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He knew what Vash’s kisses tasted like.
Urgency. Wet, fast, and deep. Salty with sweat and sometimes even coppery with blood. The smell of gun smoke so pungent that their tongues dance around it in every flicker. Wolfwood even wonders if the heat coming from their mouths could ever ignite and make everything around them blow to smithereens. It surely feels like it already. Every single inch of his skin, slowly set ablaze as Vash’s lips keep colliding with his.
They also taste like whiskey and laughter, and Wolfwood swears he can taste Vash’s dimples. He’d never thought he could ever associate a smile to a taste, or such a joyful feeling to a person. In the end, there were all too many things he’d never thought possible before meeting Vash the Stampede, the mighty contradiction himself.
Other times, they taste like a secret, a dark alley, and cigarette smoke. He tastes the words that get stuck in his throat as Vash’s lips steal the gasp right out of his mouth. He tastes the hesitance of Vash’s tongue like they are doing something nobody could ever find out about. He tastes the cigarette he chooses to fill his lungs and keep his mouth occupied with after the blond decides to leave his lips alone and wander off like nothing happened. Just like a whisper caught in a gust of wind.
They could taste like a well-deserved rest, the first rays of sunlight that filter through the window, or the first stars that show in the night sky. Like the first time one stretches in the morning, or when one’s back finally hits the bed after a long day. Comfortable, slow, warm, and close. Like every fiber of Wolfwood’s being is melting into Vash’s. And he couldn’t be more pleased with the thought of it. When they taste like this, he can’t help but feel like that’s exactly where he belongs; wrapped in him.
But beyond Wolfwood’s comprehension, for the past few days, their kisses have tasted like something entirely different. Something more. Something he doesn’t want to recognize.
Vash’s kisses taste sinful.
He’s known he’s far less deserving of Vash’s lips since the first time he laid eyes on the tall blond. He fights the feeling of unworthiness every time their mouths meet. He stands his ground and lets himself be selfish, although he knows the only reason he has the guts to do so is because he’d do anything Vash wanted, so if his kisses —for as undeserving as they are— are what Vash wants, Wolfwood will give them all to him without question.
It has more to do with the way Vash’s hands slowly slide down his chest while Wolfwood’s tongue is too busy to pronounce a single complaint. How he rolls his hips against Wolfwood’s, making him take a step back to try and stop the friction from worsening the situation down there that he’s so desperately trying to ignore.
He doesn’t even want to think about it. He can’t. He mustn’t.
One shall not think impure thoughts.
It’s pathetic, really, how he has resulted in reciting the Hail Mary every time Vash starts… kissing him like that, as it is the only way he can stop thinking about it.
“Hm?” Vash spoke that one time, and it took Wolfwood three whole seconds to realize he was panting and whispering incoherently. He merely shook his head, trying to make Vash ignore him. Thankfully, he let it go.
But it only took Vash’s lips to start trailing down his neck while his hips ground down against his, for Wolfwood to open his big mouth and start mumbling prayers again.
Dios te salve María, llena eres de Gracia, el Señor es contigo —Vash’s tongue played with the sweat running down Wolfwood’s neck— bendita eres entre todas las mujeres —his oddly sharp teeth slowly sank into his skin, definitely leaving a mark— y bendito es el fruto —before sucking a love bite. And it feels…
Bendito es el fruto…
Bendito es el fruto…
Fuck, what was the next line? His mind is going blank.
Bendito es—
“That!” Vash’s eyes were boring into his way too suddenly. “You were whispering something in Spanish, I think.”
Wolfwood stays perplexed and silent.
“Something about a holy fruit?”
Wolfwood’s blood ran cold in an instant. Since when does Blondie know Spanish? There’s no way he’d understand what he’d been doing, right?
“I get that I’m a Plant, but calling me a fruit? Don’tcha think that’s a little too far, Nick?” Vash grinned, tilting his head a bit to the side, before slowly leaning down to give him a chaste peck on the lips, far too innocent for the position they were in and the way he’d spoken.
“Are you that hungry?” Vash’s low voice washed over him like chills going down his spine. It was too much. He had to get out of there. His tongue outlined Wolfwood’s upper lip slowly, caressing it slowly.
The God-damned fruit from Eden, that’s exactly what Vash was. Pure and never-ending temptation.
“If you wanted to eat me—“
Vash didn’t get to finish that sentence before Wolfwood was already pushing him off him, strong hands gripping Vash’s arms and ripping him away from him in an instant. Vash looked startled, to say the least. A variation of feelings reflected on his face far too quickly, but some were familiar enough for Wolfwood to feel a cold pinch in his heart.
Worry, regret, fear.
“Can we—” Wolfwood tried, then cleared his throat in a lame attempt to regain his composure, “Can we not do this right now?”
It came out a lot more rudely and defensive than he intended. He instantly wanted to take it back, hands feeling cold and heart banging against his ribcage in regret, but he swallowed his apologies, just like he gulped down all those pleas his tongue so desperately wanted to pronounce against Vash’s ears. Every time.
Doubt, worry, regret, fear.
Beautiful blue eyes slowly shattering right in front of him.
Shit, he shouldn’t have said anything. He was such a coward. How could he ever call out Vash for being an escapee and running away from everything, when he was just the same; if not worse?
Because at least Vash wore his heart on his sleeve anywhere he went.
“I-I’m tired,” he lied, and he knew Vash saw right through it too.
At least Vash had the courage to speak the truth and confront his feelings; act on them.
Shame, doubt, worry, regret, fear.
“Oh! Y-yeah! Don’t worry about it,” Vash chose to give him an out, and even with a shaky voice, he smiled, “we should probably head to bed anyway, it’s getting late.”
