[ Of course not, he wants to say. God, I wanted to jump you the second I fuckin' saw you.
But he keeps the words caged in – mostly because he doesn't like the idea of dropping his cards on the table like that.
Instead of a proper answer, he breathes out a laugh.
He runs his hands along Vasquez's bared skin, fingers splayed wide to touch as much of him as he can, feeling the way he tenses beneath Faraday's touch. He hooks a couple of fingers into the waistband of Vasquez's slacks and tugs him toward the bed. ]
[ Vasquez doesn't need any convincing to follow Faraday, and he catches the switch for the lights next to the bed on the way. He wants to at least see Faraday like this. It's new, different, and he can't help that he's been wondering how his partner would look wound up, enjoying himself.
(Wondering for fucking ages.)
Vasquez lets Faraday pull him along until they hit the bed. One hand on Faraday's face, the other giving his shoulder a pointed nudge, Vasquez leans in for another heated kiss as he tries to encourage Faraday to take a seat. Part of him feels like he has to take what he can get right now, before something ruins this.
Their life, their work, Faraday's good goddamn sense? Vasquez is worried anything could break this spell. ]
[ For once, Faraday follows directions well, taking a seat on the bed. He pointedly keeps one hand curled around the back of Vasquez's neck, though, pulling him down with him – like letting even one second pass without touching Vasquez might be liable to let reality come crashing back in.
Possibly even literally.
With his free hand, he works at the buckle of Vasquez's belt. He bites at Vasquez's lips; slow and gentle aren't exactly words in his vocabulary. ]
[ Vasquez leans over Faraday as he finally sits, meeting that searing kiss with the same eager need. Faraday's teeth scrape over Vasquez's lips, and Vasquez growls into the kiss, shoving down his slacks once Faraday has dealt with his belt. ]
Tell me what you want, cariño.
[ Vasquez murmurs against his mouth, before biting Faraday right back. He nibbles at Faraday's lip, soothing away the sting with a swipe of his tongue. ]
[ He hisses in a breath, letting out a quick appreciative sound at the sting.
Good, he thinks.
Once Vasquez's slacks are dealt with, Faraday pauses long enough to appreciate the outline of his cock through his boxers.
God. Shit. Yes.
And when Vasquez makes that generous offer— ]
Fuck me.
[ —Faraday doesn't hesitate. He's known exactly what he's wanted since day goddamn one.
His bite is a little harder this time – challenging, rather than teasing – and he palms the curve of Vasquez's cock through the thin material of his boxers. ]
Vasquez growls with approval, low and deep in his chest, though it dissolves into a shuddering little groan as Faraday finds his cock. He knows those rough hands by heart; they've pulled each other physically out of all manner of bullshit, and he knows how Faraday holds his gun, his drinks, his cards. He knows those hands, and now, they're teasing him in the exact way he's fantasized on quiet nights he hasn't found someone else to warm his bed. ]
Oh, you'll be feeling it, guerito. I can promise that.
[ Vasquez wants to remember this as much as he wants to leave his mark on Faraday – in more than one way.
He slides a hand up, knotting his fingers in Faraday's hair with an immovable grip, dragging him into another searing kiss. He licks into his partner's mouth, taking and taking to meet that challenge he so easily recognizes. Somehow, even like this, they're competing each other, pushing just to see the other push back.
Vasquez only breaks away when he needs to breathe, and he pants against Faraday's lips, incrementally loosening his grip. ]
Get your pants off.
[ And with another nip, he reluctantly releases Faraday, stepping back to go investigate their med kit. There should be medical grade lube in there, and maybe it's not the sexiest thing, but it's far better than other alternatives right now. ]
[ He fucking groans into the kiss, at the tight grip Vasquez has in his hair, at the demanding way he takes and takes and takes. Not that Faraday makes it all that easy on him – biting at his lip, licking into Vasquez's mouth, cupping Vasquez's erection with a firm grip.
God. Fucking shit. This is gonna be a good goddamn night.
Miraculously once again, he doesn't have to be told twice, and as Vasquez backs off, Faraday toes off his shoes and makes quick work of his slacks, kicking them off to the floor.
He settles back on the edge of the bed, trying desperately not to think about how this is obviously just for tonight. This is just about letting off steam. Things got heavy, and— yeah. Faraday is goddamn good at what he does, and not all of that is professional. They wound each other up, and this is just—
This is stress relief. That's all.
