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When Wolfwood shows up to Vash’s room with a bottle of bourbon and a small, nondescript package, Vash decides that something has to be up.
“Who did you kill this time?”
There’s no blood on his shirt, and the punisher looks wrapped up, and all things considered Wolfwood looks pretty content.
“Nobody,” Wolfwood laughs at Vash’s incredulous look, cigarette dangling from his lips. He pushes past Vash at the door, snagging two glasses and two chairs before settling down at the tiny table in the corner. “What, you don’t believe me?”
If he was being honest Vash did believe him, but he couldn’t think of any other reason why Wolfwood was being generous. The last time Wolfwood offered to get him something, he skipped out on the bill, leaving Vash high and dry and responsible for his “gift”.
Really, it had him curious. Good surprises felt hard to come by. Vash pulled up the second chair to sit down and examine the bottle. It was nice stuff, brand new. Not their normal swill. “Ok, well, if nobody died, who’d you steal this from?”
Wolfwood pops the bottle open, doling out a generous serving before pushing one glass towards Vash. His smile widens, like he knows something Vash doesn’t. “Nobody. Bought it myself with my own money.”
This was the strangest thing Vash had ever heard. Wolfwood wasn’t generous - not like this, not bold and in your face, and Wolfwood absolutely did not have money.
“Stop thinkin’ so hard,”' Wolfwood says, as if he can read Vash’s mind. “I was just in town and saw it and thought, you know, we haven’t had something nice in a while. Plus, you didn’t ask me about the other gift.”
There was another gift. Vash had totally forgotten. It was so small and inoffensive that it was almost too easy to ignore. With a sideways glance he snatches it from the table, assessing the weight. It’s no bigger than an envelope but just as flat. The paper it’s wrapped in is soft, faded brown, like a reused paper bag. It wasn’t fancy, but it felt like it was wrapped with care.
It was definitely too thin to be food. Maybe Wolfwood hit it rich and it was cash? Or…perhaps it was a love letter. Something written during their time apart, Wolfwood pouring his heart out onto paper, paragraphs upon paragraphs about his lust and longing, his heavy desire, a declaration of his love that he can no longer keep inside –.
“Are you gonna open it, Spikey?”
Open it. Yes. In a single rip, the contents flutter down into Vash’s lap before he catches it to hold it up at eye level. It’s red, lacey, and lighter than a feather, and Vash’s brain cannot put two and two together.
“What is it?”
Wolfwood swallows his drink down on a single gulp before answering, gesturing with the empty glass. “Panties.”
Gently, Vash puts them on the table. As if it’s a weapon and not a sorry scrap of fabric. His disappointment is palpable, and he doesn’t even try to hold it back. “Why?”
“Thought they’d look good on you.”
Vash spreads the fabric out, pushing the corners with his fingers to get the full gist of what he’s up against. The entire thing is some sort of paisley lace, with scalloped edges and a tiny button on the front. And really, It’s a nice red. Darker than his jacket, but not dark enough to be maroon. They almost look like little shorts, if Vash was being honest. It gave it a hint of masculine flair.
When he looks up, Wolfwood’s got a stupid grin plastered on his face. He can’t decide if he’s being genuine or if he’s getting made fun of, and he’s not sure which one he would prefer.
But, Wolfwood was thinking about him like that in his free time. Thinking about Vash and hopefully him, doing things. Vash could barely string the concept together to make a full thought, his cheeks flushing red as the realization hits him. Really, they hadn’t done much so far, just some late night kissing, and once they cuddled in their underwear, too drunk to give a shit. It wasn’t for lack of desire - he certainly wanted to go further, but with the way he was it just felt wrong to ask for something like that. Selfish.
“Well,” Vash sighs, finally knocking back the bourbon. Anything to get him through this. “Well then.”