Wolfwood merely nodded, feeling far too embarrassed by his actions. Coward to a fault.
He hated feeling like this. He hated that he wanted to worship Vash, shower his body in love and praise more than anything else in the entirety of existence, because he desperately needed to show him, in every way he could, how much he unfathomably adored him. And yet he couldn’t.
His body and his voice betrayed him every time, acting and speaking for him before his heart had any say in the matter. Because whenever he thought about it, about praying into Vash’s thighs the way he does when he admits his sins in a confessional, an immense amount of guilt washes over him and thickly makes its way down his throat, making every single touch he receives from Vash feel like it burns, in the worst way possible.
It disgusts him.
Not Vash; never Vash. He is the most magnificent and holy being Wolfwood has ever had the pleasure to meet.
No, he, Nicholas D. Wolfwood was disgusting.
He wants to crawl right out of his skin. Ask for forgiveness about something he can’t even understand why he feels guilty over. He hates himself. And he hates himself even more because of how he’s making the man he adores so deeply feel.
It’s all his fault.
“I’m sorry,” he heard Vash say from the bed beside his when it was actually Wolfwood who had to apologize; the words right on the tip of his tongue and yet not capable of being spoken. But the worst part about it was that Vash’s voice, only loud enough for Wolfwood to hear, sounded… wounded.
It was the first time in a while that they didn’t share a bed. Even when their rooms had two, they’d started to sleep on the same one, crammed like a tuna can with limbs wrapped around each other because they were a pair of big, tall, and bulky men who barely fit well in a single one by themselves. But they shared anyway. Tonight, however, Vash had laid on the other bed without a word. Wolfwood decided not to comment on it. He wasn’t sure why Vash decided to do so, but he didn’t want to bother him or force him to do anything. Maybe they needed space.
“You don’t have anything to apologize about,” was the best reply Wolfwood could come up with, not even facing Vash as he spoke. He hoped his words would ease Vash’s worries, but he knew deep down that they wouldn’t.
“I feel like I pushed too far, I shouldn’t have—“
“—I was just tired, alright?” Wolfwood grumbled, “You didn’t do anything I didn’t want you doin’, so don’t worry about it. Now, get some rest, Spikey.”
Silence.
“Alright,” the response came weakly, and the way he’d voiced it felt like he was still going to say something else. Either another apology or a question for Wolfwood to get a real answer.
In the end, it seemed Vash had opted to let the topic go, although all those things left unsaid made themselves known in a silence that was far too loud for either of them to sleep.
That night was one of the coldest Wolfwood remembers after he’d met Vash.
After that, Wolfwood tried to stop their kisses from getting heated; as a precaution, he would tell himself. In his logic, if he avoids getting to the point where they’re both too turned on and he starts getting pathetically overwhelmed, he won’t have to turn down Vash and make him feel shitty. And he won’t feel that awful guilt that clogs his lungs every damn time! Therefore, he’ll just never allow them to get there in the first place. Problem solved. Easy.
Until a single sentence shattered his false illusion of control.
“Why do you push me away?”
And it was spoken with such a broken voice, that Wolfwood was unable to ignore the weight of it.
They hadn’t even been kissing when Vash asked.
In fact, they hadn’t kissed in about a week. Now that Wolfwood thinks about it, he hadn’t touched Vash at all during that time either. He didn’t know how he’d controlled himself, and yet he’d been praising himself for being able to keep himself in line; not at all noticing how gravely it had affected Vash. Wolfwood thought he hadn’t noticed.
“You never reach out to me, not if I don’t do it first,” Vash kept explaining, and by the way the words kept tumbling out of his mouth, it seemed like he’d been thinking about them for far too long, “you don’t touch me if I don’t, you don’t kiss me if I don’t. Hell, you don’t come near me if you don’t have to. These days, you barely spare me a glance! And whenever I hugged you or kissed you, you’d let go so fast and walk away, leaving me behind. And I’m so afraid to ask why because I fear your answer.”
Wolfwood stays frozen in place. The ash from the lit cigarette balanced on his lips falling to the ground.
“Do you not like me?” Vash whispered nervously, then paused, inhaling deeply before spitting out, “Did you ever?“
“Spikey—”
“—Did I push you away? What did I do?” Anxiety was clear in his voice while he flailed his hands around, “Why won’t you tell me? I swear I won’t—“ He came to a sudden halt, shoulders stiff, and hands still hovering in the air before falling in defeat, “Wait, did you—“
“—Blondie—”
“—do all those things only because I wanted you, and not because you wanted me too?”
“—Vash.”
That is what finally makes him snap out of it. Wolfwood’s cigarette was quickly tossed away and forgotten the instant Vash started spewing such nonsense, and he gripped him by his sides.
“I’ve never adored anything this much in my life, and I am so scared.”
The confession was out of his mouth before he realized it. Glassy blue eyes stare at him in disbelief, unblinking, as if the mere action would shatter the moment. Vash clearly wanted him to continue, maybe just to repeat it, but Wolfwood was at a complete loss for words.
“Shit, Vash I—“ he loosens his hold on him, but not quite letting him go yet, he already made that mistake once, he never wants to do it again, “I’m so sorry.”
God, he wanted the sand to swallow him whole, he couldn’t even look Vash in the eye as he repeated his apologies, slowly lowering his forehead to Vash’s.
He felt Vash’s cold, prosthetic hand on his cheek, he flinched for a second, unintentionally moving his head away, before clenching his jaw and letting it be embraced by his caring touch.
But of course, Vash noticed, “What’s wrong?”