And that's fine. He can content himself with one night. Lord knows he has before.
He can't have waited more than a couple seconds before he calls out impatiently, ]
The hell's the hold up? I'm about to die from old age, here.
[ As soon as Faraday releases him, Vasquez draws away to properly strip his slacks and untie shoes. Once abandoned in a messy pile, he finds where they've stashed the medkit with everything else, digging through it until he retrieves a small plastic bottle.
Vasquez straightens up, shoving his boxers down for one less thing to worry about. He kicks them from around his ankles, but before he even has a chance to turn back to Faraday, the other man is hollering at him.
He snorts out a laugh, glancing over at the bed. ]
And I thought I was impatient, hm?
[ He joins Faraday again, leaning down and curling his fingers under Faraday's chin. ]
Maybe the more you complain, the longer this takes. Sounds fair, I think.
[ Faraday takes in the sight of Vasquez as he approaches. He's seen the other man shirtless, sure, has probably seen him in his skivvies at least a handful of times, but seeing Vasquez fully stripped down, seeing every inch of that warm skin on display—
Holy goddamn hell. His fantasies can't hold a goddamn candle to reality.
He's nearly distracted by taking in the sight of the other man, but he obligingly tips his chin back to look up at Vasquez at his touch.
And promptly rolls his eyes, with all the petulance of a teenager acting so above it all. ]
You gonna just stand around all day, or are we gonna fuck?
[ Vasquez just laughs. Faraday is nothing if not contrary as hell, and while Vasquez gets it (because he's goddamn stubborn at the best of times), he's not sure why he expected Faraday to ever be anything else.
He rubs his thumb across the line of Faraday's jaw, smirking down at him. ]
On your back or your knees?
[ Vasquez isn't picky, not right now, but he knows from experience that sometimes certain positions make this far more comfortable.
He wants to fuck Faraday until he's seeing stars, but he doesn't want to actively hurt his partner. ]
[ He doesn't answer immediately, instead reaching up to grab hold of the nape of Vasquez's neck again, dragging him down for another hungry, searing kiss.
Good Lord, they've already spent too much time apart. Faraday doesn't want to waste another goddamn second.
He drags Vasquez along with him further up the bed. And again, he doesn't answer aloud, occupied as he is with biting at Vasquez's lips, but brackets Vasquez's hips with his knees. With both hands curling around Vasquez's waist, he pulls him down to meet Faraday halfway, lifting his hips up to grind his cock against Vasquez's.
On his back is the answer, apparently.
(Because if this is just a one time thing, as he suspects it will be, then he wants to watch and remember every fucking moment of it.) ]
[ Well, it's not verbal, but it's sure as hell clear.
Vasquez crawls up the bed with Faraday, barely allowing them a second to part. The kiss is rough and demanding, and when he can finally put his hands on Faraday again, his touch is the same. The lube is dropped beside them in the bedsheets to be rustled up later (fucking soon), leaving Vasquez to prop himself up on his forearms over Faraday.
A curse is groaned out into the kiss, and Vasquez rocks against Faraday, savoring the heat of Faraday's cock against his own. Vasquez shifts his weight onto one elbow, breaking away from the kiss to duck down, dragging his teeth in a sharp line down Faraday's throat. He follows the scrape with his lips and tongue as he slips his available hand between them, broad palm wrapping around both of their cocks.
His grip is tight, just this side of too much, but he's swept up in the free rein he's been given, in leaving quick, sharp marks along the length of Faraday's neck. Maybe this is a one-off, maybe this is just for now, but Vasquez is a possessive bastard, and maybe he'll get a whole lot of joy out of seeing Faraday walking around with hickeys for a little while. ]
[ 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. ]
[ Faraday just keeps touching him, and Vasquez is almost driven to distraction by those strong hands. There's something undeniably exhilarating about having a man like Faraday on his back, vulnerable, making those noises – all for Vasquez.
He breathes a laugh against Faraday's skin in answer, traveling lower to the junction of shoulder and neck to dig his teeth in hard, just as he gives their cocks another firm squeeze. It's far from a quick nip, a light hickey. This time, he only releases when he's sure he's left deep imprints of his teeth behind.
Vasquez draws back to admire his work with a grin – sharp, almost feral. ]
Something like that.
[ He leans in, tracing the dark bite with his tongue. ]
Didn't you say you wanted to be feeling it tomorrow, hermosito?
