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Vash has a new upstairs neighbor he hasn't met yet but has heard moving boxes around and occasionally some swearing and a loud thump. Normal move-in stuff. He’s curious but wants to give the new guy a chance to settle in before introducing himself. It's on the third night after move-in that Vash hears a series of alarming crashes, some very creative swearing, and then dead silence. It's 10pm, he's eating a late dinner on the couch, watching the ceiling and waiting for any follow-up.
Nothing.
Well, the guy is probably fine, right? Vash takes a few more bites. Silence. His imagination starts to play out increasingly ridiculous and distressing scenarios until he can't stand it anymore and gets up to check on his mystery neighbor. He climbs the stairs and knocks politely.
"Hey I live downstairs, I just wanted to check—"
The door opens and Vash discovers his neighbor is:
- Hot
- Wet
- Has a wild panic in his eyes that is quickly turning into panicked surprise because
- Mystery neighbor is not a mystery. It's his one night stand from two years ago.
“Vash? "
His one night stand from two years ago who apparently remembers his name. Cool! That is! Very cool! Vash definitely is not having feelings about that and coincidental to this whole experience he hasn't been with anyone in two years but that's fine! This is all fine!
"Oh—wow! Oh wow. Nick! Yes! It's good to see you!" and then they stand there staring at each other like they’re exchanging pleasantries at the grocery store and not whatever the hell this is.
"Sorry about uh, the noise," Nick says, clearly struggling but bravely plowing ahead.
"You're all wet," is Vash's very smart response. With stunning clarity he recalls it's also what Nick said to him during their last. Um. Conversation. Nick breaks eye contact and looks down at himself, plucking his damp shirt away from his body. The neckline gaps and Vash sees the arch of his collarbone, the barest dusting of hair curling up.
"Spilled some water," Nick says, but he sounds disproportionately despondent. Vash is about to apologize and excuse himself and possibly start looking for new apartments when Nick slumps, defeated.
"Actually, I spilled an entire glass on my laptop. I'm trying to let it dry out but..." he trails off, eyes unfocusing in dissociative despair. Then he suddenly snaps out of it. "Sorry again, I know it's late. I'm about to give up and go to bed so it'll be quieter now."
"No! I mean, I'm sorry, that sucks so bad," unlike Nick who sucks really really, "letting it dry out is probably for the best. Have you eaten?"
The question takes both of them by surprise but Vash finds he means it genuinely. He knows from having to do it too many times over the years that moving often results in eating not enough way too late. Mostly, though, Nick looks so pathetic that Vash wants to cheer him up a bit. Nick recovers quickly and huffs a little laugh.
"You offering? All I've got is warm beer and cold beer."
Vash smiles, really smiles, because he didn't exactly forget how easy it was to fall into step with Nick, how easy it had been even for one night, but the memory of it had gone soft and worn over the past two years. Nick had been good at the sort of push and pull that reeled Vash in.
"I've got a bowl of spaghetti with your name on it if you want it. I got home late so I was only just sitting down for dinner, and I wouldn't mind the company." Vash realizes that he could just bring Nick food; he doesn't have to invite him over, doesn’t have to make it weird, Nick doesn't seem uncomfortable and may even be flirting, a little, Vash isn't sure, but he also never called after they had what Vash thought was a great time together. Maybe Nick is just a really polite guy and actually wants Vash out of here as soon as possible and—
"You're a lifesaver, blondie. Lemme go change and I'll be right down. You sure you don't mind?"
Vash bounces up on his toes and leans forward. Not too much, just enough to hold Nick's gaze.
"Positive," he says, feeling his ears go hot when Nick smiles back at him, a small crooked thing like he can't help it or doesn't even know he's echoing Vash's grin. "I'll see you in a few!"
Vash has about five minutes to work himself into a minor tizzy in his apartment before there's a cute pattern of knocks and Nick is poking his head inside.
"Figured it was kinda late for beer so I brought some juice my brother left."
Vash likes him, Vash likes him so much.
"How'd you know that—" he takes the juice from Nick and looks at it, "mango and spaghetti is my secret favorite pairing."
"Seemed like that kind of guy," and god Nick has such lovely eyes that crinkle the tiniest bit at the corner.
So they have pasta and juice, and Vash puts on the show Nick was trying to watch when he spilled water all over his computer, and they sit on the couch eating and chatting and it is so stupidly easy and so damnably nice and neither of them bring up that they once had crazy marathon sex and kissed a LOT and spooned til morning.
It's after midnight when Vash looks over at the end of an episode and sees Nick asleep, tucked into the blanket Vash crocheted. He looks so exhausted and so handsome. Vash wants to gently press his fingers to the dark circles under his eyes. He lets himself watch for a minute, lulled by the quiet, until Nick stirs and opens his eyes. He looks at Vash drowsy and heavy-lidded.