Palpable silence stretches between them. Vash’s brain is now on a perpetual rollercoaster of raunchy thoughts and possibilities, and he assumes Wolfwood’s along for the ride. When he takes his jacket off and rolls up his shirt sleeves, Vash is pretty sure he’s decided for the both of them where the night is going to go.
“Are you gonna put them on? Cus if not, you know, I’ll take them –”
“No!” Vash abruptly stands up, the chair scraping against the floor. “No. No, I’ll do it.”
He doesn’t move right away. Can’t. He’d undressed in front of Wolfwood before; it’s not like his body was much of a secret to him, but it felt different this time. Like he was being scrutinized.
Turning around, Vash pulls his shirt over his head before tossing it onto the bed. Wolfwood’s gaze is palpable, heavy as it bores into his back. It makes him nervous in a way he usually isn’t, fumbling with the button of his pants and shoving them down with frustration.
When he’s in just his underwear, he turns around to face Wolfwood again. He looks pleased as pie, sprawled back against the chair with his legs crossed, nursing another glass of bourbon.
“It’s not what you’re going to expect,” Vash says, hesitating. They’ve never gotten further than this.
“You’re always full of surprises. What’s another one?”
“I’m just preparing you.”
“I guarantee there’s no way in hell it’s gonna make me change my mind, Blondie.”
Vash hesitates. Wolfwood is probably right. And he’s a bad liar, to boot; Vash can always see right through it.
In what seems to be one smooth, coordinated movement, Vash grabs the panties off the counter at the same time he takes his own underwear off, stepping sideways awkwardly first to get out of them, and then to put on the new pair. He’s so off kilter that he almost falls, stumbling over his legs, but he catches himself.
All things considered, they fit surprisingly well. If anything, they’re almost more comfortable than his normal underwear. The lace is forgiving around his hips, no digging or pinching like the normal elastic waistband he’s used to. And they’re almost so pretty and delicate that it softens the rest of his body. He’s not super well-endowed, but it still pulls at the front ever so slightly, his clit pushing up just enough to ever so slightly pull at the lace.
It makes him feel like he’s huge, and he blushes and swallows at it. Women’s underwear, making him feel like he’s packing heat. Maybe Wolfwood knew him better than he thought.
There’s a low whistle, and Wolfwood is looking at him with a hazy fire in his eyes that Vash has seen on plenty of other people before him. He’s frozen in place, unsure of what to do, where to go. What to say.
“Cmon, let me look at my gift.”
Vash rolls his eyes at him. “Isn’t it my gift?”
The wooden chair creaks as Wolfwood gets up, reaching out to grasp at Vash’s waist. His hands are warm, palms sweaty as they stick against Vash’s skin. It seems that despite his confident facade, Wolfwood might also be a little nervous, too. And as he leans his body up alongside his, Vash can feel the unmistakable length of his erection. He even swears that Wolfwood grinds up against him for good measure.
“Semantics, really.”
“Oh, so you were being selfish all along.”
Wolfwood doesn’t respond. Instead, he appraises him like he’s an animal up for slaughter; groping his chest here, pulling at the elastic waistband there. His hand slides up and over his shoulders, fingers trailing down to give a reassuring squeeze to Vash’s wrist before moving onto the next part.
For some reason, it’s too intense for Vash to make eye contact, gaze cast to the floor as he stands stock still and lets himself be handled.
He touches him in places he didn’t even think were erotic - his thumb dipping into his belly button, fingers following the crease where Vash’s pectoral meets his abdomen. They’re fleeting, barely a moment before he moves on, and it’s such a tease that it has Vash on edge, his skin hypersensitive. His breath catches in his chest as he feels his cock fill with blood.
Wolfwood’s fingers slip under the lace edge along Vash’s leg, barely a touch before he’s gone again, coming round to press himself up against Vash’s back. His arms bracket Vash’s side, hands coming to rest at the dip of his hip bones. It’s comforting, reassuring, and Vash practically melts into it, shifting his weight so he’s leaning back against him.
