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There is something deeply, seriously wrong with Vash the Stampede. As of now, Nicholas D. Wolfwood is the one bearing the brunt of Vash's bizarre behavior, and it is beginning to drive him crawling-up-the-walls insane.
"What's with that look?" Wolfwood hisses through tight teeth, lifting his glass of whiskey (neat, since this bar's freezer rarely works, as far as he can tell) to his lips.
The look in question is smeared across Vash's stupid face in the form of a goofy, ruddy flush and a lopsided smile. "Mmm? Oh, nothing. I'm just getting lost in your eyes. 'Cuz they're soooo beautiful."
The rim of Wolfwood's glass collides with his gums and teeth, and flustered irritation grips him much harder than any pain. This stupid shit again. I thought he'd given up on it after we got the Dodongo Brothers locked back up, plus that traitor from the village... Beaureguard was that bastard's name, right? Maybe 'cuz the insurance gals went back to the city this morning? Ugh, gimme a break, his mind seethes. Sweat collects between the bends of his fingers. Like he's actually trying to hit on me. But I know he's just fucking around. No one has ever complimented my eyes like that before, so I wish he wouldn't lie like that... Lie about anything else, goddamn you.
Vash pouts. It should not look so cute for how pathetic it is. "You don't believe me?"
Wolfwood's hand clenches so tight around his glass that it ignites an intrusive thought about breaking it in his mind, vivid blood dripping over cloudy glass shards. He sets his drink down and settles for itching over a drop of sweat on his flushed neck. "When you're layin' it on this thick? No way. Not when you've been this desperate to get in my pants for weeks, Needles."
Vash spits his drink all over the bar top before him, stray whiskey spraying Wolfwood's sleeve. The bartender glares darkly at him, so the idiot grabs a panicked handful of napkins to sop up his mess. "Wha... what makes you say that?!"
The half-sigh, half-groan Wolfwood pushes out is warm with whiskey and frustration. "You started it before we even got here. Actually, I reckon you started with that Amelia girl, then shifted whatever dumb bullshit is possessin' you on me."
Seeing how Vash acted around Amelia, like a dog begging for scraps, was certainly bad enough. To make matters worse, he had to go and nearly get himself killed saving this girl he hardly knew, act all blasé when he suddenly came back from the dead, and then have the gall to force distance between himself and Wolfwood when they started traveling together again.
Up until their second day of walking, when something shifted. As if the breeze picked up and wafted something in Vash's direction that Wolfwood did not nor could not perceive. Abruptly, he looked up from the crumpled map in his hands and locked onto Wolfwood.
"Wolfwood, has anyone ever told you that you're very handsome without your sunglasses?"
His stomach clenched, and his heart momentarily forgot how to beat. "What?"
Grinning in the cheeky way Wolfwood had only ever seen him do around pretty women, Vash put his free hand over his chest. "It's true! See?" he went on, yoinking Wolfwood's sunglasses off his face.
The too-bright sunlight temporarily stunned Wolfwood; a one-two punch coupled with Vash's brazen, matter-o'-fact statement. Vash held Wolfwood's sunglasses in front of his face, the way a barber would hold up a mirror for their customers. "Look, look. Wolfwood, are you looking?"
"What're you goin' on about right now?" Wolfwood's reflection was distorted and disgruntled, doubled-up as it stared back at him. He watched his own eyes widen as Vash swung into sight, looping his arm over his shoulder.
Wolfwood stiffened when Vash tipped his head against his neck, as if affectionate, and sighed, "Did it hurt?" His temple felt too hot against Wolfwood's neck.
"Huh? Did what hurt?" Wolfwood questioned, wary of the oddly... warm and gooey look on Vash's face in his dark, surface-shine reflection.
Directly peeking over at Wolfwood's bare, unshielded eyes, Vash returned, "When you fell from heaven?"
At first, Wolfwood froze, mostly in confusion. The flush on his face flared hot enough to quickly melt that into irritation. How was Vash able to do that? Perfectly mimic the look in a man's eyes Wolfwood had seen dozens of times, right before they would ask him to sleep with them?
"Y'know... because you're like an angel?" Vash clarified, nervously attempting the worst wink, Wolfwood thought, in recorded human history. Despite this, he still got flustered.
This time, Wolfwood was the one to push him away, snatching back his sunglasses as he went. His annoyance and bewilderment blazed into full-on rage. "What the fuck did you do, 'sides nearly die and scare the shit out of me, that warrants butterin' me up with a lie like that?"
Vash held his hands up in defense. "I-I'm not!"
He clearly was. Vash's denial only made Wolfwood want to strangle him more. Resolved, Wolfwood staked the Punisher in the sand, squared his shoulders, and shoved his sunglasses back on. The time had come to take it out on Vash the Stampede's ass.
He took a heavy step towards Vash. Vash, eyebrows raised in panic, took a step back. So Wolfwood advanced.
"Wolfwood? Hey... Wolfwood– Wolfwood, wait, wait, wait–!"
At present, Vash sheepishly dabs at Wolfwood's suit jacket sleeve. Wolfwood can't be assed to pull away, especially not when it puts him within striking range should Vash say something else idiotic, which he is prone to do. "Ah, Amelia... I hope she's doing well. I believe in her. She can really hold her own, can't she?" Vash remarks, eyes downcast, his tone irritatingly sincere.
"Don't you dare change the subject, you bastard. This is the most I've gotten outta you in ages. Figures you'd have to be four drinks deep for it," Wolfwood grumbles bitterly.
"Hmm? What's the subject, even?" Vash ponders, landing the wet clump of napkins square into the small trash can across the bar with unshaken aim. It's impossible to tell whether he genuinely forgot what they were talking about, or if he's just playing dumb. After all, Vash the Stampede is naturally suited to playing dumb, since part of his cleverness in a fight lies in calculating when to do exactly that. Having this conversation feels like a battle in and of itself.
Suddenly, Vash's unfocused gaze clears up. "Oh, ohhhh! You think I'm trying to seduce you, I remember!" He leans his chin in his hand and bumps his knee into Wolfwood's. "Well, is it working?"
Wolfwood curves his hands into a claw-like grip and slowly reaches for Vash's neck. Vash lifts his eyebrows, but doesn't otherwise flinch. Giving up, Wolfwood buries his face into his arms, inhaling the scent of liquor over scrap metal countertops.
The problem is, it is working. Way too well, in fact. Vash has no idea what he's doing to Wolfwood, making him imagine things he shouldn't, lifting him up with outright lies and insincere flatteries. But he's sure Vash isn't taking this as seriously as Wolfwood is... unless he... is?
No, no. He does fear there is some grain of truth in Vash's intentions, but how much? Surely, he's trying to ingratiate himself to Wolfwood, but what the hell is his end game? Wolfwood is certain men are not off the table for Vash, and if women aren't either, then Wolfwood being trans probably wouldn't be an issue if it even came to that, but...
Lately, he's gotten skeptical of Vash's reasons for flirting with anyone at all— the way he talks sometimes makes it seem like he doesn't even fuck, or at least hasn't for a while. Which is strange, considering that Vash claims otherwise. So what's the point of going out of his way to hit on people, especially Wolfwood? What's the point of cupping Wolfwood's face in his gloved hands and sweet-talking him until he's blushing against the leather, then acting totally surprised by Wolfwood's reaction? That's the maddening part, the mixed signals. He's been making it hard to look him in the eyes, even when Wolfwood was working for Gasback.
"Why are you doin' all this? This– this psychological torture? The hell have I done to deserve this?"
The amount of nerves in Vash's responsive laugh raises Wolfwood's internal alarm bells. He lifts his head, noticing the sweat beading on Vash's forehead. Weird. What does he have to sweat about, when Wolfwood is the flustered one between them? "You really treat getting compliments as torture?" Vash asks, tilting his head and closing his eyes, clearly talking around what Wolfwood means. Maybe he should strangle him, right in front of the villagers indebted to them. Maybe then they'd never rely on Vash the Stampede again. "I mean, who even knows when I'll see you again! Better to tell you now than never!"
Wolfwood narrows his eyes. "Is that what this is about? You gotta get this all outta your system before we go our separate ways tomorrow?" That's not all, he's sure. He really shouldn't be this invested, but if he could get to the bottom of Vash's weird behavior, maybe he'd be able to get some decent sleep for once. Also, some payback for all the lurid images Vash has put in Wolfwood's head would be pretty nice. "You gonna be lonely without me, Needles?"
Vash takes a mighty swig of his drink. "Yeessss," he answers, heaving an overdramatic sob. "What am I supposed to do without my mysterious, dashing, hired-gun priest by my side? You make me look at least 80% cooler!"
"Well, that much is obvious," Wolfwood remarks into his glass. It's probably the easiest he's taken a compliment from Vash yet, since he finds it to be objectively true. Anyone standing next to Vash makes him look cooler; the massive dork he is. Aside from when Vash gets serious about a fight (which Wolfwood will never admit to getting hot under the collar over, ever), Vash is chronically uncool. Even that short insurance girl raises Vash's cool factor by a substantial amount. Hell, a group of children could do the trick, too.
"You see?" Vash laments, wiping a tear from his eye. The big baby. "So I'm very hurt that you can't recognize your own beauty outside of that. It's just tragic. You need someone to tell you how good you look!"
"Did a shapeshifter or somethin' replace you while we were apart, or what?" Wolfwood grumbles into his hands, conveniently hiding his flushed cheeks.
Sensing the need to do so, Wolfwood finishes his drink and flags down the barkeep for another. He also places two orders for those crispy potato bites they have here— Vash should have his own so that even if he steals a few from Wolfwood, and Wolfwood steals a few back, he'll at least have something in his stomach to soak up the alcohol. Wolfwood does not want to spend his last night here dragging Vash's drunk, belligerent ass home.
Vash's eyes practically sparkle. "You got two?! Is one for–"
"Nah, I'm just really hungry," Wolfwood answers dismissively, just to watch the cartoonishly sad look Vash paints over his previous overeager expression. It stirs something beneath his ribs, though, so he amends. "Kiddin', kiddin', it's for you. Don't say I never done nothin' for ya." Vash still looks upset, so Wolfwood reaches out to ruffle his hair. "Stop it. What? I don't get to pull pranks back on you, all of a sudden?"
"You're bullying me! And come on, I... I'm not pranking you..." Vash brings back his pout, and the little coil of tension in Wolfwood's chest relaxes. This means Vash isn't actually mad at him— Vash's genuine anger or upset is more raw, much colder and scarier than this. He would know.