"Good morning sleepy-head," Vash says and delights in Nick's eyes going wide.
"What time is it?"
"Just kidding," he covers his smile, a little mean, he knows, behind his hand. "I think you only knocked out for ten-ish minutes. It's a little after midnight."
"Very funny," Nick pinches Vash's socked toe where he's got his legs curled up between them.
It's the first physical contact they've had all evening and it sends a butterfly thrill through Vash's stomach. Then Nick softens and gently squeezes Vash's foot in his big, warm hand before withdrawing and yawning.
"Thanks for feeding me."
"This was really nice," Vash says, feeling at a loss, somehow, but sincere as Nick disentangles himself from the blanket and stretches. Then he remembers why all of this is happening. "Oh, but I mean, I'm sorry again about your computer. You know where to find me if you need more pasta."
He walks Nick to the door and it feels like he should walk him back upstairs to drop him off but that would be silly, and too much, and Vash is trying to not scare Nick off again from whatever happened before.
"Well, you know where to find me if you need more mango juice," Nick says with a big tired smile. "Night Vash."
Vash gives him a little wave as he turns to go up the stairs.
"G'night Nick! Sleep tight!"
When he shuts the door he immediately slides down to the floor and buries his face in his hands. His cheeks are burning, he can feel how hot they are, and he can't believe this is how he ends up with a rekindled crush the size of the moon on his new neighbor/old one night stand—a crush he knows he didn't try very hard to get over to begin with.
✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:*˖°.✧*.˖:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
Two weeks later they've had dinner together five times, trading off with Nick offering to cook in Vash's kitchen until he found the box with his pans, and Vash discovered Nick's forearms look incredible when handling a wok. Unsurprising, since Vash knows they look good playfully straining against being pinned down. He's also met Nick's big handsome brother Livio when he came by to drop off Nick's snake, a beautiful ball python named Punisher who loves to sneak under Nick's sleeve, weaving around Nick's bicep to rest across the back of his neck while they watch TV and will occasionally deign to sniff Vash's ear with flicks of her tongue if they sit close enough together.
Vash leaves little sticky notes on Nick's door when he's not home and Nick does the same. His computer gets fixed but they still use Vash's and Vash is waiting for Nick to get tired of him but it doesn't happen. They haven’t talked about two years ago and while it's kind of driving Vash crazy, he honestly forgets it’s a thing when they’re hanging out.
Nick is kind and sarcastic and funny and gorgeous and weird and Vash has so much fun with him even when Nick invites him up just to give Punisher enrichment (be her personal heat rock) while Nick is unpacking his stuff or cooking them dinner.
They're friends, Vash realizes at the end of the second week, and he loves it. Maybe they don’t ever have to talk about it! It was only one night, it probably wasn't even a big deal for Nick. A fresh start can be good! ‘Friends' is great! Even though Vash wants to kiss him so badly he feels it as an ache in his chest and falls asleep every night thinking about how the layouts of their rooms are the same and Nick is in bed directly above him.
Can’t he be satisfied that he sees Nick so frequently they haven't even needed to swap numbers yet? He has Nick right upstairs and that should be enough.
Of course he should have known they couldn't keep dodging it. It was such a small thing. Nick is blessed with a tiny landing by the back stairs, and he'd asked for Vash's help that weekend setting up balcony planters to start some herbs. He already knew Nick was good with plants—Livio had dropped off a load of houseplants with his pickup truck—but Vash wasn't going to say no to any time spent with him.
He's watering in the seeds when a sharp pain zaps through his shoulder and down his arm, dead-ending at his prosthetic and making his hand spasm.
"Shit," he hisses, dropping the watering can, clenching his teeth against the wire-tight line of fire bouncing around his nerves. Nick is there in an instant, gently cupping his wrist so that Vash can let his arm drop without pulling on his bicep, dragging one of the small balcony chairs over with his foot.
"Here, sit—"
"Sorry, it happens sometimes, it—"
"It's okay, I remember, do you need help getting it off?"
Vash freezes. He feels the moment Nick goes still as well.
"Hah, right, you were very considerate, um, very good about it. Back then. I should go take care of. Yeah."
It's strange, it's so strange to have spent two weeks feeling like he can't soak up enough of Nick's attention and now all he wants to do is bolt. He tries to stand but Nick still cradles his wrist and the pain in his shoulder steals the strength from his legs and he looks up at Nick without meaning to, some automatic drive for comfort Vash had long kept buried until Nick weathered him with care.
Nick looks stricken.
"Let me help," Nick says, insistent but on the edge of pleading. "Can I get anything? Do you need stuff from your place?"
