Vasquez grins as he winds his fingers in Sweeney's hair, enjoying how it threads over his fingertips. The burn of the whiskey is a little much, making him just a little dizzy with the warm good burn of it and he slides his fingers through Sweeney's hair again and again, stroking the pad of his thumb hard against his temple and down to the sideburns, scratching it into his beard.

"I want to feel this," is what Vasquez says, eyes glittering with the promise of an idea that he thinks is brilliant, but then, when he's drunk, he thinks everything is an amazing idea. The smoke is a heady thing, something Vasquez inhales sharply, licking his lips. "This," he says again, cupping Sweeney's chin before tangling those fingers in Sweeney's hair again. "Down, between my thighs," he finishes.

His breath catches because if he's going to have lost his dick, he might as well get some fun out of this.