Chapter Text
It takes three days. Three days for Wolfwood to make a remarkably speedy recovery to full health, and three days for Vash to admit that he isn’t healing. And even for that, Wolfwood has to corner him in the bathroom and surprise him before Vash even considers it.
“You’re not better yet.” Wolfwood states.
Vash startles and looks up to meet Wolfwood’s eyes in the mirror. He scowls a little, realizing that Wolfwood is leaning with one arm propped against the opposite wall, blocking the exit.
“I just need a little longer,” Vash says. “Like I said, I’ve had worse.” His tone is clipped and annoyed, and he defiantly keeps eye contact with Wolfwood as he finishes washing his hands.
“Nah,” Wolfwood says, and Vash tuts, affronted, and turns to face him, arms crossed and face closed off.
“I think I know my own capabilities better than you do, Wolfwood,” he says, eyes flicking towards the door, trying to will an opening into existence.
“Sure, eventually you’d probably be fine,” Wolfwood says, not budging, “but it’s been three days, which was long enough for you to fix yourself up from whatever fucked you up when you first got here.” He starts to count on the fingers of his free hand. “Your limp has only gotten worse, you bleed through your bandages every five hours, and when I got a papercut yesterday, you stared at me for a full three minutes and then had to leave the room. You need blood.”
Wolfwood holds his three fingers up, damning and decisive, and raises one eyebrow, challenging Vash to refute him.
Vash grimaces and fidgets in his spot, his face flickering through various snippets of emotion – all short-lived and all pained around the eyebrows – but unable to land on any of them. It makes Wolfwood wonder how Vash might try to pass this off with plastered-on fake cheer or derail them with self-pity. Luckily, this time, Vash is unable to find an excuse, and he stares at Wolfwood, looking lost and sad, and too frustrated to be truly threatening.
“I said I wasn’t going to bite you again,” Vash says, pleading and soft, but his voice goes sour as he continues. “It’s such an awful thing to do to someone, to need to take their life for you to live.” He can’t meet Wolfwood’s eyes as he speaks, and he sounds so distraught that Wolfwood feels almost bad.
Wolfwood still doesn’t budge. He knows he has a good argument, and that Vash is too weak to protest as much as he usually would. That, and he has to admit, he wants it to happen again. He wants them both to enjoy it.
“I dunno, Blondie,” Wolfwood smirks, “seemed like we both enjoyed it last time.” He steps forward and leans into Vash’s space, and leers, “We could even have some fun with it.”
Vash’s scowl turns truly disgusted for a moment, but he’s caught out by the sudden flush that colors the tips of his ears and the bridge of his nose. He bends backwards over the sink to get away from Wolfwood.
“We could have fun with it?” Vash asks, offended. “What happened to this being serious enough to accost me in the bathroom?”
“Yeah, this is part of why it’s so important,” Wolfwood says with a smile. He leans in closer to Vash, abandoning blocking off the door in favor of planting his hands on either side of Vash, boxing him in with his arms.
Vash stiffens and leans further back. He looks so distressed that Wolfwood worries he crossed a line, but then Vash stretches too far and irritates the unhealed gashes on his chest, making him collapse in on himself with a pained gasp. Vash can’t explain that away – he can’t hide how hurt he really is.
“Vash…” Wolfwood murmurs, quiet and scared.
Vash is silent for a minute, maybe two. Wolfwood starts to shift with nervousness himself as he waits. He’ll give him the time he needs, but he’s starting to lose his confidence here. It makes him lean back an inch, giving Vash some breathing room. It hurts, watching Vash resign himself to his fate, and when he finally looks up to speak, small, angry tears have gathered at his lashes.
The tears don’t fall, Wolfwood doesn’t think he’s ever seen Vash actually cry; and he’s starting to think Vash simply doesn’t allow it.
“I don’t know why you want this,” Vash bites out.
“I – Vash,” Wolfwood stutters. The next words are ready on his tongue, but Vash’s resistance makes them feel too personal, too big, but he fights through the sudden embarrassment and says it anyway: “I just want you to be okay.”
Vash stares at him, face covered in a splotchy flush, which makes him look more alive than he has in days.
