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“There’s no plan, there’s no kingdom to come
But I’ll be your man if you got love to get done”
No Plan, Hozier
Fucking Vash is no easy feat. Coupling, fornicating, making love—whatever Vash wants to call it—it’s not easy.
It’s more like an addiction, an aching under Wolfwood’s skin, in his bones, it sets a fever in his mind. It’s worse than the itch for a cigarette or craving the bite of whiskey in his throat. Cigarettes and whiskey don’t speak back to him, they don’t grab at him, they don’t demand every breath from him.
Vash is everywhere, he’s everything. A living, beating pinpoint of the universe’s entropy. Wolfwood’s mind can’t make room for anything that isn’t him because everything belongs to Vash. The bedsheets, the pillows, his own hands, his own skin, each burning pant, each echoing cry and grunt. He is consumed and recreated by Vash in the same moment.
Vash pounds into him with a brutal pace like a dog in heat that Wolfwood thinks has gone on for hours, so long that Wolfwood’s knees gave out and the only reason his hips are still canted up for Vash to take is because of Vash’s strong grip on his waist keeping him there. His prosthetic, normally unusually cool to the touch, is warm against Wolfwood’s skin with how much the fever has set into them.
Vash lurches forward, curling around Wolfwood, and groans with his release. Wolfwood sobs and drags in a ragged breath as he feels Vash’s seed push into him and drip out around his stretched hole. His toes curl, but his own cock is too spent with his last orgasm being his fourth—he’s lost count of Vash’s.
“So good, you’re so good,” Vash whines lowly, his voice delirious on prolonged lust. “You feel so good, Wolfwood.”
He’s buttering him up, he’s been doing it the entire time, and Wolfwood knows what’s going to come out of his mouth next but it doesn’t help the whimper that slips from his throat before the words are even uttered.
“Please, Nic, please, can I go again?” Vash implores, desperate and frantic. “You feel so good, so tight—you’re so perfect, I can’t help it, please, Nic?”
What is Wolfwood going to say? No? When Vash sounds so smitten and needy? When he’s already released into Wolfwood more times than he can count? What’s another one?
Wolfwood burrows his face into the pillows and nods in defeat. His voice comes out raw with the weight of too many orgasms and exhaustion as he says, “Yes…”
Vash immediately responds with delight, curling around Wolfwood’s back until their skin presses together slick with sweat, and he can kiss little pecks over his neck and spine that feel like gentle sun rays against Wolfwood’s skin.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Vash says, and already his hips are moving again, thrusting in and out of Wolfwood and spilling more of his release onto the bed.
Vash spends much more cum than is normal, and his recovery time is completely nonexistent; as soon as his orgasm hits him, he can go right back into it. There is never a moment of rest on Wolfwood’s nerves, it is a constant onslaught of overwhelming gratification until Wolfwood is raw and shivering, every thrust making grunts and moans turn to whines and pleas. And more intense than anything, Vash’s cock pulses and writhes inside him, a continuous stretch and push against his prostate and insides.
Vash’s cock is unlike any human’s; it’s only slightly longer in length but thicker at the base than any cock Wolfwood has ever seen, and he weeps into the pillows as he takes it. The only thing he can liken it to is a tentacle, and he can’t tell if it has a mind of its own or if Vash is that much of a sadist to deliver such constant, aching pleasure on Wolfwood’s nerves until his body screams with rejection.
Suddenly, Vash’s cock slips entirely from Wolfwood’s hole, and he chokes on the emptiness—until he feels Vash’s slick cock wrapping around his own, pleasure and pain from the overstimulation lighting up through Wolfwood’s spine until his vision sparkles.
“You’re hard again,” Vash breathes into his ear, and Wolfwood can tell he’s smiling, mischievous and evil, even if he can’t see him.
“Please,” Wolfwood croaks, voice half muffled by the pillows as he drools. “I don’t know if I can…”
“Do you want to try?” Vash asks. His cock strokes slow and gentle over Wolfwood’s, teases the tip, and it burns even as Wolfwood’s balls tighten.
Yes. That’s always the answer. And Vash knows it.
Vash fucks him like he’s sucking him into a black hole; a star burning up, bright and hot with every touch they share. The universe could end right outside their motel window, and Wolfwood thinks Vash would just keep hold of him.
He nods, just once, and Vash kisses his shoulder, a tenderness that is as true and honest as it is a mockery because in the next moment he swallows him whole, tongue and teeth and throat. Vash’s hands slide under Wolfwood to grab at his chest, squeezing the muscle tightly with a weak whimper from Vash as if he’s the one at risk of fading and winking out of existence, and his cock, slick with his own spend and some strange, clear substance that leaks from him like lube, constricts around Wolfwood’s cock and strokes with more intensity.
Wolfwood’s body is racked with dry sobs, his shoulders shaking against the pillows and bedsheets as he pulls in heaving gasps. He tries to burrow into the pillows, scratchy against his face with how his nerves are burning too bright around the edges, but the pillows are kinder than the tug on his cock, the sparkling firecracker pain that is too much and too good at the same time.
“No, no,” Vash mumbles. He uses his firm grip on Wolfwood’s chest to hold him fast to Vash so he can’t wiggle away. “I wanna hear you, don’t hide. You sound so sweet, please.”