Wolfwood shook his head, but his body contradicted him the moment Vash’s other arm touched his chest —not even in a sexual manner— and he recoiled, shoulders tensing despite himself.
“It’s okay, Nick,” Vash’s voice was so sweet, much sweeter than Wolfwood deserved after how horribly he’d been treating him.
Another tiny shake of his head.
Vash didn’t remove his hands from his body, still gently caressing him, trying to bring him any sort of comfort.
And they were so close. Their bodies were almost flush against each other, their lips were inches away. Wolfwood could feel Vash’s breaths on his skin, and the hotness of it made his cheeks redden, even when there was nothing heated going on yet, he could feel his heart start to race and his head start getting more and more overwhelmed.
He knew Vash could feel it in his palm. Yet, like the kind soul he is, he didn’t comment on it. Even after he already had to deal with Wolfwood’s odd behavior, he was still being patient and understanding. Wolfwood didn’t deserve this.
However, despite everything, he wanted to kiss Vash. He still wanted to be selfish.
Far beyond his need to flee and hide somewhere where he can feel ashamed of himself in private, came his need to keep touching Vash; give him everything. God knew he wanted to kiss him so badly. And he was right there, waiting for him.
But no matter how much he wanted to do it, he felt an invisible force pulling him back, making his chin stay in place and his lips remain unmoving.
Why was he so pathetic?
“I’m a coward,” Wolfwood said finally, whispering the words right into Vash’s lips, yet not touching them at all.
“What do you mean?”
“I can’t kiss you,” Wolfwood doesn’t know why he felt the urge to be this honest all of the sudden. Perhaps his heart finally decided to pour itself out to the angel he’d always deemed Vash to be.
“You can’t?”
“I— I can’t explain it,” Wolfwood kept his eyes tightly shut. He didn’t want to see him, listening to his voice was enough. He let his instincts take over, just like he did every time he confessed his sins, avoiding the priest’s eyes even when there was a grid dividing them in the confessional.
“But do you want to?” Vash’s unwavering, calm voice put him at ease, “Kiss me, I mean.”
“More than anything,” he found himself responding before he realized.
“Then, why don’t you?”
He took a deep breath, and this time, no answer came to mind. He really didn’t know why, did he? His brows were furrowed in thought as he replied, “I dunno— I just can’t do it.”
“Yes you can,” he could hear Vash’s smile, genuine as always. His hand slowly made its way to Wolfwood’s hair and gently tangled his fingers in it, “Try.”
And Lord knows he tries. He tilts his chin up, but right when he’s about to touch Vash’s lips, he turns his head. His nose brushes against Vash’s cheeks as he tries again, quite literally dancing around his lips, almost like he’s intentionally teasing him. He opens his eyes just a fraction and sees the corners of Vash’s lips upturned to a gentle smile. His cheeks flush even more embarrassingly red. He really can’t do this. He can’t take this attention either.
“You got this,” Vash whispers encouragingly, yet he makes no move to help Wolfwood’s predicament, “you’re so close, Nick.”
Wolfwood groans and lets his head rest on Vash’s shoulders, giving up his miserable attempt already. “Why are you being so patient?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Vash nudges him sweetly.
Wolfwood doesn’t want to say it. He’s too ashamed to admit it, but he is even more so to tell Vash about it. However, he can’t resist telling him the truth about whatever he asks him. He grips Vash’s hips as he says onto his shoulder, “I don’t deserve it.”
They’re so close together, that he feels Vash’s sharp inhale.
“Who told you that?” He reprimands him, “Nick, I’m the one who decides who’s worthy of my patience, and you’re even more than worthy.” Wolfwood’s fingers tighten his hold on Vash. He feels even more humiliated after hearing Vash’s response. He already regrets telling him. “Now come on, give me a kiss, Nico. I know you can do it.”
He feels a rush of blood invade his cheeks again at the nickname. He’s barely able to lift his head from Vash’s shoulder this time. One look into his sky blue eyes and he’s already hiding himself on the crook of his neck again. He feels himself shaking.
“I really can’t, Blondie,” he whined. Honest to God, whined. Why was he doing this? He should go. He should apologize. He should—
His head was being lifted by Vash’s hands, carefully holding his cheeks. He opened his eyes just to understand what was going on.
“Look,” Vash said before diving in and giving Wolfwood a quick, chaste kiss on his lips, “it’s simple!” Another one, accentuated by Vash’s cute voice saying muah, “Try it,” one more, “just like this,” muah!
Wolfwood stays stunned for a second, but immediately after, he follows after Vash’s lips naturally. Just like a sinner follows God’s footsteps, for as ignoble as they are, they have faith God might look their way and absolve them of all their wrongdoings.
In the end, he’d always followed Vash as if he’d lead him to Heaven.
Perhaps he would.
To him, Vash truly was a divine being that cleansed his soul, and he had no idea why he’d been graced with such a blessing. For all he knew, Vash was Heaven already. Therefore, he’d been too afraid to indulge in his own, carnal and impure desires; dirtying what is holy with his depraved and undeserving hands.
And he kept kissing Vash, his own desire and need to satisfy Vash crashing onto him like a tidal wave. Like he had to make up for what he hadn’t done in the past week.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered as his lips continued to glide against Vash’s, his tongue making its way into his mouth like he wanted to write down the apology on the roof of it. Still, he can’t help the heavy feeling starting to drown his insides.
“There’s no reason,” Vash’s mouth hung open, his hot breaths spreading across Wolfwood’s cheeks as he took everything Wolfwood was giving him, “to be sorry.”
