villagelogs | 037-040 » the reason for time

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037-040 » the reason for time

WHO: Everyone.
WHERE: Eastern/Central Mathias
WHEN: Day 037-040
WHAT: The dead return and the living wake to changes within Mathias Township.
WARNINGS: Some explicit sexual content in threads. (PM this account to have a warning added!)
NOTES: Plotting post over here!

RECOMMENDED ♫ Kammarheit "Sleep after Toyle, Port after Stormie Seas"

DAY 037
THE DEAD RETURN
“The only reason for time is so that everything
doesn't happen at once.” —Albert Einstein
The dead return to Mathias forever changed by their experiences. Waking along the beach, near the tree line, or among the graves, they will find that their bodies are not as they remember them. They are whole again and not torn to shreds by the shadow creatures that cannot be described, but they are also not as they were before the Hunt. These residents will find, so strangely, that their bodies are in the physical state in which they first arrived in Mathias — any injuries or recovery they have made since their initial arrival no longer exists, as if their time in Mathias has simply been a horrible nightmare. Except they all now carry a last reminder of the Hunt with them: spiderweb-thin healed scars marking their injuries from the Hunt. Those who were injured by fire in the other realm also carry those burns with them.

The dead are not the only things that have returned to Mathias. Inexplicably, fall is back, with the temperature finally reaching above freezing and snow falling from trees to reveal beautiful autumnal colors. As the sun rises higher in the lightly cloudy sky and the day warms, the snow begins rapidly melting, puddles growing in the slowly revealed grass and little rivers forming in the streets. And with that snow comes the frozen blood from the deaths to the Hunt, tinting the street river on Phillips Drive a sickening shade of red.

Another oddity that residents will notice: houses with broken windows from the encounter with the fog on Day 015 have now been completely repaired, though any boards put in place are still there somehow. A small bit of good news, at least? And truly, how kind of Mathias to clean up its own mess.

Finally, alcohol is back. Enjoy in moderation, friends, for more will not be arriving the following morning.

THE NEW ARRIVALS
The newest arrivals to Mathias will wake up on the beach near The Grey Gull. It's quite chilly out with their wet clothes, but surely there's something to help warm them inside the restaurant. Indeed, their timing is perfect, for alcohol has finally returned to Mathias Township — and not just the cowboys' homemade moonshine.

DAY 038-039
THE CHANGE OF SEASON
The continued warm weather proves that the unseasonable shift of the previous day was not merely a fluke. Once again, the sun rises and brings with it a temperature that feels almost spring-like, save for the fact that each day there seem to be more and more leaves on the trees in hues of red and orange. For those who have been in Mathias for some time, this new type of weird may be almost normal at this point, but newer arrivals will likely find it quite odd.

The gently trickling river running along Phillips Drive is still somewhat pink in color as the snow continues to melt and refreeze each night. By Day 040, the bloody snow will finally be gone completely, though the relief will be... short-lived.

DAY 040
THE BLINDING WHITE
In the late morning of Day 040, when the sun is visible through patchy greyish clouds, the fog sweeps into town like a like a tidal wave. It moves in quickly and without warning, not from the waterfront but the forest, cascading through every street in a thick wave of white. Rather than a soft blanket enveloping the town, it is a heavy weight pressing down, blotting out the sky in a way that almost feels suffocating, for none can see further than their outstretch hand.

Those outside when it rolls in are left wandering blind, stumbling toward shelter as you're unable to even see your feet beneath you, let alone any obstacles in your path. Perhaps you call out for help, hoping for another voice to guide you toward shelter or simply another living soul. Or perhaps you were lucky enough to already be inside when the fog descended, quickly closing doors and windows to keep it from creeping in.

Unlike the last time the fog swept into the town, residents who encounter it are not immediately killed. Instead, they are simply disoriented, possibly losing their sense of time and place, and it is only after prolonged exposure that they will begin to feel off. A sense of being ill will cling to them if they are in the fog for too long, including dizziness, lightheadedness, or nausea — the time it takes to manifest varies from person to person, as does the duration it will last after leaving the fog.

By nightfall, the fog still has not dissipated.

CONDITIONS UPDATE

— THE WEATHER conditions are fairly typical for late fall: chilly "sweater weather" days and nights that can dip just below freezing. You don't want to be outside without a coat, but it won't kill anyone if they bundle up. Probably.

