Date: 2018-07-19 06:14 pm (UTC)
peacemakers: (051)
From: [personal profile] peacemakers
Faraday’s expression pinches a little, mouth twisting over to one side.

“Is this your way of askin’ me to put my shirt back on?” he asks, though it’s a token complaint, considering he makes no move to retrieve his shirt, occupied as he is with unfastening Vasquez’s trousers.

He pauses, though, when Vasquez makes that little admission, something odd and warm and a little squirrely twisting in his chest with those words. Faraday often touted himself as the world’s greatest lover, sure, often waggled his eyebrows suggestively in hopes of drawing out a laugh from the other man, but it’s not often that someone is so candid about wanting him. Sure, he’s heard more than enough from pretty saloon girls about wanting sex in general, making vague remarks that they surely told to every man who crossed their path, but no one specifically wanting Faraday.

And as with many things, Faraday isn’t entirely sure what to do with this strange feeling.

So he ignores it.

“You oughta know by now that I don’t do nothin’ I don’t want to,” he says simply. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of Vasquez’s pants, giving them a quick tug to signal his intentions of dragging them down.
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Vasquez

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