letting Raylan push him up, biting into those lips when they met his and groaning with a flutter of eyelashes at the feel of his cock pressing against him. "F--fuck, yes," he sighed against Raylan's mouth, curling up against him. He hitched one leg up higher with a soft hiss and a little grimace at the tug on his stitches, but nothing was going to stop him from enjoying sex with his lover, still riding high on the buzz from adrenaline after the afternoon. "Just like that, just...like that," he breathed, head flopped back on the blankets scrunched up beneath them. "Just don't stop."

Edited 2024-08-19 02:40 (UTC)

Raylan loves those sounds, breathing them in like they were fuel for his fire. He thrusts a few times, hard to bury himself swiftly in the tight hot clutch of Gaynmede's body before setting into something of a rhythm as he kisses and bites at his lover's neck.

"You feel perfect," he breathes back, pulling back so that he can hook his hands behind Gaynmede's knees and spread him wide so that Raylan can enjoy the view of him spread out and eager underneath him, his bangs falling wild in front of his eyes. Just as eager to earn more of those gasping breathless noises, Raylan fucks him steadily before slowing to bury himself in deep and hard a few times more.

"This what you want, darlin'?"

He smelled like gunpowder and bourbon and sweat and glorious sex, and Ganymede breathed in the scent of his lover as he held on tightly to Raylan's shoulders. They'd done this before, tangled up in bedsheets and half-pulled-off clothing as their bodies met over and over again with catches of breath and quick kisses. "Fucking--yes," he cried in answer to Raylan's soft-panted question, head thrown back to expose his neck, spread open like a pinned butterfly on the bed, skin already dusky and turning red where Raylan's teeth have sunk in.

This made him feel alive, feel his heart throbbing in his chest as his nerves all lit up like neon tubes from the way his lover fucked into him, buried deep enough that he could feel every twitch of Raylan's thighs. "God, Raylan, yes..." he groaned, eyelashes fanning his cheeks as he dragged in a full breath again.

His body rolls with his rhythm, the ugliness of the day fading behind the primal urge to push and please, to lose himself into the rush of heat and pleasure. Rough palms slide down Ganymede's thighs, thumb tucking under his balls to collect them for a half second before they're let go, palm moving over that hard cock and up his stomach and chest, fingers coming around to pinch one nipple.

They weren't going to stay like this - Raylan wanted his lover to ride him as he cummed, but the Marshal had the stamina of a man twenty years younger.

Ganymede pants against him as Raylan fucks into him, short nails scraping over skin as he pulls Raylan in close and loving the inexorable rhythm. It was desperate and hard and hot as hell the way they came together over and over again, and Ganymede loved the almost punishing rhythm. His partner had strength and stamina on his side, and he loved the way it felt each time the Marshal bottomed out inside him.

"Fuck... Raylan," he murmured with a jerk to his hips, heels pressed firm to the backs of Raylan's thighs to make him stay deep, muscles beginning to quiver. "'M gonna come soon," he managed breathlessly as he squeezed his own cock, tryin to force back the rising tide of orgasm. God, it felt good. He was forever held in thrall right at the end of adolescence, body responsive and shamelessly easy to arouse and tease. "Fuck, give it to me!"

He had plenty of moves when he was trapped, hips rolling like he could push himself deeper before he starts rutting again, hitting that sweet spot that made Ganymede tremble around him. It was intoxicating, this brief moment of power he was granted, and he nuzzles into his lovers neck as he keeps it up, pushing his own orgasm away. Always better to get your partner off first.

He wanted to feel Ben spill himself between them, wanted to drive him over the edge with the tender abuse, wanted to drain him of everything and in the moment, he rolls them over to put Ben on top. One hand slid up to his face, kissing him greedily as Raylan's hips push up as the other slides along his hip and grips, and when it broke, Raylan husks out "I wanna watch. I wanna watch you bring yourself to it."

The quick little flip and roll that put him sitting astride Raylan's hips made him groan, legs tight and trembling as he held himself still, fist tight on his cock even as his lips crush against his lover's. "God, Raylan," Ganymede breathed, rocking his hips down and up and grinding on Raylan's dick. He braced himself on one hand low on Raylan's belly, fingernails curling as his other hand tugged at his length. He was no stranger to touching himself, hand curled loose around his cock as he moved in a sinuous dance, pushing up and back and grinding down to make his toes curl and his muscles ripple and clench.

"I love the way you talk," he murmured, riding his lover and feeling the flush creep up his neck and chest the closer Ganymede gets to orgasm. He can feel the ache in his side from the gunshot, but it's not enough, not nearly enough to keep him from coming; it only adds to the dizzying height of sensation he's climbing up, pushing towards the delightful, intense peak. "I want you to come with me," he breathed, staring with dark eyes at Raylan's face as if to memorize the shape of his lover's mouth as he forms those words. "Come in me."

Edited 2024-09-03 18:45 (UTC)

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