"What, then? If you want me that bad, I'd rather you just be a big boy and say it with your– oh, thank you, sir."
When his order arrives, Wolfwood gives an apologetic look to the barkeep for having to host the two of them like this, but the barkeep doesn't really seem to get it, turning around without reaction. Dammit. For all the grievances he has with Vash for this very thing, Vash is much better at getting his meaning across by facial expressions alone. Wolfwood... is still working on it.
Vash reaches for his share, pout forgotten, until Wolfwood blocks him by putting his hand over the still-steaming food. "Needlenoggin. Answer me. Why won't you just ask if that's what you want?"
"Can't I compliment someone without those intentions?" Something serious flashes in Vash's eyes, and he goes to pry Wolfwood's hand off by his wrist. Wolfwood doubles down, tightening up his entire arm to keep it in place and staring over his sunglasses into Vash's intense gaze.
"Maybe someone else, but not me. Why'd you bring up my waist yesterday, huh? Said you could wrap your hands around it and–"
Vash tries to yank at Wolfwood's arm again, and it doesn't budge. "'Make my fingers touch'? It was a joke! Guys say that about me all the time, I just thought–"
"Yeah, sure. And your comments towards and obvious glances at my chest are also a joke? Not to mention you makin' moon eyes at me in general?"
Just then, Vash exerts enough force to topple the basket of potato bites onto its side. Wolfwood waits for Vash's hand to predictably dash into it, and catches his wrist before he can withdraw with any food, trapping Vash’s right hand between hot potatoes and Wolfwood's unyielding grip.
Vash, like an animal caught in a snare, thrashes against his hold. "Ah, ah! Ow, Wolfwood, it's hot-"
"I'm sick of this! Tell me the truth!" Wolfwood demands, unaware that saying this out loud would raise such a sharp, angry tone out of him. All this lying, all this acting like he didn't nearly die... it's bubbling up in ugly ways, aided by the alcohol.
Before Vash answers, Wolfwood swears he can feel the heat rise through the leather of Vash's jacket. Is it because Vash is angry, or...?
"What do you want me to say!? Do you even know that you go around looking like that all the time? Cool, handsome, tiny-waisted, big... big-chested! More than ever! It's like you're doing it on purpose!"
"I am doing it on purpose!" Wolfwood totally blows up at him, whiskey roaring in his stomach, fire lashing on his tongue. The lack of money and accessible food on his journey made him lose weight— which he thought Vash might notice in some other way than to simply gawk at his waist— and malnutrition probably threw off his hormones too, explaining why his annoying tits somehow seemed to store all his body fat lately. Why not lean into it with a low-cut, half-open suit jacket if it distracts people, especially Vash? Perhaps Vash would make a move, or at least express concern, or care about anything at all. Or maybe Wolfwood is the biggest idiot between them, for getting his own hopes up, for reading the situation wrong, for letting Vash live while holding the potential to destroy them both. Wolfwood is so fucking fed up. "Maybe not for you anymore, since you wanna act like a goddamn oblivious virgin at every fuckin' turn! For cryin' out loud, can't even take a hint right–"
Behind them, someone loudly clears their throat. It's one of the bar patrons, an older, tough-looking, no-nonsense man, flanked by a grizzled companion who appears to be equally displeased. "Excuse me. Can you two fruitcakes take your lovers' quarrel elsewhere? I don't give a damn if you helped us out, I'll still fight you with one hand tied behind my–"
In that moment, Vash breaks out of Wolfwood's grip like it was never a hindrance to begin with, scoops up the half-empty basket of potatoes, and throws it into the man's face.
The old man shouts when it hits him, stumbles, and then growls in aggression as he takes a heavy step towards Vash.
For a long, frozen second, all Wolfwood can hear is the ringing crescendo in his ears. Then, everyone in the bar gets to their feet in a cacophony of angry sound. In the initial commotion, Wolfwood quickly mentally routes their escape. Before anyone's fists or bullets can connect with Vash's stupid face, Wolfwood slams back his drink, drops a fistful of double dollars on the counter, slugs the Punisher over his shoulder, and is now dragging Vash towards the door. The struggle leaves Vash's body when someone fires a shot past his ear, and the two of them are out of the bar and barreling into the village in an instant.
"Why did I do that?!" As they book it around buildings and head towards the house they're staying in, Vash sounds horrified at himself, genuinely. Above their heads, a couple of lights short out with a crackle of sound. "Why did I do thaaaat?"
"'Cuz you're dumb as rocks, I've been tellin' you this!" Wolfwood bites back, every thought in his head crashing into the next. Anger, embarrassment, confusion, mortification, confirmation... already not a good combination, but with alcohol in his system? There's no way he can think straight.
They tear to the side of a two-story house, and Wolfwood yanks Vash around the next corner when a gaggle of angry men just barely miss them. Vash squeaks in surprise as he crashes into Wolfwood's chest. Wolfwood holds him there as the charge passes, one hand over Vash's mouth, the other gripping his shoulder. They're practically the same height, so Wolfwood sees right into Vash's wide eyes as they concentrate on the sounds around them.
The shouts and beating footsteps eventually fade, and Wolfwood lets Vash go for only a second before he readjusts, grabbing the collar of Vash's coat and keeping him pressed against the wall. "Needles. Do you actually wanna sleep with me? Gimme a straight answer." Probably not the most tactical approach to evading pursuers, but getting this answer from Vash is the thing he cares most about right now.
Vash peeks through one flinching, screwed-shut eyelid. His forehead is shiny with sweat and sun. "What about a gay answer?"
"I'll kill you." Wolfwood releases him, turning away to grab the Punisher with full intentions to leave his ass behind.
"No, wait. Wolfwood, wait!"
Wolfwood is weak. He stops, but does not look over his shoulder.
"I do! There! I said it, I do!"
Wolfwood looks back at him, narrowing his eyes in disbelief.
Briefly, his eyes dart down to Vash's hands, holding a basket of crispy potato bites. He didn't realize Vash managed to hold onto them through all that chaos; he was too busy getting them out of it. Vash himself looks like a kicked puppy, eyes glossy with real hurt, plain as day.
This is Wolfwood's fault, at least partially. He doesn't know what to say to make it better, any of this. He tries, "Go on?"
Vash looks down. "I think I wanted to since... Since, um..."
"Don't say since you first laid eyes on me. Don't say that. Then I'll still think you're lying." Wolfwood feels like his chest cavity is being slowly pried open. These parts of him should not be exposed to the air. They're too soft, too malleable.
Vash waves his hand. "No, no. Do you remember the time we drank together in Mei City? When we were talking about sex?"
"Yeah. I remember." Shifting on his heel, Wolfwood fully turns to face him. "That's when I thought you were gonna kiss me. Am I crazy, or were you?"
Vash's gaze flashes up to him, and then shies away. "I really wanted to. But I couldn't... I chickened out."
"Why?" I would have kissed you back, but maybe I was scared to close the distance, too... You ever think of that? Wolfwood recalls, mentally kicking himself for not just doing it and sparing them both the melodrama.
"Weeeellll... can I be honest?"
Wolfwood steps forward, to which Vash instinctively seems to lean back. Wolfwood reaches into the basket and takes two of the potato bites, then nods and makes a sound of acknowledgement in his throat. Vash visibly relaxes, and Wolfwood pops a comfortably cooled potato bite into his mouth.
"I'm kind of a virgin?" Vash admits sheepishly, taking a potato bite for himself. His eye color really stands out when his cheeks are flushed like this.
"Whaddya mean by 'kinda'?" Wolfwood asks over his mouthful. Now this is surprising— the way Vash talked about at least oral sex back then really made it seem like he had experience. "And why does that mean you couldn't kiss me? If that's all you wanted, that woulda been fine."
"Uhhhh..." Vash starts, his awkwardness making Wolfwood crave a cigarette. "Can we go back to Miss Jacquette's place for this, please?"
Wolfwood deadpans. "Fine. But don't try and use that to worm your way out of this."
On the way back to Rayne Jacquette's great aunt's home where Wolfwood and Vash were offered a place to stay for their help, the first sun begins to set, painting half the sky in drifting pinks and purples. In silence, he and Vash eat as they walk, but it doesn't feel awkward. In fact, Wolfwood feels as if a fine buzz of excitement sits just beneath his skin. Really— all this time, they could have gotten the most uncomfortable parts of this out of the way the first night they stayed here.
They definitely have some catching up to do.
When Vash produces the spare key they were lent by Miss Jacquette and unlocks the door, he steps in and immediately calls out a greeting. "We're home! Hello!"
They both pause for an answer, but none comes.
"Helllloooo?" Vash calls, louder. "Miss Jacquette? Hello...?"
Wolfwood moves past him, taking the basket from Vash and heading towards the guest room where they're staying. "Didn't she say she'd be out late with her old lady friends this mornin'? C'mon," he reminds Vash.
"Ohhhh, did she? She was mumbling, I didn't..." Vash's voice trails off, seeming to lose confidence. With a quiet click, he closes the door behind them and steps in.
Entering the cozy, sentimentally decorated guest room, Wolfwood crosses to the window to shutter the blinds. The space is warm with sunlight, which isn't entirely blocked out by the re-painted blinds. Not a bad place for their first time. Wolfwood has certainly imagined dingier, more desperate settings.
When Wolfwood turns around, Vash looks nervous, still standing near the door and twisting the toe of his boot into the carpet. Then, Wolfwood notices that Vash is barely displaying signs of being drunk. He's a little flushed, a tiny bit woobly, but not much else. Wolfwood has definitely sobered up, with only a faint waviness to the edges of his perception and a warm belly to indicate that he had anything to drink at all. If they were fully drunk, perhaps they wouldn't need to talk, and they could just fall right into it. But that isn't their reality, and Wolfwood considers himself to be a realist.
Wolfwood sighs. Of course breaking the ice won't be easy. "Needles, don't be a stranger. Sit down and take your shoes off. We can just talk for a sec, yeah?"
Appearing grateful that Wolfwood took the initiative, Vash nods and sits on the edge of the bed, crossing his leg over his lap to begin the arduous task of getting out of his crazy boots.
With low sunbeams on his back, Wolfwood sits in the window seat beside the bed, giving them both some space. He's thought about sitting here since he woke up to find Vash curled up in it with an open book, looking only towards the moons. It's quite comfortable, so he thinks he understands the appeal.
Suddenly, his stomach roils with the urge to say something, since neither he or Vash have asked any questions, and the silence is getting heavier the longer it stretches on.
He looks down at the carpet, the color of red, earthen clay. "I'll... go first. There's somethin' you should know. About me."
In his periphery, Vash looks up.
