Archive of Our Own

There was very little left in the world that could surprise Vash the Stampede, so when Meryl just happened to hit a man wandering the desert that, less than twenty seconds prior, had been completely uninhabited, he knew that Nai had something to do with it. When he first saw the man, he felt a flash of sympathy for whatever poor soul his brother sunk his claws into this time. Then he felt a substantially larger amount of sympathy when Meryl hit him with the camper, followed by a great deal of guilt.

Now that he was alive, conscious, and mostly coherent, Vash was able to get a better sense of Nai’s latest toy. The man was abrasive, there was no other way to put it. He stank like cigarettes, he cursed like a bandit, he made a point to let Vash know that he blamed Vash for the entire situation. None of Meryl’s apologies and insisting that she had been the one driving could change his mind. His name was Nicholas D. Wolfwood, and he did not want to be here.

Vash snuck a glance at the man. He was pressed as far against the car door as he could be with his cross situated between his legs. He caught Vash staring and flipped him off with a glare.

Behind his sunglasses, and despite his bravado, his eyes were sad. He really didn’t want to be here anymore than Vash wanted him to be here. Idly, Vash wondered if babysitting duty was some kind of punishment for the people in Nai’s employment. He could imagine Nai delivering the order in that overly theatrical way of his. Go fetch my brother. I was expecting him to come try and kick my ass several months ago, but naturally he has no respect for my busy schedule.

Nai really didn’t have to send someone out to drag him to JuLai kicking and screaming. Destroying Jeneora Rock was enough. Stealing plants was enough. In all honesty, if Vash hadn’t been tied up and hung upside down for a couple months, he would’ve gotten to JuLai ages ago—but out of the two of them, Nai wasn’t the patient one. Vash dropped his chin into his hand and stared out the window at the unending desert.

The dunes rolled past in great dusty waves, but they were too bright to look at directly, even with his glasses. He kept his eyes on the cloudless sky. What did Nai leverage to get the man next to Vash into his service? What did he promise if Wolfwood delivered Vash to him safely?

Seventy years ago it had been a young girl with a massive double-barreled shotgun, barely old enough to drink, whose even younger sister had been taken hostage. Nai had wanted to see if Vash still had his bleeding heart. Forty-three years ago it had been an old man with a cross-shaped semi-automatic rifle, dying of an incurable disease Nai had promised to heal, because Nai wanted Vash to witness the lengths people would go to to keep themselves alive. Now it was Wolfwood, with a massive cross wrapped in cloth that Vash thought might be a rocket launcher, but knowing the Eye of Michael, it would really be anything at all. Perhaps it was a gigantic bomb. Perhaps it really was just a massive cross.

He was not the first messenger Nai had sent, nor would he likely be the last. But, Vash thought, as he discreetly glanced at Wolfwood once more—his brother certainly picked one that stood out.

Which was to say, in simpler terms, that Wolfwood was fucking sexy.

He was well muscled, with round pecs that strained the fabric of his shirt and thick thighs in his tight pants. His skin was clear and smooth, which was damn near impossible to preserve on the arid planet, and richly tanned. He had a strong jaw and a stronger nose, and his full lips were wrapped around a cigarette that he was trying to light with wide, veiny hands.

Vash gulped.

“No smoking in the van,” Roberto said with a lit cigarette hanging out of his own mouth. He was looking at Wolfwood through the rearview mirror.

“You're a hypocrite,” Wolfwood responded. He successfully got the lighter to strike and cupped his hand around the flame, lighting his cigarette with practiced, easy motions. Vash watched the way his fingers moved and tried not to think too hard about what those fingers would feel like in his mouth.

He couldn't even muster up the decency to feel ashamed of himself. He’d been traveling with Meryl and Roberto for weeks before they met Wolfwood, and had been strung up like a piece of meat for months before that. He was so pent up it took almost nothing to get him going.

However, since Vash was a good person and a considerate traveling partner, he simply toughed it out. He ignored it. Most of the time it was easy; he couldn't be horny if he was being run out of a town or trying to stretch a handful of coins between gas, bullets, and food. Camping out under the stars in the freezing desert night while listening to Roberto snore did not a romantic evening make.

Other times, though. Vash watched Wolfwood roll his cigarette to the other side of his mouth, his sharp teeth holding it in place while he winced and stretched out his neck. He made a small, quiet grunt of discomfort and Vash felt a gush of wet heat between his legs.

Other times, it was unbearably difficult.

He took a breath and held it until he felt like he could reasonably behave like a normal person again. His noisy exhale caught Meryl’s attention, and she looked at him with questioning eyes in the rearview mirror, but he waved her off. He was suffering from an affliction that couldn’t be readily cured, not unless she had a bucket of ice water or a willingness to bend him in half and rail him until he couldn’t walk—

Vash held his breath again, since clearly the first time didn’t work.

Besides, he reasoned, there were other reasons why he rarely took the time to indulge other than common decency and lack of privacy. He still remembered the last time he spent the night with someone else, and suspected he always would, no matter how much he’d like to forget.

It was recent, about fifty years ago. There was a man in a bar who took a liking to him and loosened him up with drink and conversation. They left together. The man kissed him against a wall. He slid a hand between Vash’s legs. He felt how Vash was different from men, different even from women. The words he said after, and the angry, drunken punch he'd tried to throw, more than convinced Vash that he was better off dealing with his biological impulses alone. Or not at all.

So—that brought him to the present. Having Wolfwood corral him toward Nai without giving into the urge to lay it down on him sloppy-style would be difficult, but Vash could deal with it. He was stronger than his silly little hindbrain and whatever misguided urges it subjected him to.

In the weeks that followed, Wolfwood did not make it easy to ignore his stupid hindbrain. It seemed like Wolfwood took every opportunity to tempt him instead, whether it was with lingering glances, accidental touches, or even naked admission. Vash couldn't stop thinking about their conversation in the belly of the worm, when Wolfwood looked at him with those wide, sad eyes and said You really mess with me. He said it like nobody had ever assumed he was capable of goodness before, and maybe no one ever had.

It made Vash want to fuck his brains out and prove how good Wolfwood could be.

I could fix him, Vash thought as he sat on the rickety stool in the quiet bar, watching Wolfwood keep a flailing Meryl back by placing his hand on her head and holding her in place. Vash crossed his legs uncomfortably as Wolfwood smirked, a devious little quirk of his lips that made Vash hot all over, and tried to be normal for five seconds.

“We should've left him with the worms,” Roberto groused, coming up next to him with two glasses of whiskey. He offered one, then shrugged and downed it when Vash shook his head.

“He’s a good guy,” Vash insisted.

In front of them, Wolfwood was blowing smoke rings in the air as Meryl shrieked at him, his arm still braced against her head.

Roberto looked at him strangely. “...Sure,” he finally replied. Then he sighed, and tilted his head back to look at the ceiling like it would offer some sort of salvation. “Of course you’d go for a guy like that. He's just your type—you’re both crazy as balls.”

His words didn't sink in until a few moments later, because Vash was distracted by the way Wolfwood’s Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed. He gave Roberto a wounded look. “You think I’m crazy?”

“Batshit.”

“Roberto,” Vash whined. He slumped to the side so his head rested on Roberto’s shoulder. “I don't try to be crazy. Things just…” he mimicked an explosion with his hands, “...happen.”

Humanoid Typhoon. The epithet followed him wherever he went, for long enough that he forgot where he originally picked it up. It was likely that whoever bestowed it upon him was no longer alive.

