H/t to WhoKnowsWhy for the story Recompense, which I borrowed from liberally…
He had her pinned under him. She was spitting dirt and leaves from her mouth as she wriggled beneath him. Her elbow caught him and he pulled back, just enough for her to reach and pull herself from underneath him. He caught her by her jean's waistband and yanked her back under him. He straddled her, spinning her so she faced him. "I love this shit."
"You chose this career."
"Yeah, this shit makes me hard."
"You sure wanna say that on top of me, Deputy?"
He stared down at her, both breathless and wired. "Yeah, I am," he took her mouth while his hands ripped his jacket and shirt off, moving to his jeans without ceremony.
It had taken her barely a breath to follow suit undressing herself and pressing her naked chest to his. Peeling her jeans off, he slid his hands to tear off her panties, feeling her wet heat under his fingers then his cock. He thrust into her over and over again.
But this wasn't how it happened. And that nasty, annoying part of his brain that kept reminding him would not let him rewrite history.
Tim woke up with Clare's hot mouth on him, the head of his penis deep in her throat as she swallowed him.
"Babe, I'm gonna come. Clare-"
Her mouth kept working, eyes smug and intent, hands deftly working his shaft and ball sac. He tried to pull her off by her hair but her tongue picked that moment to draw a line down the back of his dick, his hips moved involuntarily.
"Clare," he whispered, "Cla-"
He couldn't hold it. His cum was swallowed quickly as Clare continued her ministrations. She licked up and down his cock, cleaning him, before pulling a Kleenex from the coffee table to dry him. She looked into his eyes, a defiant sex goddess with wet, swollen lips and his cum on her breath.
"You are the sexiest thing I've ever seen."
"I know," she smirked, putting him back into his boxers, and zipping and buttoning his pants. "How cheap was that with your partner in the next room?"
"That was amazing," he responded honestly. His hand was still tangled in her hair and he used it to pull her up to him.
"You don't want to kiss me yet," she reached for a glass of water on the table, drinking half of it while Tim still marveled. After kissing him slowly and methodically, she pulled back and said, "Not that I don't like waking up to your hard-ons..."
He smiled a shy smile, "I was rewriting the woods."
"Was I any good?"
"I have a deep affection for you on your back."
"That's because you're not terribly creative,"
"Might be true. You might have to show me what I'm missing," he said to her lips.
"If you two are done fooling around..." Raylan said from the kitchen door.
"If you saw anything I'll carve out your eyes with a grapefruit spoon," Tim said without turning.
"If I saw anything I'd carve out my eyes with a grapefruit spoon," Raylan shot back.
The twins were up before the rest of the Sullivan's again. Clare cooked while the boy's inventoried blankets and anything heavy enough to hold the blankets on the bookshelves and tabletops. Tim and Raylan were assigned the task of rearranging furniture to Ethan and Evan's specifications.
Rachel didn't arrive until after nine and Tim gave Clare a lingering kiss that got the twins gagging before he left with Raylan. Raylan merely tipped his hat to Clare and shot Rachel a look. Rachel ignored him.
In the car, safely driving on the interstate towards Frankfurt, Raylan opened his mouth, "So, she woke you up with a blow job, huh? That's hot."
"This is me pretending you didn't say that because you're driving... And, yeah, it was."
Duffy's motor coach was as protected as the last time Raylan visited. Mike came to the door again and, seeing both of them, went to get Duffy without a word.
Tim, however, wasn't waiting for anything and followed Mike in.
Raylan trailed after him, keeping a foot on the door to keep anyone else from following them in.
Duffy, for his part, had come out of his back room without a raised eyebrow...or pants, "Why, good morning, Marshals. What can I do for you this fine day?"
"You wanna finish getting dressed for us, Wynn?" Raylan asked.
"Please," Tim drawled dryly.
"If you insist, gentlemen," Wynn disappeared into the back room briefly as Mike eyed Tim and Raylan nervously. Mike wasn't sure if he should be more cautious of the know quantity of Raylan or the unknown quantity of Tim. Mike had survived with Duffy for all these years for a reason. Coming back out, Wynn spread his arms welcomingly, "Alrighty then, gents! What are we doing today?"
Tim smiled, "What were you and Graham Sullivan discussing three days ago before Colin Stark was killed?"
"Why, I don't recall, Deputy Gutterson. Three days is a long time."
Tim hit him. Duffy stumbled into a chair, clutching his jaw. "Wrong answer, Wynn." He swung at him again, knocking Wynn off the chair.
Raylan said to Mike, "This doesn't involve you and me, Mike. Don't make it."
Mike eyed him, hand on his piece.
"You pull, I pull and then this gets messy."
"Do I need to repeat myself, Wynn?" Tim hauled him back into the chair.
"You're just gonna beat on me? In front of your partner?" Wynn's gaze went between Raylan and Tim.
Tim smirked, "Bet you thought that was just his job, huh?"
Wynn's eyes went between the two Marshals, "All this for Brian Sullivan?"
"Who is asking the questions here, ya think, Duffy?" Tim sneered, leaning over him.
"Raylan!" Duffy looked to him.
"What makes you think I'm not gonna back his play?" Raylan asked.
Tim stepped towards Wynn again, Wynn put his hands up, "He wanted a few names. Just names. That's all."
"Like the names of whoever you loaned your car to shoot up Brian Sullivan's place?" Tim pressed.
"A shooting?"
"Don't play with me, Duffy. I don't play," Tim warned.
"I gave him the names, is all. Ok? This is all a Sullivan family deal. I don't involve myself in family businesses."
"Tell that to Theo Tonin," Raylan quipped.
"What names?"
Wynn weighed his options, "Tony Kender, guard at Tramble. You wouldn't think they'd be friends, Graham's taken a bit of a shine Tony and his interests. A financial shine."
"As in Graham pays Tony's debts to you and now he holds the marker," Tim finished with a glance at Raylan.
"That's a wonderfully linear way of seeing it," Raylan said on the way out.
"It's a little more linear if you know Graham's bitter about sharing the company he's slaved for for thirty years with his deadbeat brother and the kids of his dead sister who rejected the family business."
"Is this how Art feels when I wait to tell him things in the office?" Raylan asked absently, getting in the car. Tim was already on the phone about Tony Kender, too focused to respond.
Reaching the office Raylan and Tim were pulled into Art's office, "DOC is damn curious why we're pulling files on one of their guards. So am I."
"Kender was the name we got from Duffy this morning. Graham paid his debt to Duffy and is holding the marker. Graham's call to Duffy was asking for names," Tim sped through his speech, bringing Art up to speed.
"So, our Tramble guard is hooking Graham Sullivan up his hired guns? Duffy say anything about Moss?"
Tim and Raylan didn't look at each other.
"Or did we not remember to ask about Moss the way I'm not remembering to ask about Tim's knuckles?"
"It does seem very similiar," Raylan offered.
"As it stands it's reason to talk to Graham Sullivan again." me
"It's reason for Raylan and Rachel to talk to talk to Kender. You're a little wired and will go relax with your girl and her family. I trust nine-year-old boys are a more effective cockblock than Raylan's hat," Art's tone should have brooked no argument.
"Now, you're assigning me to Clare? Because Wynn Duffy required... special handling?"
Art tamped down a smile, "You questioning my orders?"
"No, sir," Tim said, looking at Raylan.