Work Text:
Vash spotted them first, their forms tiny in the distance. Heavily armed men stood over a still-smoking truck, the hood opened. They can hear the cursing from their vantage point, bellies down on the sand as they both peek over the apex of the dune Angelina is parked behind.
One of the doors swings open, a sweat-stained mercenary jumping out. He leans back into the vehicle and pulls back, his hand clamped around the upper arm of a small child. The first thing to strike Vash is the terror the child radiates, their movements stiff as they are dragged out of the truck.
Next to him, Vash hears a muttered curse. He doesn’t look at Wolfwood, gaze locked on the scene below them, but he hears the familiar rustle of cloth as Wolfwood strips his cross of its fabric bindings.
Before Wolfwood has the chance to shoot, Vash flings himself, stumbling, over their vantage point. Expertly dodging Wolfwood’s hand as it grabs at his ankle, Vash weaves his way to the group of men who start to turn to his fumbling form.
His voice takes on a dramatically hoarse groan, “Are you real?”
Everyone’s eyes are trained on him, and Vash knows he just needs their attention for just a few moments. Three men are standing around the broken-down automobile, and no one else seems to be getting out of the truck. At the hood of the vehicle, the man closest to him is thin and tall. Farther from Vash is another man with skin looking like sunbaked Thomas leather. This close Vash notices that the man next to the boy is short and so wide that he reminds Vash of an oddly shaped potato.
Wolfwood will use Vash’s theatrics to his advantage, used to the plant’s roundabout ways of dealing with the humans of Gunsmoke.
“I need water! Water…please.” He drags each foot as if it weighs a ton, arms reaching out as he staggers towards the man nearest to him.
Vash is almost within arm’s reach of the man closest to him. The child is the only person not watching his exaggerated movements. His eyes track something outside of Vash’s peripheral vision. Suddenly, the boy looks away before he furtively looks back at Potatoes, who still has his arm in a vice grip. He is too busy watching Vash to have noticed what his captive saw.
The man in Vash’s path is almost as tall as him, but even lankier. Noodles, Vash decides, looks confused by Vash’s sudden appearance. The man’s hands are not at his holster but held out to keep Vash and his flailing arms as far from him as he can manage. Vash’s view of Jerky, his brain happily supplies, on the other side of the truck is blocked by Noodles.
While he doesn’t see what Wolfwood does next, Vash hears a shouted, “Run!” and the scurry of little legs turning in the loose sand. Noodles whips his gaze to his right, where the man holding the child stands. Before Vash is close enough that Noodles can reach him, a loud thump vibrates through the truck. He can’t look away from the men in front of him, but he imagines Wolfwood swinging the Punisher like a bat into Potatoes.
As soon as he hears the thud of a body crumpling metal, Vash grabs the lanky gunman in front of him to use as a human shield and rushes Jerky. He shoves Noodles into the weathered outlaw, and they collide with each other and tangle together as Vash pulls away. Still dazed, the men cannot keep Vash from swooping in and grabbing their holstered weapons.
With the obvious threat temporarily busy, Vash yanks open the passenger side door and shoots into the steering column with a stolen gun, emptying the ammunition into the vehicle. As he moves down the car Vash does not see anyone else in the truck. He does notice a dent in the metal siding that covers the bed of the vehicle, roughly the size of Potatoes The man is laid out, his rising chest the only sign that he is still alive. With Wolfwood and the child clear of the truck, Vash turns to join them, his eyes scanning the desert for a familiar shape as he makes a break up the small hill of loose sand.
Vash is only halfway up the dune when he hears the whizzing of bullets past his ear. Ducking as he runs, Vash picks up his pace. A curse sounds above him, and Vash hears the familiar hammer of Wolfwood’s machine gun as it forces the other men into cover.
