[ Vasquez casts Faraday an unimpressed look at the mention of Jack. By this point, he doesn’t say anything directly unkind about the dog, but he’ll be damned if he can honestly understand what Faraday likes about that temperamental creature.
(At least Faraday loves that animal; he’s probably the only one in the world who does.)
Vasquez half expects Faraday to nudge his hand off with some long-suffering sigh, but much to his delight, Faraday hardly seems inclined to actually tell Vasquez to stop. ]
We’ll only get pulled over if your driving is terrible, guerito.
[ And even now, Vasquez lives to make Faraday’s life that much harder; as if to punctuate the thought, his hand slides higher, lazily squeezing muscle. ]
Did you miss the part of your training where you are supposed to keep your focus, even if something is distracting?
[ It’s that lazy sort of taunt that comes so easily between them, and Vasquez emphasizes it by finally finding Faraday’s cock through his jeans. He keeps the pressure light, mercifully, but it’s still a pointed gesture. ]
But for me – you know I’m not always a very patient man.
[ ... Patience is often overrated, by Vasquez’s standards. ]
[ Faraday had given it fifty-fifty odds on whether or not Vasquez would keep up his teasing. He's glad he didn't end up making that bet, though, once Vasquez's hand rests over his cock. A muscle in his jaw tics, but otherwise, he doesn't react much, aside from mumbling, ]
You're such a goddamn prick.
[ Though the insult is nowhere near as sharp as it should be.
The ten minute drive to Faraday's house is, in all likelihood, about to be the longest goddamn ten minutes of both of their lives. ]
[ The downside of teasing Faraday is that Vasquez is making this harder on himself (literally). The thrill of what awaits them back at Faraday’s place is a little overwhelming, in the best way, because he feels like he’d barely even gotten a taste of the other man last time. That was a goddamn whirlwind of desperation and need; this time, he expects slightly less of a frantic edge. ]
And yet you are driving me back to your place.
[ He flashes Faraday another grin as his thumb follows the line of Faraday’s cock, tracing up the seam of his jeans. ]
[ The thing is, Vasquez did have a point – they both were highly trained in the art of filtering out distractions. Granted, he doubts that Statesman expected them to use that particular training in this particular manner, but at least Faraday is applying it.
He takes a slow, steadying breath as Vasquez traces the line of his cock – just the vaguest bit of pressure. It's practically nothing in the grand scheme of things, but it has the intended effect of making Faraday's pulse pick up, of trying to drag Faraday's attention away from where it should be. ]
Whether or not we make it there in one piece remains to be seen.
[ He hisses in a breath, jaw clenching around the instinct to roll his hips up into Vasquez's hand. ]
Goddamn prick.
[ He grits it out again, but he continues to prove Vasquez right by keeping them on the road, driving along at a relatively sane speed – if slightly above the posted limits.
It is, of course, the longest goddamn drive of his life – which is certainly saying something, considering Faraday had once driven his way nearly across the entire country. The wide, empty expanses have nothing on Vasquez trying to rile him up, wearing that infuriating smile of his. The bastard knows exactly what he's doing, when to put on a little pressure at stop lights or stop signs, when to let up when Faraday needs his wits about him. Faraday is a little pissed that Vasquez manages to play him like a goddamn fiddle, that by the time they pull into Faraday's garage, his face is flushed from arousal as much as it is from irritation.
(But that's Faraday's normal mode of operation: he's irritated by nearly everything.)
But once the car is parked, the engine shut off, and the garage door shut behind them, Faraday snarls out a relieved swear. His arm snaps out, then, hand gripping the back of Vasquez's neck to haul him in for a fierce kiss. ]
[ All things considered, Faraday holds himself together pretty well. Vasquez is impressed (and mildly relived, because getting pulled over would mean delaying the exact thing he’s been itching for).
They make it to the house, and as the garage shuts, Vasquez finally starts to release Faraday – until Faraday, quick as anything, drags him in by the scruff of his neck. An amused little laugh is swallowed between their mouths, but it doesn’t take Vasquez more than a split second to respond in kind. He grabs a fistful of Faraday’s shirt, like he could drag him any closer in this stupid car.
