Faraday doesn't stop, which probably means that he didn't understand. Vasquez hates the flood of relief through him, but he knows that if Faraday did know what it all meant, then he wouldn't keep going the way he is. He'd stop, not let Vasquez have more of this, because he's still sure he's a few steps ahead in this game.

He arches, just a little, but not enough to choke. This is Faraday helping him, his mouth on him, this isn't Vasquez getting to fuck his face. When he moves away, but keeps stroking him so tenderly, the choked sound in his throat resembles a whimper.

Grabbing at Faraday's hair a little tighter, he tries to incline him back to what he'd been doing. "No, you're perfect," he says bluntly, no insult required, not when Faraday is taking him apart so well. "Please, keep...keep, this," he insists, gesturing wildly to his cock. "And then, maybe, fuck me," he barks, refusing to take no for that answer.