"You know what 'transgender' means?" Wolfwood begins, on the off chance that Vash doesn't know.
"I do," Vash answers, his first boot dropping to the floor. Wolfwood can feel Vash's eyes burning into him.
"I'm..." Wolfwood vaguely gestures to himself. "Well, I'm that. That's what I am."
Bravely, Wolfwood chances a look at Vash. His expression is unsurprised and calm, and he tilts his head when Wolfwood meets his eyes. "I know. Is there something else, or?"
As he blinks in confusion, Wolfwood's brain catches up late to what just happened. "You... knew? How long have you known?"
Vash appears to legitimately consider this. "Hmm... I'm not sure! But I knew pretty early on, I guess?"
"Huh." What the hell? What gave Wolfwood away? "And that doesn't bug you?"
Vash shakes his head, returning to dividing his attention between his boot and Wolfwood. "Why would it?"
"Wh– shit, okay." Wolfwood is kind of floored. Men he's slept with in the past have two speeds when it comes to him having a pussy— revulsion or rabid interest. One guy even displayed a secret third thing between the two that Wolfwood had the displeasure of dealing with. Shockingly, Vash seems completely neutral. He didn't think Vash would be repulsed, but he expected some chaser behavior, especially after seeing Vash interact with Amelia the way he did. "Alright then, that's it for me. Now I wanna know what you meant by 'kind of a virgin'."
Vash scratches the back of his head and swallows thickly. "So... I have kissed people. Made out. Grinded. Been felt up, felt them up. And I wasn't lying about giving head, I've done all that. Fingered people, too."
All of a sudden, Wolfwood feels the need to free himself from his suit jacket. He finds that his hands are growing sweaty as he undoes the buttons of his jacket.
"The reason I haven't done more than that..." Vash goes on. Urgently, he leans forward and lowers his voice. "Please don't get mad."
Pulling his punch, Wolfwood reaches over to lightly slug Vash's arm. "Don't freak me out like that and I won't. Go 'head."
Vash takes a deep breath. "I'm an Independent Plant."
Wolfwood has been hearing whisperings from those who could use a Punisher, and a man with the skillset to wield it. If the rumors are true, Vash has a twin brother he's never bothered to mention, and that twin keeps company with an odd man sporting a skull on his shoulder, content to do his dirty work for him. That's where Wolfwood is headed next— to meet up with that skull guy for a job offer.
Stories about Vash the Stampede date back before Wolfwood was born, calling the mismatch between his age and appearance into question. Plants are said to be very old, so this adds up. This might have been useful information back when Wolfwood entered Vash into that damn quickdraw competition. At the time, he just had to guess, and he'd been wrong.
This isn't the most shocking revelation, actually. After all, this brings him closer to understanding what the fuck is wrong with Vash.
Wolfwood snaps his fingers, having put some pieces together. "When we met, that light coming from the Plant, that was–"
Vash nods, a little solemn. "That was me. I was healing the Dependent Plant. I think of them as my siblings, and even if I didn't, I'd still try to help them."
Wolfwood frowns, trying and failing to do calculations in his head. "Yeah, okay. So why d'you have to tell me that now?"
"Are you mad?"
"I will be if you don't answer my question," Wolfwood warns, trying to be casual about sliding his sunglasses off his face. God, he could use a smoke, but that old woman forbade him on their first day here. Without his sunglasses, everything is as bright and vivid as the second sun, still high in the sky.
"Right, right! So, it's two things," Vash explains, holding up two fingers in a v-sign. "Or, no, three," he corrects, popping up another finger. "First, I'd feel bad if you didn't know. Second, um, we have heat cycles. Third, I, uh... I don't look the same below the belt as other people do."
"Heat cycles...? Like when dogs get all frisky and hump your leg and– ohhhhhh." Reflecting on Vash's recent behavior, Wolfwood smacks his forehead. "Now that makes sense. That's what's been wrong with you this whole damn time?"
Red-cheeked, Vash bashfully averts his eyes. "Yeah, I guess so..." Maybe it's just the weight of this mystery leaving Wolfwood's body and making him feel elated, or maybe it's his still-adjusting sight, but Wolfwood regards Vash in this moment as cute.
"So you do need my help, huh?" Wolfwood teases.
Vash squeezes his eyes shut. "I do..."
Grinning, Wolfwood leaves his suit jacket on the window seat and sits beside Vash on the bed, which sinks with a creak under their combined weight. "Well, what the hell you got goin' on down there? You got a weird red one like a dog, too?"
Vash sits up straight and stares forward, his shoulders drawing together. "Not... not quite! Um, Wolfwood?"
"Hmm?" he answers, pointedly keeping his hands to himself until directed otherwise.
"Can we not start with that? I'd rather start easier..."
From here, Wolfwood can feel Vash's body heat, and can see Vash's flushed, sweaty profile with vivid detail. His heart rate starts to kick up. "Yeah, yeah, no, 'course. What do you wanna do first?"
Finally, Vash turns to look at him. He's as close as he was back in Mei City, when Wolfwood was sure he would kiss him. "Wolfwood, do you believe me now? That every nice thing I said about you is true?"
He may as well just shoot him. It's not that Wolfwood thinks it's all lies— though surely some of it is exaggerated— it's that Wolfwood is not ready to accept any of that as objectively true. It can't be. But goddammit, he's never wanted Vash more in his life and has never been closer to having him, so he can't get angry and deny him now.
"I'll believe ya if you kiss me," Wolfwood challenges, unable to stop himself from looking at Vash's lips.
Vash's lips twitch, briefly part with a soft sound, and shut again. Then, Vash leans in, and Wolfwood closes his eyes and meets him.
Wolfwood is surprised at how soft it is to kiss Vash, how gentle. The taste of whiskey and potatoes lingers on his lips, but primarily, there's this earthy sweetness that makes the other flavors seem faint. Hearing how it sounds to kiss Vash makes Wolfwood's heart beat louder, leading him to chase after Vash when their first kiss breaks. It eeks this tiny sound of surprise from Vash, followed by a sigh of relief as he reciprocates the kiss.
When the headrush hits Wolfwood, his hands come up to Vash's face and shoulder to keep himself steady. He doesn't mean to, but the next small, happy noise Vash makes gets a content sigh out of Wolfwood in turn. God, yes, finally.
The kisses come quicker, then, and it's like Vash's skin instantly grows hotter and runs slicker beneath Wolfwood's touch. With his thumb, he lazily explores the shape of Vash's jawline as they kiss, figuring out how to best fit into each other. It's not too hard to work out— especially when Vash is so open and easy to read like this.
Vash's hands finally touch him, going right for his waist and drawing Wolfwood closer, pulling Wolfwood side-saddle over his lap. His touch, and the erotic "mmm" that Wolfwood feels on Vash's lips, sends fire crackling up Wolfwood's spine. He notes that Vash's fingers don't actually touch as they encircle his waist, but they're damn close. Something blooming to life within Wolfwood tells him that it's turning Vash on just the same.
Wolfwood's mouth slips open in a grin. Then, things get messy.
Vash gets louder as Wolfwood explores his mouth, holding his jaw. Each little sensation shoots electric pulsations through parts of Wolfwood; thighs, lower back, groin, stomach. Vash whines when Wolfwood tries sucking on his tongue, and in that moment, he feels mad with power. Hand in Vash's hair, he tugs and twists a little, getting the same openly excited reaction from Vash. It's just as sweet the second time.
Releasing Vash's tongue, Wolfwood only gets a second to breathe "Needles, you dog–" before Vash is back on him. Pressing their tongues together, licking over his teeth, further drenching their kiss, making pitiful sounds in his throat. And Wolfwood lets him. Gladly. He opens his eyes a couple times, peeking at the so-desperate-it's-almost-cute intensity of Vash's face. Most of his face is red, though, which is a bit concerning.
Vash's lashes flutter, so Wolfwood shuts his eyes tight and presses deeper into the kiss to avoid being caught staring. With seemingly no energy spent, Vash scoops Wolfwood up and places him properly onto the bed, with Vash's pillow resting beneath his head. As soon as Vash has himself situated over him, Wolfwood drags him back into a messy kiss, now so dizzily aroused that he can't even pinpoint what set him off. It's just— Vash. Seeing him, hearing him, feeling him like this... it's such a rush. Wolfwood wants more.
"How's your– mmh- heat goin', huh?" Wolfwood asks, a stupid grin consuming him when Vash's hand cups his chest.
Vash pants between kisses, "It's– it's going– alright–" His hand squeezes Wolfwood's tit, and his throat makes a sound that registers as delighted disbelief. Like he's impressed. Good.
Now that he's allowed to explore, Wolfwood can't keep his hands off Vash's warm cheeks, his strong jaw, and the back of his slender neck. "You're really hot, Needles."
Vash breaks the kiss to stare at Wolfwood, amazed. Lips and chin shining wet, his body blocks half of the splintered sunlight. "W... Wolfwood! Thank you!"
Wolfwood's brows knit together. "Oh, no, I mean, you're burnin' up."
"Oh." Vash looks embarrassed. He tips forward and buries his face into Wolfwood's shoulder, to which Wolfwood finds himself petting Vash's hair to silently console him. Wolfwood wants to say something, correct himself, but that would mean admitting his attraction to Vash. He can't be that forthcoming when he feels so exposed right now, even with all his clothes on.
But, he can make a concession. For Vash, who's in the same vulnerable boat as him. "You are cute. Y'know that, right?" That should be safe. Surely he knows; he must.
Vash turns his head to look up at Wolfwood. "I'm cute? You think I'm cute!?"
"I-I just said that! And I mean you're cute in a pathetic way!" Wolfwood defends, flustered heat rushing to his ears.
Vash giggles openly, and it does something strange to Wolfwood's heart. Like he could keep going no matter what, as long as he got to hear that laugh again.
Suddenly, Vash picks his head up, his eyes serious. "Do you want to go further? We can stop here, if you want."
There's something more to this consent check, Wolfwood senses. It feels like he's asking a larger question, something like "Do you really want to cross this line with me of all people?"
Wolfwood, however, made up his mind a while ago. "Let's keep at it, ya big chicken. You got nothin' to be scared of. It's just me, yeah? And you can tap out or take a breather if you need it, too."
Vash breaks into a huge smile, his eyes and brows set in relief and shining wonder. "Thank you. You're right... it is you. I'm... I'm glad it's you."
Warmth bursts inside of Wolfwood's chest, causing him to look away with a feigned cough before he can succumb to Vash's earnest expression of happiness. After collecting himself, Wolfwood platonically thumps Vash on the back and forcibly barks out a laugh. "You sap. Now c'mon, hit me with your best shot."