Almost to the peak of the dune, Vash hears a very distinctive pop and woosh. His insides go ice cold as he realizes whom the rocket is meant for, and Vash flings himself up the rest of the way and into Wolfwood, knocking them both down as the rocket misses them by a hair and another round of bullets pepper the sand around them. They scramble down the top of the dune and race to Angelina where the kid sits in the side car, frozen, with his tiny fingers wrapped tightly around metal.
With a leap and a shimmy, Vash fits himself into the sidecar as Wolfwood kicks on the motorcycle. As he bends his leg to squeeze behind the child, Vash fights to not scream. He feels the bottom drop out of his stomach and grits his teeth as a sudden blistering, stabbing agony shoots out from his leg. Nausea chokes him as he holds the child steady. Now that Vash is aware of it, he feels the pain throb excruciatingly with each breath.
No one follows them, and Vash feels the tail end of the flood of adrenaline leave his system with each ile they cover. After a half-hour of speeding through the desert, Wolfwood pulls over and turns off the engine. He swings his leg over the bike and walks around to the side car. Crouching down to the kid’s eye level, Wolfwood pulls out a sucker that must have a generous coating of sand, but the kid snatches it out of Wolfwood’s hand. He rips the paper off and sticks the candy into his mouth.
While the boy is busy with his candy, Wolfwood clears his throat, “Have any folks who are missing you?”
The boy slowly nods his head, his eyes locked onto the wrapper he is smoothing against the sidecar.
Wolfwood waits a moment for the kid to speak, and when he doesn’t Wolfwood gently prods, “You know where they are?”
The kid nods again.
Holding onto his composure, Vash tries not to display his discomfort as he watches them talk, Wolfwood patiently waits again for the child to speak.
After a few more moments of silence, Wolfwood says, “I’m sure this has been scary for you.” Wolfwood’s voice is as gentle as Vash has ever heard it.
“If you can tell us where your folks are we can take you to them.”
Vash sees how hopefully the boy looks at Wolfwood and he is hypnotized by how soft Wolfwood is with this child.
Wolfwood patiently waits as the boy studders an answer, clearly still shaken from his ordeal. Wolfwood is fully focused on the child, as he tells Wolfwood of a town that was supposed to be their next stop before they ran across the bandits.
Wolfwood’s always different with children, careful and patient in a way Vash only sees rarely directed at himself. His eyes turn to him, and Vash finds himself nodding to support a plan he only half hears, both pain and a painful nostalgia distracting his mind. Decision clearly reached, Wolfwood gets back on the bike, turns the engine over, and they take off once again.
The kid, exhausted from his ordeal, falls asleep. As he slips under, the child’s grasp on the sidecar loosens and he slumps back onto Vash. The weight of his frame digs into the meat of Vash’s thigh directly where the bullet hit, and he is unable to hold back a shriek of pain.
This jerks the child awake and he braces himself on Vash’s leg as he turns around, face pale and eyes wide. Vash’s mind is torn between the pain and how Wolfwood whips around to look at him, face severely drawn but eyes wide and bright.
Vash tries to move the child away from his wounded leg, but he is frozen, and Vash is unable to move him.
Above the rush of the wind he hears Wolfwood holler, “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!” He sounds pissed.
He knows that tone of voice means trouble, but Vash can only muster mild concern. The whoosh of wind feels removed and his pain seems further away. His eyes linger on Wolfwood, and he captures the man’s gaze while Wolfwood keeps looking back at him in concern. Then everything goes black.
~~~
Vash wakes to Wolfwood’s swearing as he’s bodily hauled out of the sidecar by strong hands under his armpits. He’s close enough to Wolfwood to catch his scent. It’s the staleness of cigarettes long smoked over the earthy smell of sweat, dust, and the faint traces of blood. It’s human and it comforts Vash down to his bones even as his thigh screams in pain.
They move towards a house illuminated by a single bulb outside the doorway. The child they rescued runs ahead and through the door, leaving it swinging wildly open. It’s only a moment and then pandemonium erupts, Vash can hear the cries of relief even from their place outside of the house. One man bursts out of the door a wild grin on his face as he bolts past Vash and Wolfwood, not sparing the strangers a glance as he runs towards the center of town.
