[ Vasquez loses himself in how Faraday feels, in the radiating heat between them, the pleasure rocketing through his system at top speed. He genuinely doesn't remember the last time sex felt so intense, and he feels drunk on it, swallowed whole and wanting more.
He doesn't need the encouragement, but it sounds fucking perfect spilling from Faraday's lips. His fingers tighten again, and he knows he must be leaving bruises; right now, it doesn't matter. He uses his grip to drag Faraday into each thrust, sharp and rough. Usually, he'd have more consideration for the comfort of whomever he took to bed, but with Faraday, it still feels like a challenge, that relentless struggle against each other.
Vasquez restlessly presses his lips to Faraday's throat again, dragging kisses and scrapes of teeth anywhere he can reach, curses and praise growled in equal measure against his partner's skin. It's all Spanish, all quick and breathless, thoughtless when he's telling Faraday how perfect he feels, how goddamn good he is, how much he's wanted this—
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He doesn't need the encouragement, but it sounds fucking perfect spilling from Faraday's lips. His fingers tighten again, and he knows he must be leaving bruises; right now, it doesn't matter. He uses his grip to drag Faraday into each thrust, sharp and rough. Usually, he'd have more consideration for the comfort of whomever he took to bed, but with Faraday, it still feels like a challenge, that relentless struggle against each other.
Vasquez restlessly presses his lips to Faraday's throat again, dragging kisses and scrapes of teeth anywhere he can reach, curses and praise growled in equal measure against his partner's skin. It's all Spanish, all quick and breathless, thoughtless when he's telling Faraday how perfect he feels, how goddamn good he is, how much he's wanted this—
Thank god it's not English. ]