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It’s some asshole who tries to get Vash for the bounty, who chases them into the cliffs just outside of town. Shots ring out and echo around them as they run, some of the rocky pathways too narrow to easily bring the Punisher through.
Wolfwood has to let go of it to dodge, but the man still manages to grab his collar and slam him into the rocks. His head crashes into it, stunning him as his vision goes black.
He hears Vash cry out, and then hears three gunshots in quick succession. He feels them a fraction of a second later, the bullets burning iron through his chest.
Blood floods into his mouth, and he drops to his knees as the man is ripped away from him. Wolfwood manages to open his eyes just in time to see Vash hurl the man towards the edge of the cliff, his revolver pointed true.
The man lunges back towards Vash, but instead of flinching, Vash just fires a single shot that strikes his left arm, meant only to incapacitate. The man stumbles back, and when he blindly shifts his stance to fire back, his heel slips in the loose scree at the edge of the cliff. He falls into the ravine, plummeting to his death with an ear piercing scream.
Vash screams with him, chasing after him just a half second too late. He makes it to the edge just as the scream cuts off.
Wolfwood digs a vial out of his inner pocket, snapping the glass with his teeth and throwing it back like a shot, the liquid a bitter burn in his throat. The healing almost hurts worse than the initial shots, his flesh gruesomely forcing the bullets out of his body with a burst of steam.
That’s the price, after all.
Wolfwood takes a moment to rest in the sudden quiet, to breathe. He thinks Vash needs it, too. When he stands and approaches Vash at the edge of the cliff, he doesn’t look down.
Vash is staring down at the bottom of the ravine below, his expression solemn, his eyes red but his cheeks dry.
It must be a trick of the sunset light, but Vash’s eyes seem to glow ethereally as he gazes into nothing.
After a few moments and a quick prayer, they collect the Punisher and make their way quietly into town. They find a saloon near their rented room and sit in the back, and Wolfwood orders whiskey for the both of them to start.
When the tumblers arrive, Wolfwood touches the rim of his glass to Vash’s with a solid clink.
“Here’s to you saving my life today, Blondie,” he says.
Vash’s lips turn up in the semblance of a smile as he drinks, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“That stuff saved your life,” he says, and Wolfwood shrugs.
“If you hadn’t pulled him off, he would have killed me before I could take it.”
“That doesn’t mean it was right.”
“It was an accident,” Wolfwood says. “You didn’t know that would happen. And if he was alive then I wouldn’t be, so pardon me for being grateful.”
Vash doesn’t laugh. Instead, he looks at Wolfwood with a wistful expression, a frown marring his brow.
“I thought for a second you were gone,” he says, vulnerability creeping into his voice. “That I was going walk out of there without you.”
Something sharp lodges itself in Wolfwood’s chest.
“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” he retorts, because this is just one near death of many. But he can see now why Vash is especially rattled, if he was afraid for his companion’s life. Wolfwood is still mortal, after all.
That makes Vash smile, though, and Wolfwood raises his whiskey again. This time, Vash is the one to touch their glasses together, but they don’t drink to anything in particular.
One glass of whiskey becomes two, and two becomes three, and then a banjo and violin begin to play on the other side of the saloon.
The music is what brightens Vash up the most, his boot tapping unconsciously to the rhythm as he finishes his fourth glass. A blush is riding high on his cheeks, a smile easier on his mouth now that alcohol has turned the hurt into something liquid and manageable.
Wolfwood pulls out a cigarette to smoke, his stubbled cheek resting on his fist as he admires Vash. He’s so pretty, so open as he chats with the bartender and drinks like he’s celebrating life more than anything else.
Wolfwood also feels like he wants to celebrate life. It’s not often they get to.
Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s the adrenaline of being shot from close range, enough that he can still smell gunpowder on his jacket. Maybe it’s the chemicals provided by the Eye of Michael that course through his body, keeping him alive by force. Maybe it’s just Vash, the way he’s so… everything. Full of joy and hope in a joyless and hopeless world. Suffering for others and still putting on a brave face and standing tall for what he believes in.
Remorse stabs Wolfwood as he thinks about the impending end of their journey.
But for one night, at least, he thinks he wants Vash for himself.
“Say, Blondie,” he says, finishing his cigarette and grinding out the butt on the bar top. “Wanna dance?”
Vash lights up, grasping the hand that Wolfwood has offered. There are other people dancing, too, but they stay in the corner they’ve picked out, settling into a rhythmic swing step, Wolfwood taking the lead. He’s surprised at how surefooted Vash is, considering his usual clumsiness and how much he’s had to drink. Their physical connection is strong, too, so when Vash switches their positions, Wolfwood lets it happen, following seamlessly.
It makes Vash laugh, and he spins Wolfwood away just to draw him back closer. His prosthetic hand tightens for a moment on Wolfwood’s lower back, his eyes crinkled into an infectious smile.