Vash grits his teeth as Wolfwood continues to half carry him up the porch and over the doorway, pain streaking up his leg every time he puts weight on the bad limb. Distracted, Vash only notes a few aspects of the house they find themselves in. The lights seem as bright as standing under a double sun noon and the strong scent of cleaning solutions fills his nose. The humans gathered in the front room are overwhelmed in their joy, some crying while others are frozen in disbelief. All obviously relieved to be seeing the kidnapped child, their voices hurried and loud.
Wolfwood clears his throat and Vash feels the body supporting him draw as tense as a bow, “I hate to cut this reunion short, but my friend here got shot.” Three heads pop up among the people that are surrounding the returned child.
Those that peel off from the rest of the crowd do not seem noticeably different from the others. Vash feels their eyes combing him over as they approach. An older man reaches them first, his serious eyes framed by wire-rimmed glasses. A man and a woman who look to be in their mid-twenties start gathering materials and setting them next to a simple table that is placed in the corner of the room.
Wolfwood ends up carrying him to the table. Usually, Vash would be fine to walk, even after an injury to his legs, but he found himself leaning into Wolfwood’s support. When they get to the table, Wolfwood carefully lifts him up onto it. Vash doesn’t resist as he’s pushed down against the worn leather surface, the material smelling faintly of antiseptic.
After one look at the mess of Vash’s thigh, the doctor goes to a basin full of water and vigorously scrubs his hands. Without looking up from the large bowl he addresses Vash. “I hate to say it, but we’ve been low on medicine, especially any anesthetic.”
Wolfwood pulls a familiar flask out of his breast pocket and shakes it at the man as he pulls on gloves, “It won’t knock him out, but it’s probably better than nothing.” The doctor nods as he finishes. Vash takes the offered flask and pulls from it until there’s no more of the burning liquid left.
The older man approaches the table. Brows furrowed in concentration, the doctor examines his thigh, but when he goes to cut open Vash’s pants, Vash makes an involuntary whining sound. It’s not like he owns a large wardrobe, and the pants are Vash’s favorite. The doctor ignores his feeble resistance and whistles when he sees the wound.
The younger man and woman have washed and readied themselves as well, and the man gently dabs at Vash’s wound. Despite the care taken, Vash can’t help but flinch as pain radiates up his leg. With his sudden movement, Vash feels Wolfwood tense up beside him. The other man never moved from his spot by the table and Vash tries to shoot him a reassuring smile, but with the pain his smile is more a grimace. Wolfwood, in fact, looks even more concerned.
“I need to get this bullet out of your leg. It’s a miracle it hasn’t already hit an artery.” The doctor says as starts selecting instruments.
Vash croaks out his first words since he’s arrived at this place, his voice tight in pain, “Do whatever you need to, doctor.”
Something compels Vash to look at Wolfwood, whose face is turning pale and ashy, his eyes trained on a scalpel the doctor selects. Vash extends his hand towards Wolfwood, sculpting a pleading look from a pained grimace. Wolfwood looks at Vash for only a few seconds before grabbing his hand.
Wolfwood’s grip is firm, rough, and clammy. Relief floods Vash, it’s surprising how much better the other man’s hand makes him feel.
Not trusting the quality of his voice, Vash nods to the doctor waiting for him to give the go-ahead.
The pain is familiar, but he feels … weird. The tension he usually carries to brace for pain is still there when the doctor cuts into him, but it feels muffled and unimportant. Even his body seems to be responding differently, instead of his heart rate spiking and his breath coming faster, everything slows down.
Wolfwood’s worried face fills his vision and suddenly he’s gone.
Vash will only remember snippets of the time he spends on the table, mostly a firm hand in his and the soothing timbre of Wolfwood’s voice.