Vash's eyebrows shoot up. "You're serious?"
"Don't literally hit me, dumbass. I mean, y'know, you can go at me. Proper-like. I'll holler if I don't like it."
Appearing on the verge of tears, Vash's hands ball up in Wolfwood's shirt. "You mean I can... I can have you?"
At first, Wolfwood's nose twitches, and then he reminds himself that Vash is probably not only old, but also sort of old-fashioned. He knows what Vash means, and that he doesn't intend to be gross about it. "Yeah. Go on, have me."
Vash jerks forward and kisses him deeply, his hands roaming Wolfwood's body like a dog set loose. He presses his knee against Wolfwood's groin and grinds, making Wolfwood arch into his touch.
He can barely keep up with Vash's kisses, driving him dizzy and hot as Vash's mouth slips down his cheek, jaw, and neck. Wolfwood melts beneath him, his arousal bursting from every point of contact he shares with Vash. The intensity has him wheezing, choking out gasps he hasn't heard himself make in forever, if ever. Maybe it's just his imagination, but he swears the lightbulb in the lamp beside them keeps trying to flicker to life. Is it a coincidence, or Vash's doing?
The edges of Vash's canines tease Wolfwood's neck, like a coy warning of what's to come. Before then, though, Wolfwood hears Vash sniff his neck, which can't smell any better than sweat and cigarettes. Wolfwood gets a jolt of ticklish repulsion that somehow shapeshifts into a strange pinprick of arousal. Despite this, Vash sighs hotly over his skin and trails his tongue up the muscle of Wolfwood's neck. Just beneath Wolfwood's ear, Vash begins to suck a bruise that rolls Wolfwood's body into him on instinct.
Rocking his leg between Wolfwood's, Vash marks Wolfwood's neck with bruises, licking over each of them as if to soothe them over. He can't seem to help himself from sniffing Wolfwood's neck, either. Wolfwood, for one, becomes very acquainted with the sight of the back of his skull as Vash makes him weaker and weaker, turning his brain into something syrupy, and his body into a livewire. Vash is minding his teeth, but some of his mark-making hurts like a bite. Wolfwood is far too turned on to register it as anything other than an enhancement of pleasure, though.
"Really– are a– fuckin'... hah– dog, huh?" Wolfwood pants, teetering on delirium as he grinds against Vash's thigh.
Seeming to realize himself, Vash pulls back to look at him. He seems surprised, both at Wolfwood and his own work. His laughter doesn't reach his eyes as he weakly defends himself. "Oh, sorry Wolfwood. I might have... gotten carried away..." His lips are swollen, and Wolfwood finds himself pitying the abashed look in his eyes, so he brings him in for a long kiss, telling Vash not to worry in a way he can't say with words.
Wolfwood briefly shuts his eyes so he doesn't have to bear the wonder all over Vash's face as he lays back down. "Sniffin' me, markin' your territory? Hmph. At least you didn't pee on me."
Vash's eyebrows shoot up. The light in his eyes looks way too eager.
Jabbing his finger into the tip of Vash's nose, Wolfwood shuts him down. "Don't get any ideas."
"No, no!" Vash rushes to respond, waving his hands. "I'm not, I swear, I'm just... eager to keep going..." He glances to the side, a private smile tugging at his lips. Wolfwood can picture Vash like this with a tail, thumping excitedly against the bed. How long has he waited to do this? Has any other human ever seen what's in his pants, or will Wolfwood be the first? He finds himself quietly eager, too.
Vash looks up, bright-eyed. "Can I keep going?"
Wolfwood pushes himself up on his elbows. "Yeah, we've been over this."
Vash's pink cheeks are going to kill him, at this rate. "But I need your clothes off for the next part..."
Internally, Wolfwood jolts. "Then you better take that damn coat off, while we're at it."
They both set themselves to undressing, though Wolfwood's fingertips slip as he unbuttons his dress shirt. He has seen Vash naked before, briefly, after a showering mishap in a prior motel they stayed in. He only saw Vash's backside, though. And Wolfwood thought he was bad, what with the healed bullet wounds and other scant scar tissue that mars his body and all. That night, he thought about exactly what the scarred, metal-bolted canvas that made up Vash's skin entailed for an embarrassing amount of time. Not like it was the first time Vash the Stampede haunted him, and all things considered, it definitely won't be the last.
Two hands (one warmer than the other) on Wolfwood's hips pull him out of his thoughts. He had paused absentmindedly after unzipping his pants, and his hands are still on his fly as he looks down to find Vash between his legs, peering up at him with equal parts gentleness and hunger. Vash is stripped down to the tight-fitting, sleeveless top he wears beneath his coat, having discarded his coat and gloves. His right arm is completely bare, which pours the heat of potential through Wolfwood's guts.
Vash's fingers curl over the waistband of Wolfwood's pants and underwear. "Lift your hips for me?" he asks sweetly, his eyes practically sparkling like precious fucking gemstones. There should be no deep beauty there, and yet...
Silently, Wolfwood raises his hips as he's told, and Vash takes his time sliding his pants off, his eyes flickering between Wolfwood's face and his pussy. Vash acts like they have all the time in the world, like the old lady isn't going to come home soon and potentially walk in on them. Wolfwood's chest burns. The next time Vash meets his eyes, now nearly at his feet, Vash's head turns a little with this certain mischief... and something in Wolfwood snaps.
He hurriedly kicks off his pants and resituates himself with his legs spread, suddenly desperate to have Vash's mouth on him. His skin is hot on the sheets, hot where Vash touches him. He barely cares that he's probably wetter than he should be. Wolfwood feels crazed, and all Vash is doing is looking at him in awe.
Wolfwood bumps his heel into Vash's shoulder. "Stop starin'! Just go at it. Now, dammit. I'm not kiddin', Vash!"
Immediately realizing his slip-up, Wolfwood clasps his hands over his mouth. He can hardly breathe. Vash's eyes are wide and emotional. Wolfwood nearly starts cursing him out for it, until Vash's head dips.
His flattened tongue licks all the way up one thigh, producing a strangled sound from Wolfwood's throat. He thinks Vash is going to keep teasing him until he properly settles between Wolfwood's legs and repeats that long lick, but this time from Wolfwood's hole to the tip of his t-dick. Wolfwood shudders. Vash does it again.
Vash's eyes find his. Wolfwood swears that Vash could swallow his pulse from where he rests, and hell, he'd probably like it. His eyes go half-lidded as he visibly breathes in Wolfwood's scent, and Wolfwood can see enough of Vash's face over his own bush to know that Vash's exhale is full of blissed-out drool.
Then Vash takes it upon himself to wrap his lips around Wolfwood and suck. Violently, Wolfwood jerks into his mouth and makes a sound he didn't even know he could make. This doesn't deter Vash— in fact, he seems incensed, setting himself to the work of properly sucking Wolfwood off while gripping his thighs.
Wolfwood's line of sight shoots beyond the ceiling. Vash is good at this; his tongue is skilled at finding the spots that work tremors through him, and he seems to be aware of what noises Wolfwood makes when he's going a little too hard, quickly changing positions or easing up. Having no idea that oral sex beyond grinding on someone's face could feel this tailbone-numbing, this mind-bursting... Wolfwood doesn't know what to do with himself. He grabs the sheets, his own face, or whatever else he can reach as he writhes beneath Vash's mouth. Deep, pulsating pleasure-pressure consumes him, searing his core, only to melt out over Vash, Vash, Vash!
Vash is real fucking loud as he goes about it, to boot. He hums and moans against him, sucking and slurping like he's just gone through days without a drop of water. Seemingly, Vash is able to genuinely get high off of it— his eyes hold a glazed-over bliss in them as his eyebrows betray his intense, almost trancelike focus.
Wolfwood is losing his mind, actively. "Fuck me, fuck me, you're so stupid, fuck me!" The words dribble out of his mouth nonsensically, his sanity rocking in his head like an unstable sandsteamer.
Vash's lips only leave him with a wet smack. "Fuck you? But– oh!" He dives back down to resume his messy work, so Wolfwood can barely understand him when he asks, "Wib furgurs?" in a vibration against his hole.
"With– With– Naahh... aahnn shit!" It takes him a moment to put it together. After all, Wolfwood is a little preoccupied with the pleasure curling up his back. "Yes, fuck yes! Fingers!"
Wolfwood shakes when Vash easily fits a finger into him and curves it in gentle strokes. "Mmm..." Vash licks his lips, only sweeping a fraction off his slick face. "I can't believe how good you taste...!"
Wolfwood wants to scream so all his blood goes somewhere other than his cheeks or dick, but he settles on a reasonable shout instead. "Put another finger in!"
There's a hazy smile in Vash's eyes as he returns to where his mouth seems to fit best, slipping another finger into Wolfwood without missing a beat. When his fingers stroke together against a spot that instantly makes Wolfwood's knees weak, his hands finally find Vash's hair, clinging and tugging. His vision swims too much to register Vash's expression in full, but he can tell there's some shift when Vash's fingers quicken. Wolfwood curls in on Vash, grasping at him instead of his last shreds of lucidity and shame. He's taking the Lord's name in vain left, right, and center, trembling at each stroke, slip, and suck.
The last semi-rational thought in his head is the fear that he'll cum so hard he breaks Vash's jaw, quickly swallowed up by what the empathetic moan Vash does in an echo of his own does to Wolfwood's body. His heel taps against Vash's back as the beginning of his warning, and all he can manage to cry out is, "Gon– Gonna– Need– Neeeedles–!"
In an instant, Vash brings him up high, and the drop is pure bliss. Wolfwood can't control the sounds he makes in tandem— really, to hell with the neighbors who hear him! His body ignites in white-hot flame, pleasure and relief and ecstasy flowing through him mercilessly. Unshaken, Vash works Wolfwood through it until his trembling turns violent, until he's hiding his face.
Gently, Vash eases out of him. Wolfwood's legs relax over his shoulders, and he can't bear to look when he hears Vash sucking his fingers clean. Wolfwood's heartbeat throbs between his legs as he catches his breath and waits for the world to stop spinning around him.
For a little while, there's just warmth and pure peace.
"Wolfwood..." Vash calls in a too-sweet, cheeky little tone.
Opening his eyes, Wolfwood is confronted with Vash's hand in front of his face, having only cleaned one finger. His trigger finger is still slick.
"Say 'ah'?" Vash tries. The fucking dork.