The song ends, and they stop to have another drink. Wolfwood can’t help but notice that Vash sits closer to him now, and their shoes touch on the rail under the bar. It’s like some kind of line has started to blur, now that they’re riding high on whiskey and their on narrow survivals, their heads spinning.
Vash calls it first, sliding his empty glass back over the bar.
“I’m done,” he announces, pulling several double dollars from his jacket and sloppily trying to count them.
Wolfwood puts down enough to cover the both of them and swats at Vash until he puts the money away.
“For saving my life,” he says, louder than Vash’s protests. “Consider us even.”
They leave the noise of the saloon and stumble into the dark night, back towards the room they’ve rented while in town.
“Hey,” Vash says into the easy silence between them as they approach the building. “You said that drinks makes us even, right?”
“Was that not enough for you?” Wolfwood asks, elbowing Vash to show he’s teasing. “What else do you want?”
Vash makes a dramatic and thoughtful sound, as if he’s parsing through options, each more grandiose than the last.
“I want,” he says, stopping and taking Wolfwood’s free hand, making him stop, too. “To kiss you.”
Wolfwood laughs, even around the sudden tightness in his chest. “What for?”
“I like you,” Vash says honestly, stepping just a little closer. “And I almost lost you today. So. I want to feel that you’re really here with me.”
Wolfwood smiles, stepping forward to crowd Vash against the building beside them, the Punisher against Wolfwood’s back shielding them from view.
“Is that so?” He asks, leaning in close, tilting his head as if to grant Vash’s request, but he stops just an inch apart. It’s only a second before Vash comes the rest of the way, and their lips meet. It’s a little sloppy, but it’s chaste. As they part, Vash lifts his hands to place them on Wolfwood’s chest.
“Thank you,” he says, as if Wolfwood has done him a favor at his own expense.
“The pleasure is mine,” Wolfwood tells him, heat twisting in his stomach. He kisses Vash again, slower this time, and Vash’s hands fist into his jacket.
Wolfwood thinks about his desire to have Vash to himself, about how easy it would be to indulge again, crossing that line further. He shouldn’t encourage this to happen, but he wants to so badly. And how can a man starved turn down such a temptation?
Especially as Vash’s flesh hand slides over his bared chest, just under the cross he wears. His fingertips pause where Wolfwood had been shot earlier- no marks remain, just some dried blood. He can’t feel any pain, and it doesn’t bother him to be shot, anymore. Still, Vash rubs at the spot as if soothing away a hurt.
Wolfwood catches Vash’s wrist, holding his palm flush to his skin. He kisses Vash deeper, pressing closer, and Vash’s mouth falls open for him. He tastes like whiskey and something sweeter, and Wolfwood wants to devour him whole. He pulls away to kiss at Vash’s neck instead, setting his teeth against Vash’s throat and feeling him swallow heavily, his head tipped back.
“Wolfwood,” Vash murmurs, shifting enough to encourage him to back up a step. “Let me…”
He doesn’t say what he means, doesn’t ask for what he wants to do, but his intention is clear in the way he slides to his knees, still trapped between Wolfwood and the wall. His flesh hand stays flush against Wolfwood’s chest, but his prosthetic hand is gentle as it brushes against the front of Wolfwood’s pants meaningfully. Vash looks up at him through those amber colored glasses, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips.
“Blondie,” Wolfwood rumbles, and Vash smiles as he lets his blunt nails slide gently down Wolfwood’s stomach to tangle his fingers in his belt buckle. He pulls, asking without words, offering himself up as if Wolfwood has done something to deserve it. Wolfwood tucks his fingers under Vash’s chin, tilting his head up to really look into those blue eyes as he starts to undo Wolfwood’s belt. It’s so, so tempting, but Wolfwood has the feeling that if he allows it to happen like this, he won’t get the chance to really have Vash like he wants to.
“You really wanna do this here?”
Vash gives him a puzzled look.
“Our room is down the street,” Wolfwood says, stepping back even as his dick threatens to strangle him. “Besides, you’ll want to be lying down by the time I’m done with you.”
But it works- the line flusters Vash, who takes the proffered hand and lets Wolfwood pull him to his feet. Their hands stay connected for a few moments longer as they walk, until Vash pulls away to fumble through his jacket for the key to their room.
He opens the door and darts inside in a flash of red, but Wolfwood takes the time to securely lock the door behind them and lean the Punisher against the wall before turning back to Vash.
He’s already removed his jacket, and is working on kicking off his boots, but Wolfwood doesn’t let him do much else. He takes Vash in his arms like he’s always wanted to, and kisses him again. Vash winds his arms around Wolfwood’s neck, and they just kiss for a few moments before Vash backs them up to the edge of the bed and encourages Wolfwood to crawl on top of him.
“Nicholas,” Vash says from underneath him. “Use me.”