~~~
When Vash fully wakes again, he’s in bed. Opening his eyes, he searches for the other man. Wolfwood seems busy organizing supplies on a table a few feet away. With that anxiety appeased, Vash notes that they look to be in a small one room cabin, the furnishings covered in deep layer of dust.
Sensing Vash’s changed state of consciousness, Wolfwood turns to Vash. His face is difficult to read, emotions flittering across his features. Vash gives him a little wave, unsure of what to say.
Wolfwood seems to not share that sentiment, his eyes growing sharp and lips pulled tight, “You’re an idiot.”
It’s not what Vash expected when he first woke up, but he reckons he shouldn’t be surprised.
Before Vash can respond, Wolfwood steams ahead, “You’re so careless! That doctor said you would have bled out before we got halfway here if that bullet had hit anywhere else.”
The peace that seems to have infused Vash’s body is ripped away and irritation fills his mind. “What? Should I have just let you die?”
Wolfwood bares his teeth, “I would have been fine, and you know it.”
Vash feels and urge to leap up and shake some sense into the other man, “How well does your serum work if you’re missing a head?”
Ignoring the question, Wolfwood stalks closer, “It’s almost like you don’t give a shit if you live or die.”
It reminds Vash of the moments he last spoke to Wolfwood before meeting Nai at JuLai. Vash is surprised at the rage that seems to fill his body. “If anyone is careless about their life, it’s you!”
Wolfwood snorts and seems ready to retort, but Vash presses on. “You risked your life to save a child, how is that any different?”
“It’s different. That child is innocent I am … not.” Wolfwood’s gaze turns down to the blanket covering Vash. His frame looms over Vash, but the look on his face squeezes something tight in Vash’s chest.
His voice takes on a gentle tone as he feels his anger fizzle out, and he’s compelled to respond. “You deserved to be saved,” his voice is still hoarse, but his tone brooks no argument.
Wolfwood’s gaze snaps back to him, his eyes wide and mouth slightly open. Sorrow pulls him under when he sees the surprise in Wolfwood’s face, and it knocks something loose in him.
“If I saw you die and I could have done anything to –,” Vash roughly swallows as he feels tears gather in the corners of his eyes.
But before he can finish his sentence, Wolfwood sinks to his knees next to Vash’s bed and pulls him into a desperate kiss. His lips are firm and chapped, mouth tasting of stale cigarettes. Perfection.
Vash is stuck, frozen as he has been only a few times in his life. It only takes a moment before he kisses back enthusiastically. He winds his fingers through Wolfwood’s dark hair and pulls him closer. At this Wolfwood’s mouth opens wider and he moans.
Wolfwood’s kisses are awkward and desperate, at odds with how he usually acts. Vash realizes that Wolfwood… has no idea what he’s doing.
Vash drags himself away from the kiss and looks at Wolfwood.
Wolfwood has a red tint across his cheeks and his lips are already kiss swollen. He follows Vash for a moment, his eyes locked on Vash’s lips.
Wolfwood’s obvious inexperience is surprising to Vash, but then again Wolfwood’s past is as mysterious and cryptic as the rest of him.
With a groan, Wolfwood shifts his body and Vash struggles a little to keep his gaze from sliding down Wolfwood’s form.
Vash keeps his hands buried in Wolfwood’s hair, wanting the man to stay close by his side.
“Have you done this before?” Vash keeps his voice calm even as a thrill creeps up his spine.
Wolfwood’s face becomes guarded again as he responds, “Why? Did you not like it?”
Vash shakes his head a little too enthusiastically, “No, I just want to know.”
Vash tries to restrain himself. The idea of being Wolfwood’s first is heady, and the other man has yet to say he does have any experience.
Wolfwood rolls his eyes and then steadily keeps eye contact with Vash’s pillow as he sighs, “No. I haven’t done this before.”
Before Vash realizes it, he’s speaking again, “What is ‘this’? Kissing, heavy petting, sex?”