It was a name that both invigorated him and saddened him, gave him strength and tore him down. Typhoon; meaning tropical storm, an ancient word to describe a natural phenomena that could not exist on a planet with no oceans nor tropics. Water; the backbone of life and most coveted resource in Noman’s Land. Vash went where he was needed and tried to provide succor, to fix what needed fixing, but no matter what he did, he left incredible damage in his wake. And so the cycle continued.

He preferred The Stampede instead. It sounded lively and thrilling, and reminded him of cowboys.

“No kidding,” Roberto said. “Just being around you is going to drive me to an early grave.”

“Don't say that,” Vash pleaded. “You really don't have to come with me if you don't want to, I promise it's fine.”

Roberto took another sip and savored it. “I didn't say that. Wherever this takes me, you bet your last bullet it’ll make a damn good story. I’ll never have to take another assignment again.”

Vash sighed. Usually he traveled alone, but these three…well, Wolfwood was probably being paid to be here, and Roberto had just admitted he and Meryl were here for their paper, but Vash found himself becoming fond of them anyway. The four of them worked well together. He was going to treasure the memories of the van and camping and surviving by the skin of their teeth forever. Even if they weren't here for him, it was nice to be with them.

“Vash, I’m making an executive decision. We need to leave Wolfwood in a ditch somewhere.” Meryl stalked over to him in a huff, smoothing her hair down and righting her hat. Wolfwood made a noise of protest and she stuck her tongue out at him.

Vash held up his hands. “Ah, well…”

“Nobody’s getting rid of me, short stack, so don’t even try. You think you can tell me what to do?”

“I know I can! And even if you won't listen to me, you’ll listen to Vash,” Meryl fired back.

Wolfwood eyed Vash curiously, with a weight in his gaze that made Vash flush and swallow hard, then turned his attention back to Meryl. “Yeah. Not happening.”

“Why won’t you listen to me?” Vash whined. “What did I do?”

“Nothing, it’s ‘cause I don’t listen to anyone—”

“Yeah, because you’re such a brat,” Meryl cut in.

“Say that again, pipsqueak, I dare you.”

“Enough.” Roberto interrupted. He pinched the bridge of his nose and pointed to Wolfwood with his other hand, still holding the now-empty glass of whiskey. “You, corner. Now.” He pointed to Meryl. “Rookie. Other corner.”

“But, senpai—”

“Now.”

The twin shocked expressions on both Meryl and Wolfwood were too comical to ignore, and Vash giggled out loud. He immediately regretted it when the action drew Roberto’s ire.

“You know the owner of the inn, right?”

Vash nodded quickly.

“Then what are you still sitting here for? Go get us some rooms,” Roberto said roughly. “My god, kids these days…”

Vash scurried off to the sounds of Wolfwood and Meryl getting into it again, this time from opposite sides of the room. He smiled to himself.

The bar was attached to the inn, a dusty little ramshackle place where he’d passed through a few times in the decades before. It was run by Jeanine, the foul-mouthed innkeeper and bona-fide leader of the town, and what she lacked in bedside manner she made up for with quality rooms and a strong supply of drink.

“Jenny,” he greeted warmly, resting his chin in his hands on the front desk.

The tiny woman behind the desk glared at him over her wire-rimmed glasses. She looked him up and down, then huffed. “You sure don’t age a bit. And it’s Jeanine, to you.”

“Aw, c’mon, we’re friends, right?” Vash asked.

“Friends are people you drink with. You are the world’s most annoying guest.” She held the facade for a few more seconds, then her expression softened just a hair. “What can I do for you?”

Vash held up four fingers. “Four people, so two doubles, please!”

God, just the thought of putting his feet up in an actual bed for once instead of trying to get comfortable in the backseat of the van was making him starry-eyed. First order of business: shower. Next: sleep for more than six hours, maybe more than eight if he was feeling spicy.

A sudden, sharp pain in his ear brought him back to the present. “Oy, are you listening to me?” Jeanine said. She pulled the tip of his ear harder.

“Ow, ow, ow, Jenny, my ear–”

“It’s Jeanine.”

“Jeanine! Sorry, I'm sorry, ow!”

Jeanine released his ear and grunted. She pulled a half-smoked, lint-covered cigarette out of her shirt pocket and lit it. “We only got single rooms left.”

Vash rubbed his ear tenderly, the skin hot and inflamed. “What?”

His ears were wrong. That was the only reasonable conclusion, he must have sudden-onset rapid hearing loss, or Jeanine pulled something loose when she yanked at it, because there was just no way that she didn’t have a single double room left.

“Are you sure?” he asked again, folding his hands together. “Could you just check one more time? For me?”

Jeanine glared at him from behind the stacks of loose papers and folders. The lines on her face were deeper than the last time Vash had stopped through, when he could’ve sworn that she said they were adding more double rooms specifically because Vash kept passing through with travelers.

She swiveled around on her stool and looked at the cabinet of keys hanging on the wall behind her. She made a grand show of counting how many were gone, “Room 101; taken, 102; taken, 103; taken by that horrible, money-stealing bastard, 104; taken…” until she reached her final available rooms. “Room 108, 109, and 110 are the only rooms I got. All singles.”

Vash despaired. He could hear Meryl and Roberto bickering behind him, instigated by the occasional remark from Wolfwood. They were low on money, everyone was cranky, and Vash couldn’t remember the last time he’d tasted a meal that wasn't sand worm. He didn't know what he was going to tell them.

“You better pick who you want to share with,” Jeanine said, motioning with her head at the group. “If I were you, I’d steer clear of the girl. There’s a hefty cleaning fee, and I don't want any noise complaints.”

“We’re all just tired and want to sleep,” Vash said quickly. “No noise complaints or cleaning fees necessary.”

“Mm. Keep it that way.”

Vash smiled tightly at her, then slumped over as soon as her back was turned. Three beds, four people. He could always sleep on the floor, he supposed. It couldn't be any more difficult than sleeping squished on his side of the van. At least he’d get to stretch his legs out.

He went over to his friends and clasped his hands together. “Um, they only have three rooms left.”

“Great, you and Catholic Guilt will share and we’ll take the others. Problem solved.” Roberto’s voice was tinged with annoyance. He took a swig from his flask, whiskey glasses long since abandoned, and the sweat stains on his shirt were dark and fresh. “Fuck, I need a shower.”

“Why does she get her own room?” Wolfwood complained. He gestured up and down at Meryl. “She’s four feet tall, just stuff her into a drawer somewhere and she’ll be fine.”

“Excuse me!?”

“She gets her own room because she’s a girl,” Roberto said. “An’ I get my own room because it’s my fucking money.” He pulled out a cigarette, lit it, took a long drag, and flicked the ashes all over Wolfwood’s once pristine suit, much to the shocked outrage of the other man. Then he slapped a handful of coins on Jeanine’s desk, took his key, and left.

“What the hell,” Wolfwood hissed, brushing ash off of his clothes. “Who does he think he is?”

“The only one of you with his priorities straight,” Meryl said. “I need a bath, too. And a nap. And a nice, long, quiet stretch of time to write my story.” She yawned and stretched, then stared longingly at the menu written behind the bar. “Oh, they have prickly pear cakes…”

Her sentence trailed off wistfully. Before Vash really knew what he was doing, he was opening his wallet. “I have enough for one!”

Meryl blanched at the suggestion. “Oh, no, Vash, I couldn't possibly—we need to conserve our money, I don’t need a cake—”

Wolfwood knocked her upside the head, the action nearly taking off her hat. “Quit it. You wanted a cake, right? Let him get it for you.”