[ And he answers Vasquez's nip with one of his own.
Faraday kisses Vasquez again, deep and heated and fierce, but eventually he shoves them apart, retrieving his keys. He climbs out of the car and unlocks the door to the house – and once it's shoved open, the muffled noise of Jack's guttural barking and snarls comes into sharper focus.
The barks cut off the instant Jack spots Faraday, and the dog bounds toward him, snuffling and whining and circling Faraday, throwing himself bodily against Faraday's legs. The dog is massive, though it's broader than it is tall, some sort of mix between Pitbull, Rottweiler, and demon. The only people who have a handle on the dog are Faraday – obviously – and the miracle worker of a dog walker that Faraday's hired on a Statesman tech's recommendation.
Of course, Jack's excitement seems to shut off the instant it spots Vasquez, and he stands alert, ears perked and tail twitching.
[ Again, Vasquez just laughs – good-natured and amused. He follows Faraday out of the car, but he wisely hangs back as Jack comes bounding down the hall. If he’s honest, he has no idea why Faraday has this dog or why he keeps it; Vasquez can’t imagine it makes one night stands especially convenient.
Jack turns his attention to Vasquez, and Vasquez just holds his hands up, palms out.
[ And he says it breezily, a hand resting on Jack's head.
Meanwhile, Jack looks very much like he intends to hurt Vasquez.
But Faraday whistles again to get the dog's attention. Faraday says "home" in a sharp, commanding voice, and reluctantly, Jack trots off to a dog crate in the living room. Once Jack is flopped over inside, Faraday shuts the door behind him, latching it shut. ]
You oughta be nice, too.
[ This, cast over his shoulder and directed toward Vasquez. ]
Woulda served you right if I let Jack tackle you, after the stunt you pulled on the drive over.
[ Still, the insult is as good-natured as it usually is, and he closes the space between him and Vasquez again, grabbing hold of his shirtfront and hauling him in for another heated kiss. He uses his other hand to pull Vasquez in by the small of his back, pressing their hips together.
Faraday doesn't do anything by halves – he either dives in, or he doesn't. And in this case, Faraday has decided to dive in headfirst, and damn the consequences. ]
No more messin' around. If you don't get your ass upstairs, I'm gonna let Jack shred you to ribbons.
[ This game, at least, Vasquez knows well. He knows the steps to the dance, and he can feel himself thrumming with relief as Faraday drags him in, as he meets that feverish kiss with equal heat.
He laughs on a breathy exhale. ]
And then there would be none of my ass left for you to enjoy. That sounds like a shame for you, conejito.
[ He drags Faraday in for another rough but brief kiss before he starts to pull away to head for the stairs.
[ He snorts, the quality of it a little derisive. ]
That better mean handsome.
[ Faraday's not sure how many other weird curve balls he can take today from Vasquez and his dumb nicknames.
They've drunk themselves silly at the Back Lane and stumbled their way to Faraday's place what has to be hundreds of times over the years – which means that Vasquez has been here enough that Faraday takes for granted that the other man knows his way around.
And over the years, Vasquez and Jack still haven't found any sort of common ground.
Go figure.
(The opposite is true, too – Faraday has been over at Vasquez's enough that he knows where the other man stashes his best beer and snacks, and he doesn't bother asking for permission anymore before he snags one or the other. Aside from Statesman HQ, it's practically Faraday's second home.)
So when Vasquez starts tugging them toward the stairs, Faraday is the first to pull back. He bodily turns Vasquez, pushing him to lead the way.
Once they reach Faraday's bedroom, Faraday tosses off his hat, shrugs out of his jacket, and leaves both mostly forgotten on the floor. ]
[ Navigating Faraday’s place is basically habit by now. Vasquez has crashed on his partner’s couch (and floor, and chair, and bed, depending on who manages to get there first) enough times that it’s all second hat. He knows where Faraday keeps his shit, and he also just assumes by now that he’s welcome to any of it – if only because he feels like the same is obviously true for Faraday.