Vash watches a tic form over Wolfwood’s eye as he grits his teeth harder at each word Vash fires out, and answers, “None of it, Spikey!”
While he doesn’t want Wolfwood to feel self-conscious about his experience, he also doesn’t want to broadcast how appealing the idea of taking Wolfwood’s virginity is.
“That’s fine, I mean it's more than fine. I mean it’s perfectly normal. Don’t worry about it!”
Wolfwood looks disbelieving, like someone is about to drop the other shoe on him.
“You can’t tell me that you don’t care about … my experience.”
Vash hedges, “It’s not that I don’t care about it, but rather it’s not a problem for me.”
Wolfwood looks at him suspiciously, so Vash quickly pulls Wolfwood up onto the bed and into another kiss, pouring all of the passion he has into the meeting of their lips. He can feel how Wolfwood is hesitating, more cautious than when he first kissed Vash. He would never tell the other man, but it makes Vash’s chest swell with affection. Wolfwood believes he’s nothing more than a hardened killer, but it doesn’t take Vash any effort to look past Wolfwood’s dark glasses and shaggy hair to see how much the other man cares.
Despite what Vash said, Wolfwood still seems to hesitate. Stomach full of excited flutters, Vash grabs Wolfwood’s hand and shoves it into his pants to make the other man feel how wet and turned on he is.
Wolfwood squawks at the movement, “You’re injured, knock it off!”
Then the shock must wear off because Vash feels Wolfwood’s fingers gently move between his folds. The sensation lights up his nervous system and he groans at the careful touches. Something about being the first person Wolfwood has ever touched in such an intimate way makes him burn hot as he thinks about taking the other man’s virginity.
Careful of his thigh, Vash lays down on his side and pulls Wolfwood down to follow, facing Vash.
Vash takes a hand, cradles the back of Wolfwood’s skull, and gently pulls him close, their arms pinned between them as Wolfwood fingers between his legs. His breath is shaky and hot, ghosting over Vash’s ear as they press together.
This close, his body touching Wolfwood’s from their knees to their chests, Vash can feel Wolfwood’s excitement, and draws a shiver up his spine.
Voice wavering in his desire, Vash whispers in Wolfwood’s ear, “Don’t worry about this. I’ll tell you what to do. What will make us feel good.”
At this Wolfwood seems to come back to himself. His free hand pets Vash’s still-clothed hip. His voice is thick as he speaks, “We shouldn’t be doing anything anyways. You were shot only a few hours ago.”
Vash pulls back enough to look Wolfwood in the eyes, and he gives him a slightly besotted smile. “Just listen to what I tell you to do, and everything will be fine.”
Wolfwood swallows audibly at that.
It’s an appropriate concern, but Vash knows how he can push his body and how to best avoid compromising his injury.
“We can start slow.” Vash breathes into his lips before capturing Wolfwood’s mouth again.
Like a moth to the flame, Vash pulls his hand out from between his legs and starts to play with Wolfwood’s chest. Vash cups his pec, enjoying the weight in his hand fingers, lightly tracing the skin, slowly closing in on his nipple. As he continues, Wolfwood’s nipple peaks to attention, and Vash can’t help himself. He breaks his kiss with Wolfwood and lets his lips trace the stubble on the other man’s neck. Bending his head down, Vash finally closes his lips over Wolfwood’s nipple. Wolfwood has only let the change in his breathing indicate how Vash was affecting him, but as Vash lightly nipped at his chest Wolfwood helplessly lets out a whimper.
Wolfwood’s free hand is buried in Vash’s hair, urging him to keep his mouth on Wolfwood’s chest. Vash doesn’t need encouragement to play with Wolfwood’s tits.
