The sharp little bite, the way Vasquez eases back, leaves Faraday worried; for a second, there, he truly thought he had done something to force Vasquez to fold, not even an hour into whatever this relationship might be. It would naturally follow, he thinks. Faraday does tend make a mess of things. He props himself up onto an elbow, a protest forming on the tip of his tongue, but—
Faraday glances down, sees Vasquez wrapping a hand around his length. Unconsciously, Faraday licks his lips, almost nervous, and he breathes out a laugh at Vasquez’s request.
Talking. Talking he can most certainly do.
But Faraday’s never been very good at doing exactly as he’s told, and after a moment of consideration, he sits up fully, moving to kneel in front of Vasquez on the mattress. The positioning is a little awkward, their knees knocking together, but Faraday reaches up to cup the back of Vasquez’s neck, leans in to slot his lips over Vasquez’s. The kiss isn’t anywhere near as combative as before, though it’s still heated, still insistent. And whenever he pulls back for breath, he talks, as Vasquez had asked.
“I tend to like it rougher than this,” he says easily, a smirk curling his lips even as he leans in for another kiss. “Whoever I take to bed, I like makin’ ‘em feel good.” This time, Faraday ducks to nip at Vasquez’s neck, mouthing at the shadow of his jaw. He pitches his voice low, murmuring against Vasquez’s skin. “When we do this again, I’ll have you tell me what you like, and I’ll see what I can do.”
no subject
Faraday glances down, sees Vasquez wrapping a hand around his length. Unconsciously, Faraday licks his lips, almost nervous, and he breathes out a laugh at Vasquez’s request.
Talking. Talking he can most certainly do.
But Faraday’s never been very good at doing exactly as he’s told, and after a moment of consideration, he sits up fully, moving to kneel in front of Vasquez on the mattress. The positioning is a little awkward, their knees knocking together, but Faraday reaches up to cup the back of Vasquez’s neck, leans in to slot his lips over Vasquez’s. The kiss isn’t anywhere near as combative as before, though it’s still heated, still insistent. And whenever he pulls back for breath, he talks, as Vasquez had asked.
“I tend to like it rougher than this,” he says easily, a smirk curling his lips even as he leans in for another kiss. “Whoever I take to bed, I like makin’ ‘em feel good.” This time, Faraday ducks to nip at Vasquez’s neck, mouthing at the shadow of his jaw. He pitches his voice low, murmuring against Vasquez’s skin. “When we do this again, I’ll have you tell me what you like, and I’ll see what I can do.”