[ He lets out a sound that's nearly a yelp when Vasquez practically chomps down, the sound tapering off into a curse. ]
Fucking menace&mash;
[ But he quickly betrays his own complaints by arching up into Vasquez, hands scrambling a little on the other man's back to pull him in close. He swears, low and urgent, as his cock throbs with it, as he rocks himself into the tight circle of Vasquez's hand.
He falls back once Vasquez lets up, his neck stinging. God, that's gonna be a big bruise later.
Faraday already has a mask of petulance firmly in place, but he falters, once he catches sight of Vasquez above him, with those dark eyes and sharp grin. He recognizes a predator's smile when he sees one. He's worn it on more than a few occasions, and he's seen it on Vasquez's face in different contexts – usually when they were tag-teaming on intimidating information out of someone, or when they were on the verge of bringing down a bad guy.
It's an entirely different thing when Vasquez aims it at Faraday, though, and another frisson of want surges through Faraday's system.
Argumentative to the last, he manages to wrangle his own reaction enough to shoot the other man a glare. ]
Yeah, but I was referring to you fucking me, not about you chewing me up and spitting me out like a dog with the morning paper.
[ Vasquez is completely unsurprised by the attitude. Faraday is never anything short of difficult, and as much of a pain in the ass as he can be, Vasquez just knows that's him. That's Faraday.
If Vasquez hadn't accepted the parts for the whole, he probably wouldn't be in this position. ]
Too bad.
[ He shifts up to claim Faraday's lips again in another greedy kiss, this time focusing more keenly on the grip he has between them. His fist focuses on pressure, on the rolling heat instead of speed – better to avoid unwarranted friction from the unforgiving calluses Vasquez bears from years of a life hard-lived.
That feral thing in his chest is snarling at him to get a move on, to stop pussyfooting around, but Vasquez reins it in, forced back in favor of finally getting to touch Faraday like this. Kissing Faraday is somehow everything he thought it would be; their back-and-forth hasn't abated in the slightest, and as much as it feels good, it's still a fight.
Right now, Vasquez wouldn't have it any other way. ]
[ Faraday growls in exasperation at Vasquez's – admittedly, devastatingly predictable – response.
The two of them never can go about anything the easy way, can they? It was an almost fond complaint that Cognac threw their way every so often, when one or the other or both of them would come back from a mission, bruised or bloody or slightly singed.
So, sure. Faraday isn't surprised, but he doesn't have room to complain – especially not when Vasquez claims his mouth again, especially not when the wet slide of their tongues sends want spiraling through him. Vasquez readjusts his grip on their cocks, and Faraday swears into the other man's mouth, bucking into his hand, groaning at the dry slide of sensitive, velvety skin of Vasquez's cock against his own.
God, it's good. It's really fucking good, but it's not what he was hoping for. And maybe he's being greedy – especially considering Faraday had resigned himself to an existence where nothing like this would ever happen, except in his dreams – but Vasquez had made him an offer, and Faraday damn well means to collect.
He bites at Vasquez's lips again – hard, but not hard enough to break skin. ]
Jesus, Vas. Are you waitin' for a formal written invitation?
[ His voice is rough, the words heated with impatience and need.
He tangles one hand into Vasquez's hair, tugging in reprimand, while his other hand gropes around blindly for the bottle of lube Vasquez procured. ]
[ That sharp bite is enough to break the kiss, coaxing a startled little groan from Vasquez, leaving him panting against Faraday's lips. Faraday earns another sound tugging at Vasquez's hair, something torn between a growl and a moan, before Vasquez finally manages a breathless laugh. ]
So much for foreplay, eh?
[ Reluctantly, he finally releases their cocks, reaching to take the lube from Faraday. ]
Going to have to let go of me so I can see what I'm doing.
[ He grumbles unintelligibly under his breath before reluctantly loosening his grip on Vasquez's curls, releasing the bottle into Vasquez's hand.
He looks smug about what a mess he's made of Vasquez's hair, ruining all the careful work Vasquez had done with his light-smelling pomade to tame those curls, about the red, swollen spot he had left on Vasquez's lower lip. ]
Already took care of the foreplay in the hall.
[ And the elevator.