Unexpected to even himself, Wolfwood gives in, opening his mouth to let Vash in. Tasting himself on Vash's skin... well, when Vash can't even suppress his little whines as Wolfwood sucks on his finger, it's really not so bad.
Vash pulls his hand back, beaming a smile brighter than both the suns. "Wolfwood... You're incredible!"
"Yeah, yeah." He can't look Vash in the eyes anymore as his arousal starts to build higher than his shame. "Kiss me 'bout it, why don't ya?"
They crash together at once. Tasting himself on Vash's lips, his tongue, his teeth— the whole ordeal is sweeter than he expected. It's Wolfwood's turn to feel Vash up with frankly biblical levels of greed as they kiss, exploring feverish, well-worn skin and warm leather, which Vash seems weak for.
"Wolfwood, Wolfwood," Vash sighs over and over, as if he's cementing the link between the man and his movements into his memory. It does make Wolfwood wonder if he could make himself address Vash by name if he did the same. He still thinks it would fall too destructively off his tongue. Besides, it's not like he's moaning Nicholas, Nicholas. If that were the case, Wolfwood would have blacked out by now.
Careful not to touch Vash's groin directly no matter how badly he wants to, Wolfwood satiates the urge by grabbing Vash's ass and thighs, sliding a fingertip or two between his waistband and skin just to excite him. It's effective; Vash has crawled over his naked lap to draw them closer.
With both hands on his cheeks, Vash gets Wolfwood's attention when he breaks their kiss and presses their foreheads together. It's actually a little frightening to see Vash's eyes so close and so serious, deadlocked on him. Even still, he can better perceive the complexity of Vash's eye color like this, the way the fresh green close to the center of his iris spills out into a thinner ring of oasis blue. A catch of sun gives one eye a brighter, stranger glow.
"Wolfwood," Vash begins, carrying a tone that makes Wolfwood's pulse accelerate. "I want you to remember this, and I want to make this good for you. So whatever you need me to do, I'll do it."
Wolfwood opens his mouth to tell him that he will obviously remember this, stupid, and it's already very good for him, bonehead, but Vash pushes forward instead. "Also, I want you to see it." His confidence seems to wane. "Do... do you want to see it?"
Vigorously, Wolfwood nods. Vash leans back off of his lap, shyly pulling his briefs down with his thumbs. What springs forth— it gets Wolfwood's head spinning as he makes sense of what he's seeing.
As soon as Wolfwood lays eyes on it, three waving pale blue tendrils seem to curl together and shape themselves into a phallus. It's hard to describe their shape— individually, they primarily remind him of large feathers, like those from toma birds, but their texture betrays something softer and more plump, with less friction. Together, they create an unexpectedly appealing, swollen phallus with a tapered tip. They're definitely alien, otherwordly. So why is it that Wolfwood's mouth starts to water, and his hand starts to reach out unconsciously?
Vash grabs Wolfwood's wrist and pulls him in. In surprise, Wolfwood's gaze snaps up to Vash before his fingers make contact, though he can already feel Vash's heat from here. Vash looks desperate, chewing his lip while tightening his eyebrows, face flushed up to his ears.
"It's... it's okay?" Vash pleads for an answer.
Knowing this could mean several different things, Wolfwood is pretty sure he knows what Vash wants to hear. "Yeah, Needles. Relax. Nothin' I can't work with." He dips beside Vash's left ear, kissing his neck while finally feeding his long-burning ache to play with Vash's earring. Vash shivers, whining in sensitivity. Perfect, right where I want you. "Lemme show you what I can do."
With a soft sound, Vash nods against him, his skin hot and tempting. Wolfwood looks between them as he gently wraps his hand around it, surprised at how smooth and pleasant the texture feels. Vash's breath catches. It's warm, already sticky-wet, and lined with small vascular protrusions. Vash gives a high-pitched hiccup as Wolfwood tries stroking it, his voice peeling out into longing whines as Wolfwood sets a pace.
This is kind of ideal, actually. Wolfwood didn't even have to spit on his hand first. His grip glides with little friction, and the sensation of Vash's cock hardening beneath his touch makes Wolfwood throb to the escalating beat of his heart.
"Feels good?" Wolfwood breathes by Vash's ear as he squeezes Vash in his hand, and Vash shudders.
"Y-yes!" Vash squeaks out. "Keep going! Please!"
Wolfwood drags his teeth over Vash's jaw. "Can I taste it?"
"Please, please!" Vash begs.
Set off by Vash's intoxicating smell, Wolfwood parts Vash's thighs and dives between them. Vash is quite a reasonable size, so Wolfwood can take most of him in his mouth unflinchingly. However, he nearly gags when the end of it brushes the back of his throat, but he takes a deep breath through his nose to ward off the feeling and pulls back. He can't really explain it, but the unique, decadent taste spreads over his senses in a manner that drives him forward, as if there's a serum within it that tells his system exactly what to do. Wolfwood can easily apply basic blowjob techniques to this, despite the differing biology. So he wraps his hand around the base and strokes in time with his head bobbing and gets to work.
Vash doubles over him, his whimpers sweet, and his moans stupidly loud. Wolfwood thinks he might have even heard Vash hiss out the beginning of a curse, before it warbles into a raw expression of pleasure. Vash is clawing at his back with blunt nails, getting closer to Wolfwood's ass with each pull, yet slipping back just as easily. When he does manage to grab Wolfwood's ass, he hangs on for dear life. All this in concert with Vash's feel and flavor makes Wolfwood's thoughts syrupy with delirium, fuzzy with fervor. Wolfwood's jaw goes slack; happily so.
Somehow, Vash manages to make his way down Wolfwood's ass, his cool, metallic fingers finding Wolfwood's hole and dipping inside. Vash hooks in two fingers, and when Wolfwood picks up the pace in his own rising desperation, a third finger joins in as a welcome stretch, sucked in by Wolfwood, though Vash reacts like he slipped another in by accident. Unconsciously, he throbs so tightly on Vash's metal hand that he can't retract it.
"W-Wol... f... wooood..." Vash sounds delirious. God, it's so addicting to hear him like this. Rocking together, they moan against each other in a depraved harmony. "I... I'll... You're so... sssooo... goooood..."
Abruptly, Vash's fingers stop moving inside him, then begin to twitch erratically. Wolfwood braces himself, his and Vash's pulses beating through his bones as he gives Vash all he has.
It's enough. It's more than enough. Vash clings to Wolfwood as his dry sob gives way to an open, indulgent moan. Wolfwood's mouth fills with warmth, dribbling over his chin as he does his best to swallow down the overflow. It's herb-like, and kind of strangely sweet. He really can't help but tease Vash through his aftershocks, if not just to hear Vash choke on his name, but also for payback. He grins through it. Oh, it's too good to resist.
When Vash has had enough, he pulls Wolfwood up for a kiss so messy and debauched that Wolfwood knows he'll be compelled to confess about it the next time he goes for reconciliation. He has so much to atone for, but it can wait.
Wolfwood scrambles to draw Vash in, rolling onto his back as Vash comes down with him. When Vash's dripping cock presses against Wolfwood's bush and slides down to his t-dick, he robs the air from Wolfwood's lungs. Wolfwood hooks his legs over Vash's back, begging nonverbally for more.
Instead, Vash grinds against him, and it doesn't even seem teasing, hence Vash shivering with obvious nervousness.
Sliding his hand over Vash's neck, Wolfwood encouragingly scratches his nape. "C'mon, c'mon. I'm ready. Give it to me." Since Vash is a virgin, he's not expecting much. If a little coaching can't help him, then Wolfwood is excited enough to find a way to make it good for himself. After all, Vash has never had anything like this before, and that power is a pleasure of its own.
"Mmm," Vash agrees with a shy nod. Wolfwood almost kisses him for how cute it is, but he can't derail this any further.
Vash sits up so he can see properly, lining up his cock with Wolfwood's hole. He gets to screw me raw his first time? Needles, you've got no idea how lucky you are. Vash begins to ease in slowly, until Wolfwood unintentionally throbs in arousal and completely sucks him in.
When he bottoms out, Vash shouts, "Fuck!" and trembles like an electric current.
Wolfwood is so stunned that his heart skips a beat. He's never heard Vash curse like that before, and inexplicably, it makes his dick pulsate.
Head tilted back and muscles visibly taut, Vash quietly whines, "Ssstop... moving..."
"I-I'm fuckin' not!" Wolfwood defends, balling his hands in the sheets to steel himself. The shape of Vash inside him is unlike anything he's ever felt, and he didn't think it would sit so comfortably, exerting a faintly pleasant amount of pressure. Who'd have thought he and Vash could fit together like this? Not Wolfwood, not unless he was lost deep in a fantasy that will stay forever trapped in the bloodstream connecting his heart and his dick.
"No, no, inside..." Vash shuts his eyes tight. "Y-you're twitching, throbbing..."
Wolfwood's stomach clenches, to which Vash makes a tiny, weak sound. "That's normal. Hey, look at me." Sitting up a little to cup Vash's burning hot cheek, Wolfwood stares seriously into Vash's swimming eyes. Jesus, are they glossy already? "Can you handle this? We can stop, y'know. Try again another–"
"Noooo, pleeeaaase," Vash actually, genuinely whimpers. His high level of flustered, sweaty desperation should not be doing anything for Wolfwood, and yet... "I want this so bad. Please. I-I just... had no idea it feels this good."
Taking pity on him, Wolfwood gently leads Vash down to lie on top of him. He presses Vash into a slow, soothing kiss, and Vash whines into it. This must be a lot for him, after all. Being at the clawing near-peak of heat and losing his virginity all at once? Wolfwood can't even imagine how this feels for him, and the will it must take to keep himself together.
Perhaps it's a wicked desire, but Wolfwood wants to see him snap. But he doesn't want to break him— just loosen him to the point where he can let go. It's important to him that Vash has a good "first" time, since, well... Wolfwood's first was awkward, to say the least.
"Start slow. Just breathe and rock back and forth, yeah?" Wolfwood advises softly, like he's trying not to startle him.
Vash's rough breaths fall hot upon Wolfwood's cheeks. "Y-yeah..." He swallows, inhales deeply, and pulls his hips back.
Shuddering, Vash sinks in again, producing a small, sharp gasp from Wolfwood, too. The shape of Vash's cock is inviting, enticing. Somewhere nestled in his core grows an itch for more.
Each gentle push makes Wolfwood's mouth fall open further, and Vash's pathetic attempts to restrain his reactions have a lot to do with it. Maybe he could watch Vash work himself up like this forever; flushed as red as his coat, hair unkempt, shining with sweat and half-rimmed with low, golden sunlight.
