Faraday feels like he’s balanced on a wire, as Vasquez’s hands rest on the waistband of his jeans, as Vasquez looms over him with that hint of worry, hidden away by the slyness of his smile. Faraday’s nervous – that much is obvious. He wasn’t in the habit of treading onto unfamiliar ground without an exit plan. Hell, he wasn’t in the habit of treading onto unfamiliar ground at all, if he could help it, but—
This would be worth it, he told himself. Or he hoped it would be, because the warmth of Vasquez’s calloused hands, even through the fabric of Faraday’s clothing, makes something hot and dark spiral straight to his stomach. The way Vasquez smiles, knowing and roguish, sends a bolt straight down his spine – and even if being with a man is new to Faraday, he still recognizes that sensation easily enough as desire.
Which, unexpectedly, made things slip a little more into focus.
One of Faraday’s hands found Vasquez’s, and with his palm resting atop, he hooked his own thumb beneath the waistband of his trousers, giving a pointed tug downward – not enough to divest himself of his clothing, but enough to tell Vasquez that he’s starting to lose patience and might just take matters into his own hands.
“C’mon,” he says, trying to sound waspish and impatient. Then, he pauses, mostly for show, and tuts quietly. “Unless you’re havin’ second thoughts about your own capabilities...”
Faraday might as well be beating Vasquez over the head with the challenge, but— maybe that’ll make things easier on both of them, if they turn this into something of a game. Another little competition to throw themselves into.
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winterfish
no subject
Date: 2018-01-18 11:38 pm (UTC)This would be worth it, he told himself. Or he hoped it would be, because the warmth of Vasquez’s calloused hands, even through the fabric of Faraday’s clothing, makes something hot and dark spiral straight to his stomach. The way Vasquez smiles, knowing and roguish, sends a bolt straight down his spine – and even if being with a man is new to Faraday, he still recognizes that sensation easily enough as desire.
Which, unexpectedly, made things slip a little more into focus.
One of Faraday’s hands found Vasquez’s, and with his palm resting atop, he hooked his own thumb beneath the waistband of his trousers, giving a pointed tug downward – not enough to divest himself of his clothing, but enough to tell Vasquez that he’s starting to lose patience and might just take matters into his own hands.
“C’mon,” he says, trying to sound waspish and impatient. Then, he pauses, mostly for show, and tuts quietly. “Unless you’re havin’ second thoughts about your own capabilities...”
Faraday might as well be beating Vasquez over the head with the challenge, but— maybe that’ll make things easier on both of them, if they turn this into something of a game. Another little competition to throw themselves into.