Chapter Text
Wolfwood is leaning over him now, slotted between his parted legs, hands on his waist and fingers pressing into his dark turtleneck. His tongue is insistent and hot in his mouth, a wet slide that makes Vash moan as it traces over whatever corners it can possibly find, thoroughly lavishing him with precise attention. Wolfwood sinks down onto him under Vash’s gentle urging, pressing Vash into the bed with his weight, and Vash makes a satisfied noise, taking the pressure easily. He wants to ask him to hold him down, keep him here, but the words don’t make it past the numb, stickiness of his mouth. But for now, just this is enough.
His flesh hand digs into Wolfwood’s shoulder, clenching into his dark sweater as he licks over his teeth. His prosthetic is carefully curled above his head, still spasming with nerves as Wolfwood slowly begins to rock into the crease of his thigh. He gasps wetly, Wolfwood’s mouth swallowing the noise as he responds with a rough groan. Wolfwood’s thigh shifts to press between his legs and Vash rolls against it, back curving up into the touch.
“Ah—”
Heat is quickly pooling in the cradle of his thighs, his slit already dripping with slick, his petals threatening to unfurl. Wolfwood’s knee presses just a bit more firmly against him and Vash shudders, gasping into the kiss as he ruts down onto a muscled leg. He moans, mouth opening as his neck cranes back, Wolfwood’s full lips catching on his chin.
“Fuck, Blondie, you’re so sensitive.” Wolfwood huffs, taking Vash’s waist in a firm grip and purposefully urging him to drag himself up his thigh, a slow slide that has his breath stuttering. Vash feels his face heat, but Wolfwood looks at him like he’s ravenous, and any kind of embarrassment that was there quickly melts away under the desire so obvious on his face.
“S’good?” He teases, encouraging the desperate rock of Vash’s hips, Wolfwood’s stiffening cock brushing the top of his thigh.
Vash nods frantically, already dripping in his underwear, oversensitive and undertouched. “Yes, yes. Mmm, Nick.”
His eyes are fluttering, but he catches glimpses of Wolfwood’s face, that heated gaze that stays on him. Like he was committing everything he was seeing to memory, intent and pointed, uninhibited from the shade of his usual glasses. Vash’s eyes squeeze shut to escape it, but doing so only makes every brush of Wolfwood’s body over his just that more intense.
It’s been such a long time since anyone has had him like this, since Vash has allowed anyone to put their hands on him in this way. And it’s good, it’s so good Vash could already drown in it, something aching inside of him, clawing towards this thing that he so intrinsically wants. He sinks his teeth around the selfish urge to beg for more, whimpering and shivering as Wolfwood kisses him again, hands hot even over his covered skin.
They’re so close like this, Wolfwood’s weight relaxed into him, a firm pressure that surrounds him, a comforting press that keeps him against the bed. He can feel every shift of Nick’s hips as they rut against each other, his breath hot over his mouth, tongue darting past his teeth. It’s a slow, languid warmth, pleasure building inside of him, a spread of scorching heat. He could stay like this for hours, held down and surrounded by tan skin and the scent of smoke. He can feel the scratch of Wolfwood’s facial hair, a perfect drag that lets him know it’s him. It’s addicting already, a pressing need inside of him that makes him ache, hips rolling.
Wolfwood’s thumbs circle his sharp hipbones, fingers pushing his shirt just slightly up, and Vash can’t help but tense. Wolfwood notices, his hips stilling and his mouth pulling back from his, and Vash desperately chases him with a hitched whine. Wolfwood sways away from him and something cold drops in Vash’s chest, breath catching as he jerks back.
“Oh. Oh, I’m sorry—”
Wolfwood groans loudly, browbone digging into Vash’s clavicle, “God, Spikey.” Vash startles when Wolfwood’s head whips back up, bangs jostling. “You’re the one tensing. What’s wrong?”
Vash’s mouth opens on a soft oh, his eyes flickering away as his fingers carefully dig into Wolfwood’s shoulder. “I—I just. I don’t look—nice under all of this.” He chuckles, something that turns a little too high on the edges, cracking in his throat, “I’m sorry.”
Wolfwood stares at him for a few moments, warm, rough hands cupping his hips. He frowns before he pinches Vash lightly, causing him to yelp in surprise, “That is the dumbest shit you’ve ever said.”
Vash splutters, fingers spasming over Wolfwood’s sweater. “Hey—”
“Whatever you’ve got under here isn’t going to scare me away.” Wolfwood continues, fingers clenching into the give of his flesh, and Vash barely represses a shiver. “Stop thinking so damn much.”
Vash smiles, small and strained, “Some—some people don’t like the scars. And that’s fine! It’s fine if you don’t want to see. I—I know what I look like.”
But with his markings glowing bright over his body, he’s not actually sure what he must look like right now. He’s never liked looking at them, never enjoyed reminding himself of what makes him so different, strange and disgusting. How inhuman does he seem right now?
