Chapter Text
It wasn't exactly a special morning — or at least any more “special” than every other morning. His routine went as it always had: wake up, do a bit of training, breakfast, shower, the whole deal. Nothing out of the ordinary. What was interesting, however, was the realization that hit him after he was done. He opened the hotel door, expecting Wolfwood to be waiting impatiently with his back against the wall, stamping his foot, prepared to chew him out, but surprisingly, there was no one. He looked back and forth down the halls — Not even a bit of cigarette ash to signal he might've been waiting for him.
He shut the door, standing at the entrance for a bit, staring out at nothing while he pondered.
Huh. This is strange; Vash was ready before Wolfwood this time.
Even though he often got up at the crack of dawn for his usual routine, Wolfwood always seemed to be up and ready before him. Perhaps it should leave Vash impressed, but considering how disheveled Wolfwood looked most days, he simply believed the priest didn't put a lot of time or thought into his self-care. Vash, on the other hand, puts a little too much time into himself. After all, it probably wouldn't take the average person an hour a day to get their hair ready — and what was Vash even spending all this time looking pretty for? Despite this, and despite Wolfwood always angrily pounding at his door to hurry up while he put loose strands of hair into place, he never made adjustments to his mornings. Wolfwood would simply have to deal with his way of life, and that would be that.
But hey, at least this time, he could sling the mud right back at him and ridicule Wolfwood for being the slowpoke. He smirked to himself, lying down on the bed with his eyes closed and hands folded at his lap, wondering how he'd tease him later and playing out the banter in his head, when suddenly he paused.
Y’know…these days, I don't usually have this kind of extra time…maybe I could…a familiar ache appeared in his abdomen.
Fuck, why did I have to think that? ...But it had been a little while, hadn't it?
Vash twiddled his thumbs and looked down at his lap. Somewhere inside, he felt a twinge that made his breath hitch — Surely this feeling would stick around for a while after if he didn't deal with it now, and roaming the desert, horny and irritated, didn't sound very pleasant. So, he shrugged his shoulders and went to work rolling up his coat and shifting the flaps enough to expose his crotch (no way was he gonna waste all this time taking it off again). He fiddled with the leather belts and buckles enough that he could shimmy them along with his pants and boxers halfway down his legs before spreading them out, or at least as much as he could manage — If Wolfwood happened to come by before he finished up, it wouldn't be too hard for him to cover up real quick, or take long enough getting re-dressed to where Wolfwood would get suspicious.
His robotic hand reached down and shuddered as it brushed over his stomach and abdomen, covered up by his vest, leading down to his forest of hair and clit. It was already fairly engorged before he even touched it, feeling the subtle swell. His middle and ring fingers traced over his hood, and immediately he let out a blissful sigh, feeling himself flush.
How am I already so sensitive? He kneaded it up and down while he began relaxing into himself, leaning his head back with his mouth slightly agape, taking in all the pleasurable sensations. He quickly shifted to rubbing it in circles, biting his lip and letting out a small, hesitant whine, unsure if he should control his noise level; From the number of times he had to deal with loud, hot-headed neighbors, he couldn't always trust cheap hotel walls to contain the volume. He huffed, his chest rising and sinking unevenly, as his other hand made its way down to his folds, attempting not to accidentally bump his hands together.
Typically, when he masturbated, he purposefully did so at night so he wouldn't have to watch himself. Unfortunately, he didn't have much of a choice playing with himself early in the morning unless he closed his eyes. He supposed it wasn't a terrible sight, but something about having to look at his own body while engaging in obscene activities like this…it was somewhat uncomfortable. Still, he attempted to disconnect his mind from his body and only embrace the soft waves of heat and pleasure flowing through him. Perhaps he could picture himself doing this with another person, or various fantastical scenarios where he wasn't the perpetrator of his own sexual pleasure. It was always much easier having someone else do the “work” for him because it meant he didn't have to focus on himself.
Vash rubbed one of his folds between his fingers, which didn't feel like much, but was soothing nonetheless. Spreading them apart, he hovered two fingers over his hole, teasing himself and prodding at the entrance, noticing how soaking wet he'd gotten within such a short time. How embarrassingly easy he was to please, even if he was just pleasing himself. The blonde groaned as he slipped his middle digit inside first, slowing his other hand to swap from rubbing circles to stroking himself with his fingers, making the motions as if he had a real, or at least fully-developed, cock.