“Does my baby girl like his gift?”
Baby girl. The name has Vash blushing, his face practically burning up. “I’m not –”
“You got these little lacey things on, you’re my baby girl,” Wolfwood replies with a gruffness that has Vash weak in the knees.
All Vash can reply with is a whimper. It feels like a trick, like he was lured into a trap.
He presses a kiss, slow and sweet, to the pulse point at Vash’s neck, hands wandering down the planes of Vash’s body to grope at his crotch. He’s so fucking hard it hurts, the need to fuck up into something thrumming through his hips. Wolfwood can feel it, too – the unmistakable firmness of his clit against the hard push of his palm. There’s fabric between them, but it’s nothing more than thin threads, just scratchy lines across sensitive places. He might as well be wearing nothing at all.
“Already hard in your panties?”
Vash closes his eyes, tilts his head back and lets the feeling wash over him. Shame and arousal commingle to make something heady and toxic. It’s so stupid, so belittling. He’s a grown man and there’s nothing shameful about being aroused. It’s just – how he said it, the way he whispered it into his ear. It’s like he’s done something wrong. Like he’s bad.
His hands shake as he covers Wolfwood’s hands with his own. It’s permission, an offering. Take what you want.
But Wolfwood isn’t moving, despite Vash’s urgent press of his hips. Instead, he turns Vash around so they’re face to face. The look Wolfwood gives him is unmistakable, clear as day, his eyes raking over his body to stare brazenly at Vash’s erection. Wolfwood’s own desire is just as evident, if not even more so as it presses up against his pants into an embarrassing tent.
“You’re really into this, huh.” Vash says, more of a statement than a question.
“Maybe,” Wolfwood responds, slowly walking Vash towards the bed. “Maybe I just like a good lookin’ guy in pretty underwear.”
When his knees hit the bed, Vash collapses against it. Wolfwood’s hand splays across his chest, pushing him back. There's barely any pressure, but Vash gives in without a fight, lying back against the scratchy blanket as Wolfwood towers over him. There’s a lazy smile across his face that only reads one thing: trouble.
Vash swallows audibly, mouth dry “I thought I was your baby girl.”
Wolfwood slips to the floor, settling between his spread legs. His palms are warm as they press against his thighs, pulling his legs apart. Vash can feel his sex pull and separate, cool air against his sensitive skin. He can only imagine what he looks like from Wolfwood’s angle – the blonde hair covering his cunt trying desperately to stay behind the elastic of the underwear; his thick, plump labia that joins together at the head of his clit, all pushed up against its lace confines.
Wolfwood bites his lip, and Vash thinks maybe his heart stops.
“Oh, so you like being my nasty baby girl,” Wolfwood says, his thumb making small, suggestive circles at the edge of Vash’s underwear. There’s a blank look on Wolfwood’s face, the gears turning hard as he goes over and over a well loved fantasy.
Vash laughs, thin, as if he’s losing a bit of his sanity. Fuck it. He likes it.
“Yeah, been waiting for you to get the hint.”
Wolfwood hums out an acknowledgement, thumb pressing between the split of Vash’s labia, pushing his erection up against the fabric. There’s enough pressure from Wolfwood’s thumb that if the fabric wasn’t there, it would be slipping inside of him without any resistance. Vash can’t help but gasp and squirm, legs hiking up to bend and splay, opening himself further.
“What, the hint that you got this sloppy pussy hidin’ in your pants all day,” Wolfwood says, his thumb rubbing up the underside of Vash’s erection to down past the fuzzy place between both holes. “Or that you just can’t wait to get my dick in you?”
Vash stares at the ceiling. He feels a bit like he’s drowning, the air thick in his chest, sounds muffled. He’s had lots of sex. He’s never had sex like this.
“Ahh –” Vash gasps as Wolfwood presses his thumb into the divot of Vash’s entrance. It’s a poor replacement for fucking, but Vash drops his head back nonetheless, reaching down to pull his legs up to his chest. “I’m not –. I mean, it’s not –.”
