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It’s not unusual for them to share a room, which is why Vash doesn’t think anything of it the first time it happens. Or the second time. Or the third.
The fourth, however, is particularly weird.
“Sorry,” the person manning the desk of this day’s crappy, sandy motel says, “No doubles available. Got one room, one bed.”
“We’ll take it,” Vash says without a thought. Wolfwood grunts in what Vash assumes is assent beside him.
It’s getting late, the suns setting orange and red behind the sand dunes and the chill of night in the desert overtaking everything. The room is nice enough, in the grand scheme of things. Vash has seen better but he’s also definitely seen worse.
“I’ll take the floor,” Wolfwood says from behind him and Vash turns, surprised.
“You don’t need to do that,” Vash says, “It’s big enough.” He wouldn’t suggest, hasn’t suggested, but it really is plenty big and he’s slept with more people in more random motel beds than he’d care to count off on his fingers, so it’s really not a big deal. He and Wolfwood have shared before and, well, the point of this is that he hadn’t thought it would be an issue.
He’s getting ready to protest, to offer to take the floor even if he really doesn’t want to, even if the joints of his prosthetics are aching and sore. Wolfwood looks like a war is going on in his head, looking from the bed and back to Vash.
“S’fine,” Wolfwood finally mutters, “You’re right, it’s big enough.”
Vash breathes a sigh of relief, even if something in his brain is twinging slightly at Wolfwood being so compliant, too easy to agree when everything between them usually dissolves into meaningless bickering.
He must be tired too, Vash thinks. It’s been a long day of driving, nothing but the wind and the sand and the relentless sun beating down on them for company, the roar of the motorcycle’s engine too loud for any conversation. Talking kind of feels like exercising a muscle that had been stuck in one place too long, so Vash gets it if Wolfwood isn’t feeling chatty.
Vash pokes around the tiny bathroom, equipped with a standard issue toilet, sink, and a shower which hopefully has some hot water. “You want to shower first?” he calls back into the room. Switching it up for a little variation.
Wolfwood makes a noise of agreement and Vash thinks too agreeable but pushes the thought aside. He should be happy that Wolfwood isn’t fighting him on every little thing, shouldn’t he?
He’s pushed out of his thoughts by Wolfwood standing in front of him where he's blocking the door to the bathroom.
“Oh,” he says, dumbly, “Sorry.” He moves out of the way so that Wolfwood can enter.
They stand there in awkward silence for a few heartbeats, Wolfwood looking at him over the rim of his sunglasses. “You wanna join me?” Wolfwood says, voice obviously sarcastic.
Vash nearly jumps out of his skin, “Nope, nu-huh, sorry, I’ll get out of your way,” he backs out of the bathroom and Wolfwood slams the door shut behind him.
What is with them today? Vash feels uneasy in his own skin, sand itching at his neck where it had snuck under the collar of his coat.
He takes it off and sits on the edge of the bed, trying carefully not to get sand under the blankets.
It had been a day like any other day, really, mostly driving. They’d woken up in their campsite underneath a rocky ledge, packed everything up into their travel bags and then just, well, driven. There's a lot of this trip that's been uninterrupted stretches of desert, days on end with only the worms for company. They'd both been happy enough when this town came into view, big enough for a double-story motel and maybe some hot water, if they're lucky.
At least, he'd thought they'd both been happy? Come to think of it, Wolfwood has been acting weird all day. He barely complained at all when he was shaking sand out of his bedroll and Vash is sure he hasn't seen him smoke through more than one and a half packs of cigarettes like he normally would if the irritation got enough to drive him quiet.
Look, Vash is aware he isn't the easiest guy to travel with, even without the constant gunfire. It's a facade built up over so many years that it's basically become part of him, pushing people away by inches. He hadn't thought — he'd been hoping Wolfwood might not want to let himself be pushed away.
It's more than a wild shot, the way that Meryl and Wolfwood had tracked him down when things had gone sideways made him feel something, something he had tried very hard for decades not to feel.
Out here, with Meryl and Milly off on some assignment or another, when it's just him and Wolfwood against the desert, he might have thought that there might even be something… more?
That's obviously stupid, though, Wolfwood is clearly irritated with him about something. Vash wracks his brain trying to think of what could possibly have been the catalyst but he keeps coming up blank, running over the events of the day in his head.
When Wolfwood gets out of the shower, towel around his waist, Vash is still standing where he'd awkwardly edged out of the bathroom earlier. Wolfwood blinks at him and Vash tries not to stare.
“You okay, Needle-noggin?” Wolfwood says, one eyebrow raised.
Vash raises his hands for mercy, “Fine!” he says, hoping his voice is even. Wolfwood looks at him again and then visibly decides to drop it, heading over to the bed to grab his pack of cigarettes.
Vash flees into the bathroom.
He takes his time in the bathroom. Wolfwood very considerately had left him some hot water and he stays in the shower until the spray abruptly turns freezing, jolting him out of his thoughts with a jerk.
Has he been rude to Wolfwood in some way? Is Wolfwood tired of traveling with him? That last thought is too horrible to contemplate but Vash can’t resist turning it around in his head all the same, letting the sharp edges poke him. What would it mean if he was? Vash has been alone for longer than Wolfwood has been alive , surely he’d be fine.
That doesn’t mean he would be happy about it.
By the time he leaves the bathroom, he’s worked himself up into a frenzy of anxiety. He creeps out of the bathroom in only a towel — he usually brings his clothes in with him to avoid Wolfwood having to see him like this, but he’d forgotten in his haste.
He can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief when he sees Wolfwood, sitting by the window in the loose pants he wears for sleep, smoking a cigarette.
Wolfwood glances over at him when Vash opens the door from the bathroom then looks away again as Vash makes his way over to his pack to pull his sleeping clothes out.