"You look good like this," Wolfwood blurts out, regretting it the moment Vash's eyes snap open and zero in on him.
His look of surprise eases into a smile as big and genuine as the first real smile he ever saw on Vash's face. Blood stirs in all the wrong places within Wolfwood. "Thank you, but do you know how good you look? H-how good you feel?"
Abruptly, Vash arches and slams back into Wolfwood, whose hips jerk as his own moan hits his ears. Wolfwood blinks the stars out of his vision, only for Vash to rear back and do it again. This time, he stays deep and grinds, and though he's louder than Wolfwood, there's no denying that Wolfwood cries out with him.
"Ohhhh, you're so hot when I do thaaat," Vash moans. The hazy, erotic look in his eyes makes Wolfwood so flustered that he has to cover his face with his arm.
"Y-you're lyin'," Wolfwood gasps, having to correct his over-correction of tensing up, since it makes it harder for Vash to move when he clamps down like that.
"I'm noooot!" Vash whines. "You're even cuter when you're shy!"
Wolfwood subdues the urge to bite Vash, his wet teeth bumping into his own arm instead as Vash begins a roll resembling an earnest pace. "Sh... shuddup..." Wolfwood mumbles against his skin and body hair.
"I can't," Vash wheezes, pausing to hiss as he grinds deep again, seeming to savor it. "Not when you're this pretty, this strong, this handsome, th-this warm and... aaahh...!"
That moan melts Wolfwood's composure. The back of his eyelids pop and burst with color and brightness. His last vestige of restraint makes him mutter, "Are you really gonna do this the– Haah-! The whole time?"
A warm droplet hits Wolfwood's forearm, and then another. At first, he thinks it must be Vash's sweat dripping down on him, since he has felt a little of that already. Then more drops fall upon him, thicker and heavier than sweat. He's pretty sure Vash is throbbing, despite this.
Wolfwood moves his arm aside to see Vash— sporting a gushing nosebleed, red as the second sun in late evening.
"Jesus, Needlenoggin!" Wolfwood exclaims, grabbing his shoulder.
It takes a second for Vash's eyes to open and focus, and when they do, they widen in horror. He rushes to hold his hand over his nose. "Oh, shit, Wolfwood! I'm sorry! You... you looked too good, I was trying really hard not to cum! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"
The absurdity and endearment hits Wolfwood all at once, and he bubbles up into a fit of laughter. With blood running between his fingers, Vash looks at him like he's grown a second head.
Still chuckling fondly, Wolfwood reaches up to cup Vash's face in his hands, uncaring if he gets Vash's blood on him. It wouldn't be the first time. "You dummy. Why're you holdin' back like that? Just cum in me if it's that bad. You can go another round, can't ya?" He can't wipe the grin off his face. God, Vash is too cute like this. What a stupid, dangerously charming gunman he is.
Now Vash is staring at him like he's the second coming of Christ. Fueled by arousal and affection, Wolfwood moves Vash's hand off of his nose and kisses his mouth, all iron and sweat and sweetness.
In the kiss, Wolfwood feels Vash's demeanor physically shift. He grabs Wolfwood's wrists and pins them to the bed, taking Wolfwood's next gasp of a breath for himself. When he picks his pace back up and escalates it into something desperate, his hands slide into Wolfwood's palms. Arching into him, Wolfwood interlaces their fingers.
It's only a few more heavy thrusts until Vash is completely unraveling against him, within him. His posture breaks as he fucks Wolfwood through it, his sobbing moans of relief making Wolfwood's eardrums pound. A strange electric buzzing sound seems to run through the walls, giving Wolfwood goosebumps.
Even when crushed under Vash's weight and shaken by his sounds, Wolfwood finds his mind and body falling as one into a bright, blinding abyss. It's a flashbang burst of an orgasm, born out of every stimulation point coalescing together at once.
There's no shame in their blended releases. They try to kiss each other, but each wave of delirious pleasure shakes their jaws apart. A strange part of Wolfwood wonders if this is what mating is like— primal, unabashed, raw as all hell. As he dissolves into aftershocks, he decides that this is leagues better than some purely biological, animalistic drive. For the very first time, he truly understands why this is thought to be sacred.
The afterglow (once Vash has moved most of his dead weight off him, of couse) is heavenly, in a way Wolfwood had thought previously impossible. It's like all his cells harmonize together in a buzz of settling peace. Good Lord.
Vash shifts, his dick falling out of Wolfwood only for a stream of fluids to follow after. His eyes stay closed as he catches his breath, so Wolfwood takes the opportunity to just kind of... gaze at him, Wolfwood himself unobserved. The other man looks so calm and soft, even with blood smeared on his face. Wolfwood can't help but find Vash remarkable in his own way, going on for however-the-hell long as a virgin with seemingly so much enthusiasm for it. What did he see in Wolfwood that he apparently never found with anyone else? Has Vash ever teamed up with anyone the way he does with Wolfwood? Surely, right? Or is this just an eclipse of a situation, his heat and his proximity to someone else aligning like never before?
Something lashes in his chest at the thought that this could have happened with anyone, and not with him. Thank God it wasn't Amelia— the idea of that makes Wolfwood sick. Vash had no business hitting on her like that, and for her part, Wolfwood still doesn't really understand why she got so worked up about his "death". The frustration with how Vash chose to roll the dice, he completely gets. Atoning by stealing the Plant back from Gasback, that makes sense too. But otherwise, why would she willingly hang around Vash? Maybe something in Vash tugged at her good conscience? Even so, a job is a job, so he helped the girl. She made sure he didn't drown in quicksand, after all.
How the hell did Vash survive that? It still bothers him! Maybe another stroke of his own stupid luck got him out of it. Goddamn him and his idiotic crusades of justice. Drove Wolfwood to pummel a mini fridge until it resembled a crushed soda can, too. Then he just showed up like nothing was wrong, not even bothering to mention that he hadn't eaten in nearly two days until he tumbled over himself in the sand when they were walking together. So reckless. So fucking stupid.
He almost lost this idiot, yet here he is, blissed out, bloody, and drooling beside him.
Wolfwood's lip twitches, and a sensation like a shot runs from his nose to his eye. He takes a shaky breath, and right at that moment, the world's biggest idiot opens his eyes with innocent, bleary concern.
Immediately, Wolfwood hides his face in the pillow. His jaw shakes, and his throat burns. Squeezing his eyes shut so tight backfires, and tears as hot as shame wet the linens beneath him unwillingly.
"Wolfwood? Are you...?" Vash puts his hand on Wolfwood's back. Though his skin is warm, Wolfwood shivers at his touch.
He doesn't trust his voice to be stable, so he doesn't speak. Now he's angry at himself for getting so worked up and ruining this. Teeth grinding together, he tries to stop his throat from letting any sounds slip past, but it does not work.
"Hey, are you okay? Did... did I do something wrong?"
Oh, God, stop talking. Don't start sounding like you'll cry, too.
"Should we... not have done this? Was this a mistake?"
"Stop," Wolfwood pleads, his voice a muffled vibration through the pillow. "'S not that. It's not that at all."
Silently, Vash's hand lifts off of him. He does not respond.
Now you decide to shut your trap? Fuck me, Wolfwood thinks. The words he wants to say are so heavy on his tongue: You almost died. I almost lost you. I thought you were dead. I didn't know how to grieve. I almost lost you. Even still, he can't find the strength to push them out, since he's trying so hard to wrestle his grief into submission. His tears come anyway, bitter and painful.
"Please tell me what's wrong." Vash's voice is meek, scraping Wolfwood's heartstrings like a saw to a fiddle. "I want to help, Wolfwood."
Wolfwood half-turns his face, mostly to catch a breath after nearly suffocating on his tears. He's still not ready to look at Vash. "...I'm still mad at you, y'know."
"For what?" Vash asks, affronted. This is better; he still sounds tearful, but has slipped out of that deeply forlorn tone that makes Wolfwood want to curl up and hide like a kid. "You're always mad at me about something!"
"Don't play dumb," Wolfwood accuses, wiping his nose on the pillow before shakily lifting himself up on his forearms. Finally, he finds the resolve to shoot a glare Vash's way. "Do you not even care that you almost died?!"
When he sees Vash's face again, he immediately feels his stomach sink. Vash is crying. His tears are the quiet kind, streaming down his face through drying blood. God, he looks miserable.
With Wolfwood's flare of anger disarmed, he signals his change in approach with a long sigh. "Y'know what? Stay here. I'll be right back," he declares, sliding off the bed and becoming very aware of Vash's spend running down his thigh.
Vash pouts back at him with red, watery eyes. "Where are you going?"
"Bathroom, jeez." Wolfwood goes for the door, only to hear the bed creak behind him.
"Wait, but I really have to pee!"
Wolfwood groans and holds the door open for him. "Fine, go 'head."
After Vash is finished in the bathroom, Wolfwood quickly shoos him out so he can use the toilet himself, then wet a washcloth in the old lady's sink. He takes a couple dry rags with him as well and returns to the bedroom.
Vash is waiting for him on the edge of the bed, shyly averting his eyes. On the nightstand sits two glasses of water, one only half-full. At this, Wolfwood's mouth twitches with a dry, involuntary smile.
"Oi, chin up," Wolfwood directs Vash, thumbing under his jaw as Vash follows his motion.
Vash winces as Wolfwood touches the wet cloth to his cheek. Trying to be careful, Wolfwood wipes Vash's tears and snot before cleaning the blood off his face, which Vash makes little petulant sounds at. "You big baby," Wolfwood comments, shaking his head.
When he's done, Vash wears a sad smile. "Thank you, Wolfwood. I'm sorry," he says, taking the washcloth from Wolfwood and turning it to the clean side. To Wolfwood's surprise, Vash does the same thing for him— tears first, blood second. Wolfwood looks away as he's fussed over, feeling for all the world like a child again. Inexplicably, his eyes burn, squeezing out more tears he should not be shedding.
With his work complete, Vash sets the cloth aside. When he turns back to him, Wolfwood notices Vash's eyes are misty again. Wolfwood's emotions are steadily trying to creep out of his throat, which is the only explanation he can attribute to why he grabs Vash into a bear hug.
"Wolfw- oof!" Vash chokes out as they fall onto the bed together.
Wolfwood holds Vash like he'll never see him again, as if letting go means losing him forever. Vash's arms wrap around him and pat his hair, and Wolfwood sniffles into his shoulder, smelling of leather and sweat and Vash's unique scent. For a man who goes out of his way to not get attached to people, nicknaming them based off their first recognizable trait so that he'll never have to inevitably cry their name, Wolfwood really, really, really does not want to forget this idiot, this anomaly of a man. Honestly, it would be better if Wolfwood was the one to die first. Surely, his death would cause Vash grief. But Wolfwood cannot go through Vash dying on him again. He just can't.