And— the thing is, normally, Faraday isn't opposed to drawing things out; he can't claim to be the world's greatest lover if he didn't know the value of winding someone up so tightly that they might snap. And, hell, narcissist that he can be, he would love to bask in whatever attentions his partners might throw his way. And God, what he wouldn't give to get his mouth and hands all over Vasquez, to taste every fucking inch of the other man and trace out every muscle and tendon with his tongue. And fuck, the things he'd do to get Vasquez's cock in his mouth, to lick and suck him off till the other man was a quivering, frantic mess, but—
But he thinks, any second now, the spell is going to break. The proverbial clock is going to strike midnight and yank them apart, either because work will take that chance to intervene, or someone (Vasquez, if anyone) is going to come to his senses.
Faraday would never consider himself a coward – would likely shoot anyone who insulted him by calling him one – but he's afraid that this is his only shot. He's probably never getting another chance at this. ]
C'mon. Are we doing this?
[ ... maybe he is a bit of a coward, because, noticeably or otherwise, he deliberately omits the second half of that phrase:
[ Vasquez half-expects Faraday to keep being difficult, but the other man lets Vasquez up, finally. Vasquez straightens, kneeling above Faraday as he nudges Faraday's thighs apart to make room for himself. The lube still in one hand, Vasquez takes a moment to push his messy curls back out of his face – and to admire Faraday splayed out on the bed.
Selfishly, Vasquez allows himself to run his palm down Faraday's heaving chest, across his belly, appreciating how well-built his partner is. Faraday is broad, gorgeously muscular, and he's thick in a way Vasquez isn't. Vasquez easily matches Faraday in height, but Vasquez's frame is long, athletic; Faraday looks like a goddamn brick wall.
Faraday is egging him on, just like he always does, but Vasquez clicks his tongue admonishingly, sliding his free hand up Faraday's flank. He offers Faraday's thigh an appreciative squeeze. ]
You're not making a very good case for yourself, guerito.
[ But Vasquez clicks open the lube with one hand, pouring a helping into his palm before dropping the small bottle onto Faraday's stomach.
Hey, at least it's within easy reach.
Vasquez smears the fluid over his fingers, makes sure they have a healthy coating. ]
You do this much?
[ It's not a value judgement; he just knows from experience that the more or less someone's gone through this song and dance can determine how their body will respond. ]
[ Faraday's legs fall apart at that prompting – maybe a little too quickly, maybe a little too eagerly, but he's far past caring about how that might look. He can practically feel the weight of Vasquez's gaze as he studies him, and Faraday can't help it – he preens a little, stretching a little to let Vasquez take in the long line of Faraday's body.
He takes the moment to get a good, long look at Vasquez, too – taking in everything he can see of that warm, brown skin, of his cock, swollen and leaking with precum curving toward his stomach, of his slim, athletic build. Deceptive, really, considering he's seen Vasquez take down men twice his size with absolute ease.
His cock twitches with the sight. Good Lord, he's going to be thinking about this night for a long, long time yet.
Faraday looks entirely unimpressed when Vasquez drops the bottle onto his belly, though he instinctively catches it before it can roll away. ]
Done it enough.
[ Which is as much as Faraday is willing to offer, though maybe surprisingly, the answer is matter-of-fact, rather than defensive. He seems to recognize the question for what it is – a roundabout way of asking whether or not he knows what to expect.
Maybe he's more vocal about his appreciation of women – all those soft and delicate curves – but he's fallen into bed with plenty of men, too. ]
[ The answer is unhelpful, but telling – reassuring, at least.
But since Faraday is being difficult, so is Vasquez. ]
Done it enough.
[ He flashes Faraday that sharp grin again, but he finally slides his hand between Faraday's legs, slick fingers brushing across the other man's entrance.
It's a mood thing, Vasquez has learned over the years, that decides who he might spend the night with. When it's not for a mission, he still needs to blow off steam, still needs an outlet for that pent up energy, and sex is easy as anything. Men, women – it didn't matter to him as long as the result was the same at the end of the day. He's a versatile man of versatile tastes, but right now, the only thing he has a taste for is Faraday.
Vasquez just smears the lube around at first, but impatient as Faraday has been up until this point, Vasquez is willing not to prolong the moment. He presses his index finger in, slow but unrelenting, up to the last knuckle, though his eyes stay fixed on Faraday's face for signs to pump the brakes. ]
[ Faraday's lips part to shoot something snitty, but Vasquez interrupts him by teasing him with lube-slick fingers. Faraday jerks with surprise at that uncomfortably coolness against his overheated skin, but it warms with his body heat after a few passes. ]
Come the hell on—
[ But this, too, is quickly interrupted when Vasquez presses a finger inside of him, achingly slow but without hesitance. ]
Fuck— finally—
[ It's hardly anything, really, but he feels the familiar, quiet burn as he's stretched open, and anticipation writhes and snaps in his gut.