A boy can dream, can't he? was thought within the cloudy haze of his mind. Vash wanted to tease himself a little more, but couldn't help indulging in immediately slipping in another finger, which his body graciously absorbed, scrunching up his face and choking back a moan, turning into a whimper instead. He would've put a hand over his mouth, but they were both a little busy at the moment. He continued to struggle, holding back his voice once he began thrusting his fingers in and out, starting painfully slowly but gradually setting a normal pace.
“Ahh, ahn, please…please please…” the words fell from his lips without much thought, and he's not exactly sure what he's pleading for, but something about mindlessly rambling like this felt satisfying. As he continued to simultaneously jerk his dick and finger-fuck himself, he could tell he was already approaching climax, feeling himself begin to tighten as something stirred deep inside him.
“God, oh God, fuck…close…”
Then, what seemed to be completely out of nowhere, without any warning, something charged through the door like a bull, startling the absolute daylights out of him.
“AY, NEEDLE NOGGIN, GET A MOVE ON, WILL Y-!?”
Pause. Both of them freeze immediately. Vash had completely stopped with his motions, but his hands remained on his crotch. He snapped his legs closed, but by the time he realized they were still open, Wolfwood had likely gotten a pretty good view of…well, everything, even if his coat partially obscured it. And judging by the deafening silence between the two (and Wolfwood's deer-staring-on-headlights look), there was no doubt they both knew what was going on.
Perhaps Vash was counting on Nicholas too much by expecting him to have some manners once in his life. And way to blue-ball him, too…
Without either of them exchanging a single word, Wolfwood grabbed the doorknob and slammed the door shut just as loudly as when he’d initially barrelled through it.
Somehow, it didn't hit Vash what just happened until Wolfwood was already out of sight, and when it did, it hit him all at once. As his face burned like the suns on No Man’s Land, feeling absolutely mortified, only four words rang loudly in Vash's mind;
I WANT TO DIE!!!
- - -
After taking a moment to clean up and double- no, triple-checking his belongings, allowing the humiliation to set in further, he decided not to stall any longer and confront Wolfwood. The subtle creaking of wood signalled he was still standing right outside, though it wasn’t clear what he was doing. Perhaps pacing? Whatever. He took a long, deep breath before opening the door, trying not to immediately dart his eyes away — He'd try to be a man about this.
As he’d visualized earlier, Wolfwood was leaning up against the wall opposite the door, his Punisher right beside him. As always, he had a cigarette in his mouth, twirling and flicking it around. His arms were hugged together, and he was staring at his cuticles before he heard the click of the door shut. Suddenly, he didn't seem so pissed off about Vash being “late”. I wonder how much time passed while I was-
Wolfwood cleared his throat to address him, taking out the cigarette. “Uh, mornin’...”
Now, Vash had to decide; should he apologize for causing Wolfwood to witness such a disconcerting sight? Or should he lash out at him for thinking he could just bulldoze into someone's room without knocking? There were a million different ways he could go about both of those things, but he couldn't decide within that few seconds' pause, so he opted to just respond with a meek, “G-good morning…”
Wolfwood furrowed his brow with a hum, lifting the cigarette back up to take a drag. He seemed to be trying to read Vash, but at the same time looked to be contemplating something — One wouldn't typically see Nick being so…careful in his choices. He put a foot against the wall as a smoky trail spilled from his lips.
“Listen, about—” but then he quickly trailed off, pressing his lips together in a thin line. Following that, he flicked the near-empty cigarette bud onto the floor (perhaps dangerous to do on a wooden floor, Vash thought) and stomped it into ash.
“Nah, forget it, let's git outta here.” Afterwards, he turned around, heaving the Punisher over his shoulder with little effort, and began walking in the direction of the stairs.
“O-oh, um, right, yeah. Okay.” Vash followed sheepishly behind him, albeit within limits.
As they both stomped down the stairs, Vash noticed the shells of Wolfwood's ears were burning, which made him flush all over again, too, the ache persisting in his abdomen.