Wolfwood pulls back from where he’s been kissing Vash’s neck to looking down at him. Vash is barefaced now, his cheeks burnt with too much sun and too much heat between them. His blonde hair is pushed back, making a halo on the sheets below them. Wolfwood can see his eyes so clearly now without the sunglasses. They’re the brightest blue he’s ever seen, nearly eerie but so, so warm.
“I’m not going to do that,” Wolfwood says, and Vash frowns, sitting up on his elbows.
“You don’t want to?”
“I want to,” Wolfwood says, itching to kiss away the worried lines between Vash’s brows. “But you deserve better than that.”
“Oh.” Vash turns impossibly pinker. “You don’t have to worry about that.”
“Really?” Disbelieving, Wolfwood settles his hands on Vash’s narrow hips, then drags him closer. Vash makes a surprised noise, a cute little cry that makes satisfaction spark in Wolfwood’s chest. He squeezes Vash’s hips, not hard enough to hurt but firm enough to appreciate. He tugs with intent at the waistband of Vash’s pants, but doesn’t try to go further without permission.
“Nicholas…” Vash murmurs, and Wolfwood glances up at him. He moves his hands to Vash’s thighs instead, pressing his palms down into the join of his hips.
“I want you to feel good, too,” he says, hoping to convey more than he could ever hope to articulate with just those words.
“It’s fine,” Vash answers, his voice strong but Wolfwood can feel his thighs quiver. “It feels good that way for me. Just take what you want.”
The way he says it makes something turn over in the pit of Wolfwood’s stomach.
“Okay,” he says, feeling like he’s walking blindly into a minefield. “How about I’ll do that when we get there. For now, let’s do it my way.”
“Okay…”
“Okay.” Wolfwood leans down to kiss him, his lips plush and his mouth pliant. “Can I touch you?”
“You’re touching me now,” Vash answers with a cheeky smile, and Wolfwood gives him a look.
“You know what I mean.”
Vash at least has the grace to look sheepish. “Yes, I know. Okay. You can. But I have to tell you something first.”
Suddenly, Wolfwood gets nervous. He hopes it isn’t anything too terrible. He can see the trauma on Vash’s body, and that’s only what’s currently visible. He wants to respect any rules he’s given, but he’s scared of the reasons.
He also hopes it isn’t anything too… emotional. This is the first time they’ve done this together- he doesn’t want to have to navigate anything as terrifying as feelings, especially from a man who feels them so deeply. What is he going to do if Vash says something like that?
“What is it?”
“I have…”
Vash doesn’t continue.
“You have…?” Wolfwood prompts with a frown, snapping Vash out of the blank look that had started to take over.
“It’s just different, okay?” He blurts, sounding a little exasperated. “So if you decide you don’t want to anymore, that’s fine! Or you don’t have to even do anything. You can just use me, Nicholas. My mouth, or,” he gestures vaguely between his legs. “Or, anything you want.”
Stunned, Wolfwood doesn’t say anything. He kneels up above Vash, gazing down at him for a long moment, then slowly retrieves a battered pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his suit jacket.
“Do you mind?” He asks, and Vash just stares up at him blankly. Wolfwood takes it as permission, and holds out the lighter to Vash.
“Be a doll and light this for me,” he says, and Vash nearly jumps out of his skin to obey. He cups the flame like there’s a risk it might go out, and holds it up for Wolfwood to light the end of the cigarette and pull deeply. He holds it in for a moment, then tilts his head back to exhale, away from Vash.
Vash tucks the lighter back into Wolfwood’s jacket, slowly, his fingertips touching just a little too much of his chest. He looks up at Wolfwood balefully, his pretty eyes too clear, too open.
“Why aren’t you saying anything?” He asks softly, and Wolfwood feels guilt gnaw at him.
“Sorry,” he says with a sigh, trying to banish his anger. “I just. Really don’t like the way people treat you.”
Vash blinks, then leans forward to wind his arms around Wolfwood’s waist, under his jacket. He closes his eyes, resting against Wolfwood and breathing in his scent.
“Thank you for saying that,” he murmurs to Wolfwood. “But it’s fine.”
Wolfwood rests a hand on Vash’s head, stroking his hair and scrubbing his fingers through that undercut. He inhales again, pulling sticky, acrid smoke into his lungs, but the rhythm soothes his nerves.
It’s not fine. Not really. But there’s nothing he can do about the way Vash has been treated in the past.
He can do something about the right now, though.
“Sweet boy,” he croons gently, and Vash looks up at him again. He squeezes the back of Vash’s neck, just enough to show he’s serious. “I want you. I don’t care what you have.”
Vash lowers those pretty eyes, his long lashes pale against the flush of his cheeks. He squeezes back, his arms cinching tightly around Wolfwood’s middle.
When he lets go, Wolfwood shrugs his jacket off and maneuvers off the bed to toss his shirt and pants to the floor. He leaves his underwear on, for now. He isn’t sure what Vash is going to be most comfortable with, so he decides to take it slow. Instead, he takes another drag of his cigarette while he watches Vash.