Something like anger flickers over Wolfwood’s face, a flash that makes Vash’s heart stutter. “Vash, I don’t know what kind of pieces of shit you’ve been with in the past, but I’m not going to turn tail over a couple scars.” He leans forward, nose brushing against Vash’s, “I’ll leave you alone if you really want to keep it on, but I’m not running away, you dumbass.”
Vash’s breath hitches, gaze darting over Wolfwood’s face, swallowing at the soft fan of his warm breath, the knead of his hands on his hips and thighs. He’s still impossibly wet, nearly shaking from restraining himself against rutting into the knee still pressed between his legs. He’s already worked up from so little, being dragged to that edge far too quickly over far too little. His thighs are sticky, his stomach a tight knot and skin overheating.
And then he imagines Wolfwood touching him everywhere, reaching under his shirt and running over skin that hasn’t known touch in so long. It makes him feel nearly dizzy, and if he weren’t laying down, he thinks he’d have stumbled from the sheer wave of heat that shoots through him. It sounds deliriously overwhelming, it sounds good.
And Wolfwood’s face is firm and sincere as he looks down at him, soft around the edges, and he’s still so beautiful like this. Warm skin slightly flushed, his full lips tinted red from kissing and his eyes shining with remnants of relief. Relief over Vash.
He’s still touching him absently, petting over his hips and thighs like he can’t help himself, like he doesn’t want to stop. It makes Vash want to give him whatever he wants, makes him want to let him put his hands wherever he’d like, use Vash until he was satisfied. Until Vash wasn’t in control anymore, didn’t have to be, because being here meant being safe. His cunt clenches at the thought, hips twitching.
His teeth chew on his bottom lip, and he says quietly, “You can take it off.”
Wolfwood’s face brightens just slightly at that, his hands sliding up his thighs and slowly closing around the hem of his turtleneck. He watches Vash’s face carefully as he tugs it up, sliding it over his torso until he can pull it over his head. Vash lets his hands stay up on the pillows above him, clenching nervously and carefully kept away from Wolfwood’s skin. He’s almost afraid that if he were to reach out, some kind of spell will be broken. That maybe Wolfwood will realize that he doesn’t want Vash here, that he doesn’t want him at all now that he’s laid out so bare.
His eyes don’t stray from Nick’s face as he watches him take in the sight of his scarred skin. His dark eyes flicker over the expanse of it, but there’s hardly a noticeable shift in his expression, no dulling of the heat that’s there. There’s still desire sparked in his irises, pupils blown and mouth parted, still awed by the sight of him. It makes Vash want to squirm, turn away from that warmth that feels like a brand over his exposed flesh.
Nick’s hands hover over his skin, and Vash still hasn’t allowed himself to look down, to even see himself.
“Is there anywhere I shouldn’t touch?”
Vash startles, meeting Wolfwood’s inquisitive gaze with wide eyes, mouth falling open. He doesn’t know why the question catches him so off guard—except perhaps because he’s never been asked that before. A gentle, casual show of the fact that he cares, that he doesn’t want to hurt him.
Vash swallows, blinking back the ridiculous sting in his eyes, “I—um.” He breathes out shakily, hesitantly reaching for a metal graft on his side, “Don’t press under this raised part.” He murmurs, fingers brushing the portion of the metal that lifts off of his skin, covering scar tissue beneath, “And this—this can hurt when it’s touched.” His fingers hover over a long, old line of clumsy stitching below his sternum, the skin mottled and ugly.
And as he looks down at himself, he can see the Plant markings that run over his skin—dimmer where they meet rough tissue, flickering and dead where they’ve been ripped through with his scars. He sucks in a trembling breath, “And don’t push on this—please.” He says softly, voice weak as his hand trails over the grate on his heart.
Wolfwood is watching him with rapt attention, absently petting at the swell of his hips. “I won’t.” He assures quietly, thumbnails tracing over the markings on his navel, and Vash shivers. His hands slide up over his stomach to his chest, unimpeded by the scars and metal they pass over, rough palms smoothing over the texture of Vash’s body. Vash arches into his touch, shivering at each pass of Wolfwood’s hands, pressing over silk skin and dead nerves alike.
He trembles with every touch, every careful caress, fingers catching over ragged skin like he were praying at an altar, finding every rosary bead and letting it know his worship. Vash can’t stop shaking, a tight pit settling in his gut made of sheer, overwhelming want. An ache inside of him that’s finally being soothed between warm, tan hands and dark eyes. He feels a little more full, a little more whole, approaching the feeling of being a person in these reverent hands.
“You’ve needed this for a long time, haven’t you?” Wolfwood murmurs, palm finding the frantic beat of his heart, another cupping his slim waist, holding it so easily in a large palm.
Vash chews on his lip, writhing into his touch, feeling hot with shame but also left so desperately wanting. “It feels like so much.”
“That’s okay, you’re okay, just relax for me. I’ve got you.”