Vash could do this forever, but he knows his body can only go for so long. He pulls back and starts unbuttoning the rest of Wolfwood’s shirt. Wolfwood catches on and hurriedly strips off his clothes, slowing down as he gently pulls off Vash’s clothes, careful of the other man’s injury. As he takes off each piece of clothing, Wolfwood smooths his palms down Vash’s heavily scarred skin. It causes an unpleasant swoop in Vash’s stomach as he watches the other man feel the sheer mass of scar tissue covering his body.
There is not an ounce of disgust in the other man’s face. Rather Wolfwood looks worshipful, his fingers reverent as he traces the worst of the old injuries, his fresh wound only the latest sign of Vash’s difficult survival.
When Wolfwood lays down next to Vash again, Vash can’t help but wrap his hand around Wolfwood’s cock, still hard despite the examination of Vash’s body and the evidence of his violent life. He loves the hot weight of Wolfwood’s cock in his hand, but he loves even more the catch in Wolfwood’s breath and the aborted thrusts that Wolfwood struggles to contain each time he slides his hand up and down the shaft, palm grinding on the head of his cock.
He wants Wolfwood inside him. The desire burns deep in his gut, and he can’t help but act on it.
Carefully, Vash lifts his injured leg and drapes it over Wolfwood’s hip. The motion opens his core, his lips pressing wetly to Wolfwood’s hip. Taking one hand, Vash cups himself gathering his slick between his fingers and in his palm. With his hand sticky and coated in his fluids, Vash again wraps his hand around Wolfwood. He jerks his cock for a few moments until Wolfwood is coated in his slick.
Vash looks at Wolfwood’s face. His eyes are burning and intense, his lips caught between his teeth preventing any sound from leaking out. Fingers still sticky with slick, Vash uses his thumb to pull Wolfwood’s lip free. As his mouth parts open, Wolfwood’s tongue peaks out tracing the edge of Vash’s thumb. On instinct, Vash slides two of his fingers into Wolfwood’s parted lips.
He can feel the vibration of Wolfwood’s groan as he cleans Vash’s fingers, mouth moving eagerly.
With the heat that surrounds his fingers, Vash quickly loses his patience. As soon as he notices his fingers are clean, Vash uses that same hand to line Wolfwood up with his cunt. It throbs almost painfully in his excitement.
Wolfwood takes over, instinctively moving to slide into Vash, his head sinking into Vash’s wet and eager heat. Vash can feel his restraint, can feel how tight his muscles are from holding back madly bucking his hips into Vash to chase his own release.
Vash rests his forehead on Wolfwood’s, his eyes eagerly drinking in the expression of pleasure and lust that clearly shows on the other man’s face. Almost involuntarily, Vash finds himself speaking his own pleasure to Wolfwood, “You’re doing so good. Making me feel so good. Such a good boy.”
The other man freezes, and for a moment Vash thinks he said something wrong. Then Wolfwood whines and Vash can see him struggle to stop from thrusting harder. It takes a second, his own head hazy, but the realization makes his cunt clench involuntarily.
Wolfwood goes back to feverishly pumping inside of him, but it feels like only a few moments later when he’s pulling away from Vash again. It’s with his last two working brain cells that Vash notices Wolfwood must be fighting the urge to cum. Wolfwood lets out frustrated whimpers every time he forces himself to slow down. Vash thinks Wolfwood must so turned on and overwhelmed he must force himself to stop before he cums too early. It makes Vash only more, impossibly, aroused. It’s cute and hot and Vash wants to eat the other man up. Wolfwood starts again, and Vash feels himself start to approach that same edge, but as he nears the cliff, Wolfwood stops again. It is so frustrating that Vash would want to cry out if it also didn’t make everything feel better. Each time he’s jerked away from cumming, his pleasure only builds.
This time as Wolfwood pulls out, Vash wraps his hand around Wolfwood’s, bringing it again to between his legs. Vash moves Wolfwood’s fingers around his clit, showing him how to bring his thumb and first two fingers together, and how Vash wants him to stroke his cock. Vash likes the sharp jolt of pleasure he feels as Wolfwood squeezes his clit between his broad fingers.
