His fingers are still twisted up in Faraday's shirt and he'll wrinkle it before he intends to let go, because he doesn't want him going anywhere. It's also a good way to guide him where he likes him, pushing him against the wall with a little force because he can get him there, deepening the kiss.

It's as rough and as hot as he'd imagined. Then again, this is a lot of months for him, pent up, imagining this. Laughing softly against his mouth, he eases back to stare at him, in wonder. "You can put on your clothes," he offers, "but then I'm just going to strip them off you."