Chapter Text
Vash has been acting strangely for the better part of two hours now.
Wolfwood had ignored it at first. All he had been doing was shifting more than usual during the first hour, like he was uncomfortable, pulling at his collar and resituating his long legs while he was sitting in the sidecar. Wolfwood had looked over at him every once in a while, eyes darting down towards him just to check up on him, but he hadn’t thought too much of it. Vash can get into the occasional mood, from frustration or boredom no matter how rare it is. It’s not even unusual for him to go quiet for a little while, just watching the sand go by in silence, listening to the hum of a motor and wheels ripping through open desert.
But then Vash begins wrestling himself out of his coat and that’s when Wolfwood truly starts to worry. His face is flushed and sweaty, his hair damp and his mouth parted around harsh breaths. It isn’t audible over the roar of the engine, but Wolfwood can see the heave of his chest, the strain of his throat as it flexes. He’s never really seen Vash affected by the heat like that, at least not so soon. It takes days of traveling in the open for the sun to take a true toll on him, and they’ve only been driving for a single day.
“You doing alright?” He calls over the wind, and Vash blearily glances up at him, sweat caught in his lashes. Wolfwood meets his gaze for a moment, locking onto hazy blue. Something is definitely wrong.
Vash doesn't say anything in response, just nods and strains against the walls of the sidecar, brows pinched like he was in pain. It’s not particularly reassuring at all.
Wolfwood sighs and pulls over, kicking out the stand even if he can already hear Vash whining in protest, insisting that they don’t need to stop. They’re not too far from the next town, but it’s still about another hour drive if Wolfwood read their map right. They can afford a short break just to make sure Vash wasn’t dying, because Wolfwood truly doesn’t trust that he wouldn’t keep something like that from him. The self-sacrificing asshole.
He walks around to kneel next to the sidecar, Vash’s unfocused blue eyes desperately trying to stay on him. “Wolfwood, it’s fine—” his voice slurs, his throat working as he swallows thickly, head ducking and his eyes squeezing shut.
“Doesn’t seem like you’re fine to me.” He grumbles, mouth already working itself into an annoyed scowl. There’s sweat beading on Vash’s skin, his pale flesh flushed bright pink and lips parted around soft gasps. His chest is heaving, especially visible when he’s in his undersuit, cloth tight over his shoulders. The sight of it always makes Wolfwood’s head spin a little.
Wolfwood reaches out then, the back of his hand brushing Vash’s heated forehead. The blond makes a noise like he’s been electrocuted, a groan low in his throat as he jumps, choking on a gasp. He leans further into the touch though, skin damp and overheated against Wolfwood’s knuckles.
Wolfwood’s brows raise, hand flipping over to press his palm against his cheek, fingers brushing through the light hair at his temple. Vash is nearly panting, breaths hot and wet where it fans out over Wolfwood’s skin. He’s never seen Vash catch a fever nor get heat sick, but perhaps it’s not impossible, and he feels himself frown.
“Are you feeling okay, Spikey? You’re fucking burning up.” He says, but when he goes to pull his hand back Vash whines, like a kicked animal, and Wolfwood puts it back more out of shock than anything else. Vash immediately relaxes again, nosing into his palm, a satisfied hum low in his throat.
“Not sick.” He mutters into his skin, breaths still hot and puffing.
“Needle-noggin, I swear if you’re just trying to bullshit me—”
Vash whimpers abruptly, a miserable expression passing over his face as he nuzzles further in Wolfwood’s hand. His neck cranes, bared almost purposefully for Wolfwood to see. “I—it’s. Normal, for me.” His eyes peek open, and one of his hands wrap around Wolfwood’s wrist, his nose brushing against his pulse point. “I just didn’t—expect it to happen now.” He breathes out harshly, his face insistently rubbing at any inch of skin that he can reach of Wolfwood’s bared hand and wrist. Wolfwood feels like his flesh is prickling with heat, something constricting in his chest at the sight.