Vash, who has stripped down to the waist, all of which Wolfwood has seen before. He looks like a battlefield, and the sight still makes Wolfwood’s gut twist. But the evidence of past agony makes him no less lovely, especially in bed with Wolfwood.
“Don’t be shy,” he purrs, reaching down to tug at the belt of Vash’s pants.
Vash flushes, but fumbles with the buckle until Wolfwood can slide it off and toss it to the floor. Vash opens his own pants, wiggling them down and off, revealing narrow hips clothed in a black pair of boxers and more scarring. In fact, both of his legs are prosthetic. One begins above the knee, the other below, both similar to his arm. Wolfwood has suspected that at least one leg was gone, but he didn’t realize the damage was this extensive.
“Baby,” Wolfwood can’t help but breathe as he reaches out to catch behind Vash’s knees, one soft flesh and the other unforgiving metal. Wolfwood draws him closer, encouraging him to lie on his back. “They’ve mangled you so bad.”
Vash wiggles under him, wrapping his legs loosely around Wolfwood’s thighs. “Don’t worry about it,” he says, reaching up and gesturing for Wolfwood to give him the cigarette. Wolfwood complies, and Vash takes a long drag that makes him cough. He smiles up at Wolfwood through the smoke and hands it back. “Just touch me?”
Wolfwood crams the cigarette back in his mouth and inhales, hard. He runs his hands up Vash’s thighs, stopping just below the hem of his boxers and tightening his grip, and he feels Vash shudder. He lets his hands drop to the join of Vash’s hip and thigh, his touch heavy with intention. Then, finally, he drags his thumbs over the apex between Vash’s legs, feeling for what was there and intent to gauge his reaction.
Vash exhales with another shudder, his hips arching up into the touch. So Wolfwood repeats the action, massaging between Vash’s legs leisurely and getting a feel for what he’s dealing with.
Vash feels… unlike anything Wolfwood has felt before. He wants to feel more, to know what spots make Vash cry out the loudest. And, he thinks to himself, he’s always been a man with an oral fixation.
He pulls away from Vash just long enough to kneel next to the bed, but he doesn’t miss the moment of fear in Vash’s expression. Wolfwood doesn’t soothe him with words, but lets his actions speak for themselves as he mouths in between Vash’s legs. God, he smells sweet, and while Nicholas can’t taste anything but the fabric yet, he’s almost drooling to have Vash’s… whatever in his mouth.
“Let me see, doll,” he rumbles against Vash, glancing up at him with dark eyes. “I’ll make you feel real good.”
Vash sits up, stammering nothings as he slides his boxers down his slim legs, tangling it in the prosthetics around his ankles. Wolfwood notices that he balls them in his fist and doesn’t immediately discard them. As if he’s expecting to have to put them back on soon.
Wolfwood takes a final drag of his withering cigarette and flicks the butt into the ashtray. Vash is still reclined on the edge of the bed, but his knees are drawn closed now. Wolfwood leans over to kiss him deeply, guiding his knees apart and insinuating himself between them. Vash hooks his ankles loosely around Wolfwood’s waist as they kiss, as Wolfwood’s hand drifts down to trace the strange pattern of folds he finds there.
Vash makes a little noise against him, and Wolfwood takes it as encouragement to explore further.
Vash… feels like… Wolfwood doesn’t know. But he does know that the skin there is hot and Vash is arching into his touch. His fingers drift lower and he finds an entrance that’s slick at the opening and pulses against the pads of his fingers.
Wolfwood finally breaks the kiss, and Vash lies back onto the mattress, his eyes closed and his brows drawn tight. He bites his lip as Wolfwood massages the hole he’s found, the natural slick making his touch glide easy.
Vash’s expression is lovely to see, but Wolfwood’s here for a reason. He makes sure Vash’s eyes are still closed as he finally looks.
Vash looks like… a plant. Honestly, yeah.
Definitely not human.
Definitely something divine.
His hands have paused while he’s been thinking, and it’s made Vash’s sky blue eyes open, mouth caught in a frown.
“Nicholas…?”
“Shh,” Wolfwood says. “Don’t say anything. Just let me appreciate you.” He turns his head to reverently kiss Vash’s inner thigh. “You’re beautiful.”
Vash blushes immediately and turns his head to hide his face in his elbow.
Wolfwood smiles and returns to his prize. That’s really what it is, right? No matter what was there, Wolfwood was going to worship it. Because no matter what it was, it belonged to Vash, and that was all that mattered. And despite his expertise, he’s never been with someone like Vash before. But for Wolfwood, sex was easy for one reason- all he had to do was to touch until his partner reacted the best.
