[ 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. ]
Vasquez would give a whole hell of a lot to keep hearing Faraday like this. No griping, letting himself get lost in pleasure, reacting to everything Vasquez gives him and still demanding more.
But, rather than sliding his fingers back out, rather than continuing to fuck Faraday open, he maintains that pressure in place. He circles that bundle of nerves, rocking Faraday on his hand without giving him a second of reprieve.
Faraday had been complaining, after all, so why not give this stubborn mule of a man what he asked for?
(Vasquez doesn't know what this means for them, has no idea what they're going to do with themselves when the fragile glass house of this moment shatters, but he wants to commit this to memory, just in case. Just in case this is a one-off and he has to tuck his feelings back on a shelf to avoid complicating this.
God, it's complicated just because it's happening.) ]
[ He expects Vasquez to keep fucking him with his hand, to keep working him open so he can fuck him properly.
He does not expect the goddamn torture that Vasquez gives him instead.
It's good, at first, and Faraday groans appreciatively with it, hips rolling in an effort to keep that sensation going – that golden pleasure that makes it feel like his entire body is lit up with fireworks, sparks shooting up and down his spine.
And then it's just— overwhelming; his appreciative groans turn into low, frantic sounds, even as his body arches and writhes with each sweet curl of Vasquez's fingers. His cock fucking throbs, precum smearing on his stomach from the way it leaks, and he feels like he might actually explode if Vasquez keeps this up. ]
Vas—
[ Gasped out, thin and urgent. It's followed up by a breathy, helpless laugh that melts into an almost distressed moan when Vasquez nails that sweet spot again. ]
I thought you didn't want to be treated delicately, cariño.
[ His tone sounds so innocent, but the edge in his grin betrays how much he's enjoying watching Faraday go from eager to frantic. Vasquez shifts his other hand from Faraday's hip to his cock, firmly pinning it to Faraday's belly just to feel the way he throbs and pulses against Vasquez's palm. Faraday is flushed, whining for him, arching and squirming like he can't keep still, and, well, Vasquez doesn't blame him for that part.
He'd be much the same if their positions were reversed.
He allows himself a few more relentless sweeps over that sweet spot, Faraday's cock trapped under his hand, but, finally, mercifully, Vasquez eases away from Faraday's prostate. He slides his fingers back out, reaching for the abandoned lube. ]
You want another finger first?
[ Vasquez is certainly ready and willing to keep finger-fucking Faraday, but he also wants to make sure they're on the same page, that they're in sync instead of lagging behind or forging ahead prematurely. ]
[ It takes goddamn effort, but he manages to grit each word out between waves, between the wordless, shameless noises that tear out of him – groans of pleasure and keens of distress and want.
He swears, vicious and vile, when Vasquez presses his cock against his stomach, instinctively rocking his hips to feel that delicious pressure, to feel the way the callouses on Vasquez's hand catch on the soft, sensitive skin of his cock. It's rough and dry, but so fucking good.
Because it's Vasquez.
He's wanted this for ages, and the reality is miles and miles and miles away from his paltry little fantasies.
... Jesus Christ, Faraday has no fucking idea what he's going to do with himself when this night is over.
(Probably go back to the bottles, he thinks. Probably try to drown away those stray thoughts and feelings and the thought of Vasquez's hot mouth and rough hands on his body.
... It never worked before, but, hey, maybe this time?)
Vasquez finally pulls out of him, and Faraday couldn't have stopped the sharp sound of protest that shot out of him if he cared to try. He's a wheezing, sweating mess, he knows, his hair a complete lost cause, and his mouth feels horrifically dry from the way he's been trying desperately to catch his breath, and God, he already feels so goddamn wrung out, but—
He hooks a leg around Vasquez's waist, pulling him in. He shoves himself up onto an elbow and curls his hand pointedly around Vasquez's dick.
He pants out, ]
I will murder you if you don't fuck me proper right the hell now.
[ God, how does Faraday look and sound this good? Vasquez has let his fantasy run wild some nights, but they couldn't hold a candle to reality. This intense, this gorgeous, this shameless – how could he have ever guessed Faraday was capable of it?
Vasquez is about to deal with the lube, but Faraday is suddenly yanking him forward, and Vasquez has to release Faraday's cock to catch his own weight before he accidentally headbutts the other man. A rough, heated palm curls around his own cock, and Vasquez inhales sharply, startled.
His surprise melts away into satisfaction, meeting Faraday's flushed glare with a breathless grin. ]
Te escucho.
[ He shifts his weight over Faraday, getting the bottle of lube open with one hand.
[ For a few moments, Faraday strokes Vasquez's cock, just feeling the weight of him in his palm, the soft, thin skin beneath his fingers. Faraday holds his gaze for a second, pointedly keeping his hand exactly where it is.
