[ The lube isn't freezing, but it isn't immediately warm, either. Vasquez hisses with the initial contact, his hips unintentionally stuttering forward. The chill disappears quickly, and even though Vasquez expected Faraday to make quick work of it, that hand keeps moving, keeps stroking him with an unforgiving grip.
Vasquez's breathing turns ragged, rough, and he rocks into Faraday's palm, letting himself relish the contact with a shuddering moan.
(Because it's Faraday, it's Faraday.)
He goes where he's directed, a split-second of hesitation between meeting Faraday's lips and kissing him back just as fiercely; distracted as he is, he needs that heartbeat just to kickstart his brain again. There's nothing sweet in the kiss, but it's intent and personal, that rough edge bleeding through in teeth and tongue. Vasquez shifts over Faraday, leaning down to rest his weight on his forearms, lowering himself and Faraday back on the bed.
For the sake of fairness, Vasquez catches Faraday's bottom lip in a sharp pinch with his teeth before drawing back enough to pant for breath. ]
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Vasquez's breathing turns ragged, rough, and he rocks into Faraday's palm, letting himself relish the contact with a shuddering moan.
(Because it's Faraday, it's Faraday.)
He goes where he's directed, a split-second of hesitation between meeting Faraday's lips and kissing him back just as fiercely; distracted as he is, he needs that heartbeat just to kickstart his brain again. There's nothing sweet in the kiss, but it's intent and personal, that rough edge bleeding through in teeth and tongue. Vasquez shifts over Faraday, leaning down to rest his weight on his forearms, lowering himself and Faraday back on the bed.
For the sake of fairness, Vasquez catches Faraday's bottom lip in a sharp pinch with his teeth before drawing back enough to pant for breath. ]
Am I— fucking you or not, guerito?