“You okay, Spikey?” Wolfwood asks at Vash’s quietness.
It is odd, usually, Vash can’t shut up, even after a day full of traveling. The thrill of actually having someone to talk to, someone who listens to him about half the time, hasn’t quite worn off yet and Vash is still basking in the novelty.
“I’m good,” Vash replies, stuffing down the urge to ask the same of Wolfwood.
“If you’re sure,” Wolfwood says, stubbing his cigarette out on the table by the window. It’s dark now and Wolfwood leaves the window cracked for the cool breeze blowing in from the desert night.
They get in bed and Vash tries super hard not to make this weird. It’s not weird! They’ve done this before, it should be no issue. Vash pushes himself as close to his side of the bed as he can, but the bed is still much too small for the both of them. Wolfwood gives him a look, eyebrow raised as he climbs in, turning the light on the bedside table off.
They lay in silence for a few minutes. Vash relaxes minutely now that the light is out, it feels safer, somehow. He can still see Wolfwood, of course, but he’s not sure that Wolfwood knows he can see him and the blanketing anonymity of the night makes everything feel easier.
They’re both asleep in minutes.
-
Vash comes to awareness slowly. He’s warm, not uncomfortably so, laying on his side with a line of solid warmth at his back.
Oh.
It takes him a second to realize. This isn’t… bad. It’s happened before, but neither of them acknowledged it. Wolfwood is pressed up against his back, an arm thrown over Vash’s waist. This, this is normal. This has happened before, Vash tends to wake in the middle of the night, and whenever they’d shared before he’d been soothed by the presence of Wolfwood, unable to stop his sleeping body from cuddling up next to Vash. He’d never said anything, afraid that it would stop if he brought attention to it.
No, waking up to Wolfwood pressed along his back isn’t unusual at all. What is unusual is the fact that Vash can very clearly feel Wolfwood’s erection against his ass.
Wolfwood is moving, clearly still asleep, not really grinding, just moving his hips back and forth, his breathing heavy in sleep.
Vash can’t help it, he knows Wolfwood wouldn’t want to do this if he was aware, he holds his breath and moves, just so slightly, out of Wolfwood’s arms and onto his back.
As he knew it would, the movement wakes Wolfwood up immediately. Neither of them are heavy sleepers, wary of any sound or sudden movement by nature. Wolfwood sucks in a breath as he realizes what’s going on.
“Sorry,” Vash says automatically.
“The fuck are you sorry for?” Wolfwood says, pulling ever so slightly farther away from Vash so that they’re not touching at all.
“For waking you up,” Vash says, arms trembling slightly at his sides with the effort of keeping them separate.
Wolfwood brings a hand up to rub at his eyes. “Shouldn't apologize,” he says, “I — fuck — I should be apologizing to you.”
Vash’s instinct is to bring his hands up in a placating gesture, and his arms twitch even though the movement would look ridiculous while he’s on his back in bed. “It’s fine, really! Totally natural, everyone does it —”
Wolfwood cuts him off with a long sigh, like a man going to the gallows. “It wasn’t just,” he starts, fumbles, starts again, “It’s you .”
Vash’s brain stutters to a halt. “What do you mean?” he asks, words coming out of his mouth before he’s even thought of them.
“It’s —” Wolfwood starts, “Fuck, Blondie, are you gonna make me say it?”
“Uh-huh,” Vash says, even though he has no idea what he’s agreeing to.
“I was thinking about you .” Wolfwood spits out, turning so he’s on his back as well, eyes staring up at the ceiling. “Happy now? S’fucking embarrasing.”
The cogs in Vash’s brain are very, very steadily beginning to turn again, the awkwardness of the last few days playing over again in his head. “Oh,” he says, like an idiot, “That’s why you’ve been avoiding me.”
“Bullshit,” Wolfwood says, as though the two of them aren’t separated by the maximum allowable space on this tiny, shitty motel bed. “It’s impossible to avoid you.”
“I don’t —” Vash says, “You have been avoiding me. You’re… embarrassed?”
“Said so, didn’t I?” Wolfwood huffs, “It’s stupid, go back to sleep.”
Vash fidgets with the sheets. His limbs still ache where they’re attached to his prosthetics, he really should have taken them off before getting into bed, but he hates doing that, even though Wolfwood always swears that it’ll be fine, that he won’t let anything happen.
Vash opens his mouth, Wolfwood snorts next to him, and speaks, “Go back to sleep, Blondie.”
“Why are you embarrassed?” says Vash. It’s not the thing he meant to come out of his mouth, words still formulating in his brain, taking much too long to get to his tongue.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Wolfwood huffs.
Vash shakes his head, remembers Wolfwood can barely see him and speaks. “No,” he says, “I don’t —”
“Stupid,” Wolfwod says, but Vash has a feeling it’s not directed at him, “It’d be a terrible fucking idea. Plus, I’ve never —” Wolfwood stops mid-sentence, mouth clamping shut, like he’d said more than he wanted to under the hazy cover of night.
“You’ve never?” Vash asks.
“Don’t make me say it,” Wolfwood says, “Where the fuck would I, anyway?”
Vash turns this over in his head, fingers tapping against the sheets. “It wouldn’t be a terrible idea,” he says, finally, “Not if — not if we wanted to.”
“We?” Wolfwood asks, his body shifts minutely, arms relax ever so slightly.
“Yeah,” Vash breathes, “We.”
Wolfwood lays there in complete silence for longer than is really comfortable, Vash practically holding his breath from the anticipation. Finally, Wolfwood makes a noise of frustration and sits up completely, turning the light on the bedside table on.