Vash shakes his head and tries to refocus.
"It'll pass, just a spasm. I should let it settle before I disconnect my arm."
"Here," Nick reaches over to take Vash's other hand, guiding it to where Nick was supporting his wrist and forearm. "I'll be right back. Don’t go anywhere."
Vash swirls in anxiety over what this quasi-recognition means for their friendship much less anything else. He doesn't want to remind Nick of whatever it was that made him not want Vash before. He just wants to keep close, to be kept close, to fit into and alongside Nick's life.
Nick comes back with a pillow, a small jar of something, and an electric blue sports drink that Vash can already feel sticking to his teeth but which he knows is filled with—
"Electrolytes," Nick lists, setting it on the table, "prop up with the pillow instead," he scoots it under Vash's prosthetic so Vash can have his hand free, "and a topical, you've gotta relax the muscle, no arguing." He sets that down too, opens the sports drink and holds it out until Vash takes it and drinks half of it. Nick watches Vash keenly, and it's strange all over again to feel so good and so flighty under his attention.
"Thanks," Vash manages, picking up the topical. "Oh, I've got the same one."
"Do you want me to...?" Nick asks, hesitant.
Vash shakes his head. "Just hold it for me."
Nick does, quiet as Vash works the ointment around his bicep, rolling up his sleeve to get his shoulder. He's so fucking embarrassed. Not about his arm but about the open recognition of their hookup and the obvious unspoken dovetail of Nick never reaching out to him later. And now Nick is so nice, just like he was during hookup aftercare.
"It's the same as yours because I got it after we met again," Nick says suddenly. "I’d seen you use it a couple times and I know you've got whatever you need downstairs but."
Nick says it all in a rush until he abruptly gets to the end and stops.
Vash pauses. Oh.
"Oh."
His heart is rabbiting now, the tight hold of shame loosening, something gentler blooming in its wake. He finishes with the topical but keeps absently rubbing at his shoulder. He's waiting for something but he's not sure what it is.
"I tried to find you," Nick blurts out, then, "this is a bad time to talk about this."
Vash finally looks over at him to see Nick staring resolutely down at the pillow. He looks miserable, worse than when he dumped water on his computer two weeks ago.
"I'm a captive audience," Vash tries to joke but it makes Nick's expression worse. "What do you mean you tried to find me?"
"I mean you don't have any social media, Blondie, and apparently you don't go back to the same bar twice, and—"
"Why didn't you just," Vash teeters at the edge of a cliff, one foot hovering, "call me?"
"What?" Nick's eyes snap up to catch his, dark brown with hazel flecks in the afternoon slant of light.
"What?" Vash echoes, confused.
"How the hell was I supposed to call you without your number? You left first thing in the morning!"
"I told you I had an early class!"
"You could've left a note!"
"I did!"
"You didn't!!"
"I wrote it on the back of a receipt! I couldn't find anything else! I left it on your counter! I put it under a glass of water for you! You didn't drink any before we fell asleep!"
Nick stares at him, mouth slack. "Oh no."
"Nick," Vash says warningly. He's going to kick him.
"I....may have...knocked over the glass before I saw your note."
"NICK!"
"I was annoyed that Liv left a bunch of stuff out, he knows I like to keep a neat kitchen, and everything got soaked and I had to toss some papers and I didn't realize—"
Vash kisses him. It's brief and chaste and Nick is hardly able to kiss back but it's the best kiss of Vash's life other than all the kisses he got from Nick the first time around.
"Shush," Vash says, and Nick stays shushed. "I don't know how you're so accident prone. Or maybe you're like a cat, knocking things over, no, don't interrupt me. I gave you my number then and I'd like to give it to you again. Can I? You can talk now."
"I was going to make you breakfast," Nick says, which isn't an answer but also is. Vash's whole self is alight, giddy with the whiplash of the past few minutes.
"Is that a yes?"
Nick has the audacity to roll his eyes. "I'm already here."
"I want," Vash knocks their foreheads together, "your number."
"Yes it's a yes," Nick says and kisses him back, sweet, cupping Vash's jaw, the tip of his nose pressed to Vash's cheek, exhaling a quiet happy hum that Vash wants to swallow down and bask in.
✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:*˖°.✧*.˖:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
The first thing Vash does within 24 hours of getting Nick's number is text him gratuitously inappropriate things during the day that all begin with "hey this is Vash" because Nick always plays along with "hi Vash this is Nick" (i.e., 'hey this is Vash, thanks for making me come 3 times in a row two years ago'; 'hi Vash this is Nick, it was four in a row and youre welcome').
Despite the rather salacious nature of their silly texts, Nick seems content to take it slow. Vash is more than ready to pick up where they left off but it's also kind of nice? to take the time to learn each other in all these other ways and to keep building on the past couple weeks.