“I don’t know why I am this way,” Wolfwood bit at Vash’s bottom lip, a little harder than he intended. However, if he got to hear the sound Vash made every time he did, he might start doing it that hard intentionally.
The uneasiness inside him starts to reach his throat. He swallows it down.
“It’s okay,” Vash breathed out, “it’s normal to feel a certain type of shyness when—“
“It’s not shyness,” Wolfwood blurted out, his need to confess taking the better of him once again, “Or well, not exactly.”
Vash leaned back, enough to look at Wolfwood’s face properly, yet their bodies still remained wrapped together.
“What do you feel?” Vash asked, and immediately, there was a bashful look on Wolfwood’s face, avoiding his eyes. “Come on, big guy, don’t shut me out again,” he held on to his chin and made Wolfwood look him in the eye, “Let’s do this together.”
Wolfwood swallowed. He really doesn’t know how to say it. How can he put that terrible feeling into words? That God-awful sensation that creeps into his throat and makes his hands want to stay tied behind his back forever as he looks nowhere but to the floor.
“I just,” he tries regardless. His eyebrows knit together and his shoulders start to tense again. He can’t get the words out of his mouth. He doesn’t want to hear them either. He hates this so much. He hates this. He hates this. “I just feel like it’s wrong.”
He can’t look at Vash. He feels so ashamed. He holds his breath.
“What is? Kissing?”
“Everything,” he replies too quickly. He looks at Vash, scared. But Vash’s eyes, like the angel he is, remain kind and open. His expression even softens. Wolfwood can’t take it. He’s not worthy of such care.
“Could you explain that a little more?”
Honesty continues to spill its way out of Wolfwood’s heart and mouth, no matter how much he’d rather stop everything and run. It’s because of Vash’s divinity, he’s sure. He can never lie to God, he can never lie to angels.
So he won’t now either.
“I just feel like I shouldn’t be kissing you like that,” he admits, “It’s like it’s something forbidden or bad. Touching you, or you touching me…” He swallows, he feels hot all over, “I feel guilty just thinking about it…”
They kept looking at each other, and Vash’s question went unspoken. He didn’t want to be Vash’s problem to fix, and he most certainly didn’t want his pity. After another moment of silence, Wolfwood finally stops holding back the words inside him and says, “Because it’s a sin.”
A beat.
Wolfwood held his breath. He didn’t want to hear Vash’s response, it took everything in him not to look away again.
“Oh Nicholas, how could this be a sin if it’s born out of love?”
Air filled his lungs, and he felt so light he thought he was about to faint. He could barely focus on what Vash was saying.
“Do you think your benevolent god, who created you with love and to love, would ever deprive you of feeling those same emotions yourself?” Vash said, and the tenderness in his eyes made Wolfwood’s insides tingle weightlessly, not even close to how thick and disgusting they’d felt before.
“He gave you this beautiful body,” Vash continued, emphasizing his statement by brushing the tips of his fingers from Wolfwood’s arms to his neck, “magnificent in every corner and crevice, with the ability to feel good in it, just for that: to live the experience of having a body and enjoy it in every possible way you can.”
He smiled warmly as his hand finally reached Wolfwood’s cheek, and his voice was so soft, that Wolfwood’s entire body had gone rigid, “Don’t you think it’d make Him a cruel and unjust god if he gave you this gift with the condition to never use it?”
Wolfwood swallowed.
“He made your body, a miracle in and of itself, this way for a reason, didn’t he?” Vash continued, “Don’t you think that life would be pure torture, rather than a pleasant journey?”
Wolfwood blinked, and it took him around five whole seconds to finally digest all of what Vash had just said.
“But that’s exactly what it is, isn’t it?” Wolfwood replies at last, “His disciples must fight through the carnal and mortal temptations as a sacrifice to prove their obedience and loyalty.”
“You believe such an almighty and powerful being, far above any other creature in the vastness of the universe, cares that much for whether or not you indulge in natural human activities?” Vash chuckles, although it feels nothing but genuine and caring, “Do you think he’s that selfish?”
No.
The answer was no.
And it was the first time ever that Wolfwood had ever thought that way.
“You believe ‘holding yourself back’ is more valuable to Him than your faith on its own? Would He be that greedy?”
No.
“You believe your God would punish the living this way, during the entirety of their lifetime, instead of wanting them to experience everything about his divine creation? Would He be that vicious?”
No.
Wolfwood stayed in silence, but by the look in Vash’s eyes, he could tell Wolfwood was replying to every single one of his questions in his mind. Almost like he could hear him.
Vash nodded, “Nick, the only creature who would ever wish such a terrible fate upon a man, is another man himself.”
He spoke in God’s name as if he knew Him himself. It was ironic, really, how Vash was slithering his way around Wolfwood’s body like that godforsaken snake from Eden, while he was also the closest thing Wolfwood would ever know to an angel.
“Love is the one thing God will never punish. You have no reason to ask for forgiveness when you love, and act on such desires.”
Wolfwood doesn’t realize he’s chasing after Vash’s lips until they crash with his. He couldn’t fully comprehend what made his body completely abandon that rigid sensation of being locked behind an invisible force that kept him in place, but his mind was too foggy to focus on that at the moment.
He wasn’t thinking.
It’s like all coherent thought had vanished from his mind and instead, his body was listening to a very low whisper that came from the very depths of his heart; which was used to being so quiet, always disregarded and ignored, that he’d never let it command his actions.
He was feeling.
In a matter of minutes, a dam had suddenly broken, and Wolfwood’s emotions were pouring out of his body in any way they could, from any part of his body they found. His lips, his hands, his voice, his chest, his fingers, his tongue, his eyes, his teeth, his hips, his nose, his feet.
