The only trouble with this is that he wants, so badly, to be able to look at Faraday while he does this. He wants to watch him come undone, he wants to be the one to take him apart until he's demanding and snapping, but he wants to see it. The glances upwards aren't really enough, he fears, but he's going to make them be. He strokes his thumb in gentle strokes, but when he pins his hips down, it's hard, a refusal to let Faraday buck his hips up.

It's a challenge that if he wants more, he's going to have to fight for it.

Sighing with pleasure for the hand in his hair (he's a sucker for it, could turn into a kitten for a firm enough touch through the strands), Vasquez works back to give himself a chance to breath and let his jaw rest from his work sucking Faraday off, something like a bolt of warmth pushing over him for the 'sweetheart' off Faraday's lips.

Madre de dios, he could get used to that. The burst of affection when he realizes he can is swift and his pace increases, the way he takes him deeper, it's all a little faster because he's so quick to show Faraday how much he appreciates him. Taking a hand off Faraday's hips to swat at his knees, he eases back and off, though he doesn't go far. His lips are at the curve of Faraday's high and thigh, staring up at him, half-lidded and teasing.

"I'm...?" he coaxes with a smirk. He knows what he is, he just wants to hear it.