“Not what it looks like? Baby girl, you’re dripping.”
He’s right, it’s a mess; most of it soaked into the fabric of his underwear, the rest of it smeared around his thighs. He can’t help how hard he fell the moment Wolfwood wrapped his arms around him; it’s just been so long, and Wolfwood’s entire being – his smell, his taste, the sound of his voice, his presence – has Vash insatiable. And being pinned at one singular point has him panting and whining. He’s trapped. He never wants to escape.
“Please,” Vash whines, arches his back to try to get more leverage. “Don’t be a tease.”
He feels it more than he sees it: Wolfwood’s face pressed up against the inside of his thigh, his face burning against his skin. The hot fan of his breath across his swollen cunt. All Vash can do is squeeze his eyes shut more, hug his legs to himself harder. It’s as if he has to hold himself together because he sure as hell is ready to fall the fuck apart.
What he doesn’t expect is for Wolfwood to actually go for it, the flat of his tongue dragging up the gusset of Vash’s panties. He’s searing hot, wet and silky even through the small layer of mesh.
“Oh! No that’s – You don’t have to –”
Before he can finish his sentence, Wolfwood mouths at the jut of Vash’s clit, lips closing around the tip. Vash feels his belly flip and tumble, his hands releasing from his thighs, only to be pushed back into place.
“Fuck,” Vash pants out, trapped as Wolfwood closes his lips around him and starts to suck. It feels just as obscene as it sounds.
When Wolfwood releases his mouth, he presses down on Vash’s legs even more, tongue dragging down further to thrust against Vash’s back entrance through the fabric. It’s a hard reach, more for effort than for anything else, but Vash can still feel his saliva soaking through the fabric and the push of his tongue against him. It’s got Vash’s mind in shambles – it’s so dirty, it’s hot, and the noises Wolfwood is making while he’s doing it is almost more enjoyable than the act itself; all soft sighs and hard groans right up against Vash’s sensitive skin.
Between his legs, his clit throbs, ignored. He can’t even reach between him to touch it, trapped in an uncomfortable position where he’s exposed. Despite Wolfwood’s honest effort, it’s not enough. He needs –
“More,” Vash gasps, squirming pathetically. “Not enough! Fuck, I need more!”
Wolfwood’s laughter feels almost belittling, but Vash is too hung up in the floaty feeling of being on edge to do much about it. He just wants Wolfwood to touch him where it matters, and he’s so close it hurts.
Wolfwood doesn’t stop, though he does change tactics, turning to bite at the inside of Vash’s thigh.
“Noooooooo!” Vash groans. It’s frustrating, and presses his legs hard against Wolfwood’s hands. Wolfwood only pushes back harder. If it was anyone else, he would have taken what he wanted already; With Wolfwood, he’s nearly matched.
“Stop squirming. Don’t you know it’s rude to complain about gifts you’re given?”
Vash frowns, tries to reach for Wolfwood’s head as he artfully dodges it. “Less talking, more fucking.”
“I haven’t even started yet,” Wolfwood unfolds himself, and Vash watches from between his legs as Wolfwood undoes his pants and pulls out his cock. “You’re begging for me and I haven’t even started yet.”
It’s better than Vash even imagined it to be (and he absolutely spent time imagining it); thick around and not too long, the red tip peeking out from behind his foreskin, shiny with precum. He fists it once, twice, the skin pulling forward and back, exposing himself even more.
Wolfwood laughs at the pleading, desperate look on Vash’s face. He pushes back on Vash’s legs again, letting his cock slot between the split of Vash’s cunt. The heads of their erections touch briefly before Wolfwood is pulling back against the slick fabric. “Is my baby girl really that greedy?”