They haven’t done more than a post-dinner makeout session when Vash finds himself mid-week, exhausted but unable to sleep. He lays in bed staring at the ceiling, back in his habit of imagining Nick in bed right above him. And then he remembers he can do something about it.
He sends a picture of himself bundled in his comforter, lit only by the glow of his phone. Admittedly it's more spooky cryptid and less please give me attention because im being so sleepy and cute, but Nick texts back right away.
n: huh who's that bug in a rug
Vash smooshes his face into his pillow.
v: niiiccckkkk
He sees the typing dots appear, disappear. Then—
"Can't sleep?" Nick asks. His voice is rough with the late hour. Vash curls and uncurls his toes.
"Wasn't sure you'd be awake," he puts Nick on speaker, the phone on the pillow next to him.
"Shouldn't be, got caught up reading. The mistress just poisoned the county clerk.”
Vash hums sleepily, settled by Nick's timbre but still wanting to talk.
"Sorry, didn't catch that, it sounded like you said ‘I'm falling asleep in the middle of your book report Mr. Wolfwood.’”
"Mean," Vash snuggles in more, happy he's allowed to be annoying. "Mean to me."
"Blondie, I am so nice to you," Nick laughs and he sounds very proud of himself about it.
"Yeah, you are." Vash is smiling like a fool. He drifts in and out for a few minutes, caught between drowsy and overtired in a way that has him wound up. He hears some rustling, a faint click—the light turned off?—and then Nick’s quiet breathing.
"I bet you'd fall asleep as soon as I hung up," Nick says. "why don't you try?"
Vash finds he rather try something else.
"If only someone would help me relax," he laments. There's a pause and then Nick hums thoughtfully.
"Ooh, I see how it is."
"Come over?" Vash asks, a delicious twist in his abdomen warming him up. He's still half-asleep but it's good, like this, a bit dreamy. Lowers the hyper self-awareness keeping him awake.
"I’m pretty cozy myself. Don't want you having to get up to let me in. I want you to stay right where you are, all tucked in. Took me this long to get your number, so let me use it."
Vash rubs his palm over his stomach, digging the heel in over the flare of his pelvis. Syrupy warmth starts to spread through him, deep sparks low in his belly.
"Mm, fine, gotta tell me what you'd do if you were here though," Vash acquiesces, carding through his pubic hair. His fingertips brush over his dick with every other pass.
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah, those're the rules."
"Well I'd probably start by kissin' you but I think you're so sleepy I'd be doing most of the work. I'd let you be lazy, free up your mouth so I could hear you, mark up your neck a bit instead. You got a hand on yourself?" Nick's voice is dipped low, and Vash hasn't heard it like that in so long, thought he might never get the chance again. He turns his head so he can be right next to his phone.
"Mmhm," he answers.
"Just on the outside for now, okay? I won’t tease you too much if you give me all those pretty sounds."
Vash slips his hand down, cupping himself fully then splaying his fingers and dragging up on either side, rubbing back down, pressing hard into radiating pleasure.
"A-ah, Nick," he breathes, the fog of being sleepy mixing with the haze of arousal.
"You can do better than that," Nick says and Vash hears him shift, is filled with the image of Nick getting a hand on himself, fist around the base of his cock.
Vash digs his fingers into the plush give of his labia then tightens the v on his way up, pinching his clit between his knuckles and tugging sharply.
"Oh, Nick, can I—" he moans and it sounds obscene to his own ears underscored by Nick's hum of approval.
"There you go, that's nice. I’d get my fingers wet from you first and then I’d spread you open, get a nice look at your cunt, fuck, want my mouth on your dick, you got so wet before, soft and slick just from my hand."
The faded memory of Nick's tongue and hands on him overlays with Nick's voice, gorgeous even through the phone speaker, his own hand moving faster, fingers circling.
"How many?" Vash pants.
"Two, can you do two? Go easy, don't—"
"I—" he tries to get two fingers in himself too fast, makes a frustrated noise that Nick soothes him through.
He pulls out to stick them in his mouth, whines high and loud when he works them back in. It takes a few short thrusts until he's buried to the last knuckle with his thumb jammed against his dick. He wonders if Nick can hear him upstairs.
“Full," his hips arch up, seeking, wrist straining, "but Nick, I wanna hear you too."
"Don’t worry about me," Nick says, breathless.
He can't hear anything that Nick is doing beyond the faint rustle of sheets. Vash makes an unhappy noise even as he curls his fingers in stroking waves and taps his thumb, a sticky kiss, against his dick.
"Want to worry about you. Want you to feel good. I thought about this, a lot, about you, when you..." he trails off, lost in Nick's harsh panting, tension winding hot across his hips, up to his chest.
