Work Text:
Wolfwood is chain smoking. That’s the tell that he’s too far into his own head and it’s usually subtle until someone can tell the difference between his typical smoking pace and the rapid fire finishing an starting another that he’s currently doing. He’s started taking note early in the evening, Nick half listening to words and giving shrugs rather than actual answers, eyes distant all the while.
The man needs to not focus for a while, he thinks, and that’s a task the blonde is very good at. The preacher can just ask whenever he wants their particular method of dealing with stress, yet there are times where asking for what he wants is what he struggles with. Wolfwood needs a reminder but hopefully he’ll be up for playing nice tonight.
He doubts it.
Vash digs in his bag for a specific feeling of leather and metal. It doesn’t take long, always put away with care. The collar is made of the softest leather he’d been able to find, gentled further by the use it's seen. A small gold bar decorates the front, accompanied by a dainty chain to match.
It actually fastens in the back with a typical pin and buckle but he had gotten decoration on purpose when he first commissioned the thing; an unspoken confirmation between them that Nick can be whatever he needs while it’s on. Soft, vulnerable, bitterly stubborn, desperate, angry… Whatever he needed at that moment.
Technically, it actually belongs to Wolfwood. It was a gift, Vash just keeps track of it, decides when to bring it out to see the light of day. Night, technically. Usually night.
Wolfwood is sitting in the window pulling from cigarette number who knows . Vash is in his peripheral, so he just throws the collar at the other man. He predictably catches it without issue, annoyed look flitting across his face for the distraction before glancing down and realizing what he caught.
Wolfwood can sneak a blush by most people but not Vash. He’s too familiar with exactly how his flush tints his face and starts at his ears before working down. He rolls his cigarette along his lips while he thinks.
This thing between them only works because Vash is observant like he is, never missing a detail. Wolfwood is deciding if he wants to play—or how he wants this to go. Given the chain smoking, Vash can reasonably expect something hard, rough, but that’s not how the blonde tends to play. Nick can be swayed without bruises, he simply requires a firm hand.
The man puffs on his cigarette and looks back out of the window.
“Piss off,” he murmurs. More important than his words is the fact that he’s still holding the collar, hard enough to turn his knuckles a few shades lighter.
Vash lets him finish his current cigarette while he sorts things that he’ll need. A selection of belts over his thigh are loosened. By the time he checks on Wolfwood, he’s finished smoking and is pretending not to watch him out of the corner of his eye.
For a moment everything is still. Vash gives his head the smallest of tilts while a smile toys at the corner of his mouth.
Then chaos to anyone but them. Nick all but dives for him and is easy to side-step, Vash bringing his heel up to catch on the preacher's foot to try and trip him. It half works and as Wolfwood stumbles for balance a hand is thrown out to help in the endeavor.
That’s the real opening, a breath long enough to jerk one of the loosened belts off his outfit and wrap it around wolfwood’s wrist. From there it’s over, a shove and twist bringing the man’s arm up at the wrong angle and forcing him to his knees. Wolfwood gives something like a growl and jerks to test the hold—it’s solid with the blonde doing the bulk of the work with his prosthetic and he hisses through his teeth.
“If you dislocate your shoulder I’m going to make you fix it yourself,” Vash warns in a chilling tone that makes his partner’s break catch.
Not true, at all , but it would bring their game to a very sudden end. Actual damaging pain had never been Vash’s sort of thing. Wolfwood has some harsh wants so they had long ago agreed to meet in the middle. Tonight Nick seems to have too much energy without a decent outlet.
He jerks again and makes a frustrated sound, so Vash gives his arm a slow tug upward, pressure forcing him down to the floor. With a knee on his back Vash gradually lets his weight settle, heavier and heavier upon the other man until he’s simply kneeling on him.
The change in position frees one hand that he uses to comb through Nick’s hair. When he occasionally pulls, it’s a slow increase in the pressure he applies to the strands, just enough to be felt—to sting —before relaxing and returning to the slow combing motion he started with.
“This mood because of new things or old things?”
There is a difference. New things can come on in a number of ways and Vash is still learning what the other man needs for what, there. Old things are easier, in an aching and scarred over sort of way. There are many things Nick isn’t able to truly shake away, lingering in the wings until the mood strikes to tear him apart from within.