— THE FOG remains blocking the paths in the forest beginning a few dozen yards past the treeline, urging residents to stay huddled within the town proper, and it also now blocks the western section of town, beginning just past Hill Lane, before where residents know the chasm in the earth to be between Hill and Stine Road. Venturing into the fog blocking these areas is ill-advised.

— DISAPPEARANCES continue. Castiel and Sam Winchester have vanished, and Dean Winchester has not returned with the others after his death during the Hunt.

— THE GRAVEYARD has now seen around a dozen burials, both below and above ground. With the weather warming, though, something may need to be done about the handful of temporary graves aboveground...

— ALCOHOL has returned to Mathias! A small stock of beer and cheap wine may be found at the General Store, and some homes may have a small store of alcohol in the fridge or pantry. The Grey Gull has also been restocked with its lower-end offerings of a variety of alcohol types. Alcohol does not replenish in the same way as food.

— THE GREY GULL has been cleaned up and stocked with moonshine. Along with the newly restocked usual offerings, the place almost seems like an actual bar again.

— THE GENERAL STORE is in a bit of a state following the brutal slaughter of two residents during the Hunt. Cleanup on aisle 3, anyone?

OOC NOTES

— FOOD is now being mysteriously restocked as per usual, including inside homes and at the General Store. Alcohol is not being restocked. Use those rationing skills, friends.

— REWARD REDEPEMPTION is back and will soon have a new option for anyone looking to spend big AP and learn a bit more of the lore of the town.

— MADNESSES due to the Hunt have been earned by Klaus Hargreeves, Ellie, and Malcolm Bright and may now be claimed. Players may also claim additional sanity loss from the aftermath of the Hunt; only losses from the Hunt itself have been deducted from totals thus far.

— SANITY REGAIN is now available! Players will submit a form with some details of the progress their character has made and the mod will review and decide on the numbers of points that will be regained.

— MOD STATUS The usual reminder that it's mostly just Amy steering this ship for now, so things will probably be pretty slow for a while. Apologies in advance, and please don't feel shy about pinging me if you're stuck waiting for something.

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Later, Raylan might muse on what it was, exactly that kept the terrors at bay that night but for the actual passing of it, he stayed passively contained for the most part. There was a brief instance of him trying to pull out of bed once and easily reigned back in with the strong arm around him and the hot breath against his spine. Some part of him had more than desperately needed this; a night of satiation that ended with an actual morning uninvaded by screams.

It wasn't Malcolm's fault but Raylan's system had been hard pressed with all the interruptions.

But morning had to come sometime and Raylan greeted it with a deep breath and a stretch, barely getting into the roll onto his back before hitting the wall that was Henry's chest. Grunting softly, he shifted enough so he could see Henry's face. It was peaceful when he was asleep; easy and unguarded. It gave Raylan a sense of what he looked like when he was young, before life got around to digging into him too much harder.

Raylan was reluctant to wake Henry, happy to soak in the preprotest nuzzle and did for as long as his bladder would let him before gently trying to escape the tangle of limbs and sheets he'd found himself in.

Henry the octopus would not be so easily roused without the Malcolm alarm clock to wake him and send him running, scrambling for his Doc mask to affix on his way to pacifying the ruckus. With Raylan slipping away his hands find a pillow to substitute for the warm body, slipping his arms around it with one leg hiked up at the knee as he buries half his face into the shadows of the pillows.

Unbothered by the mess they had been laying in, the sheets cling to his limbs, wrapped around his leg beneath his bare bottom exposed to the morning chill, slithering around under his body and lapping back up over one wrist and hand.

He'll be missing holding onto Raylan soon enough but for now he is easily appeased by a pillowcase that still faintly smells like him.

Since he was up and in there, Raylan decided to go ahead and get his shower out of the way with only a brief stop back in the bedroom to snag the shampoo from it's alternate use once he remembered it wasn't where it should be. It wasn't the nice pine smelling shampoo that Malcolm had brought home for all of them, but it got him clean and smelling that way, and gave Henry another ten minutes.