"Tell me."
"Before, I think it was the second time, I was so close, I could’ve, and you pulled out."
"Hah, you got so mad, it was so cute."
"And you, you," he clenches around his fingers just thinking about it, "you held me open and got off all over—fuck—" he presses up, in, lets his knees fall wider, too warm in the cloister of blankets. He can't say it, he needs "Nick, Nick—"
"All over your cunt, sweetheart, and you came nice and big for me and I think you should right now," and Nick is so good at catching him, leading him, guiding him, he can't help but follow.
He tips over the edge, tight and pulsing for long pleasure-soaked moments around his fingers.
He floats back down to Nick swearing and saying his name. He grins goofily at the ceiling, the phone slipping down the pillow to bump his shoulder.
"I'm a mess," is the first thing Nick says, winded.
"That a complaint?" Vash makes a face at his own sticky fingers and the small wet patch under his ass.
"Hell no, it's a compliment."
He hears a creak upstairs, then the groan of a pipe in the wall. Over the phone he hears a quiet rush of water.
"You gotta get cleaned up too. Go pee." An unexpected shiver goes through him at that as he gets warm all over again despite his body cooling. It's the intimacy of it, of that level of casual care, he thinks, and...the water shuts off upstairs, another creak.
He's too tired to parse it but adds it to his endless list of things we wants to try with Nick.
"I'll pee later," he deflects.
"You won't, go now," more creaking, a louder noise, Vash can't figure out where Nick is above him.
"Okay okay. bossy." Vash knows hes right. Ugh. "Thank you for, you know, helping me relax."
"Any time," Nick says and then—a cute pattern of knocks on his door. Nick's cute pattern of knocks.
"Are you—?"
"C'mon don't leave me in the hall in my underwear."
Vash scrambles out of bed feeling like a fruit bat with the way he's got his blanket wrapped around his naked body. He trips his way to the door.
"Hi," Nick says, voice overlapping through the phone.
"Hi," Vash hears his own voice a second later through Nick's phone.
It's dark but Vash can see Nick raise an eyebrow. "You gonna let me in?"
"Ah! Get in, get in," he hangs up and tosses his phone on the couch so he has his hand free, yanking Nick into his bedroom and pushing him onto the bed. "Here," he pulls off the comforter from around himself to burrito Nick, nabbing his phone to put it on the nightstand. "I still gotta pee, stay here," he shoves at Nick so he tips over.
Nick laughs at being manhandled and darts an arm out to grab Vash's wrist.
"Wait," he says, then tugs Vash's hand up to his face, inhaling deeply. Vash's stomach flip flops.
"Hey now," Vash stammers without any follow up. Nick nips his fingertips then lets Vash's hand drop, snuggling deeper into the blankets.
"Go on, get. I'll keep your spot warm." Vash scampers away, flustered despite having Nick dirty talk him into coming barely ten minutes ago.
When he gets back to bed he dives into the covers, Nick welcoming him with an oof and quickly pulling Vash on top of him.
"You make a good weighted blanket," Nick says, only half-awake, stroking down Vash's back sleepily. "S'nice."
“Sorry you're in my wet spot,” Vash mumbles, smooshed into Nick’s shoulder. It’s a nice shoulder, his favorite shoulder he decides. It's crazy how wonderful Nick’s body feels under him. He feels like how Punisher must feel on her heat rock.
Nick pinches his butt. “Don't get me riled up again, it's one in the morning.” Vash feels a kiss pressed into his hair and then, “Sweet dreams darlin’.”
Nick wakes him up way too early in the morning and not even for sex. He makes up for it though when he bundles Vash up on the couch and brings him a stack of thick fluffy pancakes.
“The world’s most anticipated breakfast,” Nick announces, “two years in the making.”
Oh no. Vash doesn't have a crush. He’s in love.
✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:*˖°.✧*.˖:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
A month and a half later Vash gets a text while laying on a mat on the floor like a starfish, ostensibly doing cool-down stretches after his run but mostly gauging if he’s hungry.
n: did I leave my sweatshirt the other night?
Vash knows the answer because he’s wearing it. He sends a picture of himself, sweatshirt clearly visible.
v: I dont think so, whens the last time you saw it
Nick doesn't even reply. The only warning Vash gets is the sound of quick footsteps upstairs. He's barely scrambled to the door when Nick barrels through.
“I knew it!”
Vash has one thought before he squeaks, undignified, and that is: tits! because Nick has barged into his apartment shirtless. And then all he has time to do is rapidly reverse course. Nick chases after him with a predatory glint in his eye.
