[ He hisses it out as the other man grips their cocks, rough and tight, and he rocks into the circle of his hand, grinds himself against Vasquez's cock with a choked-off groan. He breathes deeply, taking in the scent of Vasquez's cologne and that lingering smell of cigar smoke, and— shit. He really hopes he doesn't develop a Pavlovian response to cigar smoke and pop a goddamn boner every time he smells it.
Vasquez bites at him, marking him up like he's some kind of chew toy, and Faraday would likely be struck by lightning if he said he minded. So rather than tempt God's wrath, he tilts his head, giving the other man better access. Faraday feels the sharp sting of the bruises Vasquez is leaving behind, arches up into the heat of his mouth when he sucks and bites and licks with a hoarse, appreciative groan.
Faraday will be admiring the marks for goddamn days, he hopes, and he'll be more than sorry to see them fade. And Vasquez is leaving his signature in places that aren't liable to be easily hid. It won't be the first time Faraday came back marked all too hell, especially after honey traps, but Faraday will be sporting these marks for a while on prominent display, will think of Vasquez whenever a coworker makes a joke or pointedly ignores those hickeys, once they're back home, and—
Goddamn, it's fucking shameful how his cock throbs with it.
He twists his fingers into Vasquez's hair, nails scraping across his scalp, and his other hand kneads at Vasquez's ass with a near bruising grip. He lets out a low, rasping chuckle. ]
no subject
[ He hisses it out as the other man grips their cocks, rough and tight, and he rocks into the circle of his hand, grinds himself against Vasquez's cock with a choked-off groan. He breathes deeply, taking in the scent of Vasquez's cologne and that lingering smell of cigar smoke, and— shit. He really hopes he doesn't develop a Pavlovian response to cigar smoke and pop a goddamn boner every time he smells it.
Vasquez bites at him, marking him up like he's some kind of chew toy, and Faraday would likely be struck by lightning if he said he minded. So rather than tempt God's wrath, he tilts his head, giving the other man better access. Faraday feels the sharp sting of the bruises Vasquez is leaving behind, arches up into the heat of his mouth when he sucks and bites and licks with a hoarse, appreciative groan.
Faraday will be admiring the marks for goddamn days, he hopes, and he'll be more than sorry to see them fade. And Vasquez is leaving his signature in places that aren't liable to be easily hid. It won't be the first time Faraday came back marked all too hell, especially after honey traps, but Faraday will be sporting these marks for a while on prominent display, will think of Vasquez whenever a coworker makes a joke or pointedly ignores those hickeys, once they're back home, and—
Goddamn, it's fucking shameful how his cock throbs with it.
He twists his fingers into Vasquez's hair, nails scraping across his scalp, and his other hand kneads at Vasquez's ass with a near bruising grip. He lets out a low, rasping chuckle. ]
What're you tryin' to do, eat me alive?