Faraday is still breathing heavily as Vasquez sidles up the bed, and Faraday rests his hands against the other man’s sides, smoothing up the lean muscle as Vasquez finally meets his gaze. Faraday licks his lips, gaze roving over Vasquez’s face – and he looks good like that, with his hair disheveled and eyes dark. Even that smug look Vasquez is wearing is wildly attractive, when in a normal moment, it would make Faraday want to punch that look right off his face.

And even now, Faraday can’t quite help but make the easy jab, and he shrugs a shoulder. “It was alright, I guess.”

Though the delivery is belied by his own breathlessness, by the dark, satisfied thread in his voice. He smirks a little, reaching up to run a hand through Vasquez’s hair. His other hand slides down the plane of Vasquez’s stomach, fingertips ghosting along the other man’s hard length.

“Would be ungentlemanly for me to not return the favor,” he says, though he imbues the words with far more confidence than he actually feels.