Wolfwood’s lips find his throat and Vash sighs as he kisses the scar there, a ring of silvery pink, teeth a gentle sting as he nips at pale flesh. He cups Wolfwood’s nape, fingers curling gently into his dark curls, neck craning as he lets Wolfwood bite marks into his skin. Slowly, he begins to rock into his leg again, encouraged by the hand Wolfwood slips under his thigh, hauling him even closer.
“Good, that’s good.” Nick breathes and Vash’s hips stutter, feeling the brush of Wolfwood’s cock on his upper thigh.
Vash shivers, biting his lip around a pitched moan as he moves against Wolfwood's leg, fueled by murmured praise and the urging of a large hand. Wolfwood’s mouth trails down his chest, tonguing over glowing markings and ragged scars. Vash can only feel it around the fringes of dead tissue, but he still shudders, watching him through squinted eyes.
“So pretty.” Nick murmurs, and Vash’s breath hitches, thighs tightening around his sides, skin sticky between his legs. Wolfwood grins, sharp and knowing as he leaves marks on the bare patches of Vash’s neck. His tongue traces over pulsating light, like electricity down Vash’s spine, a spark that skitters over his flesh. Wolfwood hums, lips pressing firmly into the pulse of them, matching the pace of Vash’s heart and breath.
“Fuck, you look so good.” Wolfwood breathes, finger pads pressing into the blooming sting of bruises and Vash’s hips jump.
“Nick—” he gasps, prosthetic hand squeezing around a pillow, and Wolfwood shifts until they can grind together, kneeling between his parted thighs. Vash moans, feeling the drag of Wolfwood’s hard cock over his slit, and he desperately wants to feel it over his folds, pushing inside of him. He strains into him, a whine catching in his throat, feeling slick pool in his pants.
“Ah, ah—Nick. Please, I—”
Wolfwood hushes him with a soft breath, lips pressing firmly to the large scar that spans over his pec.
“You want these off, Angel?” He asks, fingers carefully tugging at the hem of his pants.
Vash pauses, his hand flexing over Wolfwood’s nape before he nods slowly. Wolfwood looks at him, still steadily rocking into him as he watches his face. Vash can’t help but moan, shuddering with every brush of his cock against his covered slit, his legs spreading to accommodate him.
“I wanna hear you say it.” Wolfwood murmurs, leaning forward for leverage as he grinds into him, a firm drag that has Vash arching into him with a gasp. Vash trembles, tears pricking at his lashes, mouth falling open on something that nearly sounds like a sob. Wolfwood palms at the top of his slit and he rolls into it, shuddering as more slick drips out of him.
“You—you can take them off. Please, please—” He rambles, teeth digging into his bottom lip. He’s so aroused that it burns, a simmering heat in his core as he desperately rocks into Wolfwood for the semblance of friction. And even this feels like nearly too much, like lightning at the base of his spine, his nerves lit up, sparking haphazardly. He thinks he could come like this, desperately rutting against Wolfwood’s cock and listening to the rough drawl of his voice muttering praises into his skin.
Vash watches as his face opens with pleasure, meeting the frantic rock of Vash’s hips, cock twitching in his pants as he moans roughly. Vash’s fingers tentatively brush along Nick’s jaw and he turns just slightly, breath warm and mouth slack as his hips meet his, bodies moving in tandem. Vash is making him look that; tan skin flushed and lips kissed red. It makes something unfurl in his chest, a crawling ache that makes him want to beg for Nick to use him, to let him have Vash’s body however he wants so long as he looks like that; warm and soft with contentment, brows pinched and eyes glassy.
Wolfwood’s fingers slide down to press at his slightly parted slit through his pants, curiously brushing over his peaking petals, slick already soaked through his underwear. Vash cries out, arching as Nick presses down just slightly harder, writhing and shoving into his touch.
“Ah—mmh, please, please Nico, I need—” He chokes, hips twisting, whining when Wolfwood’s hands pull away.
“Fuck.” He hisses, and then he's ripping Vash’s pants and underwear off in one rough tug. Vash startles but moans when his cunt is finally exposed to cool air, already drooling with slick. Wolfwood’s hands smooth down his legs, over his thighs and resting around the start of his prosthetics. His nails scrape over the metal, fingers clenching.
And now Wolfwood is just staring, pausing where he is, eyes zeroed in on the space between his legs. It makes Vash’s thighs flex with the overwhelming need to hide himself.
“I’m sorry—” He gasps out, legs twitching and bracketing Wolfwood’s sides, unable to pull together, “I know it’s not—”
“Please shut up.” Wolfwood breathes, and then there’s hands smoothing over the creases of his thighs, thumbs tracing over the marks that swirl low on his navel, trailing over the ones that curl over his slit. Vash sighs brokenly, hips shifting into the touch, back bowing off the bed.
“Is this okay?” Nick asks softly, fingers slowly sliding over the part of his slit, coaxing out the furl of his petals. Vash nods frantically, mouth open on a silent sob as finger pads rub over his soaked folds, his slit parting under the gentle urging. His eyes squeeze shut, legs falling open, straining desperately into the careful but firm pressure of Wolfwood’s fingers.