“This a Plant thing?” He mumbles a bit dumbly, stuck staring at Vash as he seemingly ruts at the air, hips shifting as his lips now close around the beat of Wolfwood’s pulse. Wolfwood feels his mouth go dry, his mind stuttering as he tries to keep up with whatever the hell is happening right now.
Vash nods frantically, his face a brilliant shade of red and his hair falling out of its spikes, damp with sweat and going limp. He looks so pretty like this, desperate and flushed and mouthing at Wolfwood's skin like he was starving. It make heat boil in his gut, heat lancing through him.
“What do you need me to do?” He breathes, leaning forward, thumb brushing over Vash’s cheekbone. Their faces are so close that their noses brush, Vash’s wet eyes squinting open, teeth digging into his bottom lip. It would take hardly anything at all for their mouths to meet.
And that’s what seems to make Vash snap out of whatever state he had fallen into, eyes widening as he jerks away from Wolfwood’s hand. He swallows several times, fingers trembling as he carefully stills himself.
He runs a hand through his hair, “Nothing.” He croaks, and it sounds like a desperate lie, “I can deal with—this, by myself.” He clears his throat, that hazy look still in his eyes but now it’s overpowered by panic and embarrassment.
Wolfwood scoffs, “Don’t feed me that.” He says, and while he doesn’t exactly know what’s going on, he’s not stupid. He can catch some hints.
Vash fidgets, something pitched catching in his throat as he restlessly shifts. “You don’t have to do anything—just—just leave me in a room and I’ll ride it out all on my own.”
Wolfwood resists the urge to put his head in his hands, and settles on rolling his eyes and scoffing instead. “Is this hurting you, Vash?” He asks simply, his fingers brushing against the point of Vash’s jaw.
His blue eyes dart around, bottom lip caught between his teeth, and it’s answer enough.
“Can I help?” He asks insistently, leaning closer so Vash is forced to look at him. He feels hot when they’re this close though, Vash’s body like a furnace emitting constant heat. Vash blink over at him, eyes watery and face still terribly flushed.
He whines, like he can’t bear to answer. He buries his face in his hands, expression scrunched up in genuine distress. Wolfwood reaches for him, hands closing around his biceps. “Come on, Spikey. Just tell me what’s going on with you.”
Vash makes a small noise in the back of his throat, nearly shaking under Wolfwood’s hold. “I—I need—” he cuts himself off, swallowing as his teary eyes blink open, and he reaches down between his spread legs, making sure that Wolfwood is watching him as he does.
His long fingers run over leather straps, pressing down just slightly and he whimpers, hips jumping. His palm grinds into the top of his crotch, digging into leather as his pelvis rolls into his own hand, his lips parting over a hitched breath.
Wolfwood swallows thickly. “Oh.”
“I’m sorry.” Vash mutters miserably, one of his hands still covering his face. It’s a mixture of embarrassment and genuine guilt in his voice, though Wolfwood doesn’t think there’s a damn thing for him to feel sorry over.
“You don’t gotta apologize to me.” He says gruffly, his fingers flexing into the bare skin of Vash’s upper arms, “You said this was normal?”
Vash nods, his hand digging into his thigh so he doesn’t touch himself. Wolfwood’s tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth at the thought of telling him that he wouldn’t mind if he continued, but he refrains.
“And I can help you with whatever this is, can’t I?” He insists bluntly, because there are pieces falling together in his head. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.
He whines, thighs squeezing together but he meets Wolfwood’s gaze and nods, head ducking like he hadn’t wanted to admit it.
“You don’t have to—”
“Do you want me to help?” He interrupts before Vash can go through some kind of guilty, self-sacrificing spiel on how much he doesn’t want to be a burden. Like Wolfwood hasn’t wanted to fuck his brains out ever since the first month they met.
All Vash really needs to do is ask at this point. They’ve kissed before, late on cold nights when it’s dark and they’re pressed close. They never say much and it’s never gone past quick and dirty rutting, but it was always good. They’ve danced around each other for long enough, have skirted around talking about it.