Whatever Faraday needs or wants, Vasquez would never begrudge him.
He may complain to hell and back and chuck something at Faraday’s head, but that doesn’t mean he won’t share with Faraday, anyway.
Back in Faraday’s bedroom, Vasquez tosses his hat onto the dresser, starting to toe off his boots. He glances back at Faraday with a toothy grin. ]
I like how you ask that like you’re wondering if we should order pizza or no.
[ He drops his vest with his hat, turning to Faraday and cocking his head to the side. ]
I’m flexible, guero. Am I making you scream again tonight?
[ Vasquez pauses at his own shirt to watch Faraday, to admire the broad shoulders and chest now on display. Faraday hadn’t made it easy, the other night, and there had been so much of a rush to slake their mutual need that Vasquez hadn’t appreciated his partner the way he wanted.
Of course, he’s seen plenty of Faraday in other contexts, but Vasquez had at least been polite enough not to ogle the other man. ]
You make a good point. [ And he repeats Faraday, ] Seems only fair.
[ He flashes Faraday that wild, challenging grin as he returns to his own shirt, shrugging out of the fabric. It joins his vest, though he doesn’t bother folding anything. ]
Is that mouth of yours any good for more than speaking bullshit?
[ Vasquez hardly needs the persuading, and with Faraday’s pointed little shove, he backs towards the bed until he can drop down on the edge of the mattress. ]
I feel unless I see for myself, I’m just going to think you’re all talk.
Now, that's insultin'. When have you ever known me to be anything but an honest, genuine individual?
[ And he sounds artificially wounded as he cups the back of Vasquez's head, fingers tightening in his hair. He leans over, capturing Vasquez's mouth in another demanding kiss – licking into his mouth, biting at his lips, drinking down the faint, strange combination of gin and tequila.
Faraday had been absolutely convinced he wasn't getting another shot at this – and while it was Vasquez who had suggested they do this more, Faraday still wants to take as much as he can, just in case good sense manages to catch up to one of them.
(It won't be Faraday, he's reasonably sure. He's been running away from good sense for years, now; he doubts it'll ever find him.)
He pulls back, smirking, before he gets to his knees, dexterously working at the fastenings of Vasquez's jeans. ]
[ Vasquez snorts, but just as he’s about to throw something undoubtedly sarcastic Faraday’s way, the other man catches him in another one of those rough kisses.
Apparently, that’s enough to shut Vasquez up.
His lips sting with the forceful meeting of their mouths, the graze of Faraday’s teeth, but Vasquez wouldn’t have it any other way. He likes the physical reminders (obviously), and swollen (potentially split) lips fall squarely in that category. Faraday kisses like he fights, and in the same way Vasquez has learned to compensate on a mission, to go right when Faraday goes left, he meets his partner blow for blow in that heated, wordless exchange.
It leaves him out of breath when Faraday pulls back.
Vasquez pants to settle his heart rate, but he knows trying to calm down is a lost cause by now. He’s been half hard since the car, stoked by the vicious kisses and the promises of the evening, but he can feel himself throb as Faraday drops to his knees with that insufferable smirk on his face. God, it’s a good look for him, but Vasquez somehow manages to avoid any snide commentary.
Vasquez spreads his legs a little wider, makes space for Faraday as he lifts his hips to give Faraday more freedom getting into his jeans. ]
You look like— what do you say? “The cat who got the canary”?
[ He snorts out a laugh, and having taken care of the fastenings on Vasquez's belt and jeans, he hooks his fingers beneath the waistband, boxers and pants alike, and tugs them down. ]
D'you get that from a book?
[ He's not sure he's heard anyone say that aloud in earnest within this decade – possibly not even this century. Faraday's reasonably sure he only knows it because he heard it from an old cartoon.
But once Vasquez's clothing is taken care of, tossed away to the side, he lets himself take a good look at Vasquez again, at his flushed, hardening cock.