“Yeah, Meryl, let me get it for you,” Vash echoed. Some part of him felt oddly fluttery, and he couldn't tell if it was because of the way Meryl’s face went a dusty pink when he offered to pay for her or because Wolfwood was backing him up. “We can split it three ways if you want. So it’s more fair.”

There was a moment of deliberation, where Meryl chewed on her lip and did some quick math on her fingers, but the desire for a pastry won out over whatever else she was weighing. “Ah, it’s been so long since I’ve had anything sweet,” she sighed happily.

Vash smiled to himself and ordered the cake. It came out steaming hot and small, a crumbly dark pink square with white icing and lighter pink sprinkles. It smelled heavily of the cactus fruit and something lightly spiced, too: maybe cardamom?

He took it back to his companions carefully wrapped in the napkin it came on. Wolfwood had acquired a cheap tin butter knife in his absence, which he used to slice it evenly into three tiny pieces.

It was a laughably small portion. Even so, Meryl treated it like the most decadent treat on the planet, savoring each bite with a blissed out grin on her face. There were specks of frosting on her lips that Vash couldn’t quite draw his attention away from. “Wow, thank you Vash,” she said. “Oh, this is so good…”

Vash rubbed the back of his neck. He needed to make a calculated retreat, go somewhere where he wasn't being bombarded by his hot traveling partners. “Ah, don’t mention it! Wolfwood, do you like it?” He glanced at him to check, and all his thoughts immediately ground to a halt.

There was icing on Wolfwood’s palm. He caught Vash looking at him, and then without breaking eye contact, licked it up. Vash felt his body heating up as he watched Wolfwood’s tongue disappear behind his thick lips, the movement of his jaw as he chewed, the bob of his throat as he swallowed.

“‘S good, spikey. Thanks.”

Vash opened his mouth, closed it, then tried again. When he finally did manage to make words come out, they were humiliatingly shaky and high-pitched. “G-good! Glad to hear it! Glad I didn't waste my money. Not that it would be a waste.”

He laughed nervously, fiddling with his thumbs, while Meryl and Wolfwood exchanged a confused look. The silence stretched on long enough that Vash began to sweat.

“...Well, I still need to shower, so I should…go,” Meryl started. As she got up she placed a hand on Vash’s arm, which he did not flinch at, nor did he immediately compare the size of her hands to his own. “Thanks again. See you tomorrow morning?"

He placed his own hand over hers and grinned. “Yeah. Get some sleep, okay?”

She nodded, and then he was left with Wolfwood. Alone. Because they were sharing a room.

“You gonna eat that?”

“Hah?”

Wolfwood gestured toward his abandoned slice of prickly pear cake. “You forgot to eat yours. Hurry up.”

Vash started. “Right!”

He shoved the whole slice in his mouth quickly, fast enough that he nearly choked. Briefly, he noted that it was cardamom he smelled earlier—but he had bigger things to worry about. Namely, Wolfwood watching him. Why was Wolfwood looking at him?

He swallowed the lump of cake and gagged when it got stuck. Once he was up, he made a show of brushing all the crumbs off his jacket and presented himself to Wolfwood. “All done!”

“What, you want a fucking medal? Let’s go, Needle-noggin.” Wolfwood hoisted the punisher higher on his shoulder and shoved his free hand into his pocket. When Vash still didn’t move, he jerked his head toward Jeanine’s desk.

The key. Right, they had no key. Vash spun on his heel and strode over to Jeanine, who dropped it into his hand without him asking. “Cleaning fee,” she reminded him in a stern voice.

Vash clenched his hands into fists and pasted a smile onto his face. “Thanks, Jenny, you’re the best.” He was never coming back to this inn again.

The rooms were situated off a long hallway attached to the other side of the bar. Naturally, that meant Vash and Wolfwood’s room was at the end of the very long hallway. Naturally, that meant Vash had to walk next to Wolfwood and do anything in his power not to expire.

Naturally, he failed at it.

“Okay,” Wolfwood said, stopping in the middle of the hallway. “You’ve been acting extra weird all day. ‘Fess up.”

“‘Fess?’”

“Yeah, confess, ‘cause I’m a priest. Did you hit your head?”

Vash stalled, putting the tips of his index fingers together and rocking on his heels. “Um, well, I really don’t like it when you turn on the A/C in the middle of the night, because it’s already below-freezing in the desert—”

Wolfwood groaned and started walking down the hall. He got a few steps away, then turned and motioned for Vash to follow.

After a moment of calming his rapid-fire heartbeat, Vash did. Half-crazed, he thought there probably wasn't a place on the planet that Wolfwood could go that Vash wouldn't follow. And it only half had to do with the size of Wolfwood’s ample chest.

They came to their room shortly enough, and already there were reasons to be concerned. For starters, the door was barely wide enough for Vash to stand in without his shoulders brushing the frame, and while there was a bed, there wasn’t much else beyond a door squished in the far corner.

“Attached bathroom!” Vash announced. Suddenly, every complaint he had about the room evaporated at the promise of a nice, hot shower. He rushed to set his things down.

“Oy, needle-noggin,” Wolfwood asked out of the corner of his mouth as he looked around the cramped room. “Am I gonna need to leave the room at all tonight?”

Vash shucked off his bag and set his gun on the bedside table. “What do you mean?” he asked, loosening the band on his wrist and working his glove off. When he finally looked up, questioning Wolfwood’s silence, the other was grinning at him lazily, his cigarette balanced between his teeth.

“Look at the size of this dump,” he said, waving his free hand in a circle. “We’ll be bumping elbows all night.” He said it with a conspiratorial smirk, like Vash should just immediately understand all of his weird wordplay.

Vash folded his jacket and set it on the foot of the bed. “If you have something to say, you should just come out and say it,” he chided gently.

At this, Wolfwood groaned, letting his chin drop to his chest. “We’re grown men. You sure you don’t need a second to unwind? Oil the old revolver? Practice the five-finger shuffle?”

It took a moment for Vash to parse the innuendo. “Oh. Oh. Wolfwood, what the hell?” Vash said, fully intending to convey his shock but his voice came out higher and breathier than he wanted to, and it just sounded like he was into the idea. He tried to school his features with little success—had Wolfwood somehow caught on to the thoughts he’d been having all day? He ran through the day’s events, searching for a moment where he might've given himself up. Did his eyes linger? Did he–god forbid–say something?

Wolfwood was still waiting for an answer, but the corners of his mouth were quirked up. He liked watching Vash flounder.

“My–gun–is fine, thank you very much,” Vash said. “I don’t get bothered by that stuff.” Lie. “I can’t remember the last time I felt the need to.” Another lie. “You should be worried about yourself instead!” Fuck, why did he say that?

Wolfwood snorted. “I am, ‘s why I asked. You seriously aren’t?”

“Don't act like I'm weird for not doing it when I'm traveling with people!” Vash hissed, scandalized. “I would never violate someone’s privacy like that.”

“Ha? You don’t even find an abandoned building to whack it?” Wolfwood asked. His cigarette was hanging out of his mouth, the butt of it wet and a little shiny with spit. Vash averted his eyes.

“It’s not a big deal,” he argued. “I’ve been around for a long time, I’ve survived just fine without it.”

If anything, his words had the opposite effect on Wolfwood, who looked even more pained. There was a long pause where neither of them said anything, then Wolfwood crossed the room and knocked him upside the head.

“Hey-!”

“Needle-noggin. You tryin’ to tell me you’ve been around for god knows how long and you’ve never gotten off?”