Vash blinks in the light, not a physical response but one that he’s learned makes it less unnerving for other people. Wolfwood is sitting up, staring at him, the blankets pooled around his hips. Vash tries not to stare, bringing his eyes back up to Wolfwood’s face.
“Okay,” Wolfwood says, “I want you to say that again, but where I can fucking see you this time.”
“We could,” Vash replies immediately, “If you want to.”
“Could what ,” Wolfwood says, eyes boring holes into Vash’s, “I need you to say it.”
“You could fuck me,” Vash says, voice lilting up hopefully at the end, “If you wanted to?”
Wolfwood sighs like all the breath is escaping from his body, arms going limp. “Do you want to?”
Vash nods immediately and Wolfwood snorts at him. “Coulda fooled me,” Wolfwood says, “You were so fucking weird today.”
“You were avoiding me!” Vash says, instantaneously, “What was I supposed to do?”
Wolfwood opens his mouth to respond and then visibly thinks better of it. “I haven’t,” he says, “Like I said. I haven’t,” he swallows, “fucked anyone before.”
Vash scoots up until he’s also sitting up, leaning against the headboard. “I could show you?” he offers, his stomach flipping with the idea of it. He’d wanted Wolfwood before, there was no denying that, had wanted him somewhere between Wolfwood finding him after July and now and that wanting had grown into something that Vash had thought he’d had control over, something he could squish down and trap inside his chest. Now that it’s been given permission to run free, however, the wanting feels like it’s going to burn him alive.
Wolfwood crooks an eyebrow at him. He looks beautiful like this, his hair still mussed from sleep, dark skin backlit from the lamp on the bedside table. “Yeah?” he asks, voice barely louder than a whisper, “You’d do that?”
Vash moves closer slowly, giving Wolfwood time to move away. He doesn’t, and Vash moves until their thighs are pressed together under the blankets, turning slightly so he can face Wolfwood. “Yeah,” he says, “Can I kiss you?” It’s a desperate plea, words out of his mouth before he’s thought of them. He wants to kiss Wolfwood so bad.
Wolfwood blinks as if he hadn’t expected it. “Yes — “ he says, clearly wanting to continue but Vash cuts him off, doesn’t let him get anything more than acquiescence out of his mouth before he’s leaning forward and pressing their lips together. Wolfwood’s mouth is still slightly open on whatever words he had been meaning to say, Vash capturing Wolfwood’s bottom lip between his own. Wolfwood lets out a gasp when they connect, hand shooting out from under the blankets to grab Vash and pull him close.
Vash pulls back, throwing the blankets off him and moving until he’s straddling Wolfwood’s thighs, intentionally keeping his weight off of his hips. “This okay?” he asks, hand coming up to rest on Wolfwood’s shoulders.
Wolfwood nods, he looks kind of shell-shocked, Vash thinks. It’s cute. Vash leans back in, slowly this time, and presses their lips together.
Wolfwood kisses like someone who’s never kissed before, but who knows what he wants and wants it now . He’s not demanding, simply replying to every movement of Vash’s lips with his own, eagerly pressing his tongue into Vash’s mouth when he has the chance. It’s a little bit like being devoured. Vash pulls back, a finger on Wolfwood’s lips.
“Not so quickly,” he says, voice quiet, just shared between them, “Like this,” he leans forward and seals their lips together, tongue exploring Wolfwood’s bottom lip, tongue. Wolfwood makes a sound into the kiss, a half-groan half-gasp that shoots down between Vash’s legs. He can already feel himself getting wet just from this, just from the idea of having Wolfwood, of showing him. He kisses Wolfwood for what feels like ages, teeth biting into Wolfwood’s bottom lip just so until Wolfwood does it back. Vash is breathless when he finally pulls back, a thin string of saliva connecting their mouths.
“Fuck,” is the first word out of Wolfwood’s mouth when he catches his breath. There’s a second where they just catch their breath. “Can you,” Wolfwood says, reaching up and tentatively placing his hands on Vash’s hips like the touch might burn him.
Vash reaches down and covers Wolfwood’s hands with his own, petting up his arms until Wolfwood’s grip tightens, “Yeah,” he says, “Anything.” Vash’s brain still feels fuzzy, stomach flipping like he’d missed a step, the arousal curling in his gut almost sleepily. He lets the feeling flow through him, lets the buzz in his head curl around his thoughts. Wolfwood tugs, just barely, on his hips and Vash moves forward, straddling Wolfwood’s hips properly now.
They both moan when Vash’s core rocks against Wolfwood’s erection, Vash’s hips jerking forward a little unconsciously and Wolfwood’s hands tightening on his hips. Vash leans forward to kiss him, less a coordinated press of lips and more breathless panting into each other’s mouths, Vash fastening his teeth around Wolfwood’s bottom lip and tugging.
“Fuck,” Wolfwood says again, pressing Vash down against him hard, “Blondie,” he pants like he can’t get the words together.
Vash understands, “Yeah,” he presses the word into Wolfwood’s lips, “Let me,” he wiggles out of Wolfwood’s grip, sliding down until he’s mostly flat on the bed, propped up on his elbows. Wolfwood’s face is a vision like this, now that Vash is far enough away to see it other than in bits and blurry pieces. He’s flushed, his dark skin a rosy hue from his cheeks to his nipples. Vash spares a moment for them, filing it away later. He feels like they need to do everything and right now but what Wolfwood needs from him right now is a steady hand and Vash provides one, pushing a hand against Wolfwood’s inner thigh and pressing his legs apart so Vash can wiggle into the space between them.
Realization dawns on Wolfwood’s face and his mouth opens, shuts again, and opens, “You don’t have to,” he says, voice thick.
In response Vash moves up even farther so he can rub his cheek against the bulge in Wolfwood’s sweatpants, a wet patch steadily growing at the tip. “I want to,” Vash says, “Let me do this for you, Wolfwood.”