He plans to do that to Vash now, kneeling back into his place and returning his mouth to Vash’s sex. He drags his tongue over it, soft at first, teasing until Vash is trying to grind into his face. There’s a spot he’s trying to direct contact towards, at the peak of a deep fold, and Wolfwood lets him follow it, savoring the strong taste of Vash’s skin. He feels a firm spot under his tongue that seems particularly swollen, much like a clit would be, and Wolfwood wraps his lips around it and sucks. Vash cries out loudly, his hands immediately gripping Wolfwood’s hair.
“Ah-!” Vash lets go immediately. “I’m sorry-“
Wolfwood pulls back to look up at Vash, making sure Vash sees him run his tongue over his lips. “Pull all you want,” he says, dropping down to drag his tongue from Vash’s hole to his clit, smearing slick all the way up. He laves attention there, eating him out like he wouldn’t live otherwise, his nose pressed tight into Vash’s sex. Vash’s human hand returns to his hair, and Wolfwood feels a thrill when Vash grips it hard by the roots. Wolfwood bears down with the flat of his tongue, just underneath the hood of Vash’s clit. Vash moans loudly and Wolfwood hums to himself, pleased. This is his favorite part.
“You can’t be getting anything out of this,” Vash pants above him, and Wolfwood gives his clit a few sloppy, open mouthed kisses before pulling back to gaze blearily at him.
“What do you mean?” He drawls, dragging the back of his hand across his chin, covered in wetness. “I’ve never been so hard in my life.”
Vash sits up on his elbows. “Really?” He asks with a pout. “You got to see me, I should get to see you, too.”
Wolfwood obliges, standing up and dragging his hand over the bulge in his underwear. The contact is nice after going untouched since they’d started, and Wolfwood can’t help but smile.
He makes a bit of a show pulling his underwear off for Vash, enjoying the look of hunger on his face. It’s nice to be wanted, too. Vash reaches for him, his flesh hand warm as it tugs at Wolfwood’s length. His palm is too dry, though, something they both realize at once. Wolfwood is about to suggest they retrieve his jacket for lube when Vash simply swipes his hand between his own legs, coating his fingers in his own slick before returning to Wolfwood’s cock, the way easier now.
Wolfwood feels like he’s on fire. He curses, his cock actually throbbing in Vash’s hand.
“Are priests allowed to say that?” Vash asks, mischief in his eyes.
“I can when you do shit like that,” Wolfwood groans.
“You’re so weird,” Vash says, his thumb swiping firmly over the head.
“How? ‘Cause you turn me on?” Wolfwood asks, trying to keep his head on straight while his dick is getting attention from the prettiest boy he’s ever seen.
Vash laughs. “Yeah,” he says honestly, and it makes Wolfwood want to rip his own hair out. How can he possibly be so good?
He wants to scold Vash, but he doesn’t get the chance, because Vash is swapping their positions, kneeling on the floor and guiding Wolfwood’s cock past his own plush lips. He gives Wolfwood exactly what he had teased in the alleyway outside, and he’s good at it, gazing up at Nicholas through damp lashes. Wolfwood starts to feel dizzy, and he cards his hand through Vash’s hair appreciatively, baring his brow.
He looks older and younger all at once. The look skirts uncomfortably close to that of his twin, and doesn’t that thought make fear grip Wolfwood by the balls!
He taps Vash’s cheek firmly. “If you don’t stop, I’ll come.”
Vash pulls back to argue, his lips swollen and shiny. “Is that so bad? I’ll swallow.”
God, Wolfwood has never really been a praying man, but he finds himself thinking up at the Big Guy Himself. Please let me hold onto him.
“As great as that sounds,” Wolfwood tells him. “I want you first.”
“Okay,” Vash says, wiping his own mouth as he stands. “How do you want me?”
How?! There are sixty billion ways Wolfwood wants him, how can he be expected to choose just one when all of his blood is currently absent from his brain?
“What’s most comfortable for you?” He asks, taking Vash’s wrists into his hands, squeezing the metal one meaningfully.
“Anything’s fine!” Vash says, his smile genuine. He stands, pulling away from Wolfwood and climbing onto the bed on all fours, glancing coquettishly over his shoulder. “Thanks for checking, though.”
Embarrassed, Wolfwood wants to strangle himself and his dick at the same time, and not necessarily in a good way. But Vash isn’t put off, so he takes the invitation he’s given and comes close, letting his palms roam over Vash’s backside. He squeezes, maybe a little too hard for the scar tissue that runs there, but Vash hums appreciatively.
Wolfwood lets one hand slide up Vash’s back, touching just to touch, his other hand loosely gripping his own throbbing cock. He guides it between Vash’s legs to slide against him; Vash is still wet, and there’s plenty for Wolfwood to glide through. It feels incredible, especially as Wolfwood draws back through the ripples of Vash’s peculiar anatomy.
Vash sighs, tilting his hips back against Wolfwood and grinding down to meet him. They slide together for a few minutes, just enjoying the pleasure of each other without racing to go anywhere.