He hears a quiet gasp from above him, “Oh.” Vash can feel him trace the curve of his full petals, tan skin already coated in slick. “Cute.”
He whines, high and pitched in his throat as he covers his face with his hand, hips shuddering in a useless attempt at keeping himself still. Wolfwood’s fingers catch on his hole and his entire body twitches, teeth sinking into his bottom lip to quiet himself. Finger pads drag over his entrance, pressing but not entering just yet, and Vash chews on his lip so hard he can taste iron as he shakes.
“No, hey.” Wolfwood says, his free hand curling around his wrist, pulling it away from his mouth, “I wanna hear you.”
Vash gasps as a finger dips just inside of him, pressing past the rim of his hole.
“Ah, ah—” Wolfwood keeps his hand held in his, eyes holding his gaze as his lips brush his gloved knuckles, a finger sliding all the way inside of him. Vash clenches, head thrown back as he moans, petals fluttering.
He’s already panting, insistently rocking onto the intrusion, legs curling up over Wolfwood’s hips. The finger thrusts into him, crooking and pressing inside as Vash twists, writhing like Wolfwood was properly fucking him. It feels good, even just this, Vash’s walls oversensitive and clenching, unused to a touch that isn’t his own. And even then, he didn’t often have time to pleasure himself, and he’s certainly never managed to make himself feel like this. Like honey in his gut, syrupy and spreading, thick and hot beneath his skin.
“Ah, ah, mmh—” He wants to muffle himself but he refrains, wanting to be good, wanting to do what Wolfwood had asked of him. The satisfied warmth in Wolfwood’s eyes makes his gut clench, walls tightening, dripping with slick.
“‘S that good?” He grins, another finger slipping into him, aided by the copious amount of slick that pours out of him. Vash’s back arches, nearly choking on a moan as Wolfwood keeps his shaking hand held in his own, fingers crooking in a way that makes his vision white out. He can barely even rock into his touch, trembling all over and desperate.
“Nick, Nick, Nico—” He chants, eyes squeezed closed as his fingers move, his thighs quivering and jumping against Wolfwood’s sides. He can feel a thumb smooth over his knuckles, tightly holding onto Wolfwood’s hand as he moans and whimpers, feeling stuffed full. But he can take more; finds himself needing Wolfwood to stretch him properly.
“You—you can add another.”
He can see Wolfwood’s gaze meet his through teary, squinted eyes. “Yeah?” He breathes, and a third finger brushes his rim, slowly pressing inside.
“Oh—oh—” Vash’s hips roll, moaning as he twists in the sheets. Wolfwood’s fingers thrust inside him steadily, stretching Vash’s cunt, and he can’t stop the litany of noises that rumble in his chest.
He’s glowing, skin pulsing with the race of his heart and stutter of his breath. He can feel Wolfwood lean down, lips brushing over shining marks, tongue tracing the patterns that line his flesh. His mind feels sluggish, like dripping molasses, nothing in his head other than Wolfwood’s touch, his skin and his mouth and his fingers. He could get drunk on it, nearly delirious as spit pools in the corners of his mouth.
And when Nick’s palm grinds against his swelling clit Vash nearly screams, teeth clenching as it turns into a drawn out whine.
“Sensitive?” Nick presses his palm to his clit again, a slow grind as his fingers crook inside of him, and Vash’s back arches sharply as he cries. His voice catches and stutters, a pathetic whine pressing past his teeth.
“Nick!” He desperately ruts into his hand, tears curling over his cheeks as his chest heaves, and there’s something building inside of him, a mounting heat that makes him feel dizzy. He’s sobbing, shaking and writhing as he chases the feeling. Nick continues to fuck his fingers into him, breathing praise hotly into his skin, and Vash gushes around him, drool slipping down his chin.
Then that bubble of heat in his gut suddenly pops, a bright light flashing behind his closed lids. He gasps, the sound catching in his throat, high and pitched as he sobs. He rocks through it, something slick brushing his navel, his thighs quaking as they clench around Wolfwood’s hips. His throat feels hoarse, his limbs numb as he shivers all over, thoughts stopping and stuttering as he slowly regains the ability to think.
“Holy shit.” He hears Wolfwood breathe and Vash’s eyes slowly flutter open, stomach pooled with his own slick. Wolfwood’s arm is streaked with it, fingers sticky and stained, and Vash realizes he just came all over his hand.
Vash yelps, “I’m sorry—”
“Oh quit it with the apologizing.” Wolfwood groans, hands hooking under Vash’s thighs, pushing his legs up and apart. “Should have seen yourself. You’re so fucking beautiful.”
