Even if Faraday was the one to urge them to slow down, he still aches with loss when Vasquez steps back. He straightens a little, still propped up by the bedpost, before he pulls of his own boots, kicking them off to one side.

"'Course I don't blame you," Faraday says easily, his smile crooked and knowing, eyes glittering with good humor. "I'm the world's greatest lover."

He punctuates the statement with a wink before reaching for the other man, tugging at the hem of Vasquez's shirt to pull him in closer. He's careful to make the gesture unhurried, just to drive home the fact that they have time, that there's no need to rush. And maybe it's selfish of him, to draw this out when they've both missed one another, but part of him doesn't want a repeat of the rushed, frenzied bouts int he past. He wants to enjoy this, wants to make it last. (There's no telling what the future holds; maybe they won't stick it out together, after all. Maybe fate will separate them again. And if that's the case, Faraday wants at least one night to stand clear in his memory.)

"And now you've got me." His voice is pitched low, dark and a little rough. "Tell me what you wanna do."