Vash laughs, but it’s sad and broken in a way that makes Wolfwood taste bile. “It shouldn’t be that easy,” he says, and he sounds so much younger than he usually seems that Wolfwood flinches. “I need your blood to recover, and you want me to recover, and so you just –” Vash breaks off in a huff and raises his head to look at Wolfwood as if he’s challenging him to disagree “– you’re just okay with that. You want that.”
Wolfwood’s mouth is suddenly very dry and he has to work to be able to speak. “Yeah,” he says, “we went over all of this the first time. It’s just that easy.”
Vash whips his head to the side, giving Wolfwood only a glimpse of his bewildered, almost affronted scowl. And when he whips his head back to front, his expression is so intense Wolfwood feels his heart speed up and his body freeze in place.
“Might as well bite you here and get it over with,” Vash says with a confrontational tilt to his words.
“Sounds good,” Wolfwood agrees, doing his best to take whatever Vash throws his way.
Vash stands to his full height and steps forward. All it takes is a few easy steps for Wolfwood to find himself backed up to the wall and caged in by Vash, who looks like he wants to devour Wolfwood whole. Which Wolfwood’s brain, now severely lacking in blood flow, finds perfectly reasonable. He returns Vash’s fiery gaze with a dopey smile, not scared in the slightest.
Vash leans in close to Wolfwood’s neck and inhales deeply, his eyelids fluttering closed ever so slightly, and Wolfwood suddenly feels weak in the knees. Vash’s exhale sounds more like a moan than anything else, and Wolfwood is very glad that the wall is keeping him upright.
“You smell so sweet, Wolfwood,” Vash says. He tucks his head beneath Wolfwood’s jaw and presses close to the blood vessels in his neck. “Right here,” he continues, voice almost dreamy, “your pulse is racing, and I can smell it, smell you. All this blood right here and you –” he breaks off and moves to stare fully at Wolfwood with wide eyes, his pupils big enough to be startling “– you’ll let me take it, just because you care about me.”
He says it like it’s the most unbelievable thing in the world, and Wolfwood feels so swept up in Vash’s energy that it’s hard to even focus on what he’s saying. The version of him who walked into this room, confident and smug, demanding Vash take his blood feels impossibly far away. Now he’s like a live wire of anticipation, restless and burning up.
Wolfwood whimpers. He can’t even manage Vash’s name – it’s what he’d meant to say – but all that comes out is something high-pitched and needy. Words feel so beyond him that he can’t even beg. Vash gets that look again: the one that makes him feel like he’s nothing more than a nice cut of meat for Vash to enjoy, like every last bit of him is going to get swallowed up and he’s going to like it.
“I’m going to bite you now,” Vash says sweetly, with all the objective confidence of someone stating the sky is blue. Wolfwood is nodding as emphatically as he can before Vash even finishes speaking.
“Cute…” Vash coos, completely melting Wolfwood from the inside out. He can’t remember the last time he was so turned on, he’s hard enough to chafe against his briefs and already dripping. He wonders if Vash can smell that too.
Vash smiles again, sticky sweet and sharp, a quick flash of something otherworldly and dangerous, then goes back to nosing at Wolfwood’s neck, generously decorating his neck with open-mouthed kisses and teasing pricks of teeth, promising what’s to come. Wolfwood sinks into it, enjoying the tingly sparks of pleasure that radiate out from wherever Vash puts his mouth to the rest of his body. And despite how much he likes watching Vash, with his captivating eyes and teasing smiles, Wolfwood lets his eyes slip closed, and just enjoys how his body feels, the warmth of Vash against him, the needy waves of arousal and anticipation filling his body with fizzy energy.
Vash positions himself to bite; Wolfwood feels it as he stills and opens his mouth wide. He thinks he whines again, or maybe Vash does, both of them too caught up to hold back. The four needle sharp points of Vash’s fangs rest against his artery, hot pinpricks of desire against his skin, and Wolfwood buries his hands in Vash’s already messy hair, just to hold him close, to assure Vash that he’s ready.
Then Vash pulls back and Wolfwood almost cries, bereft at the loss. Through his arousal, Wolfwood worries that Vash is having doubts again and is going to call the whole thing off, but before he has a chance to voice any irritated reassurance, his eyes blink open to see Vash smiling the most devilish smile Wolfwood has ever seen.
