That look in Faraday's cheeks is entirely too flushed and too good for him, given that he's having troubles with keeping his own desires under wraps,
"I've been with enough men to know what to do," is his low response, his voice hoarse with desire. There's a dark look in his eyes because Faraday looks ridiculously good right now. He keeps stroking his fingers over the warmth of Faraday's neck, wanting to lean down and kiss him again, but he has to be patient.
When Faraday says 'you're not so bad', he laughs. It's a low and loud and wonderful thing and he's lighter than he has been in ages to feel it. "Querido," he murmurs, happy to finally get to say that again and mean it, and to also have Faraday understand it. "You're pretty awful," he says bluntly. "You drink and smoke and gamble and swear and snore," he says (even if that last is a lie, seeing as it's Vasquez who does the snoring).
Still, even as he's saying all this, he's closing the space between them, a determined glint in his eye.
"And you don't know how to kiss," is his last accusation, living for what that might provoke out of Faraday, now that he's only inches away from him and those flush cheeks of his.
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winterfish
no subject
Date: 2018-01-11 12:57 am (UTC)"I've been with enough men to know what to do," is his low response, his voice hoarse with desire. There's a dark look in his eyes because Faraday looks ridiculously good right now. He keeps stroking his fingers over the warmth of Faraday's neck, wanting to lean down and kiss him again, but he has to be patient.
When Faraday says 'you're not so bad', he laughs. It's a low and loud and wonderful thing and he's lighter than he has been in ages to feel it. "Querido," he murmurs, happy to finally get to say that again and mean it, and to also have Faraday understand it. "You're pretty awful," he says bluntly. "You drink and smoke and gamble and swear and snore," he says (even if that last is a lie, seeing as it's Vasquez who does the snoring).
Still, even as he's saying all this, he's closing the space between them, a determined glint in his eye.
"And you don't know how to kiss," is his last accusation, living for what that might provoke out of Faraday, now that he's only inches away from him and those flush cheeks of his.