Wolfwood opens his mouth again and swallows. “Okay,” he says, and his voice is shaky like his trembling thighs, twitching against where Vash has them spread apart. “I’m not gonna last,” he says like it’s an apology.
Vash smiles up at him and nuzzles at his cock again. “I don’t need you to,” he says, “Just do whatever feels right.”
Wolfwood looks like he’s going to respond to that but Vash takes the momentary pause to dig fingers into the waistband of Wolfwood’s sweats and pull. Wolfwood automatically lifts his hips up so that Vash can pull them down. Vash watches as Wolfwood’s cock bobs free, twisting so he can pull Wolfwood’s sweats off one leg, wiggling back up until he’s pressed tight between Wolfwood’s thighs.
It’s beautiful and Vash wants to get his mouth on it immediately, dark and arched where it curls up towards Wolfwood’s belly. He doesn’t want this to be overwhelming, at least not in a bad way, so he starts with fingers, gentle touches, a light hand curled around the shaft.
Wolfwood hisses at the first contact of Vash’s fingers with his cock, his hips twitch like he wants to press up. “You can,” Vash says, “I want you to.”
Wolfwood looks at him, even though the haze of lust that’s blown his pupils wide it’s the look he gives Vash when he’s skeptical he’s being honest with him.
“Really!” Vash says. He’s curled up in Wolfwood’s lap, resting against one of Wolfwood’s thighs. “I’m pinning you down, you won’t be able to do much.”
“But,” Wolfwood says, and Vash watches him swallow again, “Now is fine, but when you’re —” he can’t say it, but Vash understands, letting go of his cock to pat gently at his inner thigh.
“I’ll be fine,” Vash says, biting back the words I’ve done this before . That’s not what Wolfwood needs to hear right now, Vash knows that will just take him out of the moment. He scoots up and licks at the head of Wolfwood’s cock, feeling his thigh tremble beneath him.
“Do whatever feels good,” Vash assures him, again, before taking Wolfwood’s cock fully into his mouth. Wolfwood’s hips buck unconsciously but Vash had been telling the truth, he’s mostly pinned under Vash’s weight and hands and he can’t get the right leverage to thrust into Vash’s mouth. Vash can see the moment when he relaxes with the realization.
Privately, Vash would very much not mind Wolfwood fucking his face. Wolfwood’s cock is big, thicker than he’s had before and long. It feels perfect in his mouth, the weight pressing down his tongue. There’s a while to go before they get there, however, assuming Wolfwood will want to do this with him again. It’s that same urge, to pack every single thing into this one night against the worry that they won’t have another. Vash tries to soothe his frantic thoughts, focusing on the thickness of Wolfwood in his mouth, the salty taste of his precome on his tongue.
He can be good at this, for Wolfwood. He’s never had any complaints before. Wolfwood is letting out the most beautiful symphony of noises beneath him, like Vash, is playing him like an instrument, his fingers tangled in the sheets. Vash lifts off slightly, keeping the head of Wolfwood’s cock in his mouth, reaching for one of Wolfwood’s hands and placing it on his head, until Wolfwood’s fingers tangle in his hair.
It must be enough, the way that Vash looks up at him, eyes trying to convey his wants, because Wolfwood’s fingers tighten in his hair just enough. Vash’s eyes flutter closed at the feeling and he swirls his tongue around the head of Wolfwood’s cock before bobbing back down, taking him steadily deeper in his throat with every dip downward.
Wolfwood is gasping, like he can’t get enough air. His fingers are tight in Vash’s hair but Vash can feel where he’s shaking, restraining himself from pushing down. Vash hums around his cock, wiggling his hips lower down on the bed, squeezing his thighs together for some relief, blood throbbing in his pussy.
There’s a sense of satisfaction when he finally makes it down all the way, nose nestled in the black curls at the base of Wolfwood’s cock. He stays there for a heartbeat, letting both of them get used to the feeling, before bobbing his head up, then back down, Wolfwood’s cock sliding down his throat. He feels so full. This had always seemed like more of a chore with his other partners, something to be done for their happiness. His chest is still tight with that same feeling, the feeling of making Wolfwood feel good, the feeling of knowing that the way his cock throbs and twitches in Vash’s mouth is because he’s being good, but there’s something more, something about the way that Wolfwood’s cock fills him up, the way that his face is flushed red and his mouth open and panting that sends blood rushing straight between his legs, his cunt a throbbing ache between his thighs.
Wolfwood’s fingers tighten in his hair minutely, “Spikey,” he pants, and Vash would smile if his mouth was free, “I’m gonna, you should —” Vash hums in answer, tightening his grip on Wolfwood’s thigh, not pulling off his cock. Wolfwood comes when Vash has him halfway down his throat, his cock pulsing and sending Wolfwood’s come deep down Vash’s throat. He swallows it all, pulling up right at the end and catching a little on the side of his mouth. He’s breathless with it as he watches Wolfwood’s thighs tremble with the aftershocks, Vash’s hand softly petting at the inside of his thigh.
He can tell when Wolfwood comes out of it, it’s like he has to take a second to remember where he is, eyes focusing blurrily as he looks down at Vash. The hand in his hair loosens, coming down to wipe the trickle of come that’s at the side of Vash’s lips. Vash chases the thumb that had wiped it away, sucking it into his mouth. “Fuck,” Wolfwood says, “Blondie, you’re gonna kill me.”
Vash hums in agreement and then lets Wolfwood’s thumb go with a pop. “Good?” he asks.
Wolfwood nods shakily, hand curling around Vash’s jaw, “Come up here,” he says, voice rasping.