Vash feels so hot he thinks he could melt, his freed hand curling over Wolfwood’s shoulder, pulling him closer. Wolfwood surges forward to kiss him, mouth warm and wet as he licks into his mouth, parting his lips and swallowing the whimpers caught in Vash’s throat. His hips roll up, wet cunt catching on the front of Wolfwood’s sweatpants, sliding over the outline of his stiff cock. They both moan, Wolfwood pressing firmly down onto him, fabric catching on the slick folds of Vash’s flowering cunt. He shudders, fingers pressing into tan skin as he meets the rut of his hips, shaking from oversensitivity, nerves burning, but still wanting more.
“You alright for more?”
Vash eagerly nods, voice caught in his throat as he shakes, thighs flexing in Nick’s firm hold. Wolfwood’s eyes are settled on the unfurl of his petals as his hips shift away, Vash’s cunt twitching and fluttering in the cradles of his legs. He whines at the loss, hole clenching as his teeth dig into his bottom lip.
Wolfwood’s lips press a placating kiss to his knee, thumbs digging into the give of muscled thighs.
“Good, cause I wanna put my mouth on you.” Wolfwood grins, sharp as he looks at him for permission. “Is that alright, pretty thing?”
Vash swallows, face heated, and he wonders if he could turn into a puddle across the sheets. “I—yes. If you want.”
Wolfwood huffs softly, lips and hands squeezing and kissing and biting at his scarred, pale thighs. He can feel himself dripping, pooling on the bed, gut clenching and jumping with every caress to the insides of his legs. Wolfwood uses the hold he has on him to pull him closer, marking a hot trail towards his pelvis, teeth catching on the point of his hip bones.
“You’re so good.” He says, warm breath fanning over Vash’s cunt and he shivers, moaning softly, thighs tensing in anticipation. He kisses the skin around his parted slit, tonguing over the shining markings there, lapping up spread slick. Vash’s breath catches, fingers curling into Wolfwood’s sweater.
“Please.” He whispers, breathing out quietly as his thighs quiver, looking down at Wolfwood, head between his spread legs. The sight has his cunt clenching, teeth digging into his bottom lip.
Wolfwood glances up at him, eyes dark and narrow, before he laves a stripe from his hole to the tip of his clit. Vash’s hips jump, a sob trembling in his chest as he arches.
“Ah, Nick!”
Wolfwood hooks one of Vash’s legs over his shoulder, pressing forward, and his tongue slips into his sopping hole. He laps into him like he’s starving for it, sucking around the rim before his tongue dips inside again, fucking into him. Vash whines, pitched in his throat as tears curl down his temple, still sensitive from already coming, overwhelmed in the best way possible. Wolfwood thumbs at his clit and his hips jump, thighs clenching for just a moment around Nick’s head. He moans around his cunt, licking over the folds of his petals, and a shudder wracks through Vash’s body.
His thumb strokes the length of his clit, tonguing into his entrance as his other hand slips beneath his hips. He urges them forward and Vash thrusts shallowly into Wolfwood’s mouth, feeling the way he groans against him.
“Yeah, like that.” He murmurs, aiding Vash in picking up the rhythm of his hips as he shakes, “Good boy, just like that.” He breathes out hotly over his cunt, and Vash sobs as his tongue presses into him again.
“Ah—ah, ah mmh. Nico, Nico, it feels so good.” He sucks in a harsh breath, head thrown back as he desperately grasps at Wolfwood’s shoulder, hips rocking into his face. The praise makes him feel heady, the idea of being good, of doing what Wolfwood wants. He moans, Wolfwood’s tongue steadily thrusting inside of him, meeting every rock of his hips.
He’s humming, rumbling moans pressed into his cunt, and Vash feels like he can hardly breathe. It burns, borderline painful with how sensitive he is, and it’s so, so good. Nick’s tongue traces the delicates folds of his petals, flat and licking up to his clit. He sucks the bud into his mouth, Vash sobbing as he arches up off the bed, hips hovering in the air. Wolfwood holds him there, one arm wrapped around his back, the other holding his thigh. Vash chokes, legs trembling as Nick’s tongue swirls around his clit, lapping at him like it were his last meal.
He keens Wolfwood’s name, high and desperate and dripping, slick over his thighs, but so much of it is caught in Wolfwood’s mouth now. He can feel the drag of his stubble, prickling over sensitive skin, and it makes him twitch, a sob catching in his throat. It’s a stark contrast to the smooth, soft and wet slide of his tongue over his clit and petals, dipping into his hole when it slips further down.
He’s already building toward his peak again, so close to another orgasm, hot and shivering and so overwhelmed that he hasn’t stopped crying. His shaky fingers pull at Nick’s sweater, nails catching over wooly fabric, tugging at it for purchase, held in the air by a strong arm under his waist.
“Come on.” Wolfwood breathes, lips leaving sloppy, wet kisses on his clit, “Come on, sweet thing, you can let go.”