[ ... It's hard to keep looking smug when Faraday starts jerking him off. Watching Faraday spiraling into pleasure, seeing him react and causing it— of course it got to Vasquez. He's been hard, aching for too damn long, and even this is a shred of relief.
Vasquez licks his lips, but he doesn't protest, pressing the bottle into Faraday's hand. ]
Sweetheart— [ This, as he's finally releasing Vasquez's cock to pour lube into his palm. ] —I still haven't got a goddamn clue what you're sayin'.
[ Understanding or not, Faraday clicks the cap on the bottle closed, tossing it lightly to one side, ensuring it's still close by but not likely to be squashed. One-handed, he smears the lube over his fingers and over his palm, letting it warm for only a second before he's back to curling his hand over Vasquez's dick, spreading the lube over that soft skin.
And if he pays special attention to the sensitive spot just beneath the head, if he's mindful to tease the slit of Vasquez's cock with the pad of his thumb, if he's careful to lube the man up with tight, slow strokes – then surely it's an accident.
He grips the nape of Vasquez's neck, pulling him down while also using the other man to pull himself, meeting him halfway. Faraday crushes another kiss against Vasquez's mouth as he strokes him, as he feels the length of him, and he groans a little with the mental images of Vasquez fucking him open. ]
[ 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. ]
[ It's positively shameful, the way that sharp pain makes him shudder with want, the way it draws a quiet, needy noise from the back of his throat.
It's a damn good thing Faraday's given up on feeling ashamed by most things.
He chuckles, the corner of his mouth turning upward in a vicious smirk. A little mockingly, ]
So much for foreplay.
[ One more firm stroke, but Faraday releases his grip on the other man's cock, wiping off the excess slick on Vasquez's belly, like the paragon of maturity he is. ]
But with that final piece of the puzzle, Vasquez reaches for Faraday's leg, hitching his thigh higher before he shifts to guide his cock into place. Part of him wants to keep teasing Faraday, to just grind against him, to watch him get progressively more and more flustered and frustrated, but—
He's wanted this for too long. He's been waiting for ages, ages, and he's only teasing himself at this point.
Vasquez rocks forward, slowly pressing into Faraday. He doesn't rush through it, but it's a steady, unrelenting stretch. He doesn't stop until he bottoms out, until his hips are flush with Faraday's. Vasquez leans forward, catching himself on his forearm as he keeps a firm grip on Faraday's thigh, his blunt nails digging crescents into skin. ]
Mierda, cariño.
[ He feels lightheaded, flushed, and he has to hold himself still at first, overwhelmed by the consuming heat surrounding his cock. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
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?
no subject
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.
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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?
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.
no subject
(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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
Vasquez would give a whole hell of a lot to keep hearing Faraday like this. No griping, letting himself get lost in pleasure, reacting to everything Vasquez gives him and still demanding more.
But, rather than sliding his fingers back out, rather than continuing to fuck Faraday open, he maintains that pressure in place. He circles that bundle of nerves, rocking Faraday on his hand without giving him a second of reprieve.
Faraday had been complaining, after all, so why not give this stubborn mule of a man what he asked for?
(Vasquez doesn't know what this means for them, has no idea what they're going to do with themselves when the fragile glass house of this moment shatters, but he wants to commit this to memory, just in case. Just in case this is a one-off and he has to tuck his feelings back on a shelf to avoid complicating this.
God, it's complicated just because it's happening.) ]
no subject
He does not expect the goddamn torture that Vasquez gives him instead.
It's good, at first, and Faraday groans appreciatively with it, hips rolling in an effort to keep that sensation going – that golden pleasure that makes it feel like his entire body is lit up with fireworks, sparks shooting up and down his spine.
And then it's just— overwhelming; his appreciative groans turn into low, frantic sounds, even as his body arches and writhes with each sweet curl of Vasquez's fingers. His cock fucking throbs, precum smearing on his stomach from the way it leaks, and he feels like he might actually explode if Vasquez keeps this up. ]
Vas—
[ Gasped out, thin and urgent. It's followed up by a breathy, helpless laugh that melts into an almost distressed moan when Vasquez nails that sweet spot again. ]
Fuck, you're— God, are you tryin'— to kill me?
no subject
[ His tone sounds so innocent, but the edge in his grin betrays how much he's enjoying watching Faraday go from eager to frantic. Vasquez shifts his other hand from Faraday's hip to his cock, firmly pinning it to Faraday's belly just to feel the way he throbs and pulses against Vasquez's palm. Faraday is flushed, whining for him, arching and squirming like he can't keep still, and, well, Vasquez doesn't blame him for that part.