Wolfwood can see the expansion of Vash’s pupils, the way his face flushes even further, breath hitching. Wolfwood moves his hand to the back of Vash’s neck, his warm skin seemingly cool against the heater that is Vash’s flesh. He can feel the hummingbird flutter of his pulse, faster than that of any human’s. Vash sighs, sinking back bonelessly into the touch, head nearly lolling to the side.
“Yeah.” He croaks, his fingers wrapping around Wolfwood’s wrist, his teeth pulling his bottom lip into his mouth. “I want you to so bad.” His voice is breathy and desperate, his head turning so his lips brush against Wolfwood’s wrist.
Wolfwood feels a shiver crawl down his spine despite the heat, his throat going dry.
“We’re almost to town, is there anything you’re going to need?” He rasps, fingers running gently through the dark strands at the back of Vash’s head, scratching carefully at his scalp, like he were petting an animal vying for his attention. He swears he can hear a short rumble start and stop in Vash’s chest, like a deep, satisfied purr.
Vash hums, fingers absently stroking Wolfwood’s hand from knuckle to wrist, still leaning back into his palm like an affection-starved cat. “Water, a room, food. It can last a—a few days.”
Wolfwood blinks, “Days?” He can’t help but blurt, and he feels Vash flinch slightly in his hold.
“Maybe less if—if you help.”
Wolfwood nods, one of his hands smoothing over Vash’s shoulder to reassure him, “Okay. Okay, I can do that.” He finally pulls his hands away, preparing to get back to driving so they can reach town soon, but Vash grabs for him with a pitched whimper. His fingers close around Wolfwood’s suit jacket, weakly trying to pull him back down.
“We gotta get going, Spikey.” He says, but he pauses, holding onto Vash’s wrist, thumb running soothingly over the back of his gloved hand.
Vash’s brows furrow, “I don’t know if I can wait.” He mutters, voice thick and hands beginning to shake, “Nick, please—” he shifts forward onto his knees, his glasses falling off the tip of his nose from the abrupt movement. It puts them closer together, Vash nearly tumbling out of the sidecar and into Wolfwood’s chest.
“Vash—” he hisses, one of his hands darting out to catch Vash by the waist, the other still held in a loose grip.
Vash’s blue eyes find him, hazy and wet and quickly losing the clarity they had contained earlier. His mouth parts around soft, short pants, his nose nearly brushing Wolfwood’s as he sways forward.
“Please. Please, I need something, anything you want, just—”
Wolfwood kisses him, swallowing his words and feeling the way that Vash immediately melts into it, mouth falling slack and open. Wolfwood feels like he’s kissing a live wire, Vash’s skin thrumming with energy, Wolfwood’s tongue feeling nearly numb as it slides against Vash’s own. Wolfwood puts a hand on his jaw and hauls him even closer, Vash’s heaving chest brushing against his. He can feel Vash’s leather suit on his skin, rubbing against his bare collarbones, Vash’s hand planted just over his heart to steady himself. Vash makes little pitched noises into the kiss, hums and soft whimpers as he lets Wolfwood lead him in any way that he wants, tonguing over Vash’s teeth and palate. It’s lazy and wet and slow, a salacious heat that drips down Wolfwood’s spine as his entire body feels like it’s buzzing. His thumb pushes at Vash’s chin, urging his mouth to open even wider and Vash lets him, head tilting back as he moans. Drool pools at the corners of his mouth, dribbling down as Wolfwood’s teeth close around his bottom lip, tugging on the skin and feeling the way Vash jolts, gasping as his hips shift incessantly at the empty air.
Kissing Vash always feels like he’s kneeling and worshipping, praying into his mouth, accepting every little noise he makes, every part of him that he places into Wolfwood’s hands. He selfishly wants every piece he can take, wants to cradle his entirety in his rough palms, wants to pretend like he’s even worthy of holding this wondrous creature so close.