He lifts up his knees and rolls his hips, trying to coax Vasquez deeper, trying to convince him to give Faraday more. ]
(He'll look even better wrapped around Vasquez's cock.)
Vasquez lifts his brows, gives a little "whatever you say," shrug; the complaining, this time, earns Faraday a second finger. He draws his hand back, and with the same unyielding pressure, he fills Faraday again with two fingers. His free hand curls around the sharp blade of Faraday's hip, squeezing pointedly. ]
Codicioso, guerito.
[ Vasquez only gives Faraday a few languid drags of his fingers before he presses deep, curling up sharply to seek out Faraday's prostate. ]
Just to be safe, Faraday shoots Vasquez another glare.
Not that the attempt at censure lasts very long, because Vasquez decides to give him exactly what he asks for. And he thinks, a little briefly, a little deliriously, about what a bad precedent that sets, Vasquez giving in to his complaints and demands. That'll just encourage Faraday to do it more.
... Though the possibility of there being a next time to show Vasquez the error of his ways with this misbegotten lesson is slim to nil, Faraday figures.
He deliberately ignores the sensation of disappointment that clenches his chest.
Which is easy enough to do, once Vasquez slowly, relentlessly presses in a second finger, and Faraday rolls his hips, tries to fuck himself on Vasquez's fingers. ]
Shit, yes—
[ But when Vasquez curls his fingers just so, Faraday spasms, a moan clawing its way out of him. ]
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no subject
But he keeps the words caged in – mostly because he doesn't like the idea of dropping his cards on the table like that.
Instead of a proper answer, he breathes out a laugh.
He runs his hands along Vasquez's bared skin, fingers splayed wide to touch as much of him as he can, feeling the way he tenses beneath Faraday's touch. He hooks a couple of fingers into the waistband of Vasquez's slacks and tugs him toward the bed. ]
no subject
(Wondering for fucking ages.)
Vasquez lets Faraday pull him along until they hit the bed. One hand on Faraday's face, the other giving his shoulder a pointed nudge, Vasquez leans in for another heated kiss as he tries to encourage Faraday to take a seat. Part of him feels like he has to take what he can get right now, before something ruins this.
Their life, their work, Faraday's good goddamn sense? Vasquez is worried anything could break this spell. ]
no subject
Possibly even literally.
With his free hand, he works at the buckle of Vasquez's belt. He bites at Vasquez's lips; slow and gentle aren't exactly words in his vocabulary. ]
Come on.
no subject
Tell me what you want, cariño.
[ Vasquez murmurs against his mouth, before biting Faraday right back. He nibbles at Faraday's lip, soothing away the sting with a swipe of his tongue. ]
Let me give it to you.
no subject
Good, he thinks.
Once Vasquez's slacks are dealt with, Faraday pauses long enough to appreciate the outline of his cock through his boxers.
God. Shit. Yes.
And when Vasquez makes that generous offer— ]
Fuck me.
[ —Faraday doesn't hesitate. He's known exactly what he's wanted since day goddamn one.
His bite is a little harder this time – challenging, rather than teasing – and he palms the curve of Vasquez's cock through the thin material of his boxers. ]
I wanna feel it in the morning.
no subject
Vasquez growls with approval, low and deep in his chest, though it dissolves into a shuddering little groan as Faraday finds his cock. He knows those rough hands by heart; they've pulled each other physically out of all manner of bullshit, and he knows how Faraday holds his gun, his drinks, his cards. He knows those hands, and now, they're teasing him in the exact way he's fantasized on quiet nights he hasn't found someone else to warm his bed. ]
Oh, you'll be feeling it, guerito. I can promise that.
[ Vasquez wants to remember this as much as he wants to leave his mark on Faraday – in more than one way.
He slides a hand up, knotting his fingers in Faraday's hair with an immovable grip, dragging him into another searing kiss. He licks into his partner's mouth, taking and taking to meet that challenge he so easily recognizes. Somehow, even like this, they're competing each other, pushing just to see the other push back.