He said it like it was the most inhumane torture possible, which was rich coming from someone who called himself The Punisher. Vash rubbed the rapidly forming goose egg on his head and huffed. “I didn’t say that, I said I usually just ignore it.”

“That’s even worse. If you know what it’s like to bust a nut, why would you ever deny yourself one of the last fucking pleasures this damn planet has to offer?”

“What do you care about me busting nuts?” Vash fired back. “Do you have some kind of personal investment?”

“Do you want me to have one?”

The question came out of nowhere, and even Wolfwood seemed a little surprised that he spoke it out loud. He was leaning against the punisher, but his body was too stiff to give off his usual relaxed affect. Vash stared up at him, the blood running up his chest and into his cheeks. The crazy thing was, he wouldn’t mind it if Wolfwood did, hell, maybe he wanted Wolfwood to—

“W-what kind of question is that?” Vash yelped, crossing his arms tight around his body as if he was suddenly already naked. “You’re just hanging around me to get into my pants, I knew it, Wolfwood, you’re so mean, you’re just like all the other boys!” He wiped a fake tear and tried to calm his rapid heartbeat. Now Wolfwood had an out, and this could be just another joke they tossed between each other whenever they got bored.

Wolfwood scoffed and stood up straight, heaving the punisher over his shoulder. “Vash, shut up.”

Vash didn’t think he could shut up if he tried. He twisted his head to the side and kept running, his mouth moving faster than his brain, because anything was better than considering that maybe Wolfwood wanted him, too. “No, I won’t! I can’t believe you’d befriend me just because you’re lusting over my body, I mean, I can understand why, but you haven’t even taken me to dinner—”

Wolfwood appeared in front of him, with one hand on his chin tilting his head so they could face each other. “Vash,” he repeated, and he was so close that they were breathing the same air. Wolfwood removed his cigarette and ground it out on the dirt floor. “Shut up.”

And then he was being kissed. Wolfwood was kissing him, one hand still on his chin and the other wrapped around the punisher’s straps, his body curved over Vash’s in a way that made it feel like he was encompassing Vash, or maybe that was just the fact that Vash’s entire world had narrowed down to the feeling of Wolfwood’s lips on his own.

It took several seconds for Vash to react, the slowest reaction time he’d ever had to anything in his life. Wolfwood was like that. He was always throwing Vash off his game. He always kept Vash guessing.

It was infuriating, and it didn’t stop him from throwing his arms around Wolfwood’s neck and pulling him down on the bed. Wolfwood had to throw the punisher to the side to catch himself, but Vash didn’t give him the chance to recover. He crushed his mouth against Wolfwood’s, relishing in the surprised sound the other man made.

Wolfwood gave as good as he got, and he broke the kiss by wrapping his fist around Vash’s hair and pulling, wrenching his head back and drawing a moan out of his throat. “You kiss like a monster, needle-noggin,” he said roughly. “Heh. Humanoid Typhoon kinda makes sense now.”

Vash shot him an annoyed glare. “Yeah, yeah. Hey, Wolfwood? Shut up.” And then he pulled Wolfwood down again, taking care to kiss him more gently, to go a little slower. He felt the wet slide of Wolfwood’s lips against his own and tasted the menthol on his tongue. It was bitter in a beautiful, vivid sort of way.

At some point Wolfwood slotted a knee between Vash’s legs, grinding against his clit and the growing dampness between his legs. Vash could feel the molten hot liquid burning his entrance and the telltale stretch of his petals beginning to open. “Wolfwood,” he moaned, breaking away from the foggy haze. “I need—” It was hard to string words together when Wolfwood used his mouth like that, kissing his way down Vash’s neck and leaving throbbing red marks in his wake.

Vash threaded his fingers through Wolfwood’s hair, tightening his grip just slightly as Wolfwood nipped at his skin. The urge to unfurl was getting stronger. Vash squirmed uncomfortably, the soft edges of his petals pushing against the confines of his pants.

He must have gotten the point across, because Wolfwood slid off the bed and between Vash’s legs. His fingers made deft work of Vash’s belt. Vash lifted his hips to help get his pants off and sighed in the instant, intense relief of feeling himself unfurl completely.

The air was warm on his inner petals, and his pussy pulsed around nothing, desperate to be filled. His clit throbbed in the absence of something to grind against. Wolfwood didn’t do anything but stare, silent and still long enough that Vash remembered he wasn’t a human and he didn't have the right parts.

He jerked his legs closed, nearly clipping Wolfwood’s side in the process. “Sorry,” he gasped. “Sorry. I should've warned you.”

Wolfwood caught him by the knee and stopped him from hiding himself completely. “Shut up. Should've expected you’d have the prettiest goddamn pussy I've ever seen.”

“Wolfwood,” Vash whined, covering his face with his hands. How could he just—just say that? The praise went straight to his clit, a molten supernova between his legs. He peeked between his fingers. Wolfwood was still staring at him, but his thumb was rubbing soft circles on the sensitive inner side of Vash’s knee, and the look on his face wasn’t disgust. It was desire.

Wolfwood slowly set Vash’s legs back down on the bed once he was certain Vash wouldn't immediately close them again. “Can I touch you?” he breathed.

Vash opened his mouth to answer, then stopped. He wanted Wolfwood to touch him. He wanted Wolfwood to do so much more than touch him, but more than that, he wanted to know that this wasn’t some kind of fluke, wasn't just a way for Wolfwood to get his rocks off and then leave Vash to be nothing more than the story of the freakiest guy he’d ever fucked. He was terrified of not mattering.

He was so desperate, though, so hot and wet and needy, that maybe he could accept the risk just once. He could handle it if Wolfwood didn’t want this the way he did, he decided. “Do what you want,” he said in the end.

It was the wrong answer. Wolfwood frowned and rested his hands on Vash’s splayed knees. “Do you want me to touch you?” he rephrased.

“You can do anything you want,” Vash tried again. “I don't mind.”

“That isn’t what I asked, blondie. I asked, do you want me to touch you?”

Vash chewed on his lip. “Yes,” he finally admitted. “I want—I want to touch you, too.”

Wolfwood gave him a shark tooth grin in response and let his hands slide across Vash’s skin until they were gripping his hands. He curled over Vash and placed them on his shoulders, still wearing his stupid jacket, and let his eyes narrow in a way that made Vash gulp. “Good,” he said. “Just so happens that I also want you to touch me.”

Vash gripped the fabric with trembling hands. Wolfwood watched him as he slowly pushed the jacket off of his shoulders, down his arms, and off his body. Then, Vash ran his fingers over the collar of Wolfwood’s shirt—Wolfwood’s skin was fever-hot, dark in the dim light of the room, and Vash wanted to put his mouth on him bad.

“Been dreaming about this,” he mumbled as he unbuttoned the first few buttons of Wolfwood’s shirt. The more skin he exposed, the higher the swell of Wolfwood’s chest went, and the more unhinged Vash felt. When he first caught sight of a dusky brown nipple his breath caught in his throat.

“Yeah?” Wolfwood asked. His hands had moved to rest on either side of Vash’s head as Vash undressed him, and the chain around his neck dangled temptingly over Vash’s face. “Is it everything you ever wished for?”

Vash settled his hands on the firm muscle of Wolfwood’s chest and moaned with his mouth pressed into a tight line. “And more,” he breathed.

He could feel Wolfwood’s nipples pebbling under his palms, the tiny buds just begging to be teased—and tease them he did, rolling the tip of each between his fingers, pulling lightly just to hear the noises Wolfwood made.