Not for the first time, he thinks, Shit. Yes.
He curls his hand lazily around the base of Vasquez's cock, and maybe with someone else, he might take a little more time to experiment and explore. With Vasquez, though, with all the time Faraday has spent wanting to fuck him, with all the time between the hotel Faraday has spent thinking about getting his mouth on Vasquez's cock—
Surprising no one, Faraday's impatience gets the best of him.
He licks a hot, wet stripe along the underside of Vasquez's cock, tasting that faint bit of salt, before he wraps his lips around the head, taking him into his mouth. ]
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[ And while he keeps his focus on the road, he flicks a glance at Vasquez, smirking impishly. ]
You can say hi to Jack.
[ Which will probably go as poorly as it ever does. Jack hates everyone, as an absolute rule.
He tenses a little in surprise when Vasquez's hand rests on his thigh, though he makes no move to push him off. Instead, he chuckles a little. ]
Sweetheart, you'd better not be doin' anything that might get us pulled over.
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(At least Faraday loves that animal; he’s probably the only one in the world who does.)
Vasquez half expects Faraday to nudge his hand off with some long-suffering sigh, but much to his delight, Faraday hardly seems inclined to actually tell Vasquez to stop. ]
We’ll only get pulled over if your driving is terrible, guerito.
[ And even now, Vasquez lives to make Faraday’s life that much harder; as if to punctuate the thought, his hand slides higher, lazily squeezing muscle. ]
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[ Though he says it as more of a suggestion than a rebuke.
... Still, though, considering they've both had a fair amount to drink, he'd much rather not give anyone cause to stop them. ]
Can't wait ten minutes, huh?
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[ It’s that lazy sort of taunt that comes so easily between them, and Vasquez emphasizes it by finally finding Faraday’s cock through his jeans. He keeps the pressure light, mercifully, but it’s still a pointed gesture. ]
But for me – you know I’m not always a very patient man.
[ ... Patience is often overrated, by Vasquez’s standards. ]
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You're such a goddamn prick.
[ Though the insult is nowhere near as sharp as it should be.
The ten minute drive to Faraday's house is, in all likelihood, about to be the longest goddamn ten minutes of both of their lives. ]
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And yet you are driving me back to your place.
[ He flashes Faraday another grin as his thumb follows the line of Faraday’s cock, tracing up the seam of his jeans. ]
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He takes a slow, steadying breath as Vasquez traces the line of his cock – just the vaguest bit of pressure. It's practically nothing in the grand scheme of things, but it has the intended effect of making Faraday's pulse pick up, of trying to drag Faraday's attention away from where it should be. ]
Whether or not we make it there in one piece remains to be seen.
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I think maybe you value your own life too much to accidentally kill us on a ten minute drive, hm?
[ Of course, he says this, but he also molds his hand to the shape of Faraday’s dick through his pants – squeezing pointedly but gently. ]
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Goddamn prick.
[ He grits it out again, but he continues to prove Vasquez right by keeping them on the road, driving along at a relatively sane speed – if slightly above the posted limits.
It is, of course, the longest goddamn drive of his life – which is certainly saying something, considering Faraday had once driven his way nearly across the entire country. The wide, empty expanses have nothing on Vasquez trying to rile him up, wearing that infuriating smile of his. The bastard knows exactly what he's doing, when to put on a little pressure at stop lights or stop signs, when to let up when Faraday needs his wits about him. Faraday is a little pissed that Vasquez manages to play him like a goddamn fiddle, that by the time they pull into Faraday's garage, his face is flushed from arousal as much as it is from irritation.
(But that's Faraday's normal mode of operation: he's irritated by nearly everything.)
But once the car is parked, the engine shut off, and the garage door shut behind them, Faraday snarls out a relieved swear. His arm snaps out, then, hand gripping the back of Vasquez's neck to haul him in for a fierce kiss. ]
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They make it to the house, and as the garage shuts, Vasquez finally starts to release Faraday – until Faraday, quick as anything, drags him in by the scruff of his neck. An amused little laugh is swallowed between their mouths, but it doesn’t take Vasquez more than a split second to respond in kind. He grabs a fistful of Faraday’s shirt, like he could drag him any closer in this stupid car.