Vasquez only breaks away when he needs to breathe, and he pants against Faraday's lips, incrementally loosening his grip. ]
Get your pants off.
[ And with another nip, he reluctantly releases Faraday, stepping back to go investigate their med kit. There should be medical grade lube in there, and maybe it's not the sexiest thing, but it's far better than other alternatives right now. ]
no subject
God. Fucking shit. This is gonna be a good goddamn night.
Miraculously once again, he doesn't have to be told twice, and as Vasquez backs off, Faraday toes off his shoes and makes quick work of his slacks, kicking them off to the floor.
He settles back on the edge of the bed, trying desperately not to think about how this is obviously just for tonight. This is just about letting off steam. Things got heavy, and— yeah. Faraday is goddamn good at what he does, and not all of that is professional. They wound each other up, and this is just—
This is stress relief. That's all.
And that's fine. He can content himself with one night. Lord knows he has before.
He can't have waited more than a couple seconds before he calls out impatiently, ]
The hell's the hold up? I'm about to die from old age, here.
no subject
Vasquez straightens up, shoving his boxers down for one less thing to worry about. He kicks them from around his ankles, but before he even has a chance to turn back to Faraday, the other man is hollering at him.
He snorts out a laugh, glancing over at the bed. ]
And I thought I was impatient, hm?
[ He joins Faraday again, leaning down and curling his fingers under Faraday's chin. ]
Maybe the more you complain, the longer this takes. Sounds fair, I think.
no subject
Holy goddamn hell. His fantasies can't hold a goddamn candle to reality.
He's nearly distracted by taking in the sight of the other man, but he obligingly tips his chin back to look up at Vasquez at his touch.
And promptly rolls his eyes, with all the petulance of a teenager acting so above it all. ]
You gonna just stand around all day, or are we gonna fuck?
no subject
He rubs his thumb across the line of Faraday's jaw, smirking down at him. ]
On your back or your knees?
[ Vasquez isn't picky, not right now, but he knows from experience that sometimes certain positions make this far more comfortable.
He wants to fuck Faraday until he's seeing stars, but he doesn't want to actively hurt his partner. ]
no subject
Good Lord, they've already spent too much time apart. Faraday doesn't want to waste another goddamn second.
He drags Vasquez along with him further up the bed. And again, he doesn't answer aloud, occupied as he is with biting at Vasquez's lips, but brackets Vasquez's hips with his knees. With both hands curling around Vasquez's waist, he pulls him down to meet Faraday halfway, lifting his hips up to grind his cock against Vasquez's.
On his back is the answer, apparently.
(Because if this is just a one time thing, as he suspects it will be, then he wants to watch and remember every fucking moment of it.) ]
no subject
Vasquez crawls up the bed with Faraday, barely allowing them a second to part. The kiss is rough and demanding, and when he can finally put his hands on Faraday again, his touch is the same. The lube is dropped beside them in the bedsheets to be rustled up later (fucking soon), leaving Vasquez to prop himself up on his forearms over Faraday.
A curse is groaned out into the kiss, and Vasquez rocks against Faraday, savoring the heat of Faraday's cock against his own. Vasquez shifts his weight onto one elbow, breaking away from the kiss to duck down, dragging his teeth in a sharp line down Faraday's throat. He follows the scrape with his lips and tongue as he slips his available hand between them, broad palm wrapping around both of their cocks.
His grip is tight, just this side of too much, but he's swept up in the free rein he's been given, in leaving quick, sharp marks along the length of Faraday's neck. Maybe this is a one-off, maybe this is just for now, but Vasquez is a possessive bastard, and maybe he'll get a whole lot of joy out of seeing Faraday walking around with hickeys for a little while. ]
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?
no subject
He breathes a laugh against Faraday's skin in answer, traveling lower to the junction of shoulder and neck to dig his teeth in hard, just as he gives their cocks another firm squeeze. It's far from a quick nip, a light hickey. This time, he only releases when he's sure he's left deep imprints of his teeth behind.
Vasquez draws back to admire his work with a grin – sharp, almost feral. ]
Something like that.
[ He leans in, tracing the dark bite with his tongue. ]
Didn't you say you wanted to be feeling it tomorrow, hermosito?
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Fucking menace&mash;
[ But he quickly betrays his own complaints by arching up into Vasquez, hands scrambling a little on the other man's back to pull him in close. He swears, low and urgent, as his cock throbs with it, as he rocks himself into the tight circle of Vasquez's hand.