“I thought it was mine!” Vash lies, yelping with laughter as Nick makes a grab at him, missing by a hair when Vash twirls out of the way but managing to throw Vash off balance enough that when Nick swipes at him again, he’s able to nab Vash around the waist and low-tackle him to the mat. Nick lands heavily on him, one hand cradled around the back of Vash’s head, the other already shoved up under the sweatshirt.
“Little thief,” Nick says with too much fondness and simmering heat to make Vash do anything other than squirm uncooperatively. He's seen how Nick looks at him when he’s worn Nick’s clothes before.
“W-wait, aha, Nick, hang on, I'm all sweaty,” Vash stutters out between fits of laughter, shoving not very hard at Nick’s shoulders and hooking an ankle over the back of Nick’s knee.
Nick’s got both hands on him now and has gone from yanking at the sweatshirt to digging his fingers into Vash’s ribs and waist.
“Lemme at least,” he hiccups a laugh, “wash it first.”
Nick growls, firmly pushes the sweatshirt and Vash’s undershirt with it up to Vash’s chest, and blows a raspberry against his belly. Vash shrieks, laughing so hard at how much it tickles that he’s got tears in his eyes. He twists at the waist but Nick gets his hands on his hips, pinning him down with delightful pressure.
“Hah, ah, Nick—” his laugh threads into a needy whine.
“If you're gonna be this stubborn I'll just have to convince you,” Nick muses.
Vash blinks the tears out of his eyes and lifts his head in time to see Nick duck down and—
“Oh, fuck,” Vash gasps, head thunking back against the mat as Nick smothers his whole face in Vash’s crotch. He noses at the juncture of Vash’s thigh, inhaling harshly much like he did to Vash’s hand that first night and has done at every opportunity since.
“God you smell good,” he mumbles against Vash, “damp already,” like he’s talking to himself.
Vash ticks his hips up and Nick lets him, helping him meet Nick’s mouth open and wide right against his cunt. Nick exhales hot and humid into the fabric of his leggings. The sensation is muffled, teasing, close to giving Vash what he wants but not nearly close enough. Vash tries to grind up into him, but he only presses a kiss to Vash’s cunt before pulling away.
“You know how obscene you look in these?”
“They've got nice compression,” Vash tests Nick’s grip on his hips to get back to his mouth. “Aren't they in your way though? Don't you want to rip them off and have your wicked way with me?”
That gets Nick to laugh which, wow, having Nick laugh right up against his pussy should not make his heart soar the way it does, but, here he is.
“Nah I’m set.” Nick plays at nonchalant remarkably well for a man who started eating Vash out within thirty seconds of seeing him. Nick leans back down and teeths gently at Vash’s dick.
Vash gets loud. He sinks his fingers into Nick’s hair, tugging Nick to him, rutting as best he can against Nick’s mouth. While whining didn’t work as easily as Vash had hoped, he's highly adaptable.
“It’s probably,” Vash is interrupted when Nick flattens his tongue, digs it against the seam, “probably good I’ve got these on.”
Nick makes a distracted, questioning hm?, sliding his hands under Vash’s ass, scoping him up higher, lost in his own teasing. Vash arches his back a little more, digging his shoulders into the mat so he can brace himself.
“Just that it’d be so messy without them.”
Nick slows, then stops, turning to rub his nose and cheek over Vash’s chubby dick peaking the fabric. Fizzy bubbles of pleasure spark through him and god he could probably come in his pants with Nick as motivated as he is, but he wants more. Maybe next time. Vash drops his legs open a little wider, gives the tiniest roll of his hips. Nick narrows his eyes, squeezes Vash's ass.
“There’d be a lot to clean up. Because of how wet I am,” Vash clarifies unnecessarily. His cheeks burn but he keeps going. “Like sooo wet Nick, you don’t even know, it's so sticky that—”
“Fine, fine! you win!” Nick breaks, sitting up suddenly and hauling Vash’s ass into his lap so he can yank the leggings off. Vash helps by nearly kicking Nick in the head trying to fling them off his feet.
Leggings vanquished and tossed to the side, Nick sits back on his haunches to admire Vash’s flushed cunt, red and tender from friction and Nick’s attention. He runs his hands up Vash’s thighs to the apex, rubs his thumbs into the tendons there, then parts Vash with such quiet reverence that Vash hears the sticky slip of his folds separating.
“You weren’t kidding,” Nick says, pleased. “Guess I should wrestle you more often.”
Vash’s hips cut the air, Nick’s thumbs dig in, and he takes a deep breath to steady himself. Nick is so beautiful like this, bare chest heaving slightly, hair tousled. Vash can see the curve of Nick’s cock through his sweatpants, hard, and he flushes, flattered, struck with how much he wants to feel the weight of it on him, in him. He wants to give Nick everything, which isn't a new feeling anymore, but increasingly he finds he wants to take, too. Nick makes it easy with how much he seems to thrive in the space between Vash’s hunger and satiation.