And Vash was eagerly receiving all of them, welcoming them with just as much fervor and want.
Their lips slid against one another as if it had been the first time they’d ever tasted each other. It was hot and sloppy, wet and desperate, with absolutely no room for hesitation. They were in synch and out of it at the same time, like they were fighting against rhythm itself.
Wolfwood’s hands had reached onto Vash’s face, cradling between his palms with such gentleness and adoration, nobody would ever believe he carries a deadly weapon twice his weight every day.
In turn, Vash holds on to Wolfwood’s waist, fingers digging into his suit so tightly, that Wolfwood hopes it ripped. He wants to feel his skin on his, he wants to feel Vash’s warmth engulf him.
It's when Wolfwood’s hands slide down Vash’s chest obscenely, already beginning to grab onto the edge of his shirt, that Vash leans back, a string of saliva still connecting their mouths before he moves far enough away.
“We don't need to rush,” Vash says, and although he sounds out of breath, his voice is just as honest and careful as it always was. “We don't have to do anything yet.”
At first, Wolfwood wanted to laugh at Vash’s contradictory statement; being the one who just convinced him to stop restraining himself and let himself act on his desires. But when he fully took in Vash’s expression, the blueness of his eyes, and how they reflected pure fondness, he understood.
He was right. There was no need to rush. And that was also the only way Wolfwood could make sure he wouldn’t act mindlessly and feel worse later. He could never thank Vash enough, for he understood him before he even understood himself.
Vash recognized that Wolfwood, above everything else, needed time and reassurance to be comfortable in his own skin, and with someone else’s. He knew Wolfwood needed to be absolutely certain that whatever he did, he was doing because he was loving intensely and being devout, and not because he was giving into temptation and sinning.
He nodded.
“Thank you.”
After that, their kisses were back to normal, if not better.
Little by little, the bitter aftertaste that was usually left in Wolfwood’s mouth after Vash’s melted with his, began to dissolve. The heaviness inside his stomach began to lift, and his restless nights faded away as he fell asleep with a certain blond wrapped around him.
It was a slow process, and they both knew that. Some days were better than others. But slowly, Wolfwood grew more and more sure that whatever desire he felt towards Vash was not rooted in lust and sin, but in love and an irrevocable sense of adoration.
Whenever they’re making out, their kisses inevitably get heated, but eventually, they always part. This has helped Wolfwood stop feeling like he needed to fulfill something, or like Vash expected him to act a certain way; to give him something he still felt uneasy about giving.
Vash was aware of how vulnerable Wolfwood felt with even the most innocent of touches, and he valued and respected them more than anything. Vash knew how meaningful they were to Wolfwood, so they were twice as meaningful to him.
It made Wolfwood feel warm and fuzzy all over whenever he thought about it. He feels so full, he hadn’t even realized how empty he’d felt before.
They’d been communicating better after Wolfwood had laid out all his worries to him. It was all thanks to Vash, really, as Wolfwood had yet to understand how the mere sound of his voice and the look in his eyes would make him spill every single one of his thoughts, no matter how ashamed he was of them.
That’s how Vash learned to praise him whenever they kissed and Wolfwood grew antsy.
He whispers sweet words into his mouth, telling Wolfwood just how good he’s doing, that he feels so cared for when he’s in his arms, and that he wants him just as much. It always calmed him down instantly, and even encouraged him to keep going, to not shut himself down, and return to his toxic and negative self-talk. Because above everything else, he trusted Vash, far more than he trusted himself.
Wolfwood feels absolutely satisfied every time they kiss.
Until he doesn’t.
He knew he could never get enough of Vash, that much he admits. But it had been a few weeks since he’d grown... hungrier. Like he wasn’t satisfied. No, not fully.
At first, he felt greedy, but the guilt died down almost as quickly as Vash’s moans escaped his throat. He wasn’t being greedy at all. Quite the contrary. He hadn’t been devout enough. He’d been worshipping Vash too lightly. He had to show him just how faithful he was.
They’re in their motel room after they clocked out for the night. It'd been a long day, just like most of them were, but it had felt all the more excruciatingly slow because Wolfwood had never found time to touch Vash. Not a single brush of their fingers. Not a simple peck on the lips.
After having dinner and one drink, Wolfwood suggested that they should go to their room. Vash had initially thought that he’d meant to sleep, as they had both been complaining about being so tired, but after Wolfwood’s foot had lewdly caressed Vash's shin below the table, while his half-lidded eyes locked on his lips and he oh-so provocatively licked his own... there was no room to question what he was really asking for.
They had barely made it through the door when Wolfwood was already pushing Vash against it. The desperation was palpable, abundantly clear by Wolfwood’s lips and hands, hurriedly kissing any part of Vash that was accessible, and holding onto any piece of him that he could reach.
Vash was panting immediately, attempting to match Wolfwood’s rapid pace. His red coat had been tugged off him and discarded to the floor, which he would usually be mad about and pick up immediately, had Wolfwood not been holding him so tightly, rendering him absolutely helpless, still pinned against the very thin door.
They should be worried about it popping off its hinges, with how heavily they were leaning against it.
Unluckily for Vash, whenever he tried to do the same thing and shrug Wolfwood’s suit off his shoulders, the other man was completely uninterested in helping him out, leaving Vash with no remedy but to hold onto his broad back as he continued to kiss him stupid. At one point Vash opted to leave his mouth hanging open so that the other’s wet tongue could trace every corner of his mouth as he so desired.
It was when Wolfwood started sliding his hands down Vash’s waist and hips that the blond reacted.