Vash doesn’t have to be told twice, sliding up into Wolfwood’s lap and kissing him, pressing the taste of Wolfwood into his mouth. Wolfwood’s hand trails down his neck, down his side, and under his shirt, fingers teasing at Vash’s waist. “Can I take this off?” Wolfwood asks, pulling away from Vash’s mouth and pinching the hem in his fingers.
Vash hums, pressing back into Wolfwood for another kiss, but Wolfwood pulls back. “It’s okay,” he says, “I get it.”
Vash makes a noise of frustration against Wolfwood’s lips. “It’s not —” he starts, lips trying to find the right words, “It’s kind of a mood-killer,” he says, finally, tone a crooked apology.
Wolfwood pulls back until his head thunks on the wall behind him, eyes focusing on Vash’s face in the dim lamplight. “It’s not,” he says, “Not for me. You know that.”
Vash isn’t sure how he was supposed to know that, but Wolfwood looks serious enough. “If it’s what you want,” he says, hands going to the hem of his own shirt but Wolfwood stops him.
“What do you want?” he asks and Vash has to look away.
“I want you to feel good,” Vash admits, hands resting on his own hips, “I want to make you feel good.”
“You’ve already done that, Spikey,” Wolfwood says, “My turn. What do you want ,” Wolfwood repeats, hand coming to rest on top of Vash’s.
Vash looks at Wolfwood and blinks. He’s still wet enough for it to be uncomfortable, the thin fabric of his sleep pants sticking to his cunt and the inside of his thighs. He doesn’t — it’s not about him, usually. He knows how to make people feel good, knows how to coax them into curling around him, pulling noises from their throats.
He reaches for the hem of his shirt and pulls it over his head, tossing it somewhere over the bed.
Wolfwood’s eyes are hungry over newly revealed skin and Vash shivers, resisting the urge to cover himself with his hands. Wolfwood’s hands skim over his chest, uncertain. “You gotta tell me where I can’t touch,” Wolfwood says.
Vash looks down at his chest, the mottled patchwork of metal and scar tissue. He gestures at the grate over his heart, “Here,” he says and Wolfwood makes a noise of assent. He trails a finger down his chest to a patch of exposed muscle, scarred over, “I can’t feel anything here, so.”
Wolfwood nods, eyes intent like he’s studying Vash, mapping him out. “That it?”
Vash looks down again, nods once. “Yeah.”
“Good,” Wolfwood says, running his hands up Vash’s chest, rubbing a thumb over Vash’s nipple. Vash shivers, it feels good, feels warm, but it’s not enough to sate the urge growing in his core. He shifts and grinds down on Wolfwood’s thigh almost before he’s realized it. Wolfwood’s hands fall down to his waist, thumbs dipping under the waistband of his pants.
“Can I?” Wolfwood asks and Vash rocks back onto his haunches, breath shaky in his chest. It feels as though the tables have been turned and Vash isn’t sure how he feels about it.
“Yeah,” Vash says, instinct winning out over self-preservation. “Yeah,” he helps, reaching down to pull his own pants off, Wolfwood shaking the one remaining pant leg of his own off until both of their pants are somewhere on the floor by the bed.
Vash is suspended on his knees, thighs tensed to keep himself off of Wolfwood, whose cock is starting to twitch, to show interest again. Wolfwood’s hands slide down his hips, resting just at the tops of his thighs. Wolfwood is staring, Vash feels almost like he should cover up, run away, do something, as Wolfwood’s hands creep closer, thumbs pulling him apart and slick dribbling humiliatingly down his thighs.
“Fuck,” exhales Wolfwood, like he’s seeing something holy. Vash’s thighs are starting to shake with the effort of holding still.
Wolfwood’s eyes flick back up to Vash’s face, his hands let go. “Let me,” Wolfwood says, and then he’s pushing Vash forward so he can lie on his back, one hand gripping Vash’s thigh. Vash is unsure what to do, hovering nervously by Wolfwood’s side.
“Get up here,” Wolfwood repeats, a call back to a second ago, “Want you to sit on my face.”
Vash can feel himself shake at that, moving gradually to straddle Wolfwood’s chest, still trying to hold himself up so only the inside of his thighs touch Wolfwood’s skin. “Isn’t that —” Vash starts, uncertain, “You don’t have to,” he says, the words coming out awkwardly.
Wolfwood props himself up on an elbow and Vash hisses at the contact when Wolfwood’s chest bumps into his pelvis. “Of course, I don’t have to,” Wolfwood says like it’s painfully obvious. “Spikey, there is absolutely nothing more that I want in this world right now than to bury my face in your pussy.”
Vash blushes, and can feel the flush of it going down his neck and chest. He feels hot, feels like he’s the one out of his element. What happened to him showing Wolfwood? “I don’t —” Vash starts.
Wolfwood sighs, lets a hand come forward, and trails up and down Vash’s scarred thigh, fingers gentle when he reaches where skin attaches to bottle-green prosthetic. “If you don’t want to, that’s one thing,” Wolfwood says, “Tell me to stop.” A gambit thrown, a test laid down.
Vash opens his mouth, closes it again. His clit throbs. “I want to,” he says, words rushing out of him in a torrent, “I want that.”
Wolfwood gives him a satisfied smile before thunking back on the bed, hand pulling at Vash’s thigh, “Get the fuck over here, then.”
Vash moves carefully like he’s going to accidentally crush Wolfwood, until his thighs bracket Wolfwood’s face, carefully holding himself up. Wolfwood’s hands are on both of his thighs now, moving up and squeezing Vash’s ass, driving a surprised squeak from his lips.
“Come on,” Wolfwood says, squeezing again.
Vash carefully lowers himself down onto Wolfwood’s open mouth, moaning at the first touch of Wolfwood’s tongue on his swollen cunt.