He took the time to find and learn about all the little bruises and marks that had been left across him, an echo of the soreness he felt in his hips and ass, fingers dancing over the strange new scars across his chest as something of an afterthought. Maybe this all wouldn't be as bad as he thought it might have been, in the dark of night. He still felt inexplicably.. fractured somehow, deep in his depths, but knowing what waited for him on the other side of the bathroom door made it tolerable. Less miserable. Even enjoyable, apparently, some nights.

Not wanting to linger too long in his own thoughts, Raylan got out and dried off but didn't bother getting dressed. Padding back out into the bedroom, he carefully crawled back into bed behind Henry, sliding his arm around Henry's stomach as he leaned in to press a few soft kisses across his shoulder. He didn't know how much it would take to get Henry awake, but he was willing to take it slow. Right now they had all the time in the world.

He could have gotten dressed and went downstairs to make coffee, but as much as he didn't want to wake up alone, he didn't want Henry to wake up alone either. Maybe he was being sentimental. After last night, he felt entitled to a little of it.

'Tis the one luxurious day where Henry gets to sleep in and not worry too much about it, not feel too guilty, and he's taking full advantage of it. He's vaguely aware of things moving in the physical realm, the sound of the shower a distant pitter-patter like raindrops on the lid covering up the well. For as much as the darkness and the wetness had tormented him, the well was a safe place, cool and dark and even when he sleeps he doesn't always stretch out fully, curling up a bit as if making himself smaller with bent knees and a bowed head helps him feel safer.

Eventually Raylan gets him stirring out of his nightmareless sleep and he reaches out, stretching his arm a bit further. Breathing out slowly through his nose, a bit of rubbing and grinding against the pillow wedged between his legs has him slowly realising Raylan isn't there anymore.

Before any sort of disappointment can set in, he covers the back of Raylan's hand with his palm and groans, turning his head just enough to catch a blurry outline of that familiar face before rolling back over again to face the pillow. Pressing the heel of his palm against his eye socket, he swallows down the discomfort in his dry throat and grunts again. A half dozen things to say float past his mind. Good morning, asshole. What time is it? Mmh, can't feel my legs. Instead Henry rolls over again, shuffling over a bit to make some space, eyebrows furrowed with his eyes still closed. One hand tugs up the sheet between his legs, inadvertently making himself artfully decent.

"Hey. ...you stayed." He seems surprised by this. Like this is how the one night stands don't usually go. Even though they were never just a one night stand to each other. He can't help that small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, but God he's so tired he seems to be still drifting in and out of sleep. Fingertips rest on Raylan's cool thigh and rub the top of his leg a little bit although he looks like he might be checking back out of the consciousness hotel again.

"You doin' okay?" He asks in a hoarse, ragged murmur after a stretch of silence which made him seem like he was on the verge of falling back asleep again.

Soft waking's was a weakness of Raylan's; those rare mornings where no one was rushing out anywhere, where he wasn't being negged into an argument for whatever reason, and he smiled at the way Henry shifted and uncurled, loosening his arm enough to not impede it. His smile broke into a broad grin at the groans that he was greeted with. Which one of them had been drinking themselves into the ground last night?

Even as unsure as he was about where they would stand in the daylight of morning, Raylan kept his hand draped over Henry's center and, at the touch that immediately set to work dissipating his concerns, pulled his leg up in a little movement to give Henry's fingers a fraction more contact. This was nice, being able to touch and be touched without a massive cloud of 'Is this okay; will he strike out at me or push me away for doing it' hovering directly over him. He wasn't used to that kind of uncertainty.

"Figured you wouldn't complain too much." Protests seemed like the last thing on Henry's mind, judging by the way he started to drift off again. "Little sore but you didn't manage to put too much of a hitch in my walk. I'm fine," he confirmed, grin finally settling back down into a pleased smile. "Also figured it'd be rude to get dressed and start my day without at least sayin' good mornin'."

That was a passable excuse, right? Before they left the bedroom and put their hats and masks back on, mortaring walls that had been allowed to crack the night before. So what if Raylan was a little greedy under it all.

Henry has decided that he would rather wake up with Raylan's company than to see pieces of Raylan and other people he knows strewn across the snow. This is much preferable, even if they are both rather sore.