Two fingers slip into his sopping, loose hole, curling just slightly, and Vash clenches around the intrusion. He can barely move with the way Wolfwood is holding him, hips suspended in air. It makes him feel vulnerable, entirely out of control as his leg curves over Wolfwood’s shoulders, cunt clenching. The thought makes him feel heady, pliant and open and accepting of every touch Nick is willing to offer. He could do anything right now and Vash would gratefully beg for it, is damn near ready to, delirious on the idea. He’s forced to be held and take it, and he’s gushing around Wolfwood’s finger, voice trembling on drawn out whines.
Wolfwood sucks on his clit, moaning around it as his fingers crook just right, and it’s enough for him to spill over. He cries out and he’s coming again, Wolfwood’s mouth steadily staying on him as he helps him to rock his hips.
“Ah, ah, fuck, fuck—Nico—” Vash sobs, Nick’s mouth hot on him, greedily swallowing whatever he can catch. Vash falls back bonelessly, limp and panting as Wolfwood allows him to sink back down onto the bed.
His thighs are quivering, oversensitive and twitching as Wolfwood pets at his skin. He drifts in the warmth of a post-orgasm haze, satiated and numb, like he’s sinking down into the mattress. He twists languidly over the sheets, face turning into his pillow, like a large cat basking in the sun. There’s a pooling of heat low in his gut, soft and spreading, and his mind is a dull buzz. He sighs quietly, tongue heavy in his mouth.
“Vash? Vash, are you alright?”
His head turns slightly, jerking towards the noise as he slowly floats back down to his body. Fingers gently brush his bangs away from his face, pushing them back. Vash leans into the touch, breath hitching in his throat.
“Hmm? Nico?” He slurs, eyes still closed as he chases the feeling of fingers scratching the bristles at the back of his head.
He hears an incredulous laugh, lips close to his jaw, “You are totally out of it Spikey, Christ.”
Vash makes a small noise and full lips brush the corner of his mouth, his chin, the bridge of his nose. “Was that good, Angel?”
Vash nods dumbly, eyes blearily slipping open. Wolfwood is still kneeling between his legs, hand brushing through his hair, the other petting over his tapered waist. “Uh-huh.” He murmurs, and Wolfwood smiles.
He’s still in all of his clothes, and Vash looks down at him, eyes grazing over the stiff outline of his cock.
“You haven’t come yet.” He whines, and Wolfwood stares at him for a few moments.
He scratches at Vash’s scalp, a comforting gesture as he says quietly, “That’s okay, Vash. I can handle it myself—”
Vahs immediately makes a distressed noise, the fingers of his flesh hand scrabbling at the sleeve of Wolfwood’s sweater, “No—no I wanna help.”
“Vash—”
“I can be good.” He gasps, and he feels like something in his head has been dislodged, face flush and body achingly hot. “I promise, I want—I want to make you feel good, too.”
Wolfwood pauses, looking down at him with dark eyes. He’s watching Vash’s face carefully, and Vash feels too drunk on something to even properly parse through his expression. But his hand returns to petting his hair, another cupping the side of his face. A thumb smooths over his jaw before digging slightly into the point of it, tilting his head back.
“You want this?” He breathes, and the front of his sweatpants brushes his slick, sensitive cunt. It hurts, a sparking burn that makes him jump. It makes him moan, makes him press into the outline of his hard cock, spreading slick over the fabric even as he sobs and shakes.
“Please, please, Nico—you can fuck me, I want it—”
Nick grinds down harder and Vash’s voice cuts off around a rough sob, back arching as his petals spasm, tears springing to his eyes. It’s too much, his oversensitive cunt clenching around nothing, the muscles in his stomach tightening. But Wolfwood moans, pressing hot kisses into the side of his throat, tounging at bruising marks, and Vash is delirious on the thought of making Wolfwood feel good. Vash’s legs part, grabbing at the neckline of Wolfwood’s shirt.
“Off?” He whines, and it’s the only thing he can muster with Wolfwood rocking down onto him.
Wolfwood chuckles softly but pulls away, tugging the sweater off over his head. Vash is distracted enough by the sight that he doesn’t whine at the loss of his hips no longer grinding against him. He stares at the bare skin, the dusting of hair on Wolfwood’s chest and arms, the trail that leads down his navel and into his pants. He can’t help but reach out to touch, fingers flattening over his muscled stomach. He can feel Nick twitch beneath his palm, tan skin warm and pleasant beneath his own.
“Don’t look at me like that.” Wolfwood grumbles, his fingers circling over Vash’s thin wrist, holding his hand there.
“Like what?”
“Like I’m worth being looked at.”
Vash makes a small noise in his throat in protest but Wolfwood is kissing him, wrestling out of his sweatpants as his teeth catch on his bottom lip. Vash moans, fingers curling over the nape of Nick’s neck. His hips finally sway forward again and his bare cock catches on the folds of his unfurled petals. Vash sobs, a garbled rendition of Wolfwood’s name heaving in his chest, and he feels Nick moan into his mouth, hips stuttering.
Then there’s a hand around his prosthetic, tugging it from the pillow it’s been curled around since the moment they laid down.
