Fic: Not to Waste
Justified. Raylan/Boyd/Ava. Explicit.
Set anytime after 2.11, "Full Commitment." 1,200 words.
Thanks to rillalicious for the awesome commentfic beta. Written for the Summer in Harlan Comment Fic Meme in response to a prompt from shetiger.
Short disclaimer: All characters and scenarios belong to Elmore Leonard and Graham Yost and NOT ME.
Summary: The prompt was "licking whiskey off your skin."
Not to Waste
“Drink up, boys,” Ava says, pouring the golden liquid out generously into three glasses. “A gift from Helen shouldn’t go to waste. But don’t you think, Boyd Crowder, that this means we’ll have any more alcohol in this house after tonight.”
Boyd sits back in his chair, a look of utter bewilderment on his face. “Baby, did I say I was thinking such a thing? Raylan, did you hear me voice any opinion on the past or future consumption of spirits in this here domicile?”
Raylan rolls his eyes and takes his glass, nodding to Ava. “Boyd, shut the hell up. The woman’s just covering her bases.” He smiles, crooked and canny, “She knows, give an inch with you, and you’ll take a mile.”
Ava laughs when she hands Boyd his glass and he smiles up at her, perched on the porch railing, as he takes a drink. The ‘shine flows across his tongue mild at first, then building to a steady burn, spicy and sweet, down into his middle. It tastes strong, and he finds he has to hold back a cough.
Ava and Raylan are doing the same.
“Christ,” Raylan chokes back as Ava breathes hard into her hand. “What is in this stuff?”
Ava waves her hands until she can finally speak again, the burn of the ‘shine finally ebbing from her vocal chords. “All Helen said was she brewed it special, just for Boyd an’ me. She gave it to me a couple days before…” Ava finds she can’t speak again, and it’s not because of the ‘shine.
“Huh,” is all Raylan can think to say in reply. He takes another sip, a smaller one this time and rolls the ‘shine around on his tongue.
Boyd can taste herbs from the mountain in it. A subtle blend, not any one thing he can identify. He likes it a great deal, but doesn’t say so. “To Helen,” he raises his glass and they all do the same.
A minute or two of silence and Boyd hears Ava clacking her teeth, like she's trying to get the feel of them, and he knows she only does that when she’s tipsy, not sober, not drunk. He doesn’t think about it very hard, though. He’s thinking about how the ‘shine tastes, about how it reminds him of Ava.
Raylan has started to feel it in his fingers and his toes, in the outline of his lips too, where the liquid lingers off his tongue. He’s not thinking about how it might be a bit fast. He says, “She used to brew sometimes, back when Mama was alive. She’d put fruit extracts in it, or cinnamon. Kind of like Mags’ apple pie. But I ain’t never had anything tasted like this.”
Ava hums a little with half-closed eyes. “It’s good.” She’s feeling a little wobbly on her perch so she climbs down, planting her feet and sliding to the floor. It seems perfectly natural.
She's not far away from them now, like before when she'd put herself above them. They're all actually sitting in a kind of little triangle pow-wow, with Ava on the floor at the tip and Raylan and Boyd slumped in the wicker loveseat across from her.
Boyd's knee has moved to rest against Raylan's, though neither pay any mind. It puts them both in brief thought of a time when they'd sit just like that, over lunch or at Audrey's, when they were close as kin, closer.
Raylan eyes Ava carefully, though there's a strange cast to his expression, something wild, but muted. He's thinking about the last time she was in his bed, how they'd been drunk off of whisky and each other. He wasn't thinking about how Boyd is right there, about how she's his woman now.
"You all right, baby?" Boyd's question holds a slow, confused tone. He thinks fleetingly that there must be something real powerful in Helen's brew, but he's distracted by Ava's lips. They're pulling themselves in a perfect, pleased smile across her white, white teeth.
"I'm fiiine," she draws it out long and takes another drink. Her glass is near empty and she wants more, but she's not sure it's more 'shine that she wants. She wants something, though. Needs it.
She's hot too, even in the cool breeze of dusk falling behind them. So she takes off her camel sweater, exposing her shoulders and arms to the oncoming night air.
Boyd and Raylan look at her like she's just stripped to the waist, which she thinks might not be a bad idea. She wants something real bad, and she hums that want through her teeth and her lips. Boyd doesn't realize this elicits a similar sound from him as he fumbles to loosen his collar.
Raylan's eyes are on Ava's skin, but he tries to pull his thoughts back just a little. He glances down at the glass in his hand, just as emptied as Ava's. "Somethin's..." he mumbles, but he doesn't get far.
Ava has dragged herself across the space between them and Boyd is pulling her up and into his arms. Her bare leg, brushes against Raylan's arm as she twines them around her man, it just about burns him through and all thought disappears from his head for one instant. Ava's skin is humming with warmth, like an old fridge in the summer, with its cold fire locked inside. Boyd's hand is up around the base of her neck, tangling in her beautiful hair. The other has pulled the strap of her top and bra roughly down, exposing one exquisite rose-tipped tit.
Raylan is not quite sure what to do. His brain is not on the same wavelength as the rest of his body. His cock is straining against the confines of his jeans and Boyd's hand knocks the glass from his grasp. It spills wildly and rolls, unbroken on the boarded porch floor. The 'shine is all over Ava's chest and arm, dripping thin rivulets of gold from her nipple and fingertips. They both stare at Raylan as if they had forgotten he was there.
Ava looks at Raylan, his eyes dark, pupils blown wide. She sees him stare at her bare breast, at Boyd's hands on her. Boyd sees the desire in Raylan's eyes and he speaks the words the instant he thinks them. "Come on."
It comes out in a whisper.
Raylan hears it loud and clear, or some part of him does, because he's bent his head low before he can even think about it and his lips are sucking that sweetness from the skin of Ava's fingers all the way up. Raylan's lips set Ava aflame all over again and she grinds herself deep into Boyd's lap, the fingers of her free hand sinking into his hair. She feels the air brushes cool against the moist trail Raylan's leaving up her arm, sending her shivering despite the fire inside her. His other hand moves instincively between her legs and Boyd lets out a groan as Raylan dances his fingers across the fabric between them.
"Come on," Boyd says again, louder, urgent and Ava gasps a wordless agreement. Raylan doesn't know where it is they're going, but he's damn sure he's coming too.