“Hey there, sweetheart,” Nick smiles, sharp and soft all at once, like he’s going to devour Vash whole.
“Hey handsome,” Vash counters. A blush blooms high on Nick’s cheekbones.
“Am I convincing you to give my sweatshirt back, or punishing you?” Nick asks as he drapes Vash’s legs over his shoulders.
“I don’t remember,” Vash laughs. Nick smooches his calf.
“Me neither,” he says, and ducks back down.
Vash lets him get in one full lick because the terribly gorgeous shock of Nick’s mouth on his bare skin after messing around with fabric in between makes him clench so tight and sweet he thinks for a second he may actually come. Then he tightens his thighs and flips them before Nick can tease him any more.
Nick clutches at him, startled sound morphing into a heady moan when Vash uses his new leverage to circle his hips down in a filthy grind against Nick’s open mouth, giving himself to the count of five before lifting to hover. Nick strains to reach him, a raspy whine caught in his throat.
“Stay,” Vash says.
Nick complies easily—Vash loves when he can make Nick mushy, pliable. He moves back to rest lightly on Nick’s chest. His eyes trace the swell of his pecs, the wings of his collarbones, the divots above. He needs a minute to look at Nick, take him all in. His gaze catches on Nick’s neck, still faintly mottled from Vash’s attention a few days ago. He’ll have to remake those marks soon. Without really meaning to he starts rocking against Nick's chest as he admires him.
He cants his hips down, cock rubbing back and forth over plush muscle, springy fuzz rasping wetter and growing slippery as he touches the bite marks over the fragile lattice of Nick’s trachea. Nick’s hands come up to settle on his waist, slipping higher, bracketing Vash’s ribcage and keeping the sweatshirt up. Vash almost offers to take it off but Nick hasn’t given any indication he doesn’t want to fuck Vash in it. He has, in fact, indicated he would very much like for Vash to get even sweatier in it.
“Too heavy?” Vash checks as he starts moving again, geez, he’s dripping all over Nick.
Nick shakes his head. “I like it,” he says simply.
He’s watching where Vash’s slick smears, where his dick tucks under and peeks out whenever Vash ruts forward and back. Vash looks down too. It’s mesmerizing to see them together. Vash clenches, panting, moves a little faster, drops down a little heavier. With every slide Nick’s chest hair gets wetter until it's a mess of damp, matted curls, shiny, darkened. Vash realizes he can feel how hard Nick’s nipples are on the sensitive skin of his inner thighs.
Nick makes a bitten off whine of pleasure then says, full of want and shot through with desperation, “Haven’t even kissed me yet.”
Vash loves the way Nick begs, loves it so much.
“I’ve got you, come here,” Vash scoots back so he’s in the cradle of Nick’s lap, ass budged right up against Nick’s cock, and beckons him with outstretched arms.
Nick sits up rapidly, winding around Vash and kissing him hard.
“Pants,” Vash manages between kisses, “off.”
Nick is quick to obey, Vash rising up so he can wriggle them down far enough, and then Vash has a hand between them, wrapped around Nick’s cock and it's so hot and silky and perfect. He lets go after a few strokes only to gather some of his own slick and spread it over Nick. Nick tries to help him but Vash grabs his wrist and puts it back around his waist.
“Hold my sweatshirt up while I fuck you,” he says.
“Your sweatshirt huh?” Nick says, bemused, but does as he’s told.
“Mine,” Vash kisses him again, lining them up and sinking down over the head of Nick’s cock.
Nick moans directly into his mouth and Vash laps at his plump tongue. All he can think is he wants in, in, in, he wants all of Nick. He lowers himself slowly but without stopping, taking the stretch, until his hips are flush with Nick’s.
“Vash,” Nick groans, burying his face in Vash’s neck.
Vash cards a hand through Nick’s hair, grips it tight to ground them both. He's so full and he feels so impossibly good, pressed to Nick from belly to chest, wrapped up in him, surrounded by and surrounding in turn. He clenches on purpose, wiggles, tests the angle, feels and hears Nick breathing fast and shallow.
“Ready?” Vash asks.
Nick groans again and nods. Vash rocks a couple times.
“Yes, I’m ready, you can—yes, yes, oh fuck—” Nick cuts himself off by biting into the sweatshirt just as Vash lifts up a couple inches and drops back down.
“Nick,” Vash gasps, rises a bit higher, drops a bit heavier, “Nick let me hear you.”