“Fuck,” Wolfwood groaned, one hand coming to rest on Vash’s hip as he thrust against Vash’s wet cunt. “Fuck, that’s good.”

The fabric of his trousers and the thick, hard length within provided a rough friction that made Vash’s clit throb. Vash kneaded Wolfwood’s chest and hummed, rocking his hips. “Do that again.”

“What, this?” Wolfwood punctuated his sentence with another slow grind, one that made Vash bite his lip to keep from crying out. His heart stuttered a few beats and his petals tried, with little success, to tighten around a cock that wasn’t yet there.

Vash abandoned Wolfwood’s chest to grasp his jaw and bring their lips together, the air between them turning hot and humid as Wolfwood frotted against him. Each movement was deliciously cruel in how good it felt—delicious because of the sparks of pleasure against his clit, cruel in that his hole was so fucking empty. “Nick,” he said reverently when they broke apart. “You-fuck, you’re making me feel so good.”

His comment earned him another torturously slow thrust, the fabric of Wolfwood’s pants well and truly soaked with Vash’s desire. Vash kissed him again to take the edge off of how badly he needed to be fucked. He needed it, but he wanted to be teased a little longer.

“Let me,” he gasped once he came up for air again. “Let me suck you off. Please.”

Wolfwood’s breath stuttered in tiny, sharp bursts as his whole body tensed for a moment. “No,” he finally said through clenched teeth.

“Why not?”

Wolfwood wrapped his hands around Vash’s hips and pulled them apart, strings of Vash’s wetness tying them together. “Because if I don't fuck you soon, I’m going to embarrass the hell out of myself when you make me cum in my pants.”

His words went straight to Vash’s clit, the sharp thrill of want running down his spine. “Not fair,” he whispered. “After, then.”

“Before or after I eat you out?”

“Fuck, Nick,” Vash groaned. His cunt pulsed around nothing, the wetness spreading down his ass and on the backs of his thighs. He slid his hands down to his pussy, trailing through the mess until he reached his hole. The familiar wave of ribbed tentacles caressed the two fingers he pushed inside, trying to urge him closer to his cervix. “And—this doesn't bother you?” I don't bother you?

Wolfwood, who had been shucking off his pants and underwear, paused slack-jawed. “Hell no. You think I'd let it get this far if it did?”

Vash squeezed around his fingers. What Wolfwood was saying made sense, but…“I’m different inside, too,” Vash panted. “You should-you should feel, first, so you know what to expect.”

Wolfwood nearly tripped, stumbling out of the pants around his ankles in his hurry to return. “Thought you'd never ask.”

The first touch of a hand that wasn't his own on Vash’s inner thigh made him flinch instinctively. Wolfwood’s hands were warmer and wider than his, with longer and rougher fingers. They traced down his thighs until his thumbs brushed the base of Vash’s outermost petals. Wolfwood held him open on display, just studying him, for long enough that Vash felt the trickling of embarrassment rushing to his head again. He tried to crane his neck to watch Wolfwood’s face, but he couldn't without sitting up. His view was impeded by the slight rounding of his lower stomach, the pad of fat that protected his ovary, where Wolfwood would very shortly be. The thought made him tremble.

“Heh, you’re winking at me,” Wolfwood said from between his thighs.

“Shut up,” Vash insisted. “You’re ruining the mood. You’re a mood ruiner.”

Wolfwood pressed a kiss to the inside of Vash’s knee in apology. “Can’t help it, gorgeous. You make me stupid.”

How could he just say—Vash hooked one ankle around Wolfwood’s shoulder and urged him closer. “Feel,” he urged. “There’re a lot of moving parts. I’m not like humans.”

“I think you just want me to put my fingers in you,” Wolfwood said, but he obliged. Then his eyes widened when he realized what Vash meant. “Fuck, blondie…”

Vash threw his head back when Wolfwood entered him, the sensation not unfamiliar but heightened ten times in sensitivity when it wasn't his own hand. The tentacles lining the inside of his hole pulled Wolfwood in further, toward the back of Vash’s canal, to the rapidly softening cervix barring entry to his ovary. He tightened around Wolfwood’s fingers. It wasn't enough, he needed something fatter. He whined as he rocked his hips down.

“Jesus Mary and Joseph, I’m not going to last,” Wolfwood grunted as he withdrew his hand. Vash keened at the loss.

He watched Wolfwood stand up and take his cock in his hand, the size of it making him wonder, just for a moment, if he’d overestimated his capabilities. “Shit, you're gonna put all that in me?”

Wolfwood squeezed his hand around the base and hissed out a long, tortured breath. “Yeah, if I don't fuckin’ bust first—god, you have no idea how good you look right now.”

The open praise made Vash want to bury his head under the blankets and never come out. Instead, he let his hands wander and play with his petals, the long folds undulating gently around his fingers. He no longer cared if Wolfwood would fit or not—they’d worry about that later. Right now, he just wanted to be filled.

Wolfwood used Vash’s own wetness to slick his cock, rubbing the stiff length between his petals as Vash’s body tried to hold onto him. Every time the head passed his hole it caught, and every time Vash found himself wishing that Wolfwood would just sink in already.

His length was long, girthy between his legs, and hot. Vash had forgotten how hot a human could run. He snuck a hand between their bodies and tried to guide Wolfwood into his body.

“Impatient, are we?” Wolfwood asked through a clenched jaw, but he allowed Vash to continue all the same. He fed his cock into Vash’s hole and groaned when the tip disappeared into his tight heat.

The first breach was characterized by temperature more than anything else—temperature, and the heady knowledge that it was Wolfwood’s heat that burned Vash from the inside out. His breaths came in deep, heavy pants. This was happening.

As soon as his body caught on to the fact, to what was finally happening after god knows how many years, it reacted swiftly: Vash’s petals wrapped around the length of Wolfwood’s cock as the tentacles inside his pussy began pulling him in, keeping Wolfwood locked in his body. They drew him closer to Vash’s cervix, and his ovary, which had softened so much that it gave under the slightest pressure from Wolfwood’s head.

“What…?” Wolfwood trailed off when he felt the second, inner ring of Vash’s body accept him even deeper. “Fuck, Jesus…”

“It’s my–ah–ovary,” Vash explained through hurried breaths. The stretch was beginning to set in as Wolfwood eased his way into Vash’s core. “You need to–yes, god–need to cum inside.”

Wolfwood moved his hands to Vash’s hips, enraptured by the way Vash’s body drew him in and the hypnotizing, circular motion of his petals. “You sure? That’s not gonna do anything?”

“I don't think so,” Vash admitted. “Nothing’s ever happened before.”

At the mention of before, Wolfwood’s eyes darkened, and all talk of safe sex flew out the window. “I don’t want you to think about before,” he said in a deep, guttural voice. “Right now, I want to be the only thing on your mind.” He punctuated his words with a slow thrust, pulling out against the clinging resistance of Vash’s body and plunging back in. This time, he blew past Vash’s cervix and into his ovary, and every nerve ending and cell in him screamed yes.

“Fuck, Nico, fuck, please,” Vash babbled out in a rush. He locked his ankles around Wolfwood’s back to keep him in. “You’re so–hngh–so deep, it feels so good, you’re being so good to me—”

“Shit,” Wolfwood interrupted. “Shit. You’re gonna make me cum just from that mouth.” He pulled back and thrust in again, slowly, like he was still testing the limits of how far away Vash’s body would allow him to get. Vash thought he might burst into flames.

“Who told you you could be so fucking sexy?” Wolfwood grunted as he moved faster. “Actin’ so goddamn cute, buying cakes and being so damn nice, god, you piss me off!”

