The burst of salt across his tongue nearly catches Faraday by surprise, but rather than back off, he works Vasquez through it, hand stroking his length, lips still wrapped around the head. It's odd, but not entirely unpleasant, and more than that, the way Vasquez twists and tenses, jerks and moans beneath him is damn near intoxicating.
It's a hell of a sight, and more than that, Faraday starts thinking that this might very well be habit-forming.
Once Vasquez lies boneless beneath him, Faraday turns, spits out the other man's spend. (All grace, is one Joshua Faraday.) He turns back, wiping at the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, and while his smile is very near feral, there's something soft in, it too. Something warm.
"Darlin'," he says, low and husky and something unmistakably fond in his voice. "I appreciate the offer, but you look on the verge of passin' out."
It's been an achingly long day and tired though he might be, he's also not that much of an asshole to leave Faraday on his own without any release. He laughs, filthy and warm, when he watches Faraday spit out, even if it catches on something that wrecks it, makes it echo with a hint of grief.
"What kind of man passes out before he can give something back?" he demands, reaching out for him to tug him closer by his hair, even if for now, all he musters up is a languid, slow, open mouthed kiss, nuzzling at his neck and the bristle of his beard when he eases back. "Te amo," he murmurs. "y lo siento."
Sorry that he loves him? Sorry for today? Or just sorry for the future and what happens next?
"I might not move much, but come here," he murmurs, sliding his hand down Faraday's pants to wrap around his dick.
Faraday’s made a habit of reading people, of catching little strange tells in body language and voices – which means he hears it, when Vasquez’s laugh turns odd, almost—
— almost something. Noticing isn’t the same as understanding, it seems, and Faraday frowns at him, lips parting to ask after the strange quality of his voice.
But Vasquez catches him, instead, with his fingers tangled in Faraday’s hair as they are, pulls Faraday down and traps the words between their mouths as they kiss. Faraday props himself up on his elbows and knees, straddling Vasquez’s hips. The questions sit at the back of Faraday’s mind, though, and when he hears Vasquez switch to his mother tongue, hears that new— nickname, he supposes? Something tightens in his chest with how sweetly Vasquez says it.
But there’s something odd there, too. Again. And “lo siento” sounds familiar enough, though Faraday can’t place the phrase’s meaning. He’s certainly heard it before – maybe not directed explicitly to him, but in general, he thinks. He hardly has time to ruminate on it, though, before Vasquez wraps a calloused hand around his cock, and Faraday lets out a startled, broken sound. He bucks into the other man’s grip, his cock hard and throbbing after attending to Vasquez.
“You don’t have to, darlin’,” Faraday offers again, though his voice is low and hoarse with want. “I’ll keep till mornin’.”
Vasquez refuses to take his hand off of Faraday's cock, because if this is going to be the beginning of things being over, then he wants every last touch he can get, every kiss he can steal. He's been a robber and a bandit for so long, but all he wants now is to thieve away Faraday's sense.
"Callate," he hisses at him, leaning up to pepper slow kisses over his neck, breathing him in deeply as he tries to memorize him. "Déjame tener esto," he insists, his pace getting quicker as he works his calloused fingers over Faraday, unable to see him properly unless he tips towards his good eye, so he does and marvels at how good he looks like this.
Who knows? Maybe Faraday will come and visit him, at least until he finds himself another pretty Ethel who'll sing at him and want to stay.
Okay, then. Callate Faraday knows all too well, considering Vasquez has turned it on him more than a few times, and he can’t help the little huff of a laugh that escapes him. The rest of what Vasquez says is lost on him, but Faraday thinks he gets the picture.
Shut up and enjoy it.
And, well, Faraday has always been at least a little selfish, and rather than keep arguing, he offers a low, wordless sound of pleasure.
Vasquez’s grip is rough against his dick, and Faraday tips his head to one side while Vasquez’s lips travel the column of his throat. It’s an awkward position for both of them, and his old wounds twitch to signal their discomfort, but considering how wrung-out Vasquez seemed, Faraday isn’t entirely sure if the man has it in him to switch positions. But that’s fine, he thinks, as he rocks his hips, thrusting himself into Vasquez’s calloused palm. That’s just fine. More than fine, so long as Vasquez keeps this up.