Vash is getting close to the edge again before Wolfwood pulls away, and Vash feels actual tears of frustration gather in his eyes. He’s not disappointed for long, Wolfwood moves down Vash’s body and eagerly shoves his face between Vash’s legs. It’s sloppy, Wolfwood doesn’t have the experience or patience to be anything else. The sounds are obscene, from how wet Vash has grown and the voraciousness of Wolfwood’s appetite as he tongues and sucks at his lips. Wolfwood’s groans and moans against him only add to the pleasure building between his legs.
Breathlessly Vash directs him, “Fuck Wolfwood, flick your tongue. Just like that, harder!” Vash feels his thighs shake, his injury throbbing in pain. It fades to the background as his pleasure grows. Then the other man starts to suck his cock. Vash grabs at his dark hair shoving Wolfwood onto his cock and holding him place as he mouths at his clit.
“Wolfwood, don’t stop, please don’t stop. Fuck, fuck, fuck your mouth, so fucking good!”
It only takes a few more moments before Vash is cumming, a groan echoes deep in his chest as he feels himself squirt all over Wolfwood’s face. Wolfwood sucks him through the aftershocks and rubs against Vash’s cunt with a groan, smearing Vash’s slick all over his face.
As he comes down, Vash’s limbs are loose, and giddiness makes his chest feel light. Wolfwood crawls up the bed and Vash notices the shininess of his cum smeared all over Wolfwood’s face. Squirting is not something that happens to him often. Vash might have felt embarrassed with someone else at the amount of fluid he feels soaking into the bedding under him, but Wolfwood’s obvious enjoyment makes him unable to care.
His cunt is still slightly fluttering as Wolfwood guides himself back in. Between the fight, the injury, and the boneshaking orgasm Vash feels weak and he can only lie there and take it, whimpering and moaning as Wolfwood fucks him. As he gains more feeling in his limbs, Vash wraps them around to hold Wolfwood as his thrusts start to lose their rhythm.
Vash feels himself react to how overwhelmed Wolfwood is, each whimper and eager grind of his cock inside of Vash only turning him on more. He pulls his head back slightly and he sees tears falling down Wolfwood’s cheeks, his lips slightly parted as feeling wash over him.
He feels a second orgasm quickly climbing to completion, and Vash cups Wolfwood’s cheek with a palm, his thumb tenderly swiping a tear from under Wolfwood’s eye, “You made – are making me feel so good. Cum for me, my good boy. I want you to cum deep inside me, can you do that for me, sweetheart?”
Wolfwood looks into his eyes, gaze hopelessly filled with pleasure and he eagerly nods.
Vash clenches down tight on Wolfwood’s cock. Wolfwood freezes for a moment and then speeds up his hips. Vash can’t stop himself from how loudly he moans, each thrust of Wolfwood’s fucking another cry from him.
Heat floods his cunt as Wolfwood’s hips stutter and then he pushes himself deep inside Vash, keeping his cum from leaking out. Vash feels himself nearing his own end as the thought of being the first person that Wolfwood has ever slept with blares in his head. The thought that his mark on Wolfwood’s soul would stay even after he pulls out, after he goes, for the rest of his life is the final push and Vash feels himself fall. His cunt rhythmically squeezes Wolfwood’s cock, trying to milk out anything the other man has left.
They are both quiet after they settle. Wolfwood takes some of the ruined sheets to tenderly wipe the mess from between Vash’s thighs. Careful of his injury, Wolfwood arranges them so that Vash can settle against him and lights a cigarette.
For the first time in a long, long time, Vash feels peace. The bed seems to be an oasis of comfort. This feeling of safety and contentment resting inside of his chest, that fills him as he leans on Wolfwood, is his love for the other man. He holds Wolfwood tighter, knowing that the other man will not be safe and in his arms for long. But, if he’s lucky, after this is all over, he will be able to find this sanctuary again.