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you not touching me with this.” Wolfwood murmurs, thumb rubbing over his metal palm. Vash’s breath hitches, unable to feel anything other than vague pressure.
“I—It wouldn’t feel very comfortable—”
“I don’t care. I want you to touch me, come on.” Wolfwood huffs and he brings his prosthetic up to rest on his shoulder. Vash’s metal fingers twitch, digging into soft skin that he can’t feel. But Wolfwood seems satisfied, hands caressing over both of his arms, desperately grabbing at his strong shoulders.
And then Wolfwood rocks forward, cock sliding over his sensitized cunt. Vash writhes, desperately pulling and pushing away from the sensation, sobbing loudly. His eyes squeeze shut, tears curling down his cheeks as Wolfwood moves against him. His legs hitch up, trembling uncontrollably as he locks his arms behind Wolfwood’s neck. That hazy need hits him full force, thoughts turning liquid and sluggish as drool pools in the corners of his mouth. He can hear the hitch of Wolfwood’s breath, low moans pressing past his lips. It makes Vash shudder, content to lay still and let him take whatever he wants, cockhead brushing over his swollen clit. He feels flayed open, every touch like nails catching on exposed nerves, burning and sobbing, and he wants it like nothing he’s ever wanted before in his life.
“You’re so pretty.” He whispers, his head turning to leave a kiss to his flesh palm, still gloved. “So good and sweet like this. You still want me to fuck you, yeah?”
Vash nods frantically, eyes still squeezed shut as he shakes, whining Wolfwood’s name in a desperate prayer, begging for something, anything. “Please, please, please—”
“Shh, I’ve got you, come on.” Wolfwood’s rough but careful hands find his hips, “Turn around for me, sweet boy.”
Vash’s entire body quakes, shivering and clumsy as he listens only to the low drawl of Nick’s voice as he lays on his stomach, thinking of nothing else but his hands and his words. Hands smooth over the small of his back, cupping his ass and squeezing over his thighs, mapping out new scars and glowing marks. Vash hugs a pillow to his chest, tasting the tang of tears on his tongue as he moans softly.
“You’re so, so pretty like this.” A hand presses between his shoulder blades, cockhead catching on his wet rim but not properly entering just yet. He can feel himself dripping, clenching over nothing and quivering from sensitivity. “Just want to be called good and pretty, don’t you? Get stuffed full on my cock?”
Vash nods, whining, “Nick, yes, yes, please.” He sucks in a wet breath, “Want to make you feel good.”
He hears a soft sigh, a hand curling around his hip. “Oh, pretty thing, you already do.” His head pushes in, “You’re so good.” He thrusts forward and Vash can’t help but scream, cunt clenching as he twitches, burning from the inside out, nerves fried, completely singed by the heat boiling beneath his skin.
Wolfwood pauses and Vash sobs deliriously, “Don’t stop, don’t stop, please—”
Wolfwood shushes him gently, kissing at the tense line of his bowed back as he presses the rest of the way inside. Vash moans brokenly when his hips meet his ass, fully sheathed in his cunt, long and hard and hot. He feels so full, stretched to the brim, shivering and clenching. Vash shudders, panting into a pillow as his arms squeeze it to himself, hole fluttering around Wolfwood’s cock. He can hear Wolfwood groan into his skin, hips stuttering, as if he can’t control them. It makes Vash roll back onto him just to hear the hitch of his breath, his gut tight and burning. It’s a delicate line between pain and pleasure that makes Vash feel dizzy, tears caught in his lashes, throat raw from a litany of sounds.
“Fuck, Vash.” He gasps, teeth catching on his skin, and he slowly begins to thrust forward into him, a nearly gentle rhythm. Vash sobs, legs twitching, overwhelmed with a scorching heat. He can’t stop himself from pulling back, instinctively moving away from his touch, aching for it but still so unbelievably overstimulated.
“Oh, oh, Nick, Nick—” He chokes on a sob, and he reaches back, fingers catching on Wolfwood’s arm, “I—I need—” He whimpers, sinking down onto the bed, head turning into one of the pillows at the headboard.
Wolfwood hums, like he understands what he needs, and Wolfwood’s entire body presses down onto him in the next moment, “Like this? Want me to hold you down, pretty boy?” His breath is hot over the shell of his ear, and Vash squirms, trapped against the bed, caught between Wolfwood’s cock and the hand holding his hip.
He sobs, mind foggy and blissed out, “Mm- hmm , mmh.” He sucks in a harsh breath and Wolfwood begins to move again, his engorged clit sliding against soft sheets. He can’t do anything as Nick thrusts into him, pressing him down into the mattress and making him take it. Nick moans into the side of his neck, tongue laving over rapidly pulsing marks, and Vash feels like he’s being pulled apart. Wolfwood holds him still as he uses him, body draped across him and keeping him in place as he shakes. And it’s so good, so achingly perfect as Vash cries and sobs, choking on his own noises and listening to Nick’s rough breaths
“You feel so good.” Nick whispers into his shoulder, teeth sucking pale skin into his mouth, hips languidly rocking into him. Vash mewls, slurring out Wolfwood’s name as he attempts to meet his thrusts with trembling movements.
