[ See, Faraday has no goddamn clue what Vasquez just said.
He hopes it was nice. It sounded, nice at least, based on the heated reverence in Vasquez's delivery of the words, on the almost gentle way Vasquez's hand curls over his cheek, his thumb ghosting over his lip. It's a weird fucking contrast – that soft touch and the white-knuckled grip Vasquez has on Faraday's hair.
A compliment, Faraday decides, or at least something meant to sound complimentary.
Given the arch today has taken, and given that Vasquez hasn't been quite as disparaging as Faraday had assumed, maybe Faraday shouldn't be so quick to assume the worse.
He keeps working at Vasquez's cock, keeps stroking his own – not with the amount of effort he'd need to get himself off, but enough, at least, to take the edge off. Vasquez sounds fucking fantastic above him, and he tries to commit to memory that stream of Spanish, the breathless sounds Vasquez keeps making. Faraday feels Vasquez's dick throb in his mouth and under his hand, and when Vasquez offers that frantic warning, Faraday feels that prickly surge of want run through him again.
He wishes he had a good enough angle to watch Vasquez come undone, but he supposes he'll just content himself with the knowledge that he made it happen. Instead of backing up, Faraday loosens his grip on his own cock to curl his hand around Vasquez's balls, tugging on them carefully before pressing his fingertips to the sensitive spot just behind them.
And after that, he offers a hoarse, encouraging sound before swallowing Vasquez back down. ]
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He hopes it was nice. It sounded, nice at least, based on the heated reverence in Vasquez's delivery of the words, on the almost gentle way Vasquez's hand curls over his cheek, his thumb ghosting over his lip. It's a weird fucking contrast – that soft touch and the white-knuckled grip Vasquez has on Faraday's hair.
A compliment, Faraday decides, or at least something meant to sound complimentary.
Given the arch today has taken, and given that Vasquez hasn't been quite as disparaging as Faraday had assumed, maybe Faraday shouldn't be so quick to assume the worse.
He keeps working at Vasquez's cock, keeps stroking his own – not with the amount of effort he'd need to get himself off, but enough, at least, to take the edge off. Vasquez sounds fucking fantastic above him, and he tries to commit to memory that stream of Spanish, the breathless sounds Vasquez keeps making. Faraday feels Vasquez's dick throb in his mouth and under his hand, and when Vasquez offers that frantic warning, Faraday feels that prickly surge of want run through him again.
He wishes he had a good enough angle to watch Vasquez come undone, but he supposes he'll just content himself with the knowledge that he made it happen. Instead of backing up, Faraday loosens his grip on his own cock to curl his hand around Vasquez's balls, tugging on them carefully before pressing his fingertips to the sensitive spot just behind them.
And after that, he offers a hoarse, encouraging sound before swallowing Vasquez back down. ]