He knows this is pathetic of him, clinging onto another grown man and sobbing quietly into his shoulder. But it's the only thing keeping him from drowning in the downward spiral of his thoughts. Wolfwood is so embarrassed, almost wishing he had died in that sinking sand pit instead. Yet, he can't stop. He cannot let this go.
Frantically, Vash starts tapping Wolfwood's back, wheezing, "Can't– breathe–"
Realizing himself, Wolfwood loosens his grip. "Shit, shit, sorry. I don't... Don't know what came over me."
Vash takes a deep dramatic inhale and sits up abruptly, as if rising from the dead. After he catches his breath, he gives Wolfwood a sly grin, tilting his head. "Awww, Wolfwood! You really missed me that much?" He giggles like he hadn't just been crying, too. "You even rode into battle with my glasses on for a noble cause! You know, Wolfwood, you act all macho and aloof, but you really are a good guy!"
Wolfwood smacks Vash's metal arm, his face beginning to burn with a blush. "You're so fuckin' annoyin'. Why do I even bother?"
"You must really like me, I guess!" Vash beams, swinging his feet back and forth.
Not even entertaining the thought of responding to that directly, Wolfwood sits up beside him and tugs on the collar of Vash's tight-fitting shirt. "Can't you take this off? You must be sweatin' bullets under there."
Vash wipes his eyes, his face brightening. "Oh! Curious about my ample bosom, are you?"
Dead-eyed, Wolfwood questions, "The hell are you talkin' 'bout?"
Flashing him a cheeky, closed-eye grin, Wolfwood can't help but notice the troubled slant in Vash's thick eyebrows as he crosses his arms and pulls his shirt off.
Predictably, Vash reveals more scars and metal than unblemished skin, glistening with sweat. Most alarming is the gunmetal grid over his heart, which Wolfwood doesn't know what to make of. However, he's more curious about one thing in particular.
"How come you only got one tit?" Wolfwood asks, pointing to Vash's singular small, saggy breast.
Vash is beginning to flush again. "Oh, that? Well, I started with two, but the other got blown off a long time ago."
"Didn't even know you had one..." Wolfwood mumbles, mostly to himself. He looks up at Vash. "Then, are you kinda like me? Is that why you know 'bout bein' trans?"
"Hmm, kinda! Us Plants, our sex organs can shift, based on hormone output. I didn't learn about queer identities until later, but it was before I met you. Good thing, too! I knew the second I saw your ass!"
"My... my ass?" Wolfwood asks, dumbfounded. Not his chest? Not his hips? His ass? It's not even that big, though he supposes it's bigger than Vash's.
Vash goes a little pale. "I wasn't supposed to say that out loud. Um. Hmm." He glances at his lap, lost in thought. Suddenly, he looks up with a twinkle of determination in his eye. "Wolfwood, do you want to kiss again?"
Shaking off the whiplash this gives him, Wolfwood nods and takes a hold of Vash's shoulders, pushing him onto the bed. He climbs over Vash as arousal seeps into the holes left by anger and confusion. "Damn right I do. If you wanna make this bullshit up to me, you'd best start with round two."
And so round two begins, quickly catching fire and spreading between them as Vash's hands find Wolfwood's ass while they kiss open-mouthed. That power Wolfwood felt before fills him again in a beating pulsation of blood. Vash is weak beneath him, whining when Wolfwood nips at his lips, sucks his tongue, or grinds down on him. He doesn't even have to work to get Vash hard again, nor to bring that flush back into full bloom on his face.
As payback, Wolfwood marks up Vash's neck the way Vash did to him earlier, making Vash grab at him for purchase with trembling hands. For good measure, he makes sure to suck a bruise as close to Vash's jaw as he can manage, considering Vash's coat will cover up most of his handiwork. That's the spot that gets Vash whimpering the loudest, too.
With Vash's shirt finally off, Wolfwood notices how his blush runs all the way down his neck and chest. Lord, he's so easy. So pathetic that it's cute.
Vash's eyes follow him as gets a handful of Vash's singular tit. He tugs at Vash's nipple, enjoy the feeling of Vash jerking and gasping beneath him.
Wolfwood catches Vash's open, expectant gaze as it trails up to him. Grinning, Wolfwood knows he has Vash's full attention as he slowly draws his shoulders together, stretches out, and seats himself firmly over Vash's lap. "You wanna see me ride it?"
Nodding faster than Wolfwood has ever seen, Vash chirps, "Yes please!"
Laughing fondly despite himself, Wolfwood wastes no time lining Vash up so he can easily sink down on his dick. He watches with hunger born anew as Vash goes cross-eyed, deciding he is well within his rights to plant a hand on Vash's toned chest and roll his hips into a languid, teasing grind.
"Wolfwooooood," Vash whines, his fingers digging into Wolfwood's thigh. God, Wolfwood never thought he would enjoy someone eroticizing his name like that, using it to beg like a prayer.
"Yeah, Needles?" Wolfwood asks, properly picking up and dropping his hips. It appears to knock the wind clean out of Vash. Oh, Wolfwood could get used to this.
With one eye shut tight, Vash requests, "C-can I... move too?"
Setting a pace that drags gratuitously against his good spots, Wolfwood tilts his head back a little to get a nice view of Vash's sun-streaked, fever-flushed body beneath him. "If you can match my rhythm, maybe." A test, and a hope for a connection that cuts deeper than skin.
Shivering with arousal, Vash holds onto Wolfwood's hips as he bucks into him, just off beat. Even so, there's no denying the moan of delight it gets out of Wolfwood. Seeming to collect himself, Vash gets that intense look in his eyes, like when he's focusing on a target. Wolfwood's toes curl, his heart skipping a beat. Then, Vash rocks into him with perfect precision, and Wolfwood's composure cracks, same as his voice.
Vash is keeping pace better than he is, really, since Wolfwood's vision has gone blurry and dreamlike. He does his best to push his hips down as Vash fucks into him, but holy hell is he hitting him just right. Wolfwood swears Vash is somehow adjusting to his liking without verbal guidance, able to quickly reorient his aim if either of them slip. And Christ, Wolfwood is slipping.
"How– are– you–! Fuuuck me! So good at– that!?" Wolfwood pants, his palms slick with sweat.
Vash's smile is audible, though Wolfwood can't see it in his bright, dazed field of sight. "I've thought– ah, aah, aaah– about it so... soooo much..." Maybe it's an unconscious choice, but the beat of Vash fucking into him picks up speed, and Wolfwood finds his body following Vash's lead automatically.
"Y-you fuck your hand 'bout it, huh?" Wolfwood proposes, falling forward onto Vash to give his arms a break. "Fffucked... the pillow like the virgin you were?"
He feels Vash's laughter on his cheek as it rolls through him. "Pillows did not prepare me for th-this..."
Abruptly, Wolfwood slams his hips down and shakes, nearly tipping over the edge at a sudden burst of stimulation, spiderwebbing through his system in lines of pure bliss. Vash hesitates, his arm coming up to hold Wolfwood steady.
Picking his head up to look at him, Wolfwood's voice wavers in strength. "Don't stop, I'm so fuckin' close– haah aaahhh!"
Vash immediately returns to fucking him with renewed vigor, using his grip to bounce Wolfwood in his lap. Starlight swarming his vision, Wolfwood hangs onto Vash for dear life as he entrusts him to take him there, to a level nobody else has been able to reach. It's beautiful, his delirious brain thinks of the entire situation.
Then, the sharp rattle of a key in the front door startles them both into freezing in place, sucking up every sound they make in a single held breath. Even so, Wolfwood isn't completely confident that Vash won't make some goofy sound of surprise, so he puts his hand over Vash's mouth. Seeming to take offense to this, Vash claps his hand over Wolfwood's mouth, just the same. They go from glaring at each other to darting their eyes around as they listen.
The keys sound like they swing up and stop moving, as if caught. "I'm hoooome," Miss Jacquette's voice calls through the small house. After she receives no answer, she notes, "Oh, the door's shut. You two hit the hay early?"
In his arms, Wolfwood feels Vash's shoulders shoot up when Miss Jacquette pats the door a couple of times. "Night night," the old woman says, chuckling to herself.
She proceeds to pad down the hall towards her room, which is thankfully as far as it can be from the guest room. Wolfwood just barely makes out her mumbling, "Smells funny in here..." before she opens and shuts the door behind her.
When Wolfwood removes his hand from Vash's mouth so he can wrench Vash's hand off him, Vash dramatically gasps for air. Wolfwood huffs, now full-body irritated at both Vash and his ruined orgasm.
"What do we do now?" Wolfwood says, low through his teeth. Vash shifts him on his lap a little, reminding him of the heat and pressure of Vash pressed so deep into him. He is also still fully hard, somehow.
"Continue quietly?" Vash offers softly, wiping the sweat off his forehead.
Hitting Vash with a deadpan expression, Wolfwood argues in a hush, "I'm not worried 'bout me keepin' it down, but I am worried 'bout your big mouth."
The nerve Vash has to look affronted by this is unbelievable to Wolfwood. "I can be quiet, I'll have you know! And– and you were loud too!"
Wolfwood's visual disbelief must speak louder than words, because Vash lowers his voice and tries, "I mean– do you want to stop? Can we try? And you can gag me if I can't be quiet?"
Now he has Wolfwood's attention. An electric pulse runs through him. "Needles, you're just gonna give me the okay to gag you whenever?"
It's too easy to picture drooping puppy ears on Vash's head as he returns, "Yeah... But it's not like that's stopped you before."
"Quit it, you. I've saved your ass by shuttin' you up before, and you know it." He catches Vash's gaze and sighs. "Okay, okay. Sounds like we got a deal. Let's get back to it." Reaching out, Wolfwood pushes back some stray strands of hair that have flopped into Vash's eyes. "You baby," he chides, finding his lips curling up with a smile he can't suppress before leaning in to kiss him.
Quiet Vash is an entirely different beast. Each strangled sound, every hitched breath, every tiny little slip in composure... Wolfwood gets high off of it in new ways, carefully monitoring Vash as he rocks them back into a slower, deeper pace.
All of a sudden, Vash squeezes Wolfwood tighter and hides his face in Wolfwood's shoulder. His sounds gain more strain, and his breath and thrusts come quicker. The hand Wolfwood brings up to pet Vash's hair ends up tugging instead as Vash bites into him, full-fanged. Wolfwood suppresses a hiss as Vash makes the bed creak, arching and fucking into him with a burst of clear desperation.
