"You want to know what it means?" is Vasquez's absent reply as he avoids looking at Faraday while he works on the leg, taking advantage of the task at hand to give him a good excuse to not have to look Faraday in the eye and give away any sign that he'd just called the man 'handsome'. "Learn Spanish, then you'll know what I call you," he retorts.
He can tell that it's starting to help because some of the pain has melted away from Faraday's voice. Glancing up, he can also tell that he's in a more relaxed position, which means that it's time to bring the wooden cylinder into it, digging it and rolling it over the strong muscle of his thigh, his breaths deepening and evening out as he keeps his mind on the task at hand and not the fact his hands are all over Faraday.
Talk about getting what he wants, only not at all.
"I think, maybe, that's better," he says after a long while of pushing and touching, pressing his flat palm to the bad leg and feeling the warmth, squeezing lightly and moving his thumb in a hard drag up, then down. The hard swallow sets his Adam's apple bobbing and the sound echoes in his ears. He mutters a mild curse in Spanish as he leans back and realizes that putting all that effort and force into his fingers have made his arm ache, but he can tend to that with a hot bath later, absently rubbing at it before he lets his hand drop.
"Better enough to secure food, maybe?" he suggests. "Do something so I'm not the one doing everything between us, oye," he deadpans.
no subject
He can tell that it's starting to help because some of the pain has melted away from Faraday's voice. Glancing up, he can also tell that he's in a more relaxed position, which means that it's time to bring the wooden cylinder into it, digging it and rolling it over the strong muscle of his thigh, his breaths deepening and evening out as he keeps his mind on the task at hand and not the fact his hands are all over Faraday.
Talk about getting what he wants, only not at all.
"I think, maybe, that's better," he says after a long while of pushing and touching, pressing his flat palm to the bad leg and feeling the warmth, squeezing lightly and moving his thumb in a hard drag up, then down. The hard swallow sets his Adam's apple bobbing and the sound echoes in his ears. He mutters a mild curse in Spanish as he leans back and realizes that putting all that effort and force into his fingers have made his arm ache, but he can tend to that with a hot bath later, absently rubbing at it before he lets his hand drop.
"Better enough to secure food, maybe?" he suggests. "Do something so I'm not the one doing everything between us, oye," he deadpans.