Wolfwood’s voice cracks on a suffering groan, and he turns his head to the side so his mouth is free for the awful song that pours from his lips.
Vash hums, a happy, delighted tune and kisses his neck, and his cock works pain and shimmering pleasure through him. Wolfwood doesn’t know if he can cum again, it feels too intense; he might hang on like this for hours, face sticky with tears, the evidence of his previous orgasms underneath him, his cock flushed dark and taunt but unable to reach his release again—endless torture like the universe shattering around him to be consumed by chaos.
He reaches a trembling hand behind himself, grabbing his own ass and pulling the muscle back. His hole stretches tight and on display. Vash’s cum drips out and slides down his balls, and Wolfwood’s hole clenches on instinct.
“Please,” Wolfwood rasps. He’s so far away from the man he used to be, the outline of himself fraying and falling away to be pulled in by Vash’s collapsing star.
Vash retreats at Wolfwood’s word to give attention to his begging, and Wolfwood feels his hands replace his own. Vash pulls the muscle and watches Wolfwood’s hole stretch in a reverent moment of silence that would usually embarrass Wolfwood. But lost in the throbbing ache of Vash’s cock still working him, the moment passes before Wolfwood can appreciate it.
“Of course,” Vash says, and his cock unwinds from around Wolfwood to tease the tip over his entrance.
It’s equal measures of momentary relief and heartbreaking desperation—Wolfwood’s cock twitches at the sudden neglect, and despite the relief from the pain it feels like a bullet to the chest. He needs Vash’s touch as much as his body rejects it, collapsing in on himself to eat his own desire.
But just as suddenly as the attention to his cock vanishes, Vash pushes passed him entrance, and he moans as Wolfwood opens for him. The thick drag against Wolfwood’s insides are too much to bear.
“Perfect, Nic, you’re so perfect,” Vash babbles, already thrusting into him with a pace Wolfwood can no longer hope to keep up with. “So tight, so hot—nngh—I’m gonna cum again, please, can I cum inside?”
He bends over Wolfwood again, chest to back, and breathes heated puffs of air into his ear as he begs. He doesn’t know why Vash asks every time; he hasn’t come anywhere but inside of him.
One of Vash’s hands find his chest again, squeezing a large handful of muscle, and the other one circles fingers around Wolfwood’s cock. Wolfwood lurches in shock, biting hard on a pillow and groaning deep in his chest as Vash jerks him in pace with the thrust of his hips.
“Are you gonna cum again?” Vash asks. He sounds too sweet for the torture and burning pleasure he’s trying to milk from Wolfwood. “You can do it, you’re so good. I wanna feel you cum around me. You feel so, so good.”
Wolfwood can feel the grind of his teeth even through the soft down of the pillow as he bears each demanding thrust and every slick stroke of his cock. His whole body feels like one big ache, shaking in anguish as his cock throbs and his balls tighten.
“Please, can I cum inside you?” Vash prattles on, a never ending stream of praise and begging. “I want us to finish together, please, please—“
“Yes,” Wolfwood finally manages to get out around the grit of his teeth and pillow. His voice is muffled, and it takes every ounce of awareness he has left just to speak. “Just please, shut—“
“Oh, thank you, Nic, thank you,” Vash buries his face in the crook of Wolfwood’s neck, kissing and sucking and threatening his skin with the tingling graze of teeth. “So perfect, I love when you cum, it feels so good…”
Vash is going to hold out until Wolfwood finishes, he knows it. Wolfwood’s release is like a prize Vash childishly demands as if his own orgasm isn’t enough to satiate himself. He must consume Wolfwood too—a black hole absorbing him into its mass destruction.
Vash’s teeth sink into his skin, and Wolfwood shouts into the pillows. His stomach clenches, and his balls draw as his cock jerks, spurting weak, clear fluid onto the bedsheets. His release brings dazzling pain and pleasure that burns like a star right through his nerves, his vision sparkles, and his voice fades to a rumbling sob. It’s quick, a shallow orgasm forced out of him, but it leaves him drained and delirious.
Vash stills above him, a keening sound falling from his mouth, and Wolfwood feels him finish, cum spilling out around Vash’s cock even as he stays fully seated inside.
They breathe in the silence, Wolfwood’s pants shallow and stinted with hiccups as he tries to hold back his watering eyes. Vash murmurs, but Wolfwood can’t hear it; he thinks he might just be making gentle, nonsense noises just for the sake of calming him, but Vash’s cock still pulses inside him, softly brushing against his prostate.
Despite feeling turned inside out, Wolfwood musters up whatever version of himself he can steal back from Vash, and says, “Are you done?”
Vash responds openly, “Do you want me to be done?”
Wolfwood considers the question. He aches all over, muscles trembling and pushed passed their limit, and his nerves lit on fire. He’s boneless and exhausted and thinks his brain must’ve been consumed by the flames hours ago.
“One…” Wolfwood huffs into the pillows. “One more time.”
“Yes!” Vash says eagerly. “Yes, thank you!”
Wolfwood submits to the black hole and lets Vash work the burning bright light of a dying star from him.