Vasquez nips sharply at Faraday’s bottom lip. ]
See? Still alive, guero.
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I dunno. I still might kick your ass for that.
[ And he answers Vasquez's nip with one of his own.
Faraday kisses Vasquez again, deep and heated and fierce, but eventually he shoves them apart, retrieving his keys. He climbs out of the car and unlocks the door to the house – and once it's shoved open, the muffled noise of Jack's guttural barking and snarls comes into sharper focus.
The barks cut off the instant Jack spots Faraday, and the dog bounds toward him, snuffling and whining and circling Faraday, throwing himself bodily against Faraday's legs. The dog is massive, though it's broader than it is tall, some sort of mix between Pitbull, Rottweiler, and demon. The only people who have a handle on the dog are Faraday – obviously – and the miracle worker of a dog walker that Faraday's hired on a Statesman tech's recommendation.
Of course, Jack's excitement seems to shut off the instant it spots Vasquez, and he stands alert, ears perked and tail twitching.
Faraday nudges the dog with his knee. ]
Be nice, Jack.
[ Jack responds by letting out a low growl. ]
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Jack turns his attention to Vasquez, and Vasquez just holds his hands up, palms out.
Don’t shoot.
To Faraday, ]
Come on; call him off.
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[ And he says it breezily, a hand resting on Jack's head.
Meanwhile, Jack looks very much like he intends to hurt Vasquez.
But Faraday whistles again to get the dog's attention. Faraday says "home" in a sharp, commanding voice, and reluctantly, Jack trots off to a dog crate in the living room. Once Jack is flopped over inside, Faraday shuts the door behind him, latching it shut. ]
You oughta be nice, too.
[ This, cast over his shoulder and directed toward Vasquez. ]
Woulda served you right if I let Jack tackle you, after the stunt you pulled on the drive over.
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That’s very different, I think.
Besides, you handled that just fine.
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[ Still, the insult is as good-natured as it usually is, and he closes the space between him and Vasquez again, grabbing hold of his shirtfront and hauling him in for another heated kiss. He uses his other hand to pull Vasquez in by the small of his back, pressing their hips together.
Faraday doesn't do anything by halves – he either dives in, or he doesn't. And in this case, Faraday has decided to dive in headfirst, and damn the consequences. ]
No more messin' around. If you don't get your ass upstairs, I'm gonna let Jack shred you to ribbons.
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He laughs on a breathy exhale. ]
And then there would be none of my ass left for you to enjoy. That sounds like a shame for you, conejito.
[ He drags Faraday in for another rough but brief kiss before he starts to pull away to head for the stairs.
(The farther he is from Jack, the better.) ]
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That better mean handsome.
[ Faraday's not sure how many other weird curve balls he can take today from Vasquez and his dumb nicknames.
They've drunk themselves silly at the Back Lane and stumbled their way to Faraday's place what has to be hundreds of times over the years – which means that Vasquez has been here enough that Faraday takes for granted that the other man knows his way around.
And over the years, Vasquez and Jack still haven't found any sort of common ground.
Go figure.
(The opposite is true, too – Faraday has been over at Vasquez's enough that he knows where the other man stashes his best beer and snacks, and he doesn't bother asking for permission anymore before he snags one or the other. Aside from Statesman HQ, it's practically Faraday's second home.)
So when Vasquez starts tugging them toward the stairs, Faraday is the first to pull back. He bodily turns Vasquez, pushing him to lead the way.
Once they reach Faraday's bedroom, Faraday tosses off his hat, shrugs out of his jacket, and leaves both mostly forgotten on the floor. ]
So.
[ And his tone is deceptively conversational. ]
Any suggestions for round two?
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Whatever Faraday needs or wants, Vasquez would never begrudge him.
He may complain to hell and back and chuck something at Faraday’s head, but that doesn’t mean he won’t share with Faraday, anyway.