“We should— Eeep!” Vash yelped as Wolfwood started palming the waistband of his pants, already fumbling to unclasp his belt, “We should get further inside, everyone will hear us.”
“Good,” the other replied, unbothered, as he slid the belt off its hoops and once again threw it to the ground with little regard to how loud the metal of the clasp clacked onto it. Vash winced.
“Wolfwood,” the breathlessness was out of his voice immediately, gulping it down and willing his trembling away as he tried to sound stern, although the glee and excitement were still very visible in his eyes, accompanying the rising blush in his cheeks.
“Blondie,” the other mimicked his tone with a sly smirk, one second before dropping his hand down the front of Vash’s pants, unzipping them slowly and making sure Vash could feel the pressure of his fingers as they moved down.
The gasp that escaped him was too much of an encouragement.
Wolfwood observed him intently, watching how every fraction of Vash’s face reacted to his movements. He was mesmerizing, already withering in his hold and Wolfwood hadn’t even touched him yet. He grew hungrier by the second, all too eager to find out what expressions, what sounds, he could pull out of the blond. He needed it.
He reached out to pull down Vash’s pants along with his underwear, but immediately, Vash’s hands latched onto his wrists and stopped him.
They locked eyes.
Vash’s looked just as eager, shining as if the room had no roof and the night sky was reflecting in them. But there was still a hint of something else in them, something that dulled the glimmer.
“Are you sure?”
Worry.
Wolfwood smiled, and it seemed like that action alone restored the brightness in Vash’s eyes. “As sure as I’ll ever be.”
They shared one more kiss. This time, it didn’t feel desperate or filthy, instead, it felt like a promise. A silent phrase that went unsaid between them, and yet both of them heard perfectly.
Wolfwood moved to push Vash’s clothes off again, only to be met by the same restraint. He leaned back, question clear in his expression.
“There’s something else,” Vash said, and although he didn’t look worried anymore, he still looked… nervous?
Wolfwood continued to stare, gaze softening and signaling him to keep going. His grip on Vash’s clothes did not slacken, though.
“I uh…” The blond tried, his cheeks turning even redder in embarrassment, “I’m not like you. Down there, I mean. I don’t— Haha, uhm. We don’t have the same uh… Because Plants! Plants don’t have— Well, they’re more like women’s—“
“—Spikey.”
“Yes?”
“I don’t care.”
“Oh.”
“Is there anything specific you want me to know, though?” And he knew Vash understood what he was referring to. He wasn’t asking about anatomy, but rather about how he could make sure he could pleasure Vash.
“It’s… It’s complicated.”
“Then, you’ll guide me through?” Wolfwood kissed him slowly, “I’m a fast learner. I want to make you feel good, Blondie.” He kissed his way down Vash’s neck, hands slowly starting to push Vash’s pants down once and for all.
“Mhmm,” Vash all but whined, finally easing his grip on Wolfwood’s wrists, yet not releasing his hold as Wolfwood slid his pants down to his thighs and kept kissing and gently biting at his neck.
Finally, Wolfwood’s hand made its way from Vash’s exposed hip bones, down to the warm heat between his legs. The moment he made contact with it, Vash tilted his head back, sighing.
Wolfwood rested his forehead on Vash’s shoulder, looking down to where his hand connected with his body, even if he couldn’t actually see anything but a tuft of blond hair. He’d go by touch alone.
Truthfully, he didn’t know what he was doing, not from experience at least. But he trusted Vash’s body to be honest, and he was far too curious and eager to be bad at this.
His middle finger traced the middle of it all, back to front, and if Vash’s shudder was anything to go by, Wolfwood knew it was a good start. He repeated the motion a couple of times with feather-light touches, not yet applying much pressure, until Vash’s hips stuttered forward.
He could feel Vash’s folds in his fingers slowly moving away from the center as if they had a mind of their own. Entranced by their movement, Wolfwood followed them and brushed the tips of his fingers against them delicately, even as they kept scurrying away.
They felt like flower petals. Delicate and somewhat oval-shaped.
Vash’s moans flew right into his ears, inciting him to repeat his actions until Vash’s moans turned to pleas. To touch him where he wanted, where his body was begging to be touched.
Wolfwood’s fingers finally danced their way to where Vash’s heat and whines led him. His digits were instantly covered in slick, viscous, and smooth. He had the sudden urge to lick it off his fingers and taste Vash at last. But like the faithful and self-controlled disciple he is, he restrained himself.
It wasn’t the time yet.
He let his thick fingers play with Vash’s entrance, captivated by the way he felt in his hand, how his body was imploring him to slide into it, throbbing in anticipation.
“Stop teasing,” Vash begged, breaking Wolfwood out of his trance. He looked up at the blond, all red cheeks, half-lidded eyes, and open mouth; breathless.
He replied with a gentle smile and another caress of his fingers, closer to slipping through but not at all inside yet, “But you’re so beautiful like this.”
Vash groaned, back arching as his whole body spasmed. It wasn't until now that Wolfwood noticed how tightly Vash was gripping him, nails biting into his toned forearms. He took advantage of Vash’s reaction to finally shove his fingers into him, two at once.
“Ahh!” Vash exclaims, completely taken by surprise as the sudden girth intrudes the most intimate part of him. He holds on to Wolfwood even harder than before, his head banging on the door behind him almost as loudly as his cry.
Wolfwood’s curious fingers don’t stop touching him, not minding the pace or how much force he was using. It’s as though he wanted to map Vash’s insides, to understand every single corner, to feel how much of his slick he could gather when he pressed that way that made Vash thrash around and buck his hips uselessly.