His hand squeezes Vash’s waist as he pulls back, pressing kisses against his jaw and chin as he catches his breath. “What do you want me to do?” His teeth scrape against his earlobe, thumb rubbing at one of his sharp hip bones.
Vash is already gasping and shaking, nosing at Wolfwood’s temple. “Anything. Just please—Nico, I need something inside—”
Wolfwood’s fingers slip down the inner part of his thigh, thumbing over leather straps and the crease between his crotch and leg. He cups him through his pants, Vash immediately rutting down onto his palm, head falling back as he sighs. He can almost feel the outline of Vash’s petals, the unfurl of his alien cunt. He’s never felt it against bare skin, always ever through fabric and on desperate nights that are too dark and too quick.
But he’s sure that this is not enough, far too many layers between their skin to offer him enough stimulation.
“I’ve got you, angel.” He breathes out, smiling, sharp and crooked as Vash melts at the name, fingers flexing against Wolfwood’s shoulders, a needy whine building in his throat.
Wolfwood fumbles over Vash’s buckles, yanking what he can get open. He needs to be quick, just long enough to give Vash some kind of relief without stalling here for longer than they need to. He gets his pants open just enough to get his hand inside.
His fingers slip into his underwear, passing over soft blond hair to press at his clit. Vash moans, head tilting back as he strains into his touch, knees falling as far open as they can get in his position. His hands paw at Wolfwood’s back, clenching and unclenching into his suit jacket. Wolfwood continues to rub at him at a steady pace, lips biting at his pale throat as his fingers circle over his slick clit. He can feel Vash swallow, teeth scraping over his Adam’s apple and marking the flesh he can reach in dark bruises. Vash shudders, hips rocking into his fingers as his breaths rattle in his chest, mouth parted around whiny moans.
Wolfwood groans, teeth closing around the point of his jaw and sucking, knowing that the marks will be visible to everyone else even over Vash’s high coat collar. It makes a possessive heat roil in his gut, pulling Vash’s skin between his teeth before his tongue smooths over the sting. The closest he’ll ever get to holding heaven, owning this gorgeous angel, as if he could ever hope to keep Vash to himself. His hand tightens around his slim waist, tugging him as close as he can with Vash still in the sidecar and Wolfwood kneeling beside it. All he can smell is Vash with them pressed this close, like citrus and gunsmoke and something electric. It makes him feel intoxicated, heady with desire that leaves him nearly winded.
“Nick—Nick, ah.” One of Vash’s hands curls into his dark hair, holding him close. “Ah—more. Please, mmh, please, I—” his voice breaks around a moan when Wolfwood’s fingers slip lower, smoothing over unfurling petals, catching slick against the pads of his fingers like dew on early morning flowers. He’s already soaked, dripping and pooling against Wolfwood’s curled fingers. He shudders, sighing into Vash’s throat.
He grinds the heel of his palm into Vash’s clit, fingers circling teasingly over his hole. “Want me to finger you right here, Spikey?” He whispers into his skin, feeling the shiver that racks through Vash’s form, the way slick gushes out against his fingers.
“Please. Oh please, please.” He begs, hands grasping at Wolfwood’s hair, breath hot against Wolfwood’s temple, lips pressing the words into his skin.
Wolfwood takes pity on him and lets one finger dip inside, meeting no resistance as it slips into his slick hole. He’s wet and hot inside, Vash’s mouth falling open on a long groan. His hips try to rock down on his hand, a whine pitching in his throat when it’s not enough.
“More.”
Wolfwood snorts softly at the demand but easily complies, another finger joining the other, curling into Vash’s dripping cunt. He mewls in satisfaction, face burying into Wolfwood’s shoulder. He thrusts down onto his fingers, breaths hitching in his throat as he chases his own pleasure. His thumb continues to rub at Vash’s engorged clit, his mouth and teeth finding any pale skin that he can get his teeth on.