His eyes go half-lidded, gaze growing distant, and his focus hones in on the roughness of Vasquez's palm, on the heat and of his mouth, on the rasp of his beard against Faraday’s neck. Dark as it currently is, Vasquez probably misses the way color rises up on Faraday’s skin. It’s not long before the rocking of his hips picks up, trying to force Vasquez into a slightly faster rhythm, and—
"Oh, hell," he murmurs, heated and rough. He lets out a strained noise, rutting into Vasquez's grip. "I'm close, sweetheart, I'm real close—"
Good thing that Vasquez is so ready for this, that he's at his nerves' end that he just wants to bring him off all the more, the frantic panicked energy in him feeding the speed in which he works his hand over Faraday's cock, tangling his other hand through Faraday's hair to coax him in and kiss him, trying to swallow up every word he's trying to say.
He's not trying to think about this as the last thing they'll get to do together, but it's hard not to. After all, he really doubts that once Vasquez goes back to hiding for safety and to keep his head, that Faraday will follow.
He kisses like that, as if he can claim these moments and push them back, working his hand as fast as he can right up until the moment he slows, thumb rubbing in circles, and his kisses turn careful and loving, too. Closing his head, he rests his forehead on Faraday's shoulder before he picks up the pace again, thinking that he can't bear to watch this.
He's not that brave.
i'm so sorry this took so long; this month has been awful work-wise
He goes where he's led, slotting his mouth over Vasquez's as that golden wave builds low in his gut. Faraday doesn't have much of a mind for speaking in any sort of coherent fashion, but his wordless groans are trapped between the press of their lips.
When Vasquez's almost feverish pace slows to a crawl, Faraday can't help the desperate sound he makes, something startled out of him that he can't quite hold back. Before he can even think to ask if something were the matter, though, Vasquez's hand renews its efforts, and Faraday's teeth clamp down on his lower lip to cage in the strained noise that claws out of his throat.
He spills over Vasquez's hand, gasping and moaning as his entire body seizes. He thinks he shapes Vasquez's name – Ale – but with the way his mind blanks, he's not entirely sure.
When he returns to himself, his limbs are shaking with exhaustion, though the worst of his old aches are sanded away by the hazy warmth that suffuses his veins. He lets his limbs fold under him in a controlled fall as he collapses to the blanket at Vasquez's side. He sits up long enough to retrieve one of the discarded bandannas to wipe the two of them clean, but after that, he flops back down. Throwing an arm across Vasquez's middle, he huffs out a breathless laugh.
He murmurs against the other man's shoulder, "Wouldn't mind endin' more evenings like this."
<333 I'm very happy for the tag! I will reply and then link to a new one with a mini time jump
Vasquez finds himself nosing at Faraday's neck, the tip of his nose tracing the warmth of his neck as he curls in, eyes closed, his mood sombre, and he thinks that it would have been nice if he had been someone else. If he hadn't been a wanted man, maybe they could do this more often and have this life.
As it is, it's at least a good way to end things, with him surrounded by Faraday's warmth. He's so worn from the day that he knows there's little fight in him, little of anything else. He still thinks he can't finish the night without saying one last thing.
"Te amo, Joshua," he murmurs, needing him to understand that, more than anything. "I mean it, no matter what." Because tomorrow, he knows that Faraday won't feel so much fondness towards him, not after what's coming. Still, for Faraday to live a life that's full and rich and not hiding, he knows that it needs to happen. Dragging Faraday towards him a little tighter, he doesn't plan to move from where he lies, not until the morning.
Until then, he's stealing every second he can get.
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no subject
It's a hell of a sight, and more than that, Faraday starts thinking that this might very well be habit-forming.
Once Vasquez lies boneless beneath him, Faraday turns, spits out the other man's spend. (All grace, is one Joshua Faraday.) He turns back, wiping at the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, and while his smile is very near feral, there's something soft in, it too. Something warm.
"Darlin'," he says, low and husky and something unmistakably fond in his voice. "I appreciate the offer, but you look on the verge of passin' out."
no subject
"What kind of man passes out before he can give something back?" he demands, reaching out for him to tug him closer by his hair, even if for now, all he musters up is a languid, slow, open mouthed kiss, nuzzling at his neck and the bristle of his beard when he eases back. "Te amo," he murmurs. "y lo siento."
Sorry that he loves him? Sorry for today? Or just sorry for the future and what happens next?
"I might not move much, but come here," he murmurs, sliding his hand down Faraday's pants to wrap around his dick.
no subject
— almost something. Noticing isn’t the same as understanding, it seems, and Faraday frowns at him, lips parting to ask after the strange quality of his voice.
But Vasquez catches him, instead, with his fingers tangled in Faraday’s hair as they are, pulls Faraday down and traps the words between their mouths as they kiss. Faraday props himself up on his elbows and knees, straddling Vasquez’s hips. The questions sit at the back of Faraday’s mind, though, and when he hears Vasquez switch to his mother tongue, hears that new— nickname, he supposes? Something tightens in his chest with how sweetly Vasquez says it.