“Huh?” Wolfwood asks, not so much a word than a vaguely questioning sound.
“Remember what I said before, that neck is the best place to bite besides your leg, in the femoral artery?” Vash says. Wolfwood shakes his head dumbly, no way he’d remember biology terms, even if half his blood wasn’t in his dick right now.
Vash giggles, like he finds Wolfwood’s addled state endearing, and Wolfwood can’t help it – he melts a little more at the imperfect laugh. It’s shrill and a little ugly, and the honest creases around Vash’s eyes – it’s a good look on him.
“Femoral artery is the big one that takes blood to your legs,” Vash says. Wolfwood groans at the impromptu anatomy lesson, but Vash just giggles again, mischievous, and continues, “it runs all down your leg, pretty deep too, but riiight heeere,” Vash draws the vowels out as he moves his hand down Wolfwood’s body, all the way past his stomach, to rest right below the crease of his pelvis, only inches away from his where his dick and cunt are burning hot and wet, and suddenly very, very interested in Vash’s hands. “It’s very close to the skin, easy to bite.”
Wolfwood looks up at Vash, stunned, mouth open in mild disbelief that’s turning quickly to excitement, and Vash is flushed bright red all the way up to his ears.
“You can see why I couldn’t just bite you there the first time,” he says with another, shyer laugh.
“Could’ve,” Wolfwood mumbles, even back then, he already liked Vash more than he had any right to, definitely enough to up close and personal like that.
Vash hums in disagreement, any argumentative bite completely overpowered by the light in his eyes and unrestrained smile.
“I think now it is perfectly acceptable to bite there, instead of the neck,” Vash says, then bites his lip, bashful and over-eager, fangs peeking out just a little, and Wolfwood is suddenly overwhelmed with fondness and relief that Vash is letting himself enjoy this. His guilt, his protests, his self-loathing. They’re all at least momentarily overrun by lust and affection.
Vash leans forward and steals a kiss from Wolfwood, but when Wolfwood sways forward, chasing another, Vash stays just far enough away to speak, “Would you like that, Nico? Think you’ll be able to stay standing?”
Wolfwood doesn’t know about that last bit, shaky as he is now, but he doesn’t care, doesn’t have it in him to wait long enough to get to a room and lie down, so he nods his head as fast as he can. “Yes, yes, yes. Please,” the words tumble out of him all at once.
Vash’s smile widens so much that his eyes crinkle shut and his fangs are fully on display. An instinctual, animal part of Wolfwood lights up in fear of those fangs and what they could do, what they are going to do, to him, but it’s little more than a whisper in the raging arousal Wolfwood is enveloped in.
Vash sinks down to his knees with inhuman grace, and Wolfwood almost comes then and there. He barely holds himself together, but there’s nothing he can do about the way his legs shake or the fresh wetness seeping out of him. When Vash looks up at him, bright blue eyes flashing up from under his pale eyelashes, Wolfwood has to close his eyes and thud his head against the wall. It should be illegal to look as good as Vash does on his knees.
He keeps his head against the cool tile wall as Vash laughs and gets to work unbuttoning his pants and guiding them down and off Wolfwood’s legs. It’s not until Vash starts thumbing at the waistband of his underwear that Wolfwood looks down again, and he outright moans when he sees Vash. His eyes are inhumanly bright, what blue is still visible past his blown pupils glowing like bioluminescence, and his mouth hangs open, giving Wolfwood a perfect view of Vash running his tongue across his fangs in anticipation. Vash raises one eyebrow while pointedly tugging at Wolfwood’s underwear, and Wolfwood nods emphatically, mouth too dry to say anything.
With that last bit of permission granted, Vash’s eyes unfocus as he gives himself over to his desire, his hunger. Wolfwood’s underwear is quickly discarded, and all barriers gone, Vash presses his face to Wolfwood. First to the location of the artery, where he takes deep breaths through his nose, savoring the smell of blood, and then lower, ghosting past the wetness on Wolfwood’s thighs and stopping right at his dick. He looks up, and Wolfwood’s body jolts with new arousal when their eyes meet, but now Vash doesn’t have enough brain power to tease, and he looks just as hazy as Wolfwood feels. His tongue darts out just once, to run up the underside of his dick, just enough to make Wolfwood shout. Then Vash brings his right hand to where Wolfwood’s slick has dripped down his thigh, and runs one finger through the wetness before putting it in his mouth to taste Wolfwood’s arousal, his eyes drifting closed like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.