He falls back once Vasquez lets up, his neck stinging. God, that's gonna be a big bruise later.
Faraday already has a mask of petulance firmly in place, but he falters, once he catches sight of Vasquez above him, with those dark eyes and sharp grin. He recognizes a predator's smile when he sees one. He's worn it on more than a few occasions, and he's seen it on Vasquez's face in different contexts – usually when they were tag-teaming on intimidating information out of someone, or when they were on the verge of bringing down a bad guy.
It's an entirely different thing when Vasquez aims it at Faraday, though, and another frisson of want surges through Faraday's system.
Argumentative to the last, he manages to wrangle his own reaction enough to shoot the other man a glare. ]
Yeah, but I was referring to you fucking me, not about you chewing me up and spitting me out like a dog with the morning paper.
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If Vasquez hadn't accepted the parts for the whole, he probably wouldn't be in this position. ]
Too bad.
[ He shifts up to claim Faraday's lips again in another greedy kiss, this time focusing more keenly on the grip he has between them. His fist focuses on pressure, on the rolling heat instead of speed – better to avoid unwarranted friction from the unforgiving calluses Vasquez bears from years of a life hard-lived.
That feral thing in his chest is snarling at him to get a move on, to stop pussyfooting around, but Vasquez reins it in, forced back in favor of finally getting to touch Faraday like this. Kissing Faraday is somehow everything he thought it would be; their back-and-forth hasn't abated in the slightest, and as much as it feels good, it's still a fight.
Right now, Vasquez wouldn't have it any other way. ]
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The two of them never can go about anything the easy way, can they? It was an almost fond complaint that Cognac threw their way every so often, when one or the other or both of them would come back from a mission, bruised or bloody or slightly singed.
So, sure. Faraday isn't surprised, but he doesn't have room to complain – especially not when Vasquez claims his mouth again, especially not when the wet slide of their tongues sends want spiraling through him. Vasquez readjusts his grip on their cocks, and Faraday swears into the other man's mouth, bucking into his hand, groaning at the dry slide of sensitive, velvety skin of Vasquez's cock against his own.
God, it's good. It's really fucking good, but it's not what he was hoping for. And maybe he's being greedy – especially considering Faraday had resigned himself to an existence where nothing like this would ever happen, except in his dreams – but Vasquez had made him an offer, and Faraday damn well means to collect.
He bites at Vasquez's lips again – hard, but not hard enough to break skin. ]
Jesus, Vas. Are you waitin' for a formal written invitation?
[ His voice is rough, the words heated with impatience and need.
He tangles one hand into Vasquez's hair, tugging in reprimand, while his other hand gropes around blindly for the bottle of lube Vasquez procured. ]
Just fuck me already, God damn you.
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So much for foreplay, eh?
[ Reluctantly, he finally releases their cocks, reaching to take the lube from Faraday. ]
Going to have to let go of me so I can see what I'm doing.
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He looks smug about what a mess he's made of Vasquez's hair, ruining all the careful work Vasquez had done with his light-smelling pomade to tame those curls, about the red, swollen spot he had left on Vasquez's lower lip. ]
Already took care of the foreplay in the hall.
[ And the elevator.
And— the thing is, normally, Faraday isn't opposed to drawing things out; he can't claim to be the world's greatest lover if he didn't know the value of winding someone up so tightly that they might snap. And, hell, narcissist that he can be, he would love to bask in whatever attentions his partners might throw his way. And God, what he wouldn't give to get his mouth and hands all over Vasquez, to taste every fucking inch of the other man and trace out every muscle and tendon with his tongue. And fuck, the things he'd do to get Vasquez's cock in his mouth, to lick and suck him off till the other man was a quivering, frantic mess, but—
But he thinks, any second now, the spell is going to break. The proverbial clock is going to strike midnight and yank them apart, either because work will take that chance to intervene, or someone (Vasquez, if anyone) is going to come to his senses.
Faraday would never consider himself a coward – would likely shoot anyone who insulted him by calling him one – but he's afraid that this is his only shot. He's probably never getting another chance at this. ]
C'mon. Are we doing this?
[ ... maybe he is a bit of a coward, because, noticeably or otherwise, he deliberately omits the second half of that phrase:
Or not?