He's pretty sure he had snapped, last night. Not in a verbal kind of way but the dam broke nonetheless and a torrent of helplessness-induced rage and misguided betrayal and month-long frustration came gushing out, leaving still waters that used to run miles upon miles deep now shallow and easier to tread.

A moment of self-consciousness comes when he sees the bruises, and then it goes. It wasn't a drunken, angry type of lashing out. And Raylan is grinning. This, he decides, makes the few marks okay.

"Oh, that right? I think you're learning. I could make a gentleman out of you yet." Doc flashes a small smile right back. Honestly it's no secret that he's a bit of a whore. It wouldn't bother him none to be treated like one. Although he has to wonder if Raylan even keeps the company of many whores. He seems like the type who plays for keeps.

"Is it time?" To get dressed. Hats and masks and all. Waistcoat, at least for one of them. No point asking what the time is, really. He just has so many masks in his collection, he needs to know if it's time to be John Henry or Hank or Doc or Oi, Asshole.

"Could I convince you to stay a while?" A clothing optional sort of staying a while. Raylan can get dressed if he wants. It'll be a while before the old man lying beside him would want to go through the same circuit through the bathroom and come out the other side having put on all his layers and feeling ready enough to take on the rest of the day.

If he had snapped, it was the most acceptable way to snap, despite the complaints from Raylan's shoulder socket. Better this than any of the alternatives. The marks were okay. An acceptable reminder of what had happened. What he'd allowed. It felt a little ridiculous to focus on that so much, but it wasn't small to Raylan. On the contrary, it held quite a number of his fear and prideful flaws and as happy as he was, there was some large part of him that was still waiting for the shoe to drop.

"Mm, somehow I doubt it. Even as persuasive as you are, my resistance to manners is unstoppable." Mainly because he didn't think he was that bad, over all. Not in comparison. To Arlo. But Raylan had never been with whores. Had never needed to, and while he had a little black book back in the day, it didn't take him long to figure out there wasn't any happiness or real satisfaction to be found there. Playing for Keeps was the only game in town, despite the fact that Raylan had put up that particular set of dice.

His face softened into a very warm curl, lazy and relaxed as he nodded in answer to both questions. "Probably so. On both counts." Shifting, he let his head fall to the pillow, hand tucking up under it as he settled in. "For a little while anyway. Before people start comin' lookin' for us.. How'd you sleep?"

People. Yes. There might not be anyone else in this house but it's almost too easy to forget about the people outside of it, lingering close by. People who might not see him as the type who lounges around in bed pulling a pillow over his face. But he would put on a brave and serious front anyway. They might need it to get through the next few weeks.

"Better than I had in days," he admits quietly. He gets nightmares too even if they're nowhere near as animated as Malcolm's. At worst he might mumble a string of protests and kick at the sheets tossing and turning restlessly, or sob and whimper in some mid-sleep agony. Maybe he was too exhausted to conjure these scenarios up. Maybe they should consider these brief little getaways more often.

Propping himself up on one elbow, Doc tries to disentangle himself from the sheets and pulls a corner of it up over Raylan before settling back down again. It had seemed selfish to be hogging.

"Did you manage a few hours yourself?" He hopes so. It doesn't mean that Raylan would never have nightmares or flashbacks. Reliving it to some level is unavoidable. He can't exactly fuck all his problems away either. But maybe, even if it was just for the one night, they could call a dreamless sleep a win.

The only person Raylan was really worried about was Malcolm. Malcolm who would, without a doubt, just walk in after a knock and Raylan didn't want to have to shatter the faux bubble that he'd been building with both of them. It would come, sooner or later. No need to hasten it.

He hummed in acknowledgement, lips curling with a faint lift of his chin. "Good. You needed it."

Helping to pull the sheet over himself and his ass, he got comfortable with a nuzzle of his face into the pillow and a sigh, eyebrows lifting a little as he answers himself. "More than I thought I would. I don't think I woke up all, actually. Beginners luck, maybe." Exhaustion, some of which was good and deeply needed, more likely.

"Maybe it'll carry us for a few more days before our bodies start demanding some more actual sleep." He didn't know when or what or why, but he knew Mathis would be back on her bullshit in a few days. It made him nervous when she didn't, now.