Wolfwood’s every breath is now some sort of moan or gasp or plea for more, and as Vash pushes his legs apart for a better angle and positions himself to bite, Wolfwood starts to pant and grow light headed, unable to control his lungs.
Vash slips his left hand up to hold Wolfwood’s hip, to keep him in place, and the coldness of the inhuman bone of his left hand shocks Wolfwood’s skin; but his other hand stays near his sex, drifting up to tease at his folds. Wolfwood does his best not to squirm, but his body doesn’t know where it wants to be: closer to Vash or further from the cold of his hand, away from the teasing or towards it, leaning into the bite or away from it.
Then Vash bites down at the same time he pushes two fingers deep into Wolfwood’s cunt. It’s exquisite. The pain and pleasure spark simultaneously, shattering the anticipation, and just like that, Wolfwood comes. His vision flashes white for a moment as his body alights with sensation and the quick coil of orgasm tightens and releases in an instant.
Wolfwood screams, or maybe sobs, he gasps for breath as Vash fingers him through the orgasm, drawing out twitchy aftershocks and keeping his arousal high and steady.
In the brief lull after orgasm, as Wolfwood attempts to steady himself and catch his breath, he is suddenly aware of pain. Sharp and bright and incessant, blooming from where Vash bites him. He gasps, momentarily distracted from the pleasure that Vash is still wringing out of him. But only for a moment. Almost as soon as the pain registers, it fades away, replaced by the same achy warmth he’d felt the first time Vash bit him. It’s more intense this time, as the sensation rushes through him; it feels less like floating in a hot tub, and more like being dunked into carbonated water: he goes lightheaded and every inch of him feels tingly with pleasure, like small, sparkling bubbles are popping against all his nerve endings.
Wolfwood’s head feels too large, stuffed with sunset-rosy clouds of pleasure and unnaturally far away from the rest of his body; it’s all he can do to grab onto the towel rack and hold tight in hopes of staying upright. Nothing exists anymore except the overpowering sensations in his body and Vash between his legs, and even then, Vash’s high-pitched whines and moans only reach his ears through several layers of fluff.
Encouraged by Vash’s enthusiastic sounds, Wolfwood begins to rock down into Vash’s fingers, careful not to dislodge the bite as he moves. Vash notices, and keens loudly, urging Wolfwood on, as he slips a third finger inside Wolfwood.
Wolfwood feels stretched to the limit, both of what his body can accommodate and what’s possible to even feel – like he’s reaching the upper bounds of the pleasure the chemicals in his body can produce. The curl of a second orgasm – or maybe third, he can’t tell – is rising within him, and each time he thinks he’s about to crest the waves and come, he reaches even higher, feels even better
He’s distracted from the need to come by Vash tugging at his leg. While still drinking blood and fucking Wolfwood with his fingers, Vash tugs at one of Wolfwood’s legs, persistently trying to move it closer to him until Wolfwood finally gathers the concentration to slide his right leg up and out a few inches without falling.
Vash whines as well as he can while drinking blood, muffled but still so needy, and then… Wolfwood’s jaw drops as he watches Vash move to straddle his leg and start genuinely grinding against his foot and ankle. The sight alone is enough to push Wolfwood over the edge, and he comes again, fierce and fast, building from somewhere deep within him and exploding out of him with a flow of liquid as he squirts for the first time in years. The orgasm steals his vision, his hearing, almost everything from him and for a moment, Wolfwood only exists to feel wave after wave of pleasure as he comes.
Vash’s fingers keep moving, in fact he presses deeper, trying to wring another orgasm out of Wolfwood, or even draw this one out so it just doesn’t stop, but it’s too much, and Wolfwood has to push Vash’s hand away to get him to stop.
Wolfwood cracks his eyes back open as Vash pulls his fingers out of Wolfwood with an obscene, wet noise, and through his bleary vision, Wolfwood can see Vash pull away from the bite to put all three fingers in his mouth and suck them clean. And Wolfwood slowly comes back to himself watching Vash lick blood and come off Wolfwood’s legs as he grinds to his own orgasm. When Vash finally comes, he squeals with pleasure and nonsense babbling of every variation of Wolfwood’s name.