But there’s something odd there, too. Again. And “lo siento” sounds familiar enough, though Faraday can’t place the phrase’s meaning. He’s certainly heard it before – maybe not directed explicitly to him, but in general, he thinks. He hardly has time to ruminate on it, though, before Vasquez wraps a calloused hand around his cock, and Faraday lets out a startled, broken sound. He bucks into the other man’s grip, his cock hard and throbbing after attending to Vasquez.
“You don’t have to, darlin’,” Faraday offers again, though his voice is low and hoarse with want. “I’ll keep till mornin’.”
no subject
"Callate," he hisses at him, leaning up to pepper slow kisses over his neck, breathing him in deeply as he tries to memorize him. "Déjame tener esto," he insists, his pace getting quicker as he works his calloused fingers over Faraday, unable to see him properly unless he tips towards his good eye, so he does and marvels at how good he looks like this.
Who knows? Maybe Faraday will come and visit him, at least until he finds himself another pretty Ethel who'll sing at him and want to stay.
no subject
Shut up and enjoy it.
And, well, Faraday has always been at least a little selfish, and rather than keep arguing, he offers a low, wordless sound of pleasure.
Vasquez’s grip is rough against his dick, and Faraday tips his head to one side while Vasquez’s lips travel the column of his throat. It’s an awkward position for both of them, and his old wounds twitch to signal their discomfort, but considering how wrung-out Vasquez seemed, Faraday isn’t entirely sure if the man has it in him to switch positions. But that’s fine, he thinks, as he rocks his hips, thrusting himself into Vasquez’s calloused palm. That’s just fine. More than fine, so long as Vasquez keeps this up.
His eyes go half-lidded, gaze growing distant, and his focus hones in on the roughness of Vasquez's palm, on the heat and of his mouth, on the rasp of his beard against Faraday’s neck. Dark as it currently is, Vasquez probably misses the way color rises up on Faraday’s skin. It’s not long before the rocking of his hips picks up, trying to force Vasquez into a slightly faster rhythm, and—
"Oh, hell," he murmurs, heated and rough. He lets out a strained noise, rutting into Vasquez's grip. "I'm close, sweetheart, I'm real close—"
no subject
He's not trying to think about this as the last thing they'll get to do together, but it's hard not to. After all, he really doubts that once Vasquez goes back to hiding for safety and to keep his head, that Faraday will follow.
He kisses like that, as if he can claim these moments and push them back, working his hand as fast as he can right up until the moment he slows, thumb rubbing in circles, and his kisses turn careful and loving, too. Closing his head, he rests his forehead on Faraday's shoulder before he picks up the pace again, thinking that he can't bear to watch this.
He's not that brave.
i'm so sorry this took so long; this month has been awful work-wise
When Vasquez's almost feverish pace slows to a crawl, Faraday can't help the desperate sound he makes, something startled out of him that he can't quite hold back. Before he can even think to ask if something were the matter, though, Vasquez's hand renews its efforts, and Faraday's teeth clamp down on his lower lip to cage in the strained noise that claws out of his throat.
He spills over Vasquez's hand, gasping and moaning as his entire body seizes. He thinks he shapes Vasquez's name – Ale – but with the way his mind blanks, he's not entirely sure.
When he returns to himself, his limbs are shaking with exhaustion, though the worst of his old aches are sanded away by the hazy warmth that suffuses his veins. He lets his limbs fold under him in a controlled fall as he collapses to the blanket at Vasquez's side. He sits up long enough to retrieve one of the discarded bandannas to wipe the two of them clean, but after that, he flops back down. Throwing an arm across Vasquez's middle, he huffs out a breathless laugh.
He murmurs against the other man's shoulder, "Wouldn't mind endin' more evenings like this."
<333 I'm very happy for the tag! I will reply and then link to a new one with a mini time jump
As it is, it's at least a good way to end things, with him surrounded by Faraday's warmth. He's so worn from the day that he knows there's little fight in him, little of anything else. He still thinks he can't finish the night without saying one last thing.
"Te amo, Joshua," he murmurs, needing him to understand that, more than anything. "I mean it, no matter what." Because tomorrow, he knows that Faraday won't feel so much fondness towards him, not after what's coming. Still, for Faraday to live a life that's full and rich and not hiding, he knows that it needs to happen. Dragging Faraday towards him a little tighter, he doesn't plan to move from where he lies, not until the morning.
Until then, he's stealing every second he can get.
new link!