Nick releases the bite he has on the sweatshirt but keeps his face buried in the crook of his neck as Vash fucks lovely muffled whimpers out of him. Vash keeps the pace slow, heady, grinding his hips every time they meet, taking in Nick’s breathless sounds, the way he gives the tiniest thrusts while pinned under Vash’s weight. It all puts Vash into a sort of trance, riding the high thermal of pleasure, not realizing how close he is until Nick’s moans get louder, quicker, and Nick gathers himself enough to sloppily kiss at Vash’s throat.
“What do you need?” Vash asks, everything ramping up when Nick shifts under him and Vash’s dick can rub at the little pad of fat and muscle of Nick’s lower belly.
“Harder,” Nick answers, “I’m not gonna last—I’m close, I’m really close, you feel so fucking good.”
Vash rides him harder, near delirious with it all, on the edge and badly wanting to drag Nick with.
“Yeah? You going to come in me?”
Nick does, beautifully, whole body going tight as a bowstring. The feeling of Nick coming inside him pulls Vash into a pulsing, frantic mess of an orgasm, rapid rhythmic waves that don’t abate and nearly run into each other. He's held so long in it that tears slip down his cheeks. Slowly he drifts back to himself to find Nick grinning at him dopily. Before Vash can say anything, Nick kisses Vash’s cheeks, his mouth, his nose, all over his face.
“I came so hard I feel stupid,” Nick says, a fit of laughter breaking through.
Vash tries to think of a clever response but gives up to pepper kisses all over Nick's face in return, saying, "thank you thank you" in between smooches. He pulls off (carefully, wow, that’s, that’s a lot of, that’s a big mess between the two of them) and flops onto the mat. Nick, sweet man that he is, stands on legs shaky as a fawn’s and wobbles to the bathroom, fetching a wet cloth and a dry towel. Between going on a run that morning and the strenuous activities of minutes ago Vash thinks he could fall asleep right here with Nick wiping him down. The exhaustion and bone-deep satisfaction combined with coming for what felt like a mindless eternity are what he blames for shredding his filter.
“My lease is up next month,” he says.
Ah. Shit. That was not how he wanted to do this. Nick pauses for an agonizing moment, then grabs the dry towel, ruffling Vash’s pubic hair and rubbing at his legs and stomach.
“Oh.”
“It’s just—the rent’s going up, too, it always does, and I was thinking, maybe, of not…renewing it?”
“Oh,” Nick says again, setting the towel aside.
Vash drapes an arm over his face. He can’t look at him but he forces himself to keep going. Nick might not want it but Vash knows he’ll be kind about it.
“And, well, we’re over at each other’s place so often anyway it started to feel silly for us to each be paying full rent when we could be splitting it and since you just moved in it doesn’t make sense for you to come down here and I like your furniture better plus you’ve got the balcony and it’s probably not good for Punisher to move again so soon. I know it’ll be kind of cramped but we could try it and since there’s two of us we can look for a bigger place later if we want?”
Usually when Vash babbles Nick interrupts him so it's alarming when he actually gets to the end of his dick-drunk filterless ramble. He'd been hoping to pitch a more coherent and convincing offer. He wilts.
“Nick,” he pleads, still hiding behind his arm. The sweatshirt smells like both of them. “Please say something.”
The floor creaks and then Vash's arm is tugged up and away. Vash blinks into the light and Nick’s expression.
“You’ve got a funny look on your face,” Vash says weakly.
“I thought you were breaking up with me,” Nick says, voice flat.
“Oh god,” now Vash REALLY wants to hide.
“I thought you were moving out and breaking up with me and I’d have to hunt you down again.”
“No—no no no, Nick—”
“Which I would,” Nick leans over him menacingly. Vash thinks now is probably not the best time to start kissing him. “But I don’t have to. Because…”
Nick waits, patient as a saint. Vash can’t stand it.
“Move in with me!” he says, too loud. “I mean! Can I move in with you!”
It is incredible to watch Nick’s eyes soften, his mouth relax into an indulgent smile just like the one he wore when Vash was in his lap, their bodies close and calming down together.
“Duh,” Nick flicks his forehead, “what took you so long,” kisses where he flicked, and, when Vash can do nothing but stare at him in a paralyzing riot of love and terror at how wildly happy he is, “you gonna seal it with a kiss or not?”
Vash doesn't waste another second, pulling Nick into his arms.
✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:*˖°.𓆩♡𓆪 .°˖:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
-Four months later-
A sputtering autumn storm deposits Vash, windblown and achy with the cold, at his doorstep. It's chilly and dark in the building entryway but warm and golden inside the apartment, the air heavy with frying garlic.
“I’m home!” he calls, toeing off his boots.
Nick pokes his head out from the kitchen, apron looped over his neck, wooden spoon in hand, looking rumpled and perfect and like everything Vash wants to come back to, forever.
“Welcome home, Blondie.”