Vash finally stills, his own ridiculously long orgasm finished at last, and leans his weight against Wolfwood’s thigh. Wolfwood still feels lightheaded, as the high of Vash’s bite and his own orgasms slowly fade from his body. He reaches down to play with Vash’s hair, trying to comb it back into a semblance of sense, and the touch seems to rouse Vash somewhat. He looks up at Wolfwood, the bottom half of his face covered in blood and his eyes half-lidded and dazed beyond belief; he looks more fucked-out than Wolfwood feels.
With a wheeze of a laugh, Wolfwood gives in to his jelly-weak legs and slides to the floor, maneuvering Vash to lay on him as he does. The floor is unpleasantly cold, and the sticky wetness of blood and come on his legs is quickly becoming deeply uncomfortable, but there’s no way he’s moving for a very long time.
Wolfwood keeps playing with Vash’s hair as Vash drifts in and out of sleep against him. He tries to focus on the comforting warmth of Vash instead of any other unpleasant sensation, content to recover and let Vash sleep.
He’s halfway to a doze himself when he hears Vash murmur, “that went a bit overboard, didn’t it?” traces of insecurity worming back into his voice.
“Nah,” Wolfwood says, too worn out to say much. “‘M glad you had fun. ‘N I haven’t come that hard in forever,” Wolfwood slurs. Vash hums, still pressed close to Wolfwood, but decides to drop it.
“Kiss me when I clean up a little?” Vash asks, voice quickly fading as he lets himself fall back to sleep.
“Sure thing, Blondie,” Wolfwood says. He feels Vash smile against his skin and hold him a little tighter. Wolfwood can’t help but smile too, to know Vash is well fed and safe again, to see him so unguarded and content, is enough to make Wolfwood’s heart ache. Whatever comes next, at least he has this for now.
***
Hours later, the two of them sit on the back porch watching a summer storm pour down and overshadow the last hours of sunset. Wolfwood enjoys his first cigarette in three days, his throat finally healed enough to not cough violently at the first hint of smoke, and Vash sits close beside him nursing a beer. Wolfwood keeps one of his hands casually slung across the back of Vash’s chair, rubbing mindless circles into Vash’s shoulder, quietly, extremely pleased that Vash is happy to accept the quietly possessive gesture.
They sit in silence, enjoying the cooling rain and the first hints of fall, the occasional bright columns of light shining through the clouds, and the comforting background noise of rainfall and quiet cicada buzzing. The silence between them is comfortable, which Wolfwood is incredibly grateful for; when Vash came to after fucking Wolfwood’s brains out, he spent a good twenty minutes in beet-red embarrassment, insisting he’d gone entirely overboard, that giving in to bloodlust like that was wholly inappropriate.
It had taken Wolfwood so far as shutting Vash up with a kiss, his face only half-cleaned of blood and cum, to convince Vash that he wasn’t upset or disgusted. Vash then spent the rest of the evening with a perpetual blush on his face in restless, school-yard crush jitters whenever Wolfwood got too close. So safe to say, Wolfwood is glad Vash seems to have found a way to calm down for now.
But all the restful atmosphere and contented companionship in the world can’t distract Wolfwood from the nagging worry growing in the back of his mind. It’s bad enough that when Wolfwood lights his fourth cigarette in a row, Vash glances over at him with concern. Wolfwood grumbles in annoyance. He knows Vash wouldn’t judge his smoking habits that way, but he doesn’t want to admit that his nervousness is so obvious that Vash would comment on it, so the whole thing jumbles up into something ugly and sour that only feeds into his nervousness.
“Wolfwood–” Vash says, hesitant, after a few minutes of Wolfwood bouncing his leg in irritation.
“I’m fine,” Wolfwood cuts him off. “Nothing is wrong. I just wanna enjoy this evening.” He winces at the way his voice goes tight and pleading at the end, revealing how emotional he is.
Vash makes a complicated noise of annoyance but drops the issue. It does nothing to calm Wolfwood. Instead, the idea of Vash agreeing to ignore the important issues in favor of the current status quo just annoys him into wanting to talk about it.