Vash closes his eyes and takes a breath as he’s ricocheted back to the edge of orgasm. He’s used to being the one in control, all sweet talk and soft words. With the tables turned, he’s lost. Overwhelmed. His brain has gone to a fuzzy place inside of him that he didn’t even know existed.
Really, he’s tired. He wants to come. He’s terrible at being teased. Distantly, he thinks he might just start crying if Wolfwood doesn’t shove his fat cock inside of him soon.
“Vash.” Wolfwood’s voice is soft, like it’s lost its edge.
He still can’t bring himself to open his eyes. There’s too much going on; Wolfwood, on top of him, his face covered in slick and saliva. His own body, folded in half, his clothed cunt so closely in view. Instead, he lets himself get pushed by the soft sway of Wolfwood’s body as it rocks against his as they rut together. His weight on Vash’s is heavy, and it feels good. Safe.
“Baby girl, c’mon.”
“Why are you being so mean,” Vash says, and it sounds so petulant he laughs at himself.
Wolfwood smiles down at him, and it's bright despite the dark look on his face. He brushes a few strands of hair out of Vash’s eyes tenderly. “You know I never give you more than you can take.”
Vash shivers. The implication rests heavy over his body.
“Do you want me to beg?” Vash gasps as Wolfwood’s lazy rutting falters for a second, his hand slipping, “Is that it?”
Deep from his chest, Wolfwood laughs out a groan. “You begging for something? Being selfish?”
He doesn’t finish the statement. They both know the answer.
“Please,” Vash starts. It sounds high and needy but he can’t think too hard about it lest he’ll drive himself crazy. “Please, I want it. I need it. It’s been so long.”
“I know, but I’m gonna have to take your panties off.”
“I don’t care.” Vash tries to move, kick his leg out, pull his arms back, but he can’t. Wolfwood is too heavy on him, and he doesn’t look like he’s interested in moving any time soon. His pussy is so swollen it hurts, his walls clenching around nothing. Wolfwood’s cock is thick and searing against his core, so dangerously close to being inside of him if not for the thin piece of red fabric. “Just… Fuck, just pull them aside.”
For a moment, Vash thinks that Wolfwood was going to come, his eyes fluttering shut and his hips stuttering as he bites his lip.
“Fuck, you can’t just say that.”
“I mean it.”
“Fuck.”
Wolfwood pulls the gusset to the side, both of them transfixed as he lines his cock up with Vash’s entrance. The image sears itself into Vash’s mind - of his dick, skin darker than his own, splitting the puffy red lips of Vash’s pussy in two - before he’s thrusting inside in one solid motion.
Being stuffed full takes Vash’s breath away. He’s being pulled open, split into two as Wolfwood sets a brutal pace against him, skin slapping against skin. He’s being fucked so deep it’s like he’s carving his way, making a space that can’t be used by anyone else.
He tightens around the intrusion, squishy walls closing in on Wolfwood’s cock, making him feel even bigger in the tight clench of his body.
“Goddamn,” Wolfwood curses, sweaty strands of hair sticking to his face. His lips are parted ever so slightly, shiny with spit, as harsh breaths are forced out of his chest with every thrust inside. It’s hot, watching Wolfwood losing a shred of control. In a weird way, Vash appreciates it. He so badly wants to reach up and kiss him.
“ ‘S good, so good. So big.”
The angle of Wolfwood’s hips has his cock pushing against the soft place inside of Vash, pleasure coursing from his head to his toes. It batters against him, fucks against the right spots. All he can focus on is the stretch of his rim around Wolfwood, how it rubs against slick, raw skin, and the building pressure inside of his gut as Wolfwood takes what Vash is giving him.
“I’m gonna fill my baby girl up,” Wolfwood grinds deep, and Vash keens, nodding wordlessly. “Gunna blow my load in you, then you gotta wear these all day.”
