The hesitation almost makes Vasquez say something, but he bites his tongue and lets Faraday take his time. He would've pointed out that he helped the doctor change the dressings and that he'd seen him when he was in even worse shape, so seeing the scars and the remnants aren't going to make Vasquez suddenly decide to change his mind. If anything, the marks make him even more incredible to Vasquez.
He's a hero, he saved their lives and all the children. Vasquez just can't stop thanking God above for the breath that had still been in him when Vasquez had gone to comb the field for survivors. It's that serious thought in mind that doesn't make him laugh or smile or joke.
Faraday is alive. He's alive and his heart is beating and he's making awful jokes and Vasquez couldn't be happier. He strips off his shirt with ease, tugging off his bandanna and hat, but leaves the rest so that he can bow reverently over Faraday's body to do what he'd meant to.
"Nene," he murmurs, his hands spanning slowly over Faraday's chest, his thumb brushing over each scar, each bit of mottled skin and jagged line. He lets his lips work them next, gentle and hot as he presses a kiss to each and every one he can find on his descent. "Shhh," he hushes him, against any other protests that might accost him next. He lets some of the humor breathe back into him, grinning fondly as he goes back to what he'd started with.
His mouth on Faraday's dick, but now he goes slower, not wanting to rush this. It's the first time and the only first time he's going to get like this, so as he positions himself back, he grabs Faraday's hand so he can slot it back within the riotous mess of his curls (it's definitely not behaving now), grasping hold of his hips and holding on as he goes back to paying Faraday's dick the kind of attention that it deserves.
Moaning, he catches himself thinking about how badly he's been wanting this and how it's not a dream.
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He's a hero, he saved their lives and all the children. Vasquez just can't stop thanking God above for the breath that had still been in him when Vasquez had gone to comb the field for survivors. It's that serious thought in mind that doesn't make him laugh or smile or joke.
Faraday is alive. He's alive and his heart is beating and he's making awful jokes and Vasquez couldn't be happier. He strips off his shirt with ease, tugging off his bandanna and hat, but leaves the rest so that he can bow reverently over Faraday's body to do what he'd meant to.
"Nene," he murmurs, his hands spanning slowly over Faraday's chest, his thumb brushing over each scar, each bit of mottled skin and jagged line. He lets his lips work them next, gentle and hot as he presses a kiss to each and every one he can find on his descent. "Shhh," he hushes him, against any other protests that might accost him next. He lets some of the humor breathe back into him, grinning fondly as he goes back to what he'd started with.
His mouth on Faraday's dick, but now he goes slower, not wanting to rush this. It's the first time and the only first time he's going to get like this, so as he positions himself back, he grabs Faraday's hand so he can slot it back within the riotous mess of his curls (it's definitely not behaving now), grasping hold of his hips and holding on as he goes back to paying Faraday's dick the kind of attention that it deserves.
Moaning, he catches himself thinking about how badly he's been wanting this and how it's not a dream.