Honestly he would count them lucky if they made it a few days without incident. It would have been odd when they had first arrived to think that those had been the halcyon days, when all they had to worry about was that big old storm battering the windows of the Grey Gull. But the town had felt much smaller then. Smaller and not filled with the perils and horrors they now know she is capable of unleashing upon them.

Stretching an arm out over along the top of Raylan's pillow, his hand eventually finds Raylan's barely damp hair. It is not a conscious effort playing with it, scratching along the scalp, tugging from roots to tips. It is simply what lovers do at night, in the morning, although usually there's more of it to twirl and pat and lose his fingers in. Even when there's money involved, usually there is intimacy; his lips on her forehead, her hand on his thigh and chest. But this is as close as he would allow himself to get with Raylan. For now.

"I don't think you're a beginner at anything." Maybe he's new to the whole dying business. Doc can induct him into the hey-I'm-not-dead club. But not when it comes to things that happen on beds, in bedrooms, anyway.

"Suppose I had better get up before you fall asleep again."

He hummed a little at the hand in his hair, head tilting to encourage the touch. He was accustomed to more contact based morning after kind of glow but as back and forth over that particular line they got, Raylan wasn't sure that kind of snuggling was welcomed. He'd rather sit with the indecision then take that chance. They'd already taken all sorts of chances.

Raylan huffed an amused breath and hummed again. "'m sure there's somethin'." Even as much as he'd done, in the bedroom and out of it, he was glad he didn't know all the tricks and twists of possibility. Life had to have some kind of excitement that wasn't his job, right?

Shifting to turn his head back up a little to look at Doc from under his hoisted and amused eyebrows, Raylan smiled crookedly. "Got me all settled back in bed just so you could be the first one to leave, didn't ya. If I can't get up and get dressed yet, neither can you. I ain't goin' to sleep, don't worry." Though he could, if he put his mind to it. There was too much to be done today. Like getting through it.

"'Sides, you look better without your waistcoat and jacket."

The touches in Raylan's hair turn into light brushing over the shell of Raylan's ear with the back of his fingers, but Henry doesn't shuffle over or try to drag Raylan closer.

"Hm. Usually I get told I look better with those." Not that he would accuse Raylan of embodying anything 'usual'. His wayward hand trails down Raylan's cheek, finger curling under his chin, tipping his head back a bit so Henry can brush his thumb over the faintest hint of scars on his face, commit them to memory. His piercing steely blue gaze is perhaps a little intense but he only studies Raylan's face for a good half a minute before turning away.

"I don't know what I would have done if you were really gone," he admits, looking out the window, reverting back to threading through Raylan's hair. Yes, he would carry on regardless. No, not much would change in terms of Malcolm's night terrors. They'd probably get worse. Of course, if they were all going home, he knows more or less what he needs to do. But here, all bets would have been off the table.

He doesn't need to; far too much like a cat, Raylan hums again as Henry starts caressing his ear and drapes one leg over as his shoulders roll towards him a few inches, his off hand coming out to drape his hand back over Henry's middle where it had started. Raylan was a snuggler and a cuddler given the right opportunity. It was the best and one of his favorite parts of intimacy.

"Bet those people ain't seen you naked," he rumbled, cracking his eyes at the touch down his cheek, chin lifting at the silent direction with a faint curl of his lips as he equally studied Henry's intent features. He really was a striking man, though Raylan couldn't say that it wasn't just his own weaknesses for blue eyed, strong minded people. You'd find exactly zero complaints about it in him, however. The sweetness of it all was fractured as Henry turned away and Raylan shifted in more confidently now, invading his space a bit more as he shifted up onto an elbow with his off hand sliding up and around Henry's jaw to turn his face back to where it was.

"Hey. You don't have to. To know. To think about it. I came back. I'm still here. I like ya too much to stop bein' a pain in your ass. If.. resurrection-" If that's even what it was - hadn't they buried flesh? Was this flesh new? Younger despite it's look? "-If this is an option, then I'm gonna take it every time," he assured with a little lift of his eyebrows. "Just like the chance to kiss you to prove it," he continued, the words murmured as he leaned in to do just that.