Vash lets his fingers trail down, thumb rubbing at the other man’s cheekbone. He knows perfectly well what Wolfwood wants right now and it isn’t softness or affection, but Vash gives it to him regardless. He already has him pinned, straining, this bit of gentleness doesn’t take away from that.
He’s never hit Wolfwood like he tends to snap his teeth for and he won’t. Punishment for broken rules or attitude comes close, but never anything that can leave bruises. He fucks him like he wants, eventually, but: part of their compromise is this, that Vash will give him what he needs, but it’ll always be with his own method, his own pace.
Wolfwood grunts, eyes closing as he sucks in a breath and furrows his brow.
“Old,” comes the murmur and now that he seems to have gotten that initial burst out of his system, it appears like he might behave. There’s a tone in his voice that the blonde knows intimately but he isn’t going to draw attention to it until the time is right. Vash eases his arm out of the twist, hand laying on his shoulder to rub at the joint that felt the most strain. His other hand lays flat on the floor where Wolfwood can see it, palm up.
“Give me the collar,” he orders. Not asking, because that’s part of it.
Nick hands it over and Vash settles back, weight remaining at the base of his spine. Before long he has it wrapped around the other man’s neck, tightening slowly. Nick stifles a sound by biting at his lip. When the blonde decides it’s tight enough he tests how it lays by running a finger along the inside, ensuring it doesn’t affect Wolfwood’s breathing.
If they venture into breathplay tonight it will be by his hand, not a piece of leather or chain. That’s only there so they can ease into the roles that fit them so well. Push and pull, give and receive, no guilt for what they ask of each other. A space in the world they’ve purposefully carved just for them. To fit what they both want, need.
Vash sits up, knee lifting off Wolfwood’s back and sliding to the side so he straddles him. He tucks his knees close, reminding him how wholly he’s surrounded as a hand works back into his hair. His other cups Nick’s chin, both slowly lifting his head up and tilting it back. Up, up, wall to ceiling and back so the blonde can meet his eyes at a harsh angle.
Wolfwood swallows—tries, rather, but the tilt his throat is forced into makes it difficult, an aborted attempt struggling before Vash watches his throat shift and bob with it.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” Vash breathes out, voice low. Whether Wolfwood is ready for it or not, the blonde leans a touch further and captures his mouth in a harsh kiss. It’s messy, lips offset, but Vash can still find his bottom lip and worry it between his teeth before sinking his sharper teeth down to draw blood.
Just barely, only enough to tint their kiss red, give something metallic to how their tongues work against each other. Vash groans, fingers digging into the priest’s jaw harsh enough to leave bruises, forcing him to keep up their kiss so long as he pleases. It’s only a handful of moments before he’s abruptly letting him go.
“Strip,” Vash orders, getting up from the floor and stepping away to take off his coat. Any other time he’d help the man up as easy as anything but not when they’re doing this. Wolfwood can shrug off the belt with a bit of squirming now that the blonde has let him go.
“Don’t leave my things on the floor,” Vash reminds, watching Nick lean over to collect the belt from the corner of his eye. After putting his coat away Vash sits on the bed to watch, letting his legs fall open while leaning back on his hands.
Nick sheds his jacket first, smart enough to not throw it on the floor either, something Vash smiles at. The other man had tried that exactly one time before. They had ended before they truly began, Wolfwood over his lap with an ass so red he hadn’t been able to lay on his back to sleep. Vash had simply held him that night and it ended up being a surprisingly pleasant memory. Ever since then Nick had been more discerning about where and when the bratty attitude came into play.
Vash gets rid of his own shirt but leaves the belts over his legs and of course his boots. That’s a big part of it. His partner finishes with his clothes and comes to kneel between the blonde’s open thighs, arms resting over his knees. He still looks like he’s half brooding so Vash brings up a hand to comb through his hair. For now he doesn’t pull, simply watching Nick relax by degrees.
“Want me to blow you?” Wolfwood eventually asks, voice easing into a low murmur. Vash can’t help his amused scoff, giving his hair a brief and more playful tug than anything.
“Please, I haven’t even decided if I’m going to be touching you after I get you settled. Turn around, forearms together.”