“Fuck.” Vash is close, so close, riled up and near the edge. If only he could reach between them, jerk his cock off in time. They’re both focused at the place where they’re joined, red fabric pushed aside to watch Wolfwood’s cock part Vash into two. The fabric pushes up against Vash’s erection, pulling the loose skin up and down as a poor approximation for jerking off.
“Is my baby girl gonna come on my cock?”
“ – Gunna, yeah!” Vash cries out, sweet relief just around the corner. He’s almost there. He can feel it in his belly, his clit swollen and pumping with his pulse.
“Not until I say so,” Wolfwood growls, chest heaving.
“Ahh –” Vash bites his lip till he tastes blood, begging the pain to be a distraction as he feels his orgasm growing, the growing, pleasant numbness creeping through him. Wolfwood feels so good burying himself deep inside his guts. “I can’t –, I can’t hold it!”
“C’mon, don’t you wanna be good for me, baby girl?”
Wolfwood pulls the gusset of the panties further aside, no longer allowing them to rub up against Vash’s clit. Vash groans with frustration, weakly thrashes underneath him as tears slip free.
“Wolfwood. Nick, please. I’m so hard, please!”
“I know baby girl, I know, but you gotta wait.”
All Vash can focus on is the sloppy sounds of his pussy getting fucked and the ragged pants of Wolfwood above him. He was so close, taken from the edge, desperate and needy, and now even just the thought of coming without permission has created a feedback loop in his brain.
He wants to come even harder.
He doesn’t think there’s any way he’s going to be able to hold it.
His belly tightens, toes splay. Above him, Wolfwood seems consumed in pleasure, head resting against his outstretched arm.
“Nick,” Vash gasps. “I can’t, I’m gonna come.”
“Not yet.”
“I can’t. I can’t. Oh –” He’s coming, and he can’t stop it. It washes over him, fills him and leaves him floating as he tightens around Wolfwood’s cock, buried deep inside of him. He’s crying freely, floating through the feelings of shame and arousal as they grip around his throat. His erection twitches, untouched between his legs, as slick dribbles around Wolfwood. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
“Oh fuck, Vash,” Wolfwood’s hips still, and Vash thinks he’s coming too, thinks he can feel the twitching of his balls as he blows his load inside of him. It makes Vash come even harder, squeeze him even tighter, and it punches the breath out of Wolfwood, his eyes glassy as he stares at the place they’re connected.
They both watch as Wolfwood pulls out, cupping their hands underneath Vash’s cunt to catch any stray globs of spunk before Wolfwood slides the gusset back into place. It’s loose from being stretched, wet with fluids and smells of sex.
“Goddamn, Blondie,” Wolfwood sighs, flopping down on his back next to Vash. The sound of their breaths fill the room as they let the reality of what just happened wash over them. They finally had sex. Not just sex, they fucked. Wolfwood fucked Vash nasty, had it totally planned from the get go.
Wolfwood knew what was going to happen. Vash had a lot to learn about his friend.
Finally free, Vash stretches his arms and legs out, the uncomfortable feeling of cum dribbling from his raw hole leaving him squirming. “Well, it’s been a century since I’ve had sex that good.”
“Ughhh,” Wolfwood slaps his hand over his face. “Don’t remind me that I just fucked an old man.”
“An old man you bought a pair of red panties for.”
“You liked it.”
Vash turns to the side, appreciating a side of Wolfwood he’s never gotten to see before. Everything about him looks relaxed, even his shoulders seem to droop a little lower. His face is flushed, a cute dark red that reaches down to his chest. Vash wants to kiss him. Instead, he kisses his fingers, and puts his fingers to Wolfwood’s mouth.
“Yeah, a little bit. They’re actually pretty comfortable. You can move pretty well in them.”
“I better not see them when you bend over one day.”
“You got them for me! Now I’m never taking them off!”
Something black hits Vash square in the chest - it’s the pair of pants he discarded earlier. When he looks back at Wolfwood, he swears he can see just the slightest upturn of a smile on his face.
They’re going to have a very, very good time traveling together.