“It’s just –” he says, angry enough to make up for how scared he is, “is this it?” Vash turns to him, and though Wolfwood keeps staring ahead, out of the corner of his eye, he can see the tightness of poorly concealed panic in Vash’s expression. “Everything’s fine now? I’m alive through some mysterious vampire bullshit that even you don’t understand. Our literal best guess is fucking sex magic. And your insane brother is just out there somewhere, and we just gotta assume he’ll leave us alone?” By the end of his rant, Wolfwood’s anger has completely fallen away; he’s just scared. He’s scared, and confused, and he doesn’t want to give this up. He wishes more than anything that he could just ignore these worries and enjoy Vash.
Vash is quiet for a long time after Wolfwood speaks, and Wolfwood doesn’t mind, he’s too deep in his own emotions and bound to get angry at anything anyone says. But Vash does eventually speak. After several false starts that Wolfwood very pointedly ignores, Vash says in a very small voice, “this could be it. You don’t have to do anything.”
“No,” Wolfwood scowls, “I’m not gonna just run away from shit that’s important, I just want to be safe. I wanna relax again.”
Vash winces and stiffens in his chair, leaning away from Wolfwood’s hand on his shoulder. “I can leave,” he whispers, “if you need to be safe.”
“No,” Wolfwood exclaims, rising out of his chair and finally turning to face Vash. “I don’t want that either! What part of any of this makes you think I’m just gonna fuckin’ kick you out after everything we’ve been to. I lo–” Wolfwood cuts himself off, suddenly terrified of what he was about to say, and Vash hears it too, evident by the way he goes completely still. They stare at each other like that, entirely still except for Vash shaking his head ever so slightly.
“I heard what you said to your brother, you know, about love,” Wolfwood says when he finds his voice. Vash doesn’t react but his eyes grow comically wide. “And I remember what you said when I asked you what happened.” Vash seems to vibrate, and Wolfwood can’t tell if Vash is still shaking his head or if he’s trembling in fear. “I know you don’t want to run away from this, and shit, I can’t lose you either. I–” Wolfwood has to pause, run his hand through his hair and collect himself. “I love you, Vash.”
“Just because you love someone doesn’t mean everything’s suddenly easy,” Vash says with more bitterness than Wolfwood expects.
“Well, yeah,” Wolfwood protests, “but you feel the same, don’t you? Doesn’t that mean we should at least try?”
Vash slowly stops shaking, all the energy draining out of him as Wolfwood speaks, leaving behind Vash, looking small and all too human. “What if I can’t answer your questions? Or what if Nai comes back, or something worse? What if I can’t help you?”
Wolfwood sits back down and takes both of Vash’s hands in his, immensely grateful that Vash accepts the touch, leans into it even. “Will you try to answer?” Vash nods. “Okay, well,” Wolfwood continues, “Do you think Knives is gonna come back? Hunt you down?”
“I – I don’t –” Vash stutters, looking pained. “– I don’t know, but probably, or maybe he’ll send someone to bring me to him. I think he wants me to forgive him and return to him on my own, but I don’t think he’ll leave me alone.”
“Okay, I can’t lie, that fucker scares the shit outta me but I guess we’ll deal with him when we have to,” Wolfwood says, letting himself sound as scared as he feels, just this once. “I mean, I got a hunch that I wouldn’t be safe even if you fucked off and ran away, not if he finds out I’m alive.”
“Probably not,” Vash replies, “he’d blame you for ‘leading me astray’.”
“‘Course he would,” Wolfwood says with a bitter laugh, “but at least that means I’m safest with you,” he looks at Vash hopefully.
Vash takes a while to respond to that, he seems to be silently arguing with himself as he untangles what to say next.
“I’m not used to staying put,” Vash says, running his hands through his hair as he speaks. “Every time something starts to matter, I run away. I don’t want to anymore, but so much of me is saying that I should,” he pauses. “Saying that… the way I feel about you is even more reason to leave. But you’re right, if you aren’t safe without me, you’re probably safer with me, and we can just have this. We’ll deal with Knives when we have to, but until then…”
“You and me, Blondie,” Wolfwood completes for him.
“Yeah,” Vash smiles, “you and me.”