He doesn't want to put that in Vasquez's head. ]
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Selfishly, Vasquez allows himself to run his palm down Faraday's heaving chest, across his belly, appreciating how well-built his partner is. Faraday is broad, gorgeously muscular, and he's thick in a way Vasquez isn't. Vasquez easily matches Faraday in height, but Vasquez's frame is long, athletic; Faraday looks like a goddamn brick wall.
Faraday is egging him on, just like he always does, but Vasquez clicks his tongue admonishingly, sliding his free hand up Faraday's flank. He offers Faraday's thigh an appreciative squeeze. ]
You're not making a very good case for yourself, guerito.
[ But Vasquez clicks open the lube with one hand, pouring a helping into his palm before dropping the small bottle onto Faraday's stomach.
Hey, at least it's within easy reach.
Vasquez smears the fluid over his fingers, makes sure they have a healthy coating. ]
You do this much?
[ It's not a value judgement; he just knows from experience that the more or less someone's gone through this song and dance can determine how their body will respond. ]
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He takes the moment to get a good, long look at Vasquez, too – taking in everything he can see of that warm, brown skin, of his cock, swollen and leaking with precum curving toward his stomach, of his slim, athletic build. Deceptive, really, considering he's seen Vasquez take down men twice his size with absolute ease.
His cock twitches with the sight. Good Lord, he's going to be thinking about this night for a long, long time yet.
Faraday looks entirely unimpressed when Vasquez drops the bottle onto his belly, though he instinctively catches it before it can roll away. ]
Done it enough.
[ Which is as much as Faraday is willing to offer, though maybe surprisingly, the answer is matter-of-fact, rather than defensive. He seems to recognize the question for what it is – a roundabout way of asking whether or not he knows what to expect.
Maybe he's more vocal about his appreciation of women – all those soft and delicate curves – but he's fallen into bed with plenty of men, too. ]
You?
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But since Faraday is being difficult, so is Vasquez. ]
Done it enough.
[ He flashes Faraday that sharp grin again, but he finally slides his hand between Faraday's legs, slick fingers brushing across the other man's entrance.
It's a mood thing, Vasquez has learned over the years, that decides who he might spend the night with. When it's not for a mission, he still needs to blow off steam, still needs an outlet for that pent up energy, and sex is easy as anything. Men, women – it didn't matter to him as long as the result was the same at the end of the day. He's a versatile man of versatile tastes, but right now, the only thing he has a taste for is Faraday.
Vasquez just smears the lube around at first, but impatient as Faraday has been up until this point, Vasquez is willing not to prolong the moment. He presses his index finger in, slow but unrelenting, up to the last knuckle, though his eyes stay fixed on Faraday's face for signs to pump the brakes. ]
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Come the hell on—
[ But this, too, is quickly interrupted when Vasquez presses a finger inside of him, achingly slow but without hesitance. ]
Fuck— finally—
[ It's hardly anything, really, but he feels the familiar, quiet burn as he's stretched open, and anticipation writhes and snaps in his gut.
He lifts up his knees and rolls his hips, trying to coax Vasquez deeper, trying to convince him to give Faraday more. ]
I ain't delicate.
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(He'll look even better wrapped around Vasquez's cock.)
Vasquez lifts his brows, gives a little "whatever you say," shrug; the complaining, this time, earns Faraday a second finger. He draws his hand back, and with the same unyielding pressure, he fills Faraday again with two fingers. His free hand curls around the sharp blade of Faraday's hip, squeezing pointedly. ]
Codicioso, guerito.
[ Vasquez only gives Faraday a few languid drags of his fingers before he presses deep, curling up sharply to seek out Faraday's prostate. ]
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It felt like an insult.
Just to be safe, Faraday shoots Vasquez another glare.
Not that the attempt at censure lasts very long, because Vasquez decides to give him exactly what he asks for. And he thinks, a little briefly, a little deliriously, about what a bad precedent that sets, Vasquez giving in to his complaints and demands. That'll just encourage Faraday to do it more.
... Though the possibility of there being a next time to show Vasquez the error of his ways with this misbegotten lesson is slim to nil, Faraday figures.
He deliberately ignores the sensation of disappointment that clenches his chest.
Which is easy enough to do, once Vasquez slowly, relentlessly presses in a second finger, and Faraday rolls his hips, tries to fuck himself on Vasquez's fingers. ]
Shit, yes—
[ But when Vasquez curls his fingers just so, Faraday spasms, a moan clawing its way out of him. ]
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