[[ lexington, kentucky ]]

[itwasjustified]

[ "how do you feel about wings?" ]

Raylan wipes the last of the grease from his fingers and crumples the paper napkin.

With a lazy toss, he nails the nearby wastebasket.

He reaches for his glass of sweet iced tea, and his eyes slide from what's left of their dinner to Reese.

"Got a verdict yet?"

Comments

[itwasjustified]

His eyes follow her fingers.

"So you're sayin' size does matter."

[notenlightened]

She drops her hand, and the hat slides down a few inches over her forehead.

"In this case, yes."

[itwasjustified]

He stands, long, lean limbs unfolding in an easy, fluid motion, and he's close, barely two breaths away.

"Nah -- you're still intimidatin', see?"

[notenlightened]

She draws in a breath - this close, it's hard to tell.

She licks her lips. Tastes sweet tea.

"Guess it is all in how you wear it."

[itwasjustified]

He tips back the Stetson, all the better to see her eyes, and his free hand cups her nape.

His eyes flick to the hat, then to her mouth.

A heartbeat later, he dips his head to kiss her.

[notenlightened]

There's another brief inhale - this one's sharper, anticipatory - and it happens seconds before his lips make contact with hers.

Her eyes reflexively drift shut, her fingers slowly snaking around his wrist. The pad of her thumb bumps up against his pulse point to feel it flutter underneath skin.

[itwasjustified]

Her lips are salt-sweet, warm and soft; when her fingers circle his wrist, Raylan tilts his head to deepen the kiss.

He's insistent but not demanding, his hand leaving the Stetson to stroke her cheek.

[notenlightened]

It won't require much in the way of coaxing to get her to respond.

She breathes a sigh into the kiss. Tilts her head into the caress of his hand.

[itwasjustified]

Fingers threading into her hair, he closes what little distance is left between them, lines and curves and planes, geometry at its most base.

When he breaks the kiss, he pulls back just enough to breathe, his nose nudging hers.

[notenlightened]

There's a different taste, she notices, drawing her lower lip into her mouth when he breaks from her. This close, her half-lidded gaze barely brings the slope of his nose into focus. Her hand slips down to the muscle of his forearm.

"Took you long enough," she manages.

[itwasjustified]

He's smiling to himself, mouth moving closer to her ear, causing the Stetson to tip back another fraction.

"And here I'm thinkin' you might smack me for bein' too forward."

[notenlightened]

She shakes her head, a pleased shiver coursing through.

"You're safe. For now."

[itwasjustified]

"So you'll tell me -- "

His lips brush her earlobe, the corner of her jaw.

"When it gets dangerous?"

[notenlightened]

Oh, he's good. Either that or she's experienced fairly lame attempts up to now.

"You'll know if you're toeing the line."

[itwasjustified]

His mouth trails to the side of her neck, and he breathes in -- skin and shampoo, sun and something he can't quite identify, but it smells like Reese, and Reese smells good.

His lips hover over her pulse.

"'Cause you'll cold-clock me, right?"

[notenlightened]

She can feel everything - there used to be a time where she couldn't feel anything.

But now, there's nothing but anticipation coursing through her veins, and she smiles lazily against his cheek, fingertips trailing through the folds of his shirt.

"Damn straight."

[itwasjustified]

Chuckling, he lifts the hat from her head. Once it's deposited on his abandoned chair, he cradles her face in both hands, fingers threading deeper into her hair.

"I'll try my best to avoid that, then."

Mouth a centimeter away, he teases her lower lip with his.

"There's waffles on the line, if I'm rememberin' right."

[notenlightened]

The fingers in her hair coax another sound of delight from her, but she doesn't move to close the distance between them any further.

There's a warm sweetness on her lips, tea tinged with U.S. marshal.

"Play your cards right, they might even be blueberry."

[itwasjustified]

"Blueberry and Belgian?"

He allows himself another brief smile.

"At the same time?"

Massaging her scalp with his fingertips, he takes a slow step backward, steering them toward the bed.

[notenlightened]

"Don't push it."

She's smiling, though, sensing herself being nudged in that direction, and follows without hesitating, her mouth finding his again.

[itwasjustified]

He chuckles, the sound more of a low rumble in his chest, getting lost in translation with the contact. This kiss is harder, hotter, and Raylan wraps an arm around her, pulling her close.

When he opens his eyes again, he's on his back, the ceiling obscured by a curtain of dark hair.

[notenlightened]

There's a small, lazy grin pulling at the corners of her mouth as she sits back on her heels, gazing down at him, her fingers loosely snaking around his wrists to draw his arms up over his head before sliding down, down the contours of his chest and sides.

"I hope you're not ticklish."

[itwasjustified]

He doesn't squirm.

Much.

"Even if I was," he says, a bald bluff through and through, "I get the feelin' you wouldn't take it easy on me."

[notenlightened]

"Uh-huh."

She surges down, a slow teasing roll of hips and a series of kisses left along the subtle curve of his jaw.

[itwasjustified]

Eyes closing, his head tilts, and it takes every iota of self-control he posses to keep still beneath her.

He can't not touch her; one hand snakes around her side, and the pads of his fingers map her spine through her shirt.