When Vash cums, he makes the smallest shiver of a whine, the sound long, high, and obscenely pathetic. For a reason that Wolfwood's body understands but his mind does not, it makes his arousal explode.
As if a parasite drives him, Wolfwood pushes Vash flat on the bed and chases his bliss with fervor. His core boils as he slams his hips down, up, down, up. Wolfwood's expression must look wild, because Vash's eyes widen with a brief flash of fear before rolling back in his head, his facial muscles relaxing with bliss. Vash's body writhes beneath him, his cock swelling up.
"Fuuuuuck... take it," Vash moans, lowering his volume after the first syllable loudly sneaks through.
Wolfwood braces both hands over Vash's mouth and rides him like the devil he is. The arousal numbs his brain, and the pleasure sets his body aflame. His vision actually goes dark as he cums, funneling his cry of release in a tight, breathless shudder. As Wolfwood shakes so hard that the bed groans, Vash's hands find his waist in soothing strokes, holding him steady.
Panting, Wolfwood collapses over Vash's chest. The afterglow is sticky and hot, rolling over them like a desert fire at peak height and strength. It feels so good; Wolfwood really had no idea.
Eventually, Wolfwood feels the faint vibration of words that are not his. "Do you have any more in you?"
"Yeah. Do you?" Wolfwood is stunned. No guy he's ever been with has lasted this long. Is it only possible because of Vash's whole... well, everything?
"Unfortunately, I think I have a bit left." Vash sheepishly rubs his neck. "But less than I'd usually have by this point. Plant Heat is no joke!"
Minding his volume more than Vash, Wolfwood asks, "Why d'you have to go so much, anyway? Is it that hard for Plants to get knocked up?"
At his last question, Vash's cock throbs in him, immediately showing interest, pressed below his cervix.
Wolfwood sighs. "Ah, I shoulda told you sooner. You can't knock me up, no matter how hard you try. Tubes out, 'n all that."
Vash's go as wide as dinner plates. "Oh my god, I'm so stupid. I could have– I forgot humans–"
"Ssssshut up," Wolfwood hisses, pressing his hand to Vash's mouth. "Never said I minded you goin' at me like you can."
At that, Wolfwood extracts himself from Vash and rolls over, presenting himself for more. He obscures the goofy smile on his face into the sheets, knowing that just the sight of himself offered up like this is bound to make Vash instantly rock hard. He knows he's right when shaky, sweat-and-metal hands struggle to find purchase on his hips.
When Vash sinks back into him, he makes a sound like he's finally been able to relieve himself after torturous hours of holding his bladder— that is, a sound so loud and erotic that Wolfwood breaks out into goosebumps; half fear, half arousal.
"Would you–!" Wolfwood snaps, blindly swatting behind himself before he realizes he isn't being quiet either. In a low hiss, he continues, "Old lady's gonna fuckin' hear you like that–"
In an instant, a memory resurfaces so clearly that Wolfwood feels ashamed of forgetting it in the first place. "Wait," he says, and Vash pauses mid-stroke and mid-whine. Wolfwood looks over his shoulder at him. "The old lady's got her hearing aids out by now, don't she?"
A lightbulb appears to flash on above Vash's head as his eyes go wide. "Ohhhh, right! She did say that! Our first night here–"
"–She went, 'I hate wearin' these at night, but out here, it must be done. You two will be my alarms, so if someone comes to cause a fuss–'" Wolfwood recollects.
"'You'll be my eyes and ears!'" they recount in unison.
That feeling of synchronization between them as they speak as one ping-pongs through Wolfwood in waves, like an electric frequency. Wolfwood hopes it's not just him realizing how stupid they both are, and that Vash gets it too. The absurdity, at least, makes him break out into a laugh that affects Vash instantaneously.
There's an easy slip from laughter to affection, their mouths finding each other as Vash arches over him, holding Wolfwood's smile-stretched jaw. They shotgun their joy and relief between presses of lips and fractured moans. Vash's other arm hugs around him, helping rock Wolfwood into him as they both let loose, volume be damned.
A large part of Wolfwood's conscious mind melts like a delicacy when Vash cums inside him, pressed deep into a spot where his sanity is weak. With his face buried in a pillow, stars burst behind Wolfwood's eyelids and trickle through his system.
After a minuscule refractory period, Vash flips Wolfwood over. Wolfwood just wants to look at him in the low scraps of moonlight, all flushed and pretty because he's finally getting to have something he really wanted, no matter how much he tried to deny it. However, it's this line of thinking and a couple particularly well-aimed strokes that send Wolfwood's eyesight way back in his head.
He writhes through the ecstasy, grabbing Vash's wrist and whining, "Dooon't stoooop," when Vash's tempo falters.
Diligently, Vash nods and picks up a rhythm like a pounding heartbeat, prolonging Wolfwood's orgasm further than he thought it could go. Wolfwood clings to Vash, digging his heels and nails in as Vash takes him to a heaven previously beyond his comprehension.
Moaning unabashedly, Vash presses them chest-to-chest. The metal grate over Vash's heart is cooler and rougher than the rest of him, but its indent is welcome alongside otherwise feverish, sweaty skin. Every subtle shift of Vash's breast and metal against Wolfwood makes him crazy, as his own plush chest easily gives way to cushion Vash.
Their faces are so close like this. Every inch of Vash is so close. Until now, Wolfwood has never felt this kind of itch— to need someone this suffocatingly close to him that they could meld together. Literally become one. To be engulfed, swallowed up in this fever-pitch feeling. Vash is holding him just as tight, and the look in his eyes lit by nothing but dusk reflects the same sensation. Even if it's pure delusion on Wolfwood's part, he cannot cover up how hard it gets him off.
"Think you're– the best I've ever– haaaad–" Wolfwood babbles, unfiltered, suddenly wondering if the drop running from his cheek to his ear is sweat or tears. Maybe even blood. He doesn't care; his body is but a vessel for bliss and greed that goes both ways.
"You too! Wolfwoooood– Me– with you– tooooo..." Vash returns, sounding completely wrecked and throat-raw. This depraved mix of sobbing and moaning stitches itself tightly into the fabric of Wolfwood's memory, and it's not just Vash's voice that makes up the thread.
Wolfwood can only think to kiss Vash as he amps up the pressure and tempo in a desperation so palpable that Wolfwood's heart goes into overdrive. Their teeth graze each other, their kisses run salt-soaked and messy, and every breath comes as a shorter and shorter gasp. The heat is sweltering, the pleasure is mind-numbing. It's too much— too raw, too vulnerable. Wolfwood wants it to consume and claim him completely.
The lightbulb in the lamp beside them bursts into full, sun-bright light and shatters.
When Vash's fever finally breaks into him, Wolfwood cums with Vash, seizing up and squirting so forcefully that it pushes Vash's cock out of him. They rut together through seismic aftershocks, gripping each other so tight, as if letting go means losing each other, losing this. It's such a wave of emotion and sensation that Wolfwood cries in relief. Vash, shaking as he buries his face into Wolfwood's neck, does much of the same.
There are no more words between them as they come down from the high. Wolfwood briefly fights to stay awake, but when Vash rolls them onto their sides and clings to Wolfwood, softly petting his hair, it's over for him. He didn't think it was possible for him to slip into such a warm, safe sleep, but he does.
When morning comes, Wolfwood wakes up alone and dry, tucked between the sheets and a lump of towels beneath him. His body shows signs of soreness, but he ignores it in favor of getting up with conviction. After all, there's one spikey-headed idiot missing that he needs to–
Wolfwood pauses, his eye caught by a folded piece of paper resting on the nightstand. His sunglasses and clothes sit neatly on the window seat.
Like the planet has tilted on its axis, Wolfwood feels just like he did on that morning in Mei City. Note on the table, the room empty but for him. Only that time, there were two beds.
Narrowing his eyes, he opens the paper up to a sparse amount of words written in the middle by the inner fold. An unsigned note, but it's obvious who it's from.
Wolfwood,
Thank you so much, and I'm sorry. Someday, somehow, I'll pay you back.
Sweeping the blinds aside, Wolfwood looks out at the town as if he can catch a glimpse of Vash fleeing. No such sight manifests. His fist clenches around the scrap of paper as a frustrated tear springs to his eye. Wolfwood wipes it before it can fall, and swallows down the rest.
"Idiot. Coward." His voice carries alone through the room in blazing disbelief. "Fuck you. Shoulda asked me to come with you."
Bitterly, Wolfwood gets dressed, minding his bruises and bitemarks in the mirror. He can only button his shirt up so much to cover them— after all, if he breathes wrong, the top buttons are liable to fly off. Which is obviously Vash's fault. All of this.
It's Wolfwood's fault too. He fell for it, and he liked it.
He smokes three cigarettes before he's even had breakfast, grinding the filter between his teeth in discontent. What is he supposed to do? Pretend none of that happened? Pretend that Vash didn't quietly clean him up after, tuck him into bed, and leave? It even seems that Wolfwood either hallucinated that lightbulb exploding when they came together last night, or Vash swept up every trace of it and replaced the bulb. Both possibilities are so bizarre. Did Vash even sleep, or did he take off in the middle of the night?
The only way Wolfwood stops thinking about it is when he finally meets up with the man with the skull on his shoulder. By that point, the hickeys Vash left on him have healed.
Legato Bluesummers looks right through him. For a moment, Wolfwood chalks his fear response up to the way Bluesummers' gaze appears to pry his mind open and rifle through it like an open book. But the man does not comment about its contents, he simply gives Wolfwood an unsettling smile and tells him, "Master Knives will see you now."
With terror in his pulse, Wolfwood's sense of the uncanny blurs his vision as Knives uses his awfully Vash-like mouth to tell him, "You will track my brother down and guide him back to me. Alive. Let nothing stand in your way. Do you understand me, shepherd?"
He does.
Deep down in an ugly part of his psyche, he understands that he would have eventually become compelled to do this, even if he hadn't been ordered. Now he just has an excuse.
Every impulse, every pent-up feeling, every moment of longing and weakness— each part of Wolfwood that wants to run ahead of him will chase Vash the Stampede down instead.
For that, there must be something deeply, seriously wrong with Nicholas D. Wolfwood. Until he finds Vash again, this twisting, coiling sense of raw wanting is going to drive him crawling-up-the-walls insane.
Moony_Lakes Mon 15 Dec 2025 12:14PM UTC
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vexen_a Mon 15 Dec 2025 05:00PM UTC
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