He didn't say it like he was angry. He said it like he didn't know how to say I like you.

Vash whimpered at the increased speed and the rough push-and-pull it was creating inside him. He could feel, at the edge of his mind, the storm in Wolfwood’s heart. He wanted nothing more than to draw out the tumultuous rage of guilt and fear and pain that Wolfwood kept buried deep, to bring it all out into the open so it could dissipate.

If he could give the man inside him one thing above all else, it would be absolution.

“Nicholas,” he moaned, more to feel his lips wrap around the syllables than anything else. The name was staccato on his tongue, sharp like candy, sweet like cigarettes. Vash pulled Wolfwood in closer so he could kiss his own name.

The new angle meant Wolfwood couldn't go quite as fast, but Vash found that he liked it slower anyway. He could feel every inch of Wolfwood’s cock along his walls; the heated drag, the molten press, the way his petals clung and dripped slick over them both.

“We’re–oh–gonna have to pay the cleaning fee,” he choked out, dragging himself away from the addicting taste of Wolfwood’s lips. He couldn't bring himself to care about the mess.

“Fuck the fee,” Wolfwood replied, and then he hiked Vash’s hips up further so he could pound into him relentlessly. The noises their bodies made were obscene. Vash covered his mouth to keep from adding his own cries to the chorus.

Every thrust hit him just right, the gate to his ovary battered loose and open, and stretched to the very brink in a way that felt so perfectly, deliciously full. His prosthetic hand was clapped over his mouth to silence the barrage of whimpers and high-pitched moans while the other found the rock-hard bulb of his clit. The first touch was electrifying. He was close, he just needed a little more—he could feel the pleasure threading like fingers between his ribs, drawing his attention down to the apex of it, down to where Wolfwood was moving in and out of him.

“Feelin’ good, spikey?” Wolfwood asked. He didn't pause or slow down, but he did slide his hand under Vash’s turtleneck.

“Wait, my skin is ugly,” Vash tried to say as Wolfwood tugged the hem of his shirt up, but Wolfwood hushed him.

“No, it ain't.” He helped Vash pull his shirt off then spread his hands over Vash’s chest. He didn't ignore the wires or grates, he touched them like they were any other part of Vash’s body. It made him want to cry.

Wolfwood caught his eye and slowed to nearly a halt, shallowly thrusting in and out. “You could never be ugly,” he said softly, almost to himself.

Vash’s eyes did blur with tears then, but it was hard to tell if it was from how kind Wolfwood was or how well he was fucking him. Did he know how sweetly he took aim at all of Vash’s insecurities, shooting them through the heart in ways that made Vash choke from the recoil? Did he even recognize the golden heart buried underneath all his armor and all his pain? Vash threw all his thoughts to the wayside and crushed his mouth to Wolfwood’s once more, determined to prove…something to him. You’re beautiful too, maybe. Or I think you’re secretly gentle. Or you’re kinder than you tell yourself you’re allowed to be.

He kissed Wolfwood until it felt like he was drowning, and then he kissed him for just a moment longer, just to feel the air in his lungs start to burn and remind him he was alive. When they finally broke apart they gasped in unison and shared the same breath. Vash wanted to be this close to Wolfwood forever.

Wolfwood stroked the scarred expanse of Vash’s skin in wide, sure movements before coming to rest on the mattress beside his shoulders. He took the unforgiving metal of Vash’s hand in the soft flesh of his own and held it tightly. Vash clung to him like a lifeline.

“Vash,” Wolfwood groaned, and he dropped to his elbows so their chests brushed. He jackrabbitted into Vash faster, a constant, rhythmic force that threatened to swallow Vash whole. “Gonna—gonna cum.”

His breath was hot and desperate against the shell of Vash’s ear. Vash let his legs fall open and up, so he was bent in half and spread out for Wolfwood. “Please,” he whispered. “Nico, please.”

The permission was all Wolfwood needed. He sank his teeth into Vash’s shoulder and lost his rhythm, lost his control, lost every fear and reservation holding him back. He moved like a tempest in Vash’s body, a force barely contained by the tight squeeze of Vash’s cunt. Vash closed his eyes tightly and felt the tears leak out as Wolfwood rocked up, up, into him, touching something so deep and intangible he felt it in his soul. Wolfwood was making a place for himself inside of Vash, and Vash reckoned he’d always remember being wrapped around his shape. He shoved a hand between them to work furiously at his clit, always just a hair shy of being pushed over the edge—

He teetered there, at the brink, enduring Wolfwood’s half-crazed passion with an open mouth gasping benedictions, until finally, finally, he tipped over. His orgasm crashed through him like an avalanche, and it just kept building, until all he could do was cling to Wolfwood and cry out for him. Need, want, and something that tasted suspiciously like devotion all gushed out of him in a tidal wave.

Wolfwood answered in kind, with thin, desperate noises punching out of his chest and settling in the shell of Vash’s ear, with one hand tightening his grip on Vash’s hand and the other pushing Vash’s thigh back and opening him up further. Vash shuddered and tensed under him, the pulsing throb of his orgasm still wracking his body as he leaned into the stretch.

“Vash,” Wolfwood choked out again. That clenched-jaw prayer was the only warning he got before Wolfwood finished.

Just like the first thrust, the first sensation he felt when Wolfwood came was the change in temperature. His hips stuttered in aborted little half motions. Then, thick, molten heat flooded Vash, gushing out between them once it filled him so completely he forgot what it was to be empty. His entire body sang with sweet relief.

Wolfwood kept rocking in and out of Vash through his orgasm, and when he slowed to a stop he remained inside—not that Vash’s body had any intention of letting him leave; his petals were still locked tight around Wolfwood’s cock.

Vash traced his fingers over where they were connected. Sharp little aftershocks of pleasure ran their way through his system, especially when Wolfwood shifted and tested the grip of Vash’s body.

“Stay,” Vash insisted with a whine. He felt along the seam of one of the petals, dripping with both their spend and glued to Wolfwood’s length. “Feels good.”

Wolfwood dropped his head to Vash’s shoulder. “Yeah, you really do,” he said with a barking laugh. “Your pussy moves. I came so hard I almost passed out.”

Vash laughed and pushed the hair out of Wolfwood’s sweaty face. “Told you,” he said. He paused for a moment, just appreciating the way Wolfwood’s eyelashes were longer on the bottom and the way his eyebrows furled together under Vash’s roaming gaze. Appreciating the way Wolfwood still filled him even now, now that the supernova of want had ebbed away and a calm stillness descended over them. “I love having your cock in me,” Vash murmured.

Wolfwood twitched inside of him. “Jesus, spikey.” He lowered Vash’s leg gently, taking care to massage feeling back into the numbed muscle. “You oughta go to confession for having such a dirty mouth.”

Vash tilted his head and asked, innocently, “Isn’t me confessing what got you into this?”

Wolfwood flicked his clit in retaliation, making Vash yelp and shield the oversensitive organ.

“You’re so mean!” he cried, pouting.

“You’re such a tease,” Wolfwood fired back. He did kiss an apology to Vash’s collarbone, though, and then again to the hand he was still holding. “Needle-noggin.”

Vash poked him in the forehead. “We had sex, you can call me by my name.”

“That is your name.”

“No it isn’t! You even said my name when you finished, c’mon, Nick,” he whined. He pulled his hand out of Wolfwood’s to test if the circuitry still worked after all that stress.

Wolfwood affixed him with a lazy grin, looking as cool and aloof as he could while still balls deep in Vash’s cunt. “Don’t remember that.”