Wolfwood may not have the expertise here, but Vash is hardly accustomed to this, can count the number of times he’s been eaten out on one hand and Wolfwood certainly takes to his task with unbridled enthusiasm, sliding his tongue up Vash’s slit to toy with his clit, testing reactions. Vash can’t help his noises, soft whimpers when Wolfwood plays with his clit.
Wolfwood hums, fingers tightening on Vash’s thighs, and slides down, tongue playing at Vash’s hole, testing, dipping just barely inside. Vash’s thighs shake with the effort of holding himself up, keeping himself from smothering Wolfwood, who pulls up so he can talk.
“You can let go,” Wolfwood says, “Not gonna crush me.”
Vash’s hands are firmly planted on the wall behind them for leverage and he can feel it when Wolfwood talks, the vibration of his words against him. Vash shakes his head and Wolfwood’s fingers relax on his thighs, petting slowly up and down.
“Come on, Blondie,” Wolfwood coaxes, “Relax for me.”
Vash lets himself go in inches, settling down onto Wolfwood’s face as Wolfwood attaches his lips to Vash’s clit and sucks, flicking his tongue against it. Vash’s thighs shake and give out and Wolfwood lets out a moan when he feels Vash finally go limp on top of him. Vash’s arms are still braced against the wall, taking some of his weight, but most of him is settled right over the hot wet cavern of Wolfwood’s mouth.
It’s not perfect, there’s no finesse, no technique, just Vash grinding sloppily onto Wolfwood’s mouth and nose and Wolfwood licking into him like a man dying of thirst. It’s uncoordinated and Vash has never felt anything better, hands shaking where they’re braced against the wall.
As worked up as he is, it hardly takes him any time before the warm, pulsing feeling in his gut coalesces into something that sends his thighs shaking where they’re positioned around Wolfwood’s head. “Fuck,” Vash says, and his own voice sounds foreign to him, tone wrecked, “Wolfwood, I’m gonna —”
Wolfwood makes a noise under him, a half-moan half-growl that sends shivery vibrations through Vash’s cunt where Wolfwood’s tongue is delving deep inside of him. He slides back up to Vash’s clit, closes his lips around it, and sucks and that’s all it takes, Vash’s hands scrabbling at the wall with the effort it takes not to reach down and tangle in Wolfwood’s hair, his hips jerking as he grinds himself against Wolfwood’s tongue.
He’s breathing hard as he comes down but he has the presence of mind to shift backward, to scoot so he’s straddling Wolfwood’s chest instead of his face. Wolfwood is soaked from his nose to his jaw, glistening wet with Vash’s slick. He’s breathing heavily, eyes glazed and pupils blown. Vash feels unsteady, his thighs still shaking, and his clit throbs.
“That good?” Wolfwood finally says, eyes tracking over Vash’s face.
Vash almost laughs — does laugh, a little shaky and a little out of breath before he sees the expression on Wolfwood’s face. He’s not laughing, not grinning smugly. One corner of his mouth gently twists downward and he’s not looking at Vash.
“Oh,” Vash says and isn’t surprised at the shakiness of his voice. “You’re not joking.”
Wolfwood looks at him at that, dark eyes flashing, “Of course, I’m not, jackass.” he says, all bristle and thorns, a sharp contrast to the Wolfwood of a few minutes ago.
It hits Vash then. Of course, Wolfwood is nervous — they’d pretty much established that at the beginning. But it hadn’t occurred to him, and still doesn’t really, except in a nagging corner of his mind, that Wolfwood would be concerned about how it felt for Vash .
“Wolfwood,” Vash says, the tremor in his voice evening out with use. He pauses, brain skittering around the right words, the words that will make that frowning, nervous look on Wolfwood’s face go away. “I think you nearly killed me,” he finally settles on, with a grin.
Wolfwood’s face smooths out into a grin, “Not bad for a newbie?” he jokes, raising a finger to poke at Vash’s thigh.
“Hmmm,” Vash pretends to think, spreading his palms across Wolfwood’s pecs. “We might have to have you practice more, just to be sure.”
That gets a full-throated laugh out of Wolfwood and Vash can’t help but smile in response.
He hadn’t thought, not really. Sex hasn’t ever been about how he feels, for Vash, it’s always been about how he can make the other person feel. In this, Wolfwood has surprised him. It shouldn’t come as a shock anymore, really, Wolfwood always manages to do exactly what will unsettle Vash, to poke at the places where he’s become routine and complacent.
Wolfwood squirms under him, just a little, and Vash grins, looking over his shoulder to where Wolfwood’s cock is once again at full mast, curving up against his belly and dripping precome onto his abs.
“Told you it wouldn’t be a problem,” Vash says, sliding off Wolfwood’s chest to sit on the bed beside him.
“Shut up,” Wolfwood says, but there’s no heat in it, his voice slightly shaky with nerves? Want? Vash can’t tell.
Vash runs a hand up and down Wolfwood’s chest while he thinks, “How do you want to do this?” he asks, hand coming up to thumb at Wolfwood’s nipple.
Wolfwood lifts his hand like he’s about to slap away Vash’s, but then stops at the last minute. “Kinda hard to think —” he says. Vash laughs.
“Like this, then,” Vash says, rolling over on his back and grabbing Wolfwood’s hand to pull him over onto his side.
Wolfwood sits up, maneuvering Vash’s legs so that he’s kneeling between them. He looks nervous, now Vash can read the expression on his face plain as day, teeth worrying at his bottom lip and his hand gently resting on Vash’s side, barely pressing down as if he’s worried he’ll break.
“We don’t have to,” Vash says, resting a hand over Wolfwood’s, “I had a lot of fun! If you don’t want to —”
“Shut up, Spikey,” Wolfwood says again, squeezing his handful of Vash’s side, “I said it earlier, if you don’t want to, then tell me that and we’ll stop. But you don’t gotta worry on my account.”