“Wait, be gen— Nngh—” Vash tried, he was squirming and trying to get out of Wolfwood’s unrelenting hold. “Nick, please. Ahh— just a little gentler, please? Mhhh…”
His fingers stilled suddenly. Wolfwood had been so absorbed by own his eagerness that he hadn’t tuned in to what Vash actually desired. He obeyed instantly.
The change in Vash’s reaction was immediate. His moans turned from frantic and somehow pained, to borderline obscene and pornographic. Wolfwood was able to slip a third finger inside him shortly after, making Vash shudder and whine even louder. The concern about being right behind the door evidently long forgotten.
He felt Vash’s flesh hand slide down to where Wolfwood’s fingers disappeared inside him, all while still sighing and breathing loudly through his mouth, eyes closed. He caressed Wolfwood’s hands tenderly as if thanking it for its caresses. Then, he took Wolfwood’s thumb and slowly guided it upwards, until it made contact with a small bundle of skin he hadn’t noticed before. Perhaps Vash’s petals had been covering it earlier, as it felt all too soft and fragile. Vash reacted instantly to the stimulation, crying out loudly and closing his eyes even tighter.
Wolfwood gave it a few more experimental flicks, making sure to be as careful as he could, even as his fingers had only ever held guns before. Vash whined, melting in his touch, and the effect those strokes had on him was far stronger than anything else Wolfwood had done up to now.
Without hesitation, he gave up his hold on Vash’s hip to get his other hand around the sensitive bud. Vash choked on a moan, anchoring himself on Wolfwood’s wrist, but not making a move to push him away. Wolfwood was the only thing he could hold onto so that he wouldn’t fall or lose himself.
Wolfwood had heard of something like this before, in women’s anatomy. He assumed this was something like that. It also felt like a tiny dick, given its resemblance to a phallic shape and how it slowly grew harder as Wolfwood continued to caress it.
He played with the small bundle of skin, too interested in the way it made Vash’s body shiver and his hole pulse. He switched between rubbing it, to stroking it between his digits, jerking him off. Vash moaned all the while, surprisingly loud and unabashed; the squelching noise that came from between them not far behind.
Once Wolfwood got a nice rhythm, he concentrated on thrusting his fingers deeper into Vash, as far as they would go, massaging his insides and matching the pace with his other hand.
“Oh fuck, Nick—” Vash moaned immediately. His knees buckled involuntarily, and as Wolfwood was no longer keeping a hold on him, he impaled himself further down Wolfwood’s fingers. The cry that escaped his lips sounded so profane to Wolfwood’s ears, it made him blush embarrassingly scarlet.
He hadn’t noticed just how painfully hard he was too. Stupidly so. He ruts his hips uselessly to the air, unable to rub against anything.
That was until he felt Vash’s thigh between his legs.
He looked up, and Vash’s glassy blue eyes were already staring at him. Blissed-out and breathless. Wolfwood’s hips unintentionally ground down.
The pleasure he felt rush from his cock to the rest of his body was insane, and so incredibly potent he’s sure he almost came.
He couldn’t do this. He had to stop. He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t—
“Come on,” Vash whispered, eyes still lost in Wolfwood’s expression, “use me.”
Wolfwood had to close his eyes, jaw clenching. He knows Vash noticed the effect his words had on him, as Wolfwood’s fingers stuttered and fought to go back to their earlier pace, hopefully making Vash shut up and forget his current predicament.
“You’re good,” Vash continued to whisper sweet affirmations, voice barely stable, “you’re being so wonderful to me, Nico. Let yourself feel pleasure too.”
Wolfwood hissed through his teeth, hips slowly giving in and humping onto Vash’s thigh. The pressure and the feeling of the fabric’s friction against his cock was almost too much. It felt too good. He did it again, despite himself, catching the moan on the tip of his mouth before it slipped away.
He had to stop himself before getting lost in the sensation. He couldn’t feel this way, he shouldn’t. It was disrespectful of him to act in such a way, to use Vash to chase his own release even after he’d been given permission.
Because this wasn’t about him. He didn’t start this because he wanted to feel pleasure.
That was not important.
He wanted to worship Vash. This was about him. He wouldn’t give in to what his body craved.
He wouldn’t give in to temptation.
Wolfwood fought the urge to thrust his hips forward, even as his cock ached in protest. He could still feel the wetness spread onto his underwear, precum not at all stopping from dribbling out regardless of his movements.
Before Vash could complain, Wolfwood thrust his fingers inside him, slightly harder than before, and stroked his small cock at the same time, effectively shutting him up. Instantly, he leaned forward and kissed him. The sight had been too alluring to keep passing by.
He devoured Vash’s mouth, biting and pulling his spit-covered lips with his teeth. Vash gave in effortlessly, letting Wolfwood eat and drink his fill, mouth open and waiting. His breaths were hot against Wolfwood’s face, making him all the more thirsty, and involuntarily matching his breathing to Vash’s.
They kissed and kissed and kissed. All tongue and spit, and Wolfwood bit and swallowed like it was his last supper.
His movements became urgent and erratic, synching with Vash’s pleas and growing frenzied state. Vash’s moans became louder and shorter, crying out between kisses, coaxing Wolfwood to keep going, to go harder, to go faster.
Vash came loudly, fiercely. Gripping Wolfwood’s arms in a bruising hold as he closed his eyes tighter than ever before, head thrown back and banging against the door once more. He held his breath in a silent scream, and Wolfwood held his own too, completely unaware.