Vash giggles, suddenly, and Wolfwood pauses, frowning. “What?”
Vash shakes his head, grinding back against him in encouragement. “I’m just having fun,” he says, pure joy on his face as he looks over his shoulder at Wolfwood.
Wolfwood swats his ass, which he very much seems to like, if the way his eyes flutter closed is any indication. “Now who’s weird?” He asks, continuing to grind against Vash’s…
He isn’t sure how to think of it. Other than absolutely delightful, in every way.
And he’s glad that Vash is having a good time, but this could be better.
Wolfwood rubs his fingers and the head of his cock over Vash’s hole, deliberately, showing his intent.
“What do you think, baby doll?”
“Haha, wow,” Vash pants. He drops to his elbows, stretching out and arching his back, his body just as expressive as his face is. “Yeah, uh, please, that would be nice.”
“You don’t have to beg me for anything,” Wolfwood murmurs to him, pressing forward enough for the head of his cock to just pop inside.
Vash is hot, enough to make Wolfwood shudder. He eases back out, then enters again, then repeats that motion, stretching out just the opening. Vash stays very still, but Nicholas can see the way he’s gripping the bedding below them, both flesh and metal hands tightly fisted with tension. He’s sure Vash has had enough, but he continues with the torture, fucking just his entrance until he starts to whine.
“Nick,” he pleads, and Wolfwood immediately decides he likes the sound of his nickname on Vash’s tongue. “You said-“
“Nothing’s stopping you,” he responds, and he can tell the moment Vash takes his meaning.
He parts his knees a little, shifts a little more, then presses back eagerly, easing himself onto Wolfwood’s cock. He’s quick to bottom out, but the moan he lets out is obscene, as if he wasn’t doing it all on his own.
Wolfwood is trying to cling to his sanity in the meantime- Vash’s body is boiling hot, and he almost can’t stand it. He tries to focus, dragging his gaze from the join of their bodies up Vash’s back.
His body is an endless constellation of evidence of his chase, his faith, but even the craters in the moons glow just as brightly as the rest. There are two dimples at his lower back, and Wolfwood presses his thumbs into them, his fingers curling around Vash’s narrow hipbones. He just holds on as Vash slides up and down the full length of him at his own pace, adjusting to the girth.
He bottoms out again firmly, wriggling back against Wolfwood, his ass pressed tight to Wolfwood’s hips. They stay still for a moment, and Wolfwood can feel Vash honest-to-God throbbing around his length. When Wolfwood starts to move, the strokes are long and slow, his body aching to memorize every ridge that rubs against his cock, every pulse that tightens around him. Wolfwood grips Vash’s hips tightly, knowing he can take Wolfwood’s strength, and forcing his hips to tilt in a way that lets Wolfwood fuck him deeper.
Vash manages to be even noisier than he’s been already. Wolfwood would think he was faking it if he didn’t know better- Vash is just expressive that way, never one to deny himself any emotion he feels. Wolfwood wants to hear more, so he lets go of Vash’s hips to grip a handful of his hair. He pulls, forcing Vash up on his knees. As Vash leans back against his chest, Wolfwood’s other hand snakes between his legs to feel where their bodies join. Vash rocks forward, trying to grind his swollen clit against Wolfwood’s palm.
Wolfwood can’t help but smile against the side of Vash’s neck. He decides he loves having his Blondie in his arms like this, drawing so much pleasure out of him that he forgets the pain of everything else. He pulls his hand back in order to properly rub Vash’s clit, two fingers firmly circling it. Vash clenches around him, and he groans into the join of Vash’s neck and shoulder. His hips jerk harder of their own accord, spurred by how fucking tight Vash feels.
Vash grasps desperately to hold on to something, his metal hand gripping Wolfwood’s thigh almost painfully as the nails of his other hand bite into Wolfwood’s forearm, the one that’s so diligently working at his clit.
Vash gasps, and Wolfwood can swear that he feels wetter, accompanied by the wet sounds their coupling makes. It’s obscene to listen to, along with Vash’s cries that grow more desperate, a tinge of panic beginning to seep in.
“Nick- Nick-“ he cries, his thighs beginning to quiver. Wolfwood bears down harder on his clit, rubbing faster despite the burn in his wrist. “I-“
Vash gasps and suddenly clamps down on him like a vice, his hole shaking just as hard as his legs do as he comes. He’s surprisingly quiet as he does, his mouth dropped open and his eyes squeezed shut, his body quaking in Wolfwood’s hands.
But also.
He glows.
It starts between his legs, then radiates upwards, ethereal blue plant markings that appear on his skin. The scars interrupt and warp their patterns, but it’s beautiful all the same. He’s like…
God, he’s like an angel.
Wolfwood stops, letting Vash come apart in his arms and holding him up as he recovers.
After a beat, Vash starts fucking talking. “I’m so sorry-“ he begins.