Wolfwood’s free hand pets absently at Vash’s exposed stomach, running over scarred skin and dark leather. His skin is always impossibly soft, smooth and pale where it’s not sliced through with scar tissue. Touching Vash is a consistent mixture of silk and gravel, rough and leathery in some areas and as precious as downy in others. It doesn’t let Wolfwood forget exactly who’s crying with need in his ear, who’s fucking themselves onto his fingers. It’s addicting.
Vash makes a litany of noises against him, barely muffled even with his face buried in Wolfwood’s suit jacket. Wolfwood’s fingers spread, stretching Vash and delving deeper, a pitched whine catching in Vash’s throat that trembles when Wolfwood’s fingers thrust forward just right. His teeth close around the fabric of Wolfwood’s jacket, sobbing as his hands tighten against his shoulders, balling into fists.
“Right there?” He teases, and his fingers press forward again in the same spot, Vash’s eyes squeezing shut as he jolts, tears curling down his cheeks. His thighs are shaking, straining against leather, cunt soaking his underwear in copious amounts of slick. He’s gorgeous like this, nearly delirious from pleasure and leaning into Wolfwood like he’s the only thing keeping him alive, whining and muttering against him.
“Please.” He whimpers, his teeth unclamping from Wolfwood’s clothes. Spit is wet on his glistening bottom lip, drool stringy on his chin. Wolfwood can’t help but kiss him, a warm press of their mouths, Vash nearly entirely slack with pleasure as he shakes. There’s that sound in Vash’s chest again, but this time it’s unabashed and it doesn’t stop, a rumbling purr that Wolfwood can feel where they’re pressed together.
He desperately wants to be closer then, wants to feel Vash against him. There’s far too much space between them, not enough places that they’re touching. He wants Vash on top of him, wants him as close as he can get, wants his hands on every corner and dip of Vash’s body until he’s memorized them, until can map them out with his eyes closed.
“C’mere.” He gasps, and Vash only blinks at him dumbly, eyes wet and mouth parted.
“Hmm?” His head raises, flushed face glistening with tears, pupils blown as he looks at Wolfwood. He wants to remember how he looks right now for the rest of life, wants the image stuck in his head to recall on cold nights. He wants to hold him in his hands and refuse to let go, wants to spread him out on a soft bed and properly ruin him, wants him screaming and crying around his cock until all he can think about is Nick and his mouth and his hands. Vash makes him want.
He curses under his breath.
Wolfwood’s hand wraps around the back of Vash’s thigh, using the hold to haul him out of the sidecar and into his lap, his fingers slipping out for just a moment so he can move him. Vash cries out in surprise, tumbling into Wolfwood’s lap, knees pressing into the sand as he straddles him. Wolfwood groans at the greater proximity, slipping three fingers unceremoniously back into Vash’s dripping cunt and watching the way his head is thrown back, a sob scraping past his throat. He thumbs at his clit, teeth sinking into the hollow of his bared throat.
“Ah!” He gasps, hole clenching around Wolfwood’s fingers, “Close—mmh. I’m so close.” He mewls, Wolfwood’s hand smoothing over the curve of his back, pressing him even closer as he arches.
Wolfwood hums into his skin, lips brushing his clothed chest and feeling the rumble of his purring; loud and thick.
“Come on, angel.” He breathes out, hand soaked in Vash’s slick, “Come on.” His fingers crook, sliding deliberately over that spot inside of him that makes his legs jump, thighs tightening over Wolfwood’s hips.
His breath continues to hitch around punched out sobs, teeth biting his bottom lip raw as he futilely tries to quiet himself. When he rocks forward he brushes against Wolfwood’s clothed cock, leather on the softer material of Wolfwood's pants. Wolfwood hisses, his hand squeezing over the back of Vash’s thigh.
Vash does it again, ass dragging over his crotch as he moans, cunt clenching.
“Vash.” He gasps, nosing at his jaw and listening to the persisting shlick noise of his fingers moving inside of Vash and the staccato of his breathing, pitched and whimpering as his hips become more erratic. His chest is heaving against Wolfwood’s, his pulse a racing beat under his tongue.