He almost came at the mere sight, hips buckling automatically and eyes rolling back to his skull. He had to bite his lip, will his arousal away as he felt Vash throbbing incessantly around his fingers. He gave an experimental thrust into him, and if he’d thought Vash couldn’t come any harder, he was so so wrong.
Another gush of slick and thick cum leaked out of Vash and onto Wolfwood’s hands, slowly dripping down his wrists. He felt the liquid’s heaviness pooling right at the very center of his palm. This was known for being a sacred part of the body, a very specific point for religion. A symbol of suffering just as much as divinity.
The warm, growing pressure in the middle of his palm reminded Wolfwood of the markings in Christ’s hands; the stigmata. The wounds and scars that signaled both torture and passion. It felt wrong to compare himself to the Son of God, instantly regretting thinking about it. Yet, he couldn’t help but feel closer to Him.
Wolfwood was walking the same path, following his footsteps a bit too closely.
He already carried a cross every day.
This was just the first nail to bury itself in his flesh.
And with each step he took, he was closer to his crucifixion. Wasn’t he?
The sweet smell coming from Vash is what broke his trance. He smelled delicious. Wolfwood felt dizzy with the desire to put his mouth to it, to taste Vash, to drink him empty.
Groaning, he kept moving his fingers, Vash tensed even harder than before, eyes still closed as his silent scream slowly came down to small whines and whimpers. At one point, he tried to push Wolfwood off, no doubt growing oversensitive, but he was too weak. Wolfwood didn’t stop, at most, he granted him a more languid and deeper pace.
His mouth met Vash’s again, movements just as slow as the fingers caressing his insides. Their lips barely touched, brushing against each other open-mouthed rather than really kissing.
Vash came a third time, and Wolfwood tasted his salty tears on his tongue. He hadn’t gotten the blessing of tasting Vash yet, but his tears would do for tonight. When his pleasured sighs and satisfied whines became more pained, and Vash once more scurried away from his grasp, Wolfwood finally let him go.
He gently slid his fingers out of Vash’s pulsing entrance, making another spurt of cum pour into his digits and collect on his palms, and he released his hold on the sensitive bud. Vash whimpered at the loss, breathing shakily as he tried to grab onto something so that he wouldn’t slip the rest of the way down the door.
Wolfwood strived to help him up, using his forearms to try and get Vash to stand properly, as he didn’t want to smear his cum and slick-covered hands on his shirt, or let it leak to the floor. Instead, he kept his palms facing up behind Vash like a priest does to worship and call God.
Was He watching?
They held each other in a tight embrace, their breaths mixing together as Vash continued to come down from his highest peak, and Wolfwood felt just as warm and spent despite still having a rock-hard cock and not cumming once.
Once Vash was able to support his own weight, although he still leaned on Wolfwood, he tilted his head back and finally met his eyes.
There was no need for them to say anything, they knew they both understood. Like they were somehow connected, feeling the same emotions, thinking the same thoughts. But just like every other time, Vash spoke nevertheless, “Thank you,” he exhaled. Kind eyes beaming, the brims of his irises still swirling in pure bliss and desire.
Wolfwood blushed at the words, ridiculously embarrassed, as if he hadn’t just done the most obscene and sacrilegious act in his life. He was speechless, really. Feeling too many things at once, and suddenly being flustered and shy for finally processing what he’d done didn’t help his predicament.
There was something about Vash being thankful for Wolfwood that just made his heart race and his body tremble, because he knew it ran far deeper than just being grateful for the orgasms he’d been able to pull out of him. He knew what Vash meant.
Thank you for being vulnerable.
Wolfwood was barely able to hum a response, nodding before hiding his face on Vash’s shoulders again. He heard Vash chuckle softly.
After a few moments, he felt Vash’s hands slowly trail down his front and rest on his waistband. Wolfwood immediately froze.
His cock was begging to be touched, so much it ached. But he couldn’t bear the thought of Vash doing it. Touching him. Having him in his hand. Seeing his face. Hearing him. Feeling him. It was too much. The heat on his face deepened, and his heart raced pathetically. Not today, not today. He can’t. He can’t. He can’t.
“I’m good,” he lied, voice strained. But was it a lie, when he knew he wasn’t ready yet? No. He’d told the truth.
“I can take care of you too,” Vash said, voice just as soft and soothing as it always was, “it’s okay, Nick.” He didn’t move his hands for even an inch, calmly waiting for the other to respond.
Wolfwood’s breath grew rougher, and he started feeling anxious. He should go. Why did he do this? It was obvious Vash would want this. It wasn’t fair to him. It wasn’t fair to deny him.
“I-I—“ Wolfwood stuttered. Maybe he should say yes. Vash had good intentions, he wanted to help. He knew what was better for him, right? He should say yes. That would make Vash happy. If that’s what Vash wanted—
“You don’t have to say yes,” Vash assured him as if he’d read all of Wolfwood’s distressed thoughts. He can hear the gentle smile on his lips, “it’s just an offer. I simply want you to know that you and your pleasure are also important. And they matter to me. So, I’m happy to do the same for you, any time you want.”
He placed a kiss on the side of Wolfwood’s head. He relaxed.
“Thank you,” he replied finally.
He felt so full. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly how Vash accomplished to make him feel that way. It was a breath of fresh air. He felt respected. Cared for. Like he was worth waiting for, like he deserved to take the time he needed to let his guard down.
They spent the night curled up together after Wolfwood helped Vash get cleaned off, kissing him tenderly all the while. He’d washed his own hands hesitantly, one could almost say regretfully, as he watched the misty white fluids disappear down the drain. Yet he continued to feel the stigmata for the rest of the night, perpetually reminding him of what he’d done.