Wolfwood was afraid this would happen. But that means he’s prepared, so he simply pulls out of Vash and flips him over to lie on his back.
Vash yelps at the sudden manhandling, but doesn’t fight back. Wolfwood studies his face, his dazed expression, the tears that cling to his lashes. The way the markings on his body have stopped glowing so brightly, but haven’t faded.
“Don’t be sorry,” Wolfwood whispers, kissing Vash sweetly until the blond’s hands slide into his hair. He guides himself back between Vash’s legs, sliding his cock back up through Vash’s folds. Vash twitches with oversensitivity, but hums to encourage him.
Wolfwood is quick to discover, though, that something about the landscape has changed.
He pulls away from Vash’s mouth to look down between them, and sure enough…
Vash’s clit has… unfurled. Or elongated? Wolfwood doesn’t know what exactly it’s done, but it’s longer now, maybe three inches or so, and just about the width of his middle finger.
He glances up at Vash, who has turned bright red and is staring at him with a mortified look. He opens his mouth to say something, but a moan comes out instead when Wolfwood rubs his own cock up against it.
He isn’t going to let Vash say anything, especially if it’s going to be an apology for who he is. Why bother agonizing over what it was when he could be wringing orgasms from it?
Wolfwood settles back enough to align the head of his cock with Vash’s hole again, his thumb rubbing the head of Vash’s clit gently.
“Can I, baby?”
Vash bites his bottom lip and nods frantically, his eyes falling closed as Wolfwood pushes back in. It feels like Vash has changed inside, too, and Wolfwood shudders as each ripple caresses him.
“God, Vash,” he swears, and Vash gives a little laugh.
“Taking the Lord’s name in vain?” He asks, his words sliding into a moan at the end as Wolfwood begins to fuck him in earnest, chasing his own pleasure.
“It isn’t in vain,” he says senselessly, reaching up to run his thumb over Vash’s lips. “You aren’t in vain.”
Vash lowers his eyes but opens his mouth, his tongue meeting the pad of Wolfwood’s thumb. Wolfwood pushes back, past Vash’s teeth, letting him suck for a few moments before taking his hand back and dragging Vash’s saliva underneath his erect clit.
“Hey,” Wolfwood says, rocking his hips harder, trying to drive his cock as deep as he possibly can. “Do you always glow like that?”
Vash flushes and covers his face with his hands.
“Yeah…”
“Let me see it again.”
“I don’t know if I…”
Wolfwood places his hands under Vash’s knees and pushes his legs up towards his chest, nearly folding him in half.
“Don’t know if you can? I’ll help you,” Wolfwood promises, grinning down at Vash. He looks wrecked already, his brows drawn tight and his lips bitten red. The plant marks are only just visible, but they seem to thrum with a soft echo of light.
Wolfwood makes Vash hold his legs open, forcing him to grip his own thighs. It seems to ground him a little, giving him something to hold tight to while Wolfwood’s now free hands roam his body. One hand skates over Vash’s skin, starting low on his belly, all the way up his chest to curl his fingers around Vash’s bared throat. The other hand returns to Vash’s clit, taking it between his fingers and jerking it like Wolfwood does to himself.
“Yes, Nick!” Vash cries, his voice breaking. “Harder-“
“If I go any harder,” Wolfwood growls in warning. “I won’t last.”
Vash whines and thrashes his head back and forth, and Wolfwood tightens his grip high on Vash’s throat to keep him still.
“Please!” Vash gasps, resorting to babbling nonsense now that he’s being held down physically. “If you cum in me, I- I’ll really- Nick, I think I’ll cum again, too-“
“You want me to?”
“Yes-!”
With such genuine encouragement, Wolfwood can’t help but give him more, of everything, fucking him as hard as he can physically manage. The bed slams against the wall, competing with Vash for the loudest in the room.
“I’m gonna make a mess,” Vash sobs, his toes curling helplessly, his nails scrabbling for grip against his metal leg, his metal hand bruising the skin of his other thigh.
“Do it,” Wolfwood encourages breathlessly, feeling Vash tightening around him in waves. Vash starts to shake again, and then- he gushes all over the both of them. He isn’t even moaning, just crying as he spasms around Wolfwood’s cock, his body erupting in markings. The glow is intense enough to light up the entire room, and Wolfwood closes his eyes to shield them.
He can’t help but follow Vash, thrusting frantically and groaning loudly through his own orgasm, shaken by everything he’s just experienced. Wolfwood has rarely felt blessed, but he does now, as the bright sweep of pleasure envelopes him. It feels incredible, beyond any quick orgasm he’s had with a stranger in some off beat motel, but the best part… the best part is knowing that he was able to please Vash, to give him love he obviously hasn’t felt often. If at all.
When he can move, when the glow has faded, Wolfwood pulls out.
The sound is gross, and Vash makes a weird noise, but other than that, he’s silent. Wolfwood lays down next to him, watching him breathe, watching his stomach quiver, but his arm is thrown over his eyes.