“What? But you just–!”

Wolfwood shook his head and shrugged. “Sorry. You sure it happened?”

Vash squeezed him in a vice grip, making Wolfwood choke on his words. “You should be careful playing games with somebody who has you by the balls,” he said smugly. He used his petals to massage Wolfwood’s cock further, just for good measure.

Wolfwood gasped, dropping to his elbows with his forehead on Vash’s chest. “P-point taken,” he said with a shaky voice. “God. Fuck.”

Finally, Vash’s body seemed to meet the requisite time for being locked together and his petals slowly loosened their grip. They unfurled completely in a sticky bloom, and Vash winced for Wolfwood when he saw the angry red shade of his cock. “Sorry,” he began, but Wolfwood cut him off.

“Are you seriously apologizing because you squeezed my cock too good? Shut up, that was incredible,” he said in a voice that brooked no argument. He slowly pulled out of Vash, inch by inch, until Vash’s body released its hold. A flood of liquid followed suit, drenching the sheets.

“We…should’ve used a towel,” Vash said.

Wolfwood ran his fingers through the mess, letting the slick pool in his hand. He was silent, mesmerized by something.

Vash jolted when he felt Wolfwood’s thumb hook in his sore, fucked-out rim. Wolfwood pulled him apart until he was just slightly gaping. He pushed himself up on his elbows with a start. “Wh–!?”

“I wish you could see yourself,” Wolfwood grunted. He used his other hand to spread Vash wide, holding back his petals to watch his hole struggle to close. “Your pussy looks so fuckin’ hot drooling my cum.”

Once again, Wolfwood left Vash speechless, scrambling to react to what he’d said. How could Wolfwood disarm him so completely? Vash made a series of incoherent noises, then gave up and covered his burning face. “Shut up,” he said weakly.

“You drive me crazy,” Wolfwood continued. He dropped to his knees and gazed up at Vash, something soft and reverent on his face. “You make me weak.”

Part of Vash wanted to balk at the confession—me? You’re talking about me?—but the rest of him glowed under the praise, under the insinuation that he was something holy to Wolfwood, somebody he could drop the hardass mercenary act around. He wanted Wolfwood to lay down his weapons and just let his aching heart be.

“Nick,” he mumbled, half wanting and half satisfied. When he moved to thread his fingers through Wolfwood’s hair, Wolfwood leaned into his touch.

The mental image of what they must look like, Wolfwood kneeling before him, at the altar between his legs, made him blush. He could feel his clit start to harden again, feel the stirrings of desire at the base of his belly.

“Let me—” Wolfwood began, but he was interrupted by a forceful banging on the door that made Vash shriek and clamp his legs around Wolfwood’s head. He barely had a chance to feel sorry before Roberto was yelling at them through the door.

“Are you two done!?” Roberto roared. “Because I have the room next door, and if you idiots don’t pipe down in the next two minutes and let me get some fucking sleep, I will burn this entire motel to the ground!”

His footsteps receded in angry stomps, and then the door to the room next to theirs slammed so hard it shook the shared wall. Vash and Wolfwood exchanged a bewildered look.

“Do you think he’s really mad?” Vash whispered.

Wolfwood shrugged and rubbed the side of his head, where Vash’s knee collided. “He can deal.” He slipped three fingers easily into Vash’s hole, the stretch barely registering after the girth of his cock.

Vash batted his head lightly. “Nicholas!” he hissed. “You’re gonna get us kicked out!”

The three fingers pistoned in and out of him at a leisurely pace, angled up so they hit all the sensitive spots along his walls. “No, I’m not. You might, if you can't stay quiet.”

Vash’s jaw dropped. The gall. He tugged at Wolfwood’s hair, the pinch making Wolfwood growl deep in his throat. “Nicholas D. Wolfwood.”

Wolfwood finally relented, withdrawing his fingers and wiping them on his tongue in a move that definitely didn’t make Vash all hot and bothered again. “Fine,” he said as he stood, stroking himself to full hardness. “You said you wanted to suck me off, right?”

He climbed onto the bed next to Vash and laid flat on his back with his hands behind his head. After a few seconds of Vash staring at him with a blank look on his face, he gestured toward his cock. “C’mon, needle-noggin. Sit on my face and suck me off.”

Vash thought he might cum again at the mere thought. He actually, honestly started salivating when he chanced another look at Wolfwood’s cock. He didn't get the chance to truly appreciate it before it disappeared in him, but now…

“Okay,” he agreed quickly. He rolled onto his knees and paused. He could start by…no, that seemed too difficult. Or maybe he could..? No, that wouldn't work either.

Wolfwood put his hand on Vash’s thigh. “Start by straddling my chest. Then just follow me down.”

Vash nodded, cooling the nerves in his chest. He didn't know what he was afraid of— crushing Wolfwood, definitely. Looking weird was another, but Wolfwood had already seen everything there was to see.

He swung one leg over Wolfwood’s chest, balancing on his hands and knees. He felt a little like an idiot just holding himself there, but then Wolfwood made an appreciative noise and settled his hands under the curve of Vash’s ass.

“Enjoying the view?” Vash asked sarcastically. He wiggled his butt and tried not to laugh too loudly at himself.

“Yeah,” Wolfwood answered, entirely too sincere. He wrapped his hands around Vash’s hips and pulled him back gently. “Can’t wait to eat you out.”

Vash didn’t have a comeback. He bit his lip and imagined steam coming out of his ears.

Slowly, he allowed Wolfwood to pull him into position, until he was hovering just over Wolfwood’s mouth, close enough to feel the heat of his breath. Wolfwood tried to pull him even closer, but Vash balked.

“I don't want to crush you,” he explained. He fisted his hands in the sheets. “Or break your neck.”

“You won’t,” Wolfwood rasped. He pushed his fingers back into Vash’s loosened hole, spreading them slightly.

Vash tightened around them with a sharp inhale. It was different when he couldn't see Wolfwood’s face or what was doing. Each sensation was a surprise.

In front of him, Wolfwood’s cock bobbed prettily above the curl of hair humans grew between their legs. When Vash reached out to stroke the length curiously, Wolfwood moaned.

His cock was hot, the skin sliding slightly around a firm organ. There was a pearl of liquid at the tip. Vash wanted to taste it.

He darted his tongue out to lick at the head, just an exploratory touch, and was rewarded with a heady grunt from the man underneath him. Wolfwood’s cock was salty, bitter, and still slightly sweet from the nectar Vash spilled around him. A little more confidently, Vash spat into his hand and wrapped it around him.

Seeing the size of it compared to his hands, which were not small by any means, made him flush when he thought of how it was just in him. And soon, it would be in his throat. There would be no part of his body left that Wolfwood hadn't been.

The thought motivated him to take the leaking head of Wolfwood’s cock into his mouth, taking care to mind his teeth. Just like his cunt, Wolfwood filled his mouth perfectly: heavy, fat, and hot enough to sear. Vash let himself drool over it, slicking up the rest of him with his hand, and then began his descent.

Wolfwood was panting and groaning beneath him, soft little noises that quickly escalated in volume. His hand had stilled completely, and his other was kneading the flesh of Vash’s ass. Vash’s ego took these facts and ran—finally, for once, Wolfwood was the one stopped still.

But it didn't help that Wolfwood was getting noisier, or that Vash learned if he took Wolfwood to the hilt he could make the other choke out a cry. Roberto's threat flashed in his mind, and he did the only thing he could think to make Wolfwood shut up: he dropped his hips and muffled him with his cunt.