His fingers thrust forward, Vash’s hips rocking into him, balanced precariously on his quivering knees. He can feel every twitch in Vash’s body, every swallow and flutter of his fast-paced heart, mouthing at his skin, his neck and jaw a mottle of bruises. Wolfwood thinks he could get addicted to the taste of him, the smell of him, until his head is full of just Vash, Vash, Vash and nothing else. Wolfwood’s lips brush a kiss behind his ear, thumb circling his swollen clit and and his fingers pressing forward when Vash’s tenses, trembling legs suddenly locking as his back bows, a drawn out sob exploding from his throat.
“There you go.” He breathes, thumb digging into the meat of his thigh as he pulls him forward, every part of their torsos pressed against each other tightly.
“Nick!”
Vash’s cunt clenches, gushing around his fingers and slick spurting up onto Wolfwood’s palm and wrist. He fingers him through it, listening to the shudder of Vash’s breath as his hips continue to rock incessantly into his touch. He doesn’t stop until Vash is shaking all over from sensitivity, hands spasming over his back as he chokes on his own spit. And then he continues past that, Vash’s thighs quaking as he scrambles at Wolfwood’s jacket, nails scraping into the fabric. His back curves, arching into Wolfwood’s chest.
His voice breaks on a sob, tears curling down his chin, “Nico—Nick—” he whines shakily, drawn out and pitched, and Wolfwood finally pulls away, fingers slipping out of his hole.
Vash gasps, eyes bleary as he blinks down at him, panting and face flushed a pretty pink, lashes clumped together from moisture. He swallows, and Wolfwood makes sure that Vash is looking as he pulls his fingers away from his cunt. Without looking away, he slips his slick fingers into his mouth, watching as Vash’s eyes widen, a whimper catching in his throat.
Wolfwood’s tongue runs in between his own fingers, Vash’s come tasting nearly sweet, citrusy and light. Not what he was expecting and he hums quietly, Vash’s eyes still steadily him, enraptured and bright. He slides his fingers out of his mouth, curling both of his hands over Vash’s slim waist, pulling him forward. And with Vash’s slick still on his tongue he leans closer, catching Vash’s lips in his own, licking past his parted teeth. Vash shudders, thighs clenching over Wolfwood’s hips as he weakly rocks forward.
“That’s not fair.” Vash rasps petulantly when they part and Wolfwood pulls away, unable to stop himself from laughing. Vash smiles too, face open and blissed out, nearly euphoric. It’s a good look on him, and it makes something inside of Wolfwood ache, makes him want to do anything to continue seeing it.
Vash sighs, tucking his head into Wolfwood’s shoulder, “That was good.”
Wolfwood hums, lips pressing a gentle kiss into his blond hair, “Is that enough to hold you over?”
He nods, shifting and stretching languidly in Wolfwood’s lap. He’s still purring though it’s quieter now, a softer sound. Wolfwood’s hand reaches up, cupping the back of Vash’s neck when he feels feathers, flat against his skin. He blinks, letting his nail run over the vein of one of the larger ones and Vash jolts, moaning.
“Sensitive?” He smirks, sharp and crooked as he pets at soft downy before he settles on scratching at Vash’s scalp, fingers in dark strands. Vash sighs, nearly limp in Wolfwood’s lap as he rocks absently forward, like he’s not even realizing that he is. Leather rubs against Wolfwood’s clothed cock, and his breath stutters, entire body hot and his gut tight with heat.
He swallows, stilling Vash’s hips with one of his hands. “We need to get going, Spikey.”
Vash sighs again and he wraps his arms around Wolfwood’s shoulder, lips brushing his throat. Wolfwood’s still painfully hard in his pants, but he ignores it for now, hefting Vash into his arms and helping him back into the sidecar.
Vash whines again when they have to part, but Wolfwood places an appeasing kiss on his damp forehead before he straddles his bike again.
“It won’t be long, promise.” He says and Vash nods lazily, leaning sideways so he can rest his head on Wolfwood’s hip as he starts up his bike.