Vash looks at him, cocks his head to one side. He knows it’s pushing, but. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he admits.
Wolfwood blushes and turns his head to the side. “How many times are you gonna make me say it, Blondie?”
Vash grins at that, a small smile pushing up the corner of his lips. He squeezes Wolfwood’s hand on his side. “Just one more?” he asks, amusement leaking into his voice.
Wolfwood turns back, at that. He’s still blushing, a ruddy glow blossoming over dark cheekbones and running down his neck, but his eyes look intense, and determined. “I want this,” he says, pressing his other hand to the inside of Vash’s thigh. “I want you , dumbass.”
“Wolfwood!” Vash whines, all laughter, and no heat, “You’re so mean to me!”
“Yeah well,” Wolfwood grouses, thumb coming up to pet at the lips of Vash’s cunt, “You started it.”
Vash’s retort is bitten back on his lips as Wolfwood spreads Vash’s pussy with his thumb, staring into the pink, wet heat between Vash’s legs. Vash swears he can see Wolfwood’s cock jump where it’s bobbing against his stomach.
“Do you need —” Wolfwood says, uncertainty running through his voice.
“No,” Vash interrupts him, “I’m — after —” he’s not used to stammering like this, usually able to muster his words with a level of serenity even in the most stressful of situations, it’s gotten him out of a lot of trouble over the years. But like this, with Wolfwood staring at the core of him like it’s something holy, like this, he feels like his head is churning, like he can’t get the words out right.
Luckily Wolfwood seems to understand Vash’s babbled response, adjusting himself so that Vash’s thigh is hooked over his waist and pushing closer, guiding his cock with his hand to drag the tip through Vash’s folds.
Vash can’t help the noise that escapes him as the tip of Wolfwood’s cock bumps gently against his clit, a half moan, half whimper, spilling out of his mouth before he has the chance to register the noise in his head.
Vash realizes with sudden, perfect clarity what a truly awful idea this was. He can’t blame Wolfwood, can only blame himself, will have to live with the fact that he let Wolfwood this close. He’s always tried, unsuccessfully, he knows, to keep Wolfwood at a distance, to not let Vash’s feelings ensnare him into the ruinous destruction that is Vash’s life.
Wolfwood, though, has pressed on every time, sliding through gaps and spaces that Vash has created in his armor with ease. After Wolfwood found him, with Lina, Vash hardly had the strength to keep him at bay anymore, Wolfwood’s insistent presence breaking down the walls that Vash tried so desperately to put between them faster than Vash could build them.
He’d been lulled into a false sense of security, of sharing beds, of long days riding Wolfwood’s motorcycle across the unending sands. In the end, he had been his own downfall, pushing Wolfwood on this where he should have just left well enough alone.
Vash has always been greedy, always wanted too much from everyone, and always dragged them down into the muck with him, despite how much he tries otherwise.
He knows as he feels Wolfwood hover over him and press just the tip of his cock into Vash, he knows that this will be the death of him.
He can’t bear to regret it.
Wolfwood shakes above him, the hand planted near Vash’s head that’s holding him up is twitching with the effort of holding himself up and still. Vash looks at him, smiles, and reaches up to cup Wolfwood’s jaw with his hand.
“Come on,” he says, “I want you to.”
That’s all it takes for Wolfwood to grab Vash’s hip in his other hand and push in, hard, sheathing himself to the hilt in Vash with a groan.
Vash can’t help the noise that pushes itself out of his mouth at that, a broken moan. It’s different, now, somehow, different knowing that it’s Wolfwood pressing so deep inside him, knowing that it’s Wolfwood shaking and panting above him, the feeling spreading like a thrill up his spine.
“Relax,” Vash says, even though his own voice is shaky, and it’s as natural as anything to pull Wolfwood’s head down for a kiss, just a press of Vash’s lips to his own.
Wolfwood lets out a sound wrenched from the depths of his gut and he’s kissing Vash back, eager, sloppy presses of his tongue into Vash’s mouth, less technique and more desperation.
Vash lets himself be devoured, but he can feel where Wolfwood shakes with the effort of keeping himself still. He pulls back, just far enough away from Wolfwood’s lips, “You can move,” he says, shifting his hips slightly and shivering at the way it jostles Wolfwood’s cock inside him. “I want you to,” he repeats.
Wolfwood lets out a breath of air against Vash’s lips and then experimentally, pulls his hips back, thrusting back in with a groan. “Not gonna last,” he says, and his voice is broken, shivering with want and exertion, despite neither of them having moved much at all.
“That’s fine,” Vash says, and Wolfwood pulls back to look at him, eyes narrowed slightly. “What?” Vash asks.
“You talk too much,” Wolfwood says, and before Vash can reply, he’s jostled up the bed by Wolfwood’s next thrust, Wolfwood leaning back to rest on his haunches and hand angling his hips just so. It takes the breath from Vash’s lungs when Wolfwood presses a certain way and hits that spot inside of him, suddenly Vash can’t even think about talking, can’t form thoughts other than more and Wolfwood and please , which he supposes was probably Wolfwood’s goal in the first place.
Wolfwood’s thrusts are uneven, shaky, and unpracticed, but Vash can barely breathe from the way that Wolfwood presses up inside him, making space inside Vash’s body. It feels intimate, in a way that sex has never felt to Vash before like Wolfwood is carving out parts of Vash to make room.
He doesn’t want to think about how this will end, about the mistake he’s made, about the eventual need to push Wolfwood away, for his own safety. He doesn’t want to think about those things now, so he doesn’t, letting his mind focus on the pleasure, on the sensation of being fucked.