Wolfwood's hands flew up to wrap around his waist, and for a brief, horrifying moment Vash worried he’d killed him, but then a hot tongue plunged into his hole and he was the one who had to stifle his noises.

Wolfwood ate him out like a man starved. He licked Vash from top to bottom, sucked his petals into his mouth, circled his clit until Vash was seeing stars.

The need burned and leaked out of him, coating Wolfwood’s face and hands, and Wolfwood drank it like wine. Vash squeezed his eyes shut against the assault of sensation and tried to focus on the task at hand.

He bobbed up and down on Wolfwood’s cock, the musky taste flooding his brain. His prosthetic hand carefully massaged Wolfwood’s balls. His hands and mouth were full, he was balanced precariously on his elbows with his ass in another man’s face, and everything felt so fucking good. He had never experienced anything close to the love-making people described, but there was really no other word for what he felt: he and Wolfwood were bringing something into existence, something tangible and alive.

What was it he had read years ago? Love was a sacrament best taken kneeling? Being here, drawing Wolfwood’s desire and passion into his mouth, on his knees on either side of Wolfwood’s body, felt pretty damn sacred.

Wolfwood’s hips strained and thrust into the tight cage of Vash’s throat. The muscles in his thighs flexed as he moved. His balls drew up and tightened. Wolfwood’s body became one long line of tension, taught with desire, so Vash moved his head down to the root and let Wolfwood use him. He swallowed everything Wolfwood had to give, and when Wolfwood flooded his mouth with his own deluge of want, he swallowed that too.

He finally pulled off of Wolfwood’s cock to give his jaw a break. More cum dribbled from the head, and Wolfwood’s legs kicked reflexively from overstimulation when Vash swiped his thumb over it. He did it again, just for fun.

Wolfwood drew his clit into his mouth and sucked hard. Vash was almost too slow in covering his mouth to muffle his cries, jolting forward instinctually before Wolfwood dragged him back. Wolfwood looped his arms around Vash’s thighs to keep him in place and devoured him. Vash couldn't even rock his hips, he was forced to endure it while Wolfwood carefully, lovingly, devotedly took him apart.

Vash bit his knuckle hard enough to chip a tooth on the metal. It was too much, not enough. It was a localized explosion, a rift opening somewhere in his soul, something bursting and blooming and coming to life. He stroked Wolfwood’s cock with his free hand and tried his utmost not to scream out his pleasure.

“Nick,” he moaned, the word stifled and breathless. He remembered half a second too late that he was supposed to be keeping quiet, but the resounding smack of Wolfwood’s hand against his ass reminded him quickly. He swallowed the cries behind his lips where they mingled with the salty taste of Wolfwood’s cum.

His petals ached to wrap around something, but there was nowhere for them to go and nothing to hold onto. His clit ached for release, but Wolfwood was content to pull him back from the edge every time he led him to it, a cruel back and forth that made tears of desperation spring to Vash’s eyes.

Eager to leverage the playing field, or perhaps just to drive Wolfwood a little crazy, Vash took his softened cock back in his mouth and let it sit, alternating between warming it with his throat and his tongue. It had the desired effect: Wolfwood’s hips jerked into Vash’s mouth, and he thrust haphazardly in and out as he drove Vash to the brink with his tongue.

Vash could barely breathe between the dick down his throat and the breaths Wolfwood kept stealing from him every time he sucked on Vash’s clit. His pussy clenched and dribbled wetness, barely noticeable amongst the sopping mess he’d become, and Wolfwood just kept playing with him.

Eventually, Vash could take no more. He pulled off Wolfwood's cock for the last time and sat up, crushing Wolfwood’s face against his cunt and taking matters into his own hands. Wolfwood handed the reins over willingly as Vash chased his pleasure, laving his tongue over Vash’s clit and into his hole.

“Please, please, please,” Vash whispered, a tiny mantra meant for Wolfwood’s ears only. Time seemed to speed up as everything built; his blood roared in his ears, his stomach clenched, the strange blooming feeling returned. And then, at the crux of everything, he brushed heaven.

His orgasm didn't truly register until he was falling from grace, hurtling back to the ground and overwhelmed with pleasure. Vash curled over Wolfwood’s form and opened his mouth around a long, soundless cry, his hips hitching in tiny, violent jerks, his core tightening and squeezing until he felt more like a black hole than a person. The blooming feeling erupted all over his body.

He barely managed to roll off of Wolfwood and not back onto him, landing heavily on his side as he fought his way back to the land of the living. The shifting sands of sensation cleared slowly, settling into a deep satisfaction that echoed through his body.

“Holy fuck,” Wolfwood whispered, propped up onto his elbows. Vash spared him a glance, but he was looking at Vash’s torso.

When he looked down he realized why. All over his body, there were dozens of tiny purple flowers, emerging out from every scar and between each grate like water permeating through cracked stone. At first he sat up and tried to hurriedly brush them off, but when they stayed, stubborn to the last, he paused.

“This has never happened before,” he said. Under his fingers, the flower petals were soft and vaguely dusty, shimmering with a blue powder that dissipated into the air.

“So, what I’m hearing is…I’m the best head you've ever gotten,” Wolfwood said, grinning. The devilishness of his look was lost with Vash’s mess glistening on his face.

One of the flowers fell off painlessly, crumbling into dust when Vash tried to pick it up. It left no scar in its wake, no sign it was ever there except for a faint blue shine on his fingertips. “You made me bloom,” he said in wonder.

Wolfwood reached over to run his hands over one of the delicate blossoms. Vash couldn't feel it, so he figured they probably weren’t part of him like his fingers or toes. “They’re beautiful.”

Vash wiped the shimmery powder on Wolfwood’s chest, marking him. “Heh, it looks good on you.”

A calloused hand grabbed his, and then Wolfwood was staring at him with a strange look on his face. Slowly, he threaded their fingers together. “Yeah,” he agreed, but it didn't seem like he was talking about the flowers anymore.

Vash wanted to lean over and kiss him, enjoy the afterglow of the best sex he’s ever had with the man he trusted so nakedly and readily that it scared him. No sooner than he thought that did something like grief took up residence in Vash’s chest, a whip-crack reminder of their unavoidable ending—if not by Wolfwood leaving, then by Vash outliving him when his lifespan inevitably eclipsed Wolfwood’s.

Vash looked at their hands. There were so many things running through his mind, so many questions he wanted to ask, but he was tired, so he settled on one. “Does this…change anything between us?”

Wolfwood was rubbing Vash’s knuckles idly with his thumb. The silence before he answered was too long and too quiet. “I don't know.”

It wasn't the answer Vash was expecting, and it kind of felt like being shot. He started to withdraw his hand, but then Wolfwood held on tighter.

“I don't…want to leave,” he admitted slowly, like it was a truth too terrible to bear. “If that’s what you’re asking.”

Vash smiled lightly. It wasn't, but it was close enough. He allowed Wolfwood to pull him into a soft kiss and took a moment just to breathe him in.

He knew, deep in his gut, that Wolfwood was here on Nai’s orders. He was here to fulfill a mission. He might possibly be here only to break Vash’s heart.

But when he looked at Wolfwood, looked deep into his sad eyes and guarded heart and the way he mouthed Vash’s name like a prayer, he knew with equal certainty that if Wolfwood was here to break his heart then he would end up breaking his own, too. The thought was comforting in its tragedy. They were on opposite sides, but they didn't have to be.

Vash kissed Wolfwood again, featherlight and sweet, and forgave him for everything that would come. He could only hope that one day Wolfwood would be able to forgive himself, too.