He'd be much the same if their positions were reversed.
He allows himself a few more relentless sweeps over that sweet spot, Faraday's cock trapped under his hand, but, finally, mercifully, Vasquez eases away from Faraday's prostate. He slides his fingers back out, reaching for the abandoned lube. ]
You want another finger first?
[ Vasquez is certainly ready and willing to keep finger-fucking Faraday, but he also wants to make sure they're on the same page, that they're in sync instead of lagging behind or forging ahead prematurely. ]
no subject
fucking—
bastard—
[ It takes goddamn effort, but he manages to grit each word out between waves, between the wordless, shameless noises that tear out of him – groans of pleasure and keens of distress and want.
He swears, vicious and vile, when Vasquez presses his cock against his stomach, instinctively rocking his hips to feel that delicious pressure, to feel the way the callouses on Vasquez's hand catch on the soft, sensitive skin of his cock. It's rough and dry, but so fucking good.
Because it's Vasquez.
He's wanted this for ages, and the reality is miles and miles and miles away from his paltry little fantasies.
... Jesus Christ, Faraday has no fucking idea what he's going to do with himself when this night is over.
(Probably go back to the bottles, he thinks. Probably try to drown away those stray thoughts and feelings and the thought of Vasquez's hot mouth and rough hands on his body.
... It never worked before, but, hey, maybe this time?)
Vasquez finally pulls out of him, and Faraday couldn't have stopped the sharp sound of protest that shot out of him if he cared to try. He's a wheezing, sweating mess, he knows, his hair a complete lost cause, and his mouth feels horrifically dry from the way he's been trying desperately to catch his breath, and God, he already feels so goddamn wrung out, but—
He hooks a leg around Vasquez's waist, pulling him in. He shoves himself up onto an elbow and curls his hand pointedly around Vasquez's dick.
He pants out, ]
I will murder you if you don't fuck me proper right the hell now.
no subject
Vasquez is about to deal with the lube, but Faraday is suddenly yanking him forward, and Vasquez has to release Faraday's cock to catch his own weight before he accidentally headbutts the other man. A rough, heated palm curls around his own cock, and Vasquez inhales sharply, startled.
His surprise melts away into satisfaction, meeting Faraday's flushed glare with a breathless grin. ]
Te escucho.
[ He shifts his weight over Faraday, getting the bottle of lube open with one hand.
But... ]
You're going to have to let go again, first.
no subject
He holds his free hand out for the bottle. ]
Let me.
no subject
Vasquez licks his lips, but he doesn't protest, pressing the bottle into Faraday's hand. ]
No ensucies.
no subject
[ Understanding or not, Faraday clicks the cap on the bottle closed, tossing it lightly to one side, ensuring it's still close by but not likely to be squashed. One-handed, he smears the lube over his fingers and over his palm, letting it warm for only a second before he's back to curling his hand over Vasquez's dick, spreading the lube over that soft skin.
And if he pays special attention to the sensitive spot just beneath the head, if he's mindful to tease the slit of Vasquez's cock with the pad of his thumb, if he's careful to lube the man up with tight, slow strokes – then surely it's an accident.
He grips the nape of Vasquez's neck, pulling him down while also using the other man to pull himself, meeting him halfway. Faraday crushes another kiss against Vasquez's mouth as he strokes him, as he feels the length of him, and he groans a little with the mental images of Vasquez fucking him open. ]
no subject
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?
no subject
It's a damn good thing Faraday's given up on feeling ashamed by most things.
He chuckles, the corner of his mouth turning upward in a vicious smirk. A little mockingly, ]
So much for foreplay.
[ One more firm stroke, but Faraday releases his grip on the other man's cock, wiping off the excess slick on Vasquez's belly, like the paragon of maturity he is. ]
no subject
Charming.
[ ... said like it's the exact opposite.
But with that final piece of the puzzle, Vasquez reaches for Faraday's leg, hitching his thigh higher before he shifts to guide his cock into place. Part of him wants to keep teasing Faraday, to just grind against him, to watch him get progressively more and more flustered and frustrated, but—
He's wanted this for too long. He's been waiting for ages, ages, and he's only teasing himself at this point.
Vasquez rocks forward, slowly pressing into Faraday. He doesn't rush through it, but it's a steady, unrelenting stretch. He doesn't stop until he bottoms out, until his hips are flush with Faraday's. Vasquez leans forward, catching himself on his forearm as he keeps a firm grip on Faraday's thigh, his blunt nails digging crescents into skin. ]
Mierda, cariño.
[ He feels lightheaded, flushed, and he has to hold himself still at first, overwhelmed by the consuming heat surrounding his cock. ]
You're— fucking tight.
[ This is it; this is where he dies.
Seems fine. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)