Raylan couldn't say that Winona hadn't said much the same to him, more than once. This wasn't much different than the chances he took at work, if you ignored the actual context of the danger, but Winona was the only one that had ever given a shit if he came home or not and she kept leaving him for having made her worry in the first place. He couldn't help but worry that it would happen again, that whatever this was that he was chasing with abandon would be driven away because it was too emotionally costly. All he could do was try to stave it off before it over took them and enjoy the brief bubble of respite he'd been granted.

"They have not," Henry confirms with a raise of his eyebrows and an amused pursing of his lips, cracking out just the smallest of smiles between the two of them. Sure, he had enjoyed his share of fooling around, but lately, even before coming to Mathias, he's more or less hung around the usual suspects. In this town? Just last night, with Raylan, so far.

If he had any complaints of his own to file about Raylan encroaching on his space, he would find no protests tumbling from Henry's lips this morning. He holds deathly still under the Marshal's scrutiny, any pensiveness or scowling giving way to a softening in his otherwise cold, dead eyes, dulled and tempered by time and trials. He hasn't had any reason to stare holes through people here, least of all Raylan. It gives him some breathing room to show a little more vulnerability in the oft-cited windows into his soul.

There's no stopping John Henry thinking about it, especially once he's out that door. These days he finds he has a lot to think about. But for now, maybe he can relent. Let Raylan have his way. He breaks eye contact, gaze trailing up and around Raylan's hairline before settling on his lips. There's no shirt to clutch this time, so it's just Henry's bare warm hand against Raylan's cool chest, the softest sigh lost in their kiss. Like fire and ice. It's surprising they get along as well as they do.

"You're cold," is what he eventually says once their lips part. Not in that cold, heartless bastard sense although he has no doubt that Raylan is capable of being that if the situation called for it. "Cold to the touch." His hand trails down lower, and he swallows the lump in his throat as he stills his hand, fingers splayed over that precious little real estate between navel and dick, stopping just short of initiating another round.

"Are you sure you don't need some of that 'deep heat'?" he jokes, sliding his palm around behind Raylan's back to pull him in close again until their lower bodies are more entwined, pressed flush against each other.

Not that all looks didn't manage to look good on Henry but Raylan liked the way the softer one smoothed out some of the edges of the weight Henry carried around on him. This was, clearly, the best way to get to view the man in all his forms - sprawled and naked and mostly at peace. Raylan was honored to be among the few that had no doubt gotten to see it. For all the whoring that he knew Henry had done over his many years, he couldn't help but be glad he'd made the ranks, even if they never ended up doing this again.

No protests, no arguments, only soft touches and sighs - Good. Raylan could take some comfort in that. They weren't lying yet, promising things that were outside their control, and he was still allowed to kiss Henry and hear those little breathy sounds in daylight. Who could complain about that.

Raylan hummed behind a smile, eyebrows lifting a little in question that Henry readily clarified as his hand ran up and over Henry's arm, settling there as his hot hand moved down Raylan's stomach. The flutter of desire made him grin lazily, eyes darkening a fraction as he was pulled in and he rolled some of his weight onto him. Oh no, Henry hadn't stopped just short - Raylan was just as much a performer in the morning as he was at night and this kind of attention stirred plenty without specifically needing direct touches. Never mind that their bodies together managed plenty of that.

"Isn't that what I got last night?" he jokes back, the grin pulling broadly. "Besides, 'pparently, I'm just gonna steal all the heat from you. Especially if you keep up like this, all dangerously teasin' me and shit."

Threat or promise? Playfully, it could be either one.

"I don't know what you got last night," he retorts with an amused twitch of a smile. His hand slides back to the bruise on Raylan's hip, being a lot gentler than he had been when he first made that bruise. There's no teasing to be seen or had here, no sir. Just a wayward hand going for a bit of a wander, around away from the bruise to the curve of Raylan's ass, moving halfway down his thigh.

"All I'm hearing is a thief making excuses," he murmurs, pulling Raylan's leg in closer. Would it be a little shameless to try and steal more in the morning? He's not overly worried that someone would come bursting through the door any minute to proclaim some kind of imminent disaster or some other matter of urgency, but he's just not sure if they have the time, either.

"Thieves should be careful of getting caught in the act," he drawls, sliding his other hand into Raylan's hair, gripping it tight and tipping his head to one side so Henry can leave a trail of playful nipping-biting-kissing from the side of his neck to the curve of his shoulder. This time he is careful not to leave a mark, although he does tease at it when he finds a spot high up on the side of Raylan's neck to suck on.