Wolfwood reaches up, fingers threading with Vash’s own, his face buried in his neck as he thoroughly holds him down. His thrusts speed up, growing harder and deeper, and Vash sobs at the drag of his clit and petals against white sheets, legs jumping and quivering as he drools onto a pillow case. He can barely move, pressed down under his firm weight and shaking as he grows drunk on the sound of Wolfwood moaning against him, the rock of his body. He can feel that mounting heat in his gut again, tight and painful and addicting in its ache.
He’s making Wolfwood feel good, his hips pistoning into his cunt and grunting as his teeth catch on his skin. He can hear him moaning behind him, the desperate slap of their skin meeting, the way Wolfwood bites and grasps at his body like he can’t stand to let go. And Vash feels the frissons of heat over his skin like electricity dancing under his flesh, skittering over sparking nerves.
“Nico, Nico—” He slurs around tears and heaving breaths, fingers spasming in Wolfwood’s hold as his body is used and pressed down, cunt leaving a puddle beneath his hips, clit throbbing.
“Can you come again?” Nick whispers into the side of his temple, breaths warm as he noses into his hair, hips rocking into him deep, each thrust slowly dragging his clit across the sheets.
He sobs, “I—I can’t, I can’t—” And he wants Wolfwood to come first, wants him to use the welcoming cradle of his body, and he wants him to stay inside of him when he does. But he can barely think, let alone speak, and he only whines pathetically.
Wolfwood hums, “I think you can.” His hand slides under Vash, fingers catching on his clit and Vash sobs, writhing and squirming as tears curl down his chin. “Come on, sweet thing.” He murmurs and Vash goes limp, shaking and obediently taking what he’s given, hips shuddering and breaths catching on every inhale.
“Please.” He rasps, feeling like he’s no longer even tethered in the same world. All he can feel is Wolfwood’s breath and hands and cock, touching him and moving inside of him wringing pleasure from his body when he didn’t even think it was possible.
“Be good for me, Angel.”
Wolfwood’s lips find the back of his neck before his mouth opens, teeth sinking into his skin. Vash arches, Wolfwood’s cock sliding into him as his fingers rub over his clit, and then he’s coming again, mouth opening on a scream that immediately catches. His head cranes back, vision completely whiting out until he can’t see, only feeling his own pleasure-pain-pleasure crashing over him in wave after wave. He rides it out, crying and whimpering and feeling like his brain was properly melting, drooling and sobbing on Wolfwood’s cock.
And Wolfwood is still moving inside of him. He cries out, Wolfwood’s slick hand cradling his throat, bobbing with a swallow and rumbling with his sobs.
“Nick, Nick, Nico—ah, hng—” His entire body quakes, rocking limply with the shift of Wolfwood’s hips. It hurts, a burning that makes his gut tighten, nerves on fire. But he doesn’t tell him to stop, doesn’t want to, only lays there and lets him take and take, fucked stupid and he so badly wants Wolfwood to come.
“Good boy.” He breathes, “You’re so perfect, Angel.” He gasps and his hips finally still, hot come spurting in Vash’s dripping cunt, and he weakly arches, voice cracking around one last sob. Wolfwood pumps into him for a few moments, shallow thrusts that leave him quaking. Every movement is like fire over his flesh, like a lighter over his nerves, and satisfaction spreads inside of him.
Vash releases a stuttering sigh, head buried in a pillow as Wolfwood slowly pulls out. He shudders, whimpering, fingers clenching around Wolfwood’s, their hands still clasped. He’s panting and he can hear Wolfwood’s breathing too, rough and tired.
His mind is blank, fuzzy and blank and sluggish, slow with pleasure and contentment. He could stay like hours, languid and shaking and burning from the inside out. He wonders if Wolfwood could do that, take him to that edge over and over again for hours on end without ever letting him tip over. It makes him shake.
And then he’s gently pulled back against a firm chest, trembling and exhausted and pliant. He murmurs in contentment, Wolfwood’s chin resting on the top of his head.
“Are you feeling okay?” Wolfwood asks, thumb smoothing over his knuckles, “I didn’t overdo it?”
Vash slowly shakes his head, “S’good. Really good.”
Wolfwood snorts, carefully pulling the blanket around them, mostly spared from their bodily fluids.
“You’ll need to get cleaned up soon.” Wolfwood says, and Vash only hums, limbs heavy and still faintly trembling. He thinks it could take days to get over how intensely good he feels, satiated, pulled apart and put back together again with gentle hands. Better than he was before.
“Later.” He murmurs, pressing back into Wolfwood’s embrace.
He can hear Wolfwood huff, warm breath ruffling his hair, “Okay, fine. Later.”
He presses one last kiss to the back of his neck, and then Vash is drifting off.