Walt is ticklish. He’s bonier than he should be, but they’re in the middle of the desert, and Ray wants to trace all the sharp angles of his skin but every brush against his sides and legs makes him giggle like a child. It shouldn’t be adorable, yet it is, but more than that, it’s distracting.
Brad is in his Ranger Grave ten feet away, Trombley and Reporter nearby as well, and if Walt doesn’t stop squirming and chuffing around his fist in his mouth he’s going to get them both shot. The solution is obvious, Ray leaning in to capture Walt’s mouth with a desperate kiss, and assuming he doesn’t get off from the way Walt is grinding against him desperately, he really wants to put his cock in it instead.