Raylan hummed another amused but utterly unconvinced 'Mmhmm' that fell right back into the lazy grin. Of course Henry didn't know nothing. Neither of them did, and he knew that's how it would have to be on the other side of that door. As Henry's hand ran across him, the pressure across the bruise causing a flash of tender pain, the grin tempered down in favor of something darkly more suggestive. He'd guided weight enough to know what to do with his own, being handled in such a way, and his hips ground gently forward as his leg was pulled up.

A thief, huh? Well it was in his blood and Henry made the opportunity too good to pass up.

Any concerns about what kind of time frame they had was out the window at the sultry threat and the commanding fist in his hair. Shit, had he always liked this? That question too was blasted into nothing at the hot, sharp mouth on his neck. Raylan shuddered out a breath as he rolled himself the rest of the way on top of Henry, one hand slipping between them to splay on his chest as Raylan sighed a little moan of approval before moving down between them to stroke them both under the guise of repositioning. The hand kept moving, drifting out over Henry's hip until his thumb settled low on that hot in between skin.

"Mm and what if gettin' caught in the act only encourages the unlawful activity," he asked, pulling back a fraction so he can work one leg between Henry's, the start of a reposition if he was allowed. "What if I had more excuses, hmm?"

That teasing hand gets an instant reaction out of Henry, somehow not expecting that touch. He jolts a little straighter and an involuntary noise gets dislodged from his throat. Raylan's hand isn't cold but it's not exactly warm, either.

His legs shift and his grip loosens momentarily in Raylan's hair, legs spreading a little wider to avoid an unfortunate accident between Raylan's knees and the family jewels. Thieves need to be careful around those too even if they are planning on robbing outlaws blind.

"You should tell me all your excuses," he encourages between laboured breaths, raking blunt nails over Raylan's scalp. "Nice and slow. One at a time. With your hands where I can feel 'em." He's going to give Henry more than just morning wood if he keeps stroking and touching around down there. Not even slow, prickly nuzzles against the side of Raylan's neck can disguise the way his cock is stirring and twitching in a skillful, sneaky hand.

The sounds earned a pleased, shit eating grin kind of tilt to his smile and Raylan tilted his head down to Henry's chest, leaving a short trail of kisses down before biting him in a playfully short manner. It was an excuse, a distraction as Raylan took advantage and shifted both his legs into the space made. His still hand started moving again, hefting Henry's leg up onto his, giving him more room to grind their bodies together.

"Can't ever help where my hands wander in the morning," he started huskily. The unspoken 'when given permission' was left unspoken because Henry had weathered a few nights next to him with no directly inappropriate touching.

"I like the way you taste-" His lips drifted further down Henry's stomach, sacrificing contact for the tease. "And I'm a greedy, selfish man," he ended as he brought himself back up, hips moving forward again to push them both into his hand. "Who wants to see if I can get the same noises you pulled from me, but in the light of day."

If they weren't going to be able to talk about it out there, he wanted- no, needed - some kinda room to be honest about it in here.

Well no one in their right minds ought to accuse Raylan of not knowing what he's doing. It's the devil's work, stirring up these sorts of illicit desires so early in the morning. Henry really should know better than to fall for those charming words and those teasing lips. But as his hand lingers in Raylan's hair and follows his head halfway down his body, he finds himself rather beguiled by the excuses, the teasing, the unspoken promises of just as good of a time during the day as when they were bumbling around in the dark.

He likely wouldn't get Henry screaming himself hoarse like last night unless he's going to murder him in bed but he will get squirming and he will get involuntary noises, Henry tensing up with one raised leg leaving him exposed and vulnerable, other leg kicking at the sheets writhing beneath Raylan as that hand grips firmly and starts rubbing them both.

Turth be told Henry doesn't mind being trapped beneath. The way he half almost lifts his hips from the sheets and arches his back suggests as much. The biting seems to really turn him on.

"Don't take my word for it," he breathes encouragingly, biting down on his bottom lip in a futile attempt to stifle a moan. "You are mhhh-- most welcome to try." Ghosting over the bruise, Henry finds an equally low spot on one side of Raylan's back to grip and rest his hand, keeping Raylan close and balanced and not letting him pull back too far so that they're always inadvertently grinding.