Wolfwood is breathless above him, thrusts already getting erratic. Vash summons the presence of mind to reach his hand down between them, framing his clit between two fingers and jerking it in time with Wolfwood’s thrusts, the added sensation driving a moan out of him, head tipped back and eyes shut in pleasure.
“Look at me,” Wolfwood says, a shaky growl, and Vash is helpless to not comply, locking eyes with Wolfwood as his hand speeds up on his clit. At first, he can see more than feel the moment that Wolfwood comes, his eyes squeezing tightly shut despite his admonition and his muscles going tight and shivery, grinding deep inside of Vash. It’s almost all it takes for Vash to come too, focusing on the pleasure where Wolfwood grinds his come inside him, jerking his clit frantically until the feeling rolls through his gut, muscles tensing around Wolfwood’s softening cock.
There’s a moment where they just lay there, breathing heavily, shaking slightly, neither of them looking at one another.
Then Wolfwood collapses on top of Vash in an ungainly heap, knocking a breathless laugh out of Vash’s chest.
“Hey,” he says, using his hand to shove at Wolfwood’s side, not as hard as it would take to actually move him, “You’re too heavy to do this, come on!”
Wolfwood just lets out a groan somewhere in the vicinity of Vash’s ear and curls around Vash closer, tucking his head into Vash’s neck.
It’s alarmingly cute, Vash feels a bit disarmed, arms coming up uncertainly to coil around Wolfwood’s body. They’re covered in sweat and Vash can feel Wolfwood’s come sliding out of him as Wolfwood’s cock slips out when he repositions himself. They probably need to get up and shower, at the very least.
Wolfwood doesn’t appear to want to move any time soon, Vash can feel his breath evening out against his neck. He gently knocks Wolfwood’s head to one side with his hand.
“You can’t sleep yet,” he says, trying to keep the fondness out of his voice, “Get up.”
Wolfwood lets out another groan and then shifts to the side, so he can look up at Vash’s face. This close, his features are blurry, undefined, but Vash can see the limitless pools of his brown eyes, startlingly soft.
“Spikey,” Wolfwood starts, and it’s as uncertain as Vash has ever heard him, he sounds so much younger , like his footing has been unbalanced.
A sick shiver crawls its way down Vash’s spine. Of course. He should have known Wolfwood would be thinking the same things he had been — thinking of what a spectacularly bad idea this is, about what it will do to their relationship, what it will do to them .
“It’s okay,” Vash says, carefully keeping his voice flat even though it wants to shake.
Wolfwood narrows his eyes, “What’s okay?” he says, and Vash can tell his suppressing something in his own voice, maybe annoyance?
“I know,” Vash says, it’s too hard to make himself get the words out at first, has to open and shut his mouth once or twice “This was a mistake,” he finally gets out, the words flat on his tongue.
Wolfwood glares at him for almost a minute solid, before his hand comes up, fingers flicking Vash right in the middle of his forehead.
“Ow!” Vash exclaims, yanking Wolfwood’s hand away, “What was that for?”
“If you think that,” Wolfwood starts and Vash can feel the irritation in his voice now, the hardened edges of his words, “That’s one thing. But you don’t get to speak for me, got it?”
Vash opens his mouth to respond, closes it, and swallows the apology down hard. He knows it will just make Wolfwood even more mad, but still. “What were you, uh,” he starts, “Going to say, then?”
It’s only because he’s keeping a tight watch on Wolfwood’s face that he notices how his expression changes, face flushing, lips going from tight and irritated to uncertain.
“I was going to say thank you,” Wolfwood finally spits out, it’s obvious that the words are difficult to get past his lips.
Vash can feel himself flush, feels the warmth spreading across his cheeks and down his neck. “It’s not —” he pauses, bites his lip, “It’s not like I didn’t get anything out of it.”
Wolfwood snorts at that, his expressions smoothing out. “I don’t think this was a mistake,” he says, finally, and Vash can feel the tension leave his body. “Don’t wanna regret it.”
Vash sighs and lays back down fully, reaching over to click the lamp off and letting Wolfwood cling on to him, arms wrapped around Vash’s torso. He can’t do this in the light. “Unlike you to be the optimist,” he says when he’s finally looking away from Wolfwood and up at the dark ceiling.
“Did I say that?” Wolfwood retorts, “Don’t think it’s all sunshine and roses, don’t get me wrong.” He pauses before continuing. “Said I don’t wanna regret it.”
Vash chews on his bottom lip, Wolfwood’s hair tickling the underside of his chin. He — he doesn’t want to regret it either. He can’t help the swirling miasma of anxiety clogging his brain. How he’d ever thought that they could do this without breaking down the walls that Vash has carefully placed around himself. If he’s honest, those walls were crumbling when Wolfwood found him after July and only ruins remain of them.
“We should get up and shower,” Vash says, but his heart’s not really in it. It’s so comfortable here, warm with Wolfwood curled around him.
Wolfwood laughs again, a light huff against Vash’s chest. “Go to sleep, Spikey,” he says, “It’s late, we can shower in the morning.”
Vash wriggles like a worm in Wolfwood’s grip for a second before Wolfwood’s arm twists and pinches at Vash’s side.
“Hey!” Vash says, all mock outrage.
“Stop moving,” Wolfwood says, and for all the grumpiness in his voice, Vash can tell there’s fondness. Fondness, and exhaustion. It is very late.
Vash lets all the tension melt out of his body, focusing on the sensation of where Wolfwood’s skin overlaps with his own and not where he’s starting to get slightly sticky between his thighs.
He feels Wolfwood fall asleep alongside him, breaths evening out in the still night air.
It takes Vash longer to fall asleep, mind still twisting around a decision that can’t be unmade.
He doesn’t want to regret it.