“Blondie,” Wolfwood murmurs after a moment, reaching out to brush his fingers against Vash’s arm. “You okay?”
Vash’s mouth twists into a grimace. “I’m sticky,” he says, his voice still a little breathless.
“Shower?”
Vash gives a noncommittal hum. “You go first.”
Wolfwood was kind of hoping they would shower together, but he knows a dismissal when he hears one. He gets up and disappears into the bathroom, giving himself a quick rinse and trying to think of anything at all instead of the memory of Vash in the throes of orgasm.
He thinks about asking for another kiss when he gets out, wondering if this was a good idea now that clarity has settled back in. Would Vash want to do this again? Or pretend like it never happened? What does this mean for them now?
But Vash is too quick, darting into the bathroom as soon as Wolfwood steps out, the door slamming shut behind him.
Wolfwood sighs, but distracts himself with something practical, dressing in an undershirt and boxers and retrieving his clothes from the floor. He strips the bed and tidies up Vash’s clothes, too, settling them in a haphazardly folded pile.
For a brief moment, he thinks about nicking Vash’s underwear, because they’re still damp with slick and smell like him, sweet and musky. But the chance he’ll be caught is pretty high, so he leaves them with Vash’s things and steps outside for a breath of fresh air and a quick smoke.
As he breathes smoke in and out, he thinks, running the experience over in his head, trying to pinpoint where he made a wrong turn, for Vash to be like that at the end. He felt like Vash was enjoying it, but now he isn’t sure. It might be the alcohol still in his blood lending him bravery, or the way satisfaction still thrums through his body, but he resigns himself to ask, to make it right.
When he returns inside, Vash is out of the shower. He sits on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the wall. Wolfwood doesn’t like that zoned out look. The look he gets when he’s thinking too hard, or remembering something unpleasant.
“I can hear you worrying,” he says loudly, grabbing his water flask and handing it to Vash. “That bad?”
“No!” Vash says, snapping back to attention. He takes the flask and opens it, but doesn’t drink. “It was good.” He smiles. “Really. I just… you know.”
“I don’t,” Wolfwood says, flopping onto his back beside Vash, his head pillowed in his hands.
Vash drinks, then, and he places the water flask on the floor before turning to look down at Wolfwood, his expression tender, but complicated, his brows drawn into a worried pinch.
“You’re the only one who’s seen that,” he says softly.
“Really?” Wolfwood asks, hoping his disbelieving tone hides the burst of strange pride that blooms in his chest. “How? Seems like this isn’t your first rodeo.”
“It isn’t,” Vash confirms.
“So are you telling me I’m the first to get you to cum?”
Vash blushes hard, turning away with a huff. “I can do it myself,” he says. “Just. Not with anyone else.”
“And you went to bed with me fully expecting not to be satisfied?” He’s proud. Wolfwood is so proud of himself that he feels dizzy, and yet, he’s so angry at Vash’s treatment at the hands of others that he wants to vomit.
“I wanted to do it for you. I like sex regardless,” Vash says, looking up to the ceiling. His plant markings have faded, now, and he looks normal, except that his eyes still shine a little brighter than they should, in the dark like this. “I’m just surprised. And…” Vash looks back down at Wolfwood with that charming smile. “Thank you.”
“For what?” Wolfwood asks, trying not to sound as furious as he is as he sits up. “Quit thankin’ me for the bare minimum. You deserve all of that and more.”
He can tell Vash isn’t convinced, so he leans in and bridges the space between them. Vash comes to meet him in the kiss, and when they part, Vash touches their foreheads together. It softens Wolfwood, the anger draining out of him, as if Vash himself is a balm.
“I thought at the end, there, I’d done something wrong,” Wolfwood admits, and it makes Vash shower his lips and cheeks with kisses.
“No, no, it was amazing,” he babbles, clutching at any part of Wolfwood he can touch. “I just felt shaken, you know? Nobody’s ever done it to me like that.”
“Trash,” Wolfwood murmurs grumpily, unable to truly articulate how he feels. He hates the thought of anyone leaving Vash hurt and unsatisfied, and it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, knowing he’ll eventually do the same.
Vash cups Wolfwood’s scruffy cheeks in his hands, kissing his nose and forehead tenderly.
“I really do like you,” he says.
“I like you, too, Blondie,” Wolfwood responds honestly, feeling his heart twist as he thinks that the days they have left are numbered. It’s his own fault, and the ever present guilt rears it’s ugly head, but Wolfwood quashes it down. He wants to at least worship Vash as well as he can in the time they’ve been given. He lets himself relax into Vash’s affection, letting himself in turn be comforted. They lie together in the dark, their legs and breaths tangled, and Wolfwood pretends that this night will never end, that the taste of Vash will never leave his lips, that his hands will never again be empty, that they have forever to themselves.