He's not exactly perfect at this right now. There's a lot of coughing and spitting and sputtering, but he still manages to swallow Faraday down as best as he can, still feeling the white hot rush of pleasure and amazement and another funny feeling in his chest that he's not sure he can put a name to, but feels a whole lot like an affection he didn't think that he'd feel anytime soon (something like love, but he's not saying that).
Licking his lips, he moves away, wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand, uses the sheets to help the rest, and then begins to work his way up Faraday's body. He's fucking achingly hard, which isn't exactly a good thing for his desperation, but as he brushes kisses over Faraday's hips and up his chest, he pays more attention to the mottled bits of skin and scar, until he's nearly flush with him.
Absently, he pushes the few sweaty pieces of hair from off of Faraday's forehead, staring at him like he's a chupacabra or something else mythical and not to be believed.
"I like my name on your lips," he says, his tone hoarse and insistent. He keeps on sliding his fingers through Faraday's hair, his own wild and frizzing, making him look like he's just tumbled from bed. "Querido," he murmurs, near to softly humming the word. "Not so bad from a Mexican, is it?"
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winterfish
no subject
Date: 2018-02-02 02:41 pm (UTC)Licking his lips, he moves away, wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand, uses the sheets to help the rest, and then begins to work his way up Faraday's body. He's fucking achingly hard, which isn't exactly a good thing for his desperation, but as he brushes kisses over Faraday's hips and up his chest, he pays more attention to the mottled bits of skin and scar, until he's nearly flush with him.
Absently, he pushes the few sweaty pieces of hair from off of Faraday's forehead, staring at him like he's a chupacabra or something else mythical and not to be believed.
"I like my name on your lips," he says, his tone hoarse and insistent. He keeps on sliding his fingers through Faraday's hair, his own wild and frizzing, making him look like he's just tumbled from bed. "Querido," he murmurs, near to softly humming the word. "Not so bad from a Mexican, is it?"