Nick lets out a short, unsteady breath before doing what he’s told. Still on his knees, he brings both his arms back and lays his arms together, one over the other. Teasing the possibility of not touching always makes Wolfwood take at least a second to think, those sort of scenes unpredictable and usually leaving him shaking with a different sort of weakness than usual. Vash doesn’t keep him waiting, reaching to adjust his hold how he likes. Hands each holding the opposite elbow, a quiet murmur telling him not to move before Vash loops a larger belt about his biceps and pulls it snug. Wolfwood lets out a small grunt as the other man pulls the belt one notch tighter before fastening it closed.
“Hold on just a minute for me,” Vash tells him, finding two wider belts among the rest. Each one goes to one of his wrists, fastening it down to the opposite arm. He can’t move his arms at all this way and Vash might normally just wrap his entire arms with the belts because Wolfwood enjoys excess as much in this as he does in cigarettes and alcohol, but they’re usually much looser to match. Nick can’t even roll his shoulders at the moment, trying while feeling out what he can do—or not, as it stands. If he needs to tap out, Vash wants to make sure everything can be removed sooner than later. That meant three belts instead of ten.
They both quietly ignore the fact that both of them could snap out of whatever restraints they happen to be using if an emergency really called for it.
“Can you stay kneeling or do I need to tie you down that way too?”
Nick is still getting used to it, giving a low hum that’s not really a yes or a no. Instead of pushing for an answer Vash runs a hand through his hair again and with a not quite pull leads him to rest his head and shoulder against one of his legs.
“Relax there, Nick,” he murmurs the order, keeping up the slow motion through his hair.
At a snail’s pace Nick does, taking stilted breaths as he keeps trying to fight against the belts that aren’t giving any leeway. The continued effort starts to make his skin sheen with sweat, the occasional shudder working through his frame as he works through relaxing muscles against whatever in his head has been making him brood. Vash doesn’t time it but he estimates close to twenty minutes pass before he slumps with a groan.
“ Good boy, ” the blonde all but purrs, rubbing at the back of his neck. The massaging motion digs deep and presses into muscle but not harsh enough to truly hurt, only helping him to relax further. “Ready for some more?”
Nick takes a deeper, steadier breath and nods so Vash leads him to straighten his back again. He doesn’t expect much in the way of words from Wolfwood for a while, but there’s a reason they do this instead of long drawn out talks. From what Vash knows there have been a wealth of words said in his partner’s life and most of them have been, in Wolfwood’s words, ‘ complete bullshit ’.
Actions work better because they simply are. There’s no way to go back to something you’ve done and try to correct it, change it; you made the active decision to do that thing and it’s there plain to see. Maybe you can make up for it or lay over it with another but that doesn’t erase what happened. Simple.
Vash guides him to center between his legs, then forward, leaning to murmur into his hair that this will be easier if he spreads his legs. Wolfwood gives a low rumble to show he’s heard but still keeps his thighs close together. He can’t help but chuckle at the obstinate choice, leaning further to press a kiss to Nick’s temple.
“Your choice,” he reminds him. “Lean back until you’re about to tip. I’ve got my hands right behind you.”
As promised, he keeps gloved hands hovering just an inch or two away from Wolfwood’s shoulder blades where they’re forced close behind him. The man takes a slow breath as he gradually leans back—it isn’t a smooth movement and his back tips into Vash’s hands multiple times as he gradually adjusts his position, eventually settling with his knees spread wide and his abdomen tight to keep himself leaned back.
In the end he’s got his head tilted just below the edge of the bed, angle from his chin all the way to his sex a long, smooth line. Vash keeps one hand just under the back of the back of his neck in case he tips again, the other stroking down across the bottom of his jaw like Nick is an affectionate cat waiting for chin-scratches.
“So good for me, Nick,” he murmurs, proud and affectionate all at once.
Wolfwood simmers in his position, muscles shifting and adjusting to the demands Vash has made. Already his thighs are unsteady, a twitch here and there betraying Nick's tough act. Not that the blonde has ever believed it.
"What.. now?" The other man asks, cheeks darkening when his strain is audible in his voice.
"Now you stay still while I decide what I really want to do with you," Vash answers idly, like he's describing the current time. “If you need to drop or sit up, let me know. I want you to try and last as long as you can like this. I know you won’t disappoint me.”
Wolfwood makes a soft sound to show he’s heard and allows his eyes to close. For