Back in Faraday’s bedroom, Vasquez tosses his hat onto the dresser, starting to toe off his boots. He glances back at Faraday with a toothy grin. ]
I like how you ask that like you’re wondering if we should order pizza or no.
[ He drops his vest with his hat, turning to Faraday and cocking his head to the side. ]
I’m flexible, guero. Am I making you scream again tonight?
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How 'bout you tell me what you want, and I'll do my best to oblige?
[ This, as he loosens enough buttons on his shirt to tug it up and over his head. ]
Seems only fair if I return the favor.
[ Considering Vasquez had done him one hell of a turn the other night. ]
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Of course, he’s seen plenty of Faraday in other contexts, but Vasquez had at least been polite enough not to ogle the other man. ]
You make a good point. [ And he repeats Faraday, ] Seems only fair.
[ He flashes Faraday that wild, challenging grin as he returns to his own shirt, shrugging out of the fabric. It joins his vest, though he doesn’t bother folding anything. ]
Is that mouth of yours any good for more than speaking bullshit?
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My mouth is good for a whole lot of things, but I fully admit, bullshitting is my personal specialty.
[ But after that, he plants a hand on Vasquez's chest, pushing him back toward the bed. ]
Care for a practical demonstration?
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I feel unless I see for myself, I’m just going to think you’re all talk.
[ Like Faraday isn’t 90% talk on a good day. ]
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[ And he sounds artificially wounded as he cups the back of Vasquez's head, fingers tightening in his hair. He leans over, capturing Vasquez's mouth in another demanding kiss – licking into his mouth, biting at his lips, drinking down the faint, strange combination of gin and tequila.
Faraday had been absolutely convinced he wasn't getting another shot at this – and while it was Vasquez who had suggested they do this more, Faraday still wants to take as much as he can, just in case good sense manages to catch up to one of them.
(It won't be Faraday, he's reasonably sure. He's been running away from good sense for years, now; he doubts it'll ever find him.)
He pulls back, smirking, before he gets to his knees, dexterously working at the fastenings of Vasquez's jeans. ]
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Apparently, that’s enough to shut Vasquez up.
His lips sting with the forceful meeting of their mouths, the graze of Faraday’s teeth, but Vasquez wouldn’t have it any other way. He likes the physical reminders (obviously), and swollen (potentially split) lips fall squarely in that category. Faraday kisses like he fights, and in the same way Vasquez has learned to compensate on a mission, to go right when Faraday goes left, he meets his partner blow for blow in that heated, wordless exchange.
It leaves him out of breath when Faraday pulls back.
Vasquez pants to settle his heart rate, but he knows trying to calm down is a lost cause by now. He’s been half hard since the car, stoked by the vicious kisses and the promises of the evening, but he can feel himself throb as Faraday drops to his knees with that insufferable smirk on his face. God, it’s a good look for him, but Vasquez somehow manages to avoid any snide commentary.
Vasquez spreads his legs a little wider, makes space for Faraday as he lifts his hips to give Faraday more freedom getting into his jeans. ]
You look like— what do you say? “The cat who got the canary”?
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D'you get that from a book?
[ He's not sure he's heard anyone say that aloud in earnest within this decade – possibly not even this century. Faraday's reasonably sure he only knows it because he heard it from an old cartoon.
But once Vasquez's clothing is taken care of, tossed away to the side, he lets himself take a good look at Vasquez again, at his flushed, hardening cock.
Not for the first time, he thinks, Shit. Yes.
He curls his hand lazily around the base of Vasquez's cock, and maybe with someone else, he might take a little more time to experiment and explore. With Vasquez, though, with all the time Faraday has spent wanting to fuck him, with all the time between the hotel Faraday has spent thinking about getting his mouth on Vasquez's cock—
Surprising no one, Faraday's impatience gets the best of him.
He licks a hot, wet stripe along the underside of Vasquez's cock, tasting that faint bit of salt, before he wraps his lips around the head, taking him into his mouth. ]
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