Raylan is going to make a mess out of them both. He has more or less ensured it.

Given the right circumstance (and a much needed shower - Sanitation first, kids!) that particular tease might have been a promise, but with Henry laid out under him, writhing and breathing so throatily, the Marshal was already onto other ideas. No, he liked seeing Henry like this. Last night he hadn't seen much of anything other than sheet and a piercing, almost violent need to pull something from Raylan, but this was lazier, still draped in the vulnerabilities of fresh sleep with nowhere to hide in the morning sun that filled the room.

The way he was being held was what kept him from pulling away towards the bathroom - he should have brought that shampoo back with him, or figured a way to lure Henry into the shower with him, and he breathed a half growled rumble of pleasure at the moan. Nosing his way up under Henry's jaw, Raylan echoed the nip and kiss play that he'd started all those nights ago in the tunnels, no longer being pointedly tender in the way he bit into Henry's neck as his hand pumped with a steady tightness between them. They were passing enough that it wasn't going to leave any marks, but promised a return of what Henry had given him last night. When they had the energy for that.

Raylan worked his way down to Henry's collar bone before shuddering another hum. "Let me up to the bathroom so I can get somethin' slick." Before his tunnel vision locked them here or either of them started to chafe.

"No," Henry protests, refusing to let Raylan go. There is a hint of a whine there, like he would give his petulant little sulk if Raylan were to try to slip away. Let them chafe. They've inflicted worse pains upon themselves. If Raylan is going to threaten Henry with a scarlet letter to wear on the side of his neck, he'd better spell out his first name, middle name, last name, and then 'Doc' as well for good measure before he can even think about leaving the bed.

"No," He says again, voice barely audible in amidst the sound of rustling sheets and heated skin on skin contact. "Stay with me. Just a little while longer." This isn't-- just about the sex. Henry says as much, cupping a hand under Raylan's jaw, foreheads touching. He'll be ready to let go in a minute. Just let him grip a fistful of Raylan's hair first, lower on the back of his head. Let them grind for a bit, and give their hands free rein to roam, and just breathe.

Slowly, slowly, he will let his hand fall away, down to one side, and then the other hand. Slowly, his legs will disentangle themselves and rest motionless and heavy on the bed. He could have easily persuaded Henry to follow him to the bathroom. Or anywhere else he wants to go. A simple 'come on' would have sufficed. But for now, when their eyes are back to hovering maybe half a foot away from each other, a steely blue gaze search that face wordlessly, eyes flitting from the worried lines on Raylan's forehead to his eyes to the tip of his nose and down to those lips. Is it-- okay, if this isn't just a one night stand? Is this okay?

Another shuddered breath was let go with that answer, a relief at not having to break away for even a second, a giving way of what was left of his focus or any plans about where this would go to whatever Henry wanted. His forehead bent to rest on Henry's shoulder, off hand gripping with his fingertip at his arm. They had hurt themselves worse that a little chafing and after last night, Raylan could turn that into something delicious.

Henry could have asked Raylan to pull down the moon right now and he would have tried, if it meant getting to steal a few more minutes of his affection. A few more minutes of this, of them together and touching like it wasn't something they had to hide outside. How was Raylan expected to even begin to argue with such a softly plead 'No'. Later, Raylan would examine how giving way to a night of passion had opened up a whole new range of feelings he hadn't thought likely back home. In the now though, he could only marvel at them being like this at all. This needy, openly shown freedom.

His hand hadn't slowed working them, though the strokes got a little more languid as Henry urges his head up, and there was no helping the soft curl that spread over his lips. He liked the fact that Henry didn't want to let him go, the fact that his hand tightens in Raylan's hair at even the suggestion of it. He liked the way Henry looked over him, the pinch of something Raylan knew wasn't easily fostered or given.

"'S long as you want," he promised, eyes moving over what he could see of Henry's face so close and a second later, he was kissing him, worries about anyone walking in lost back into a haze of attentive need. No, it wasn't just about the sex and Henry had been more than right in his earlier assessment of Raylan.

He did play for keeps, even when he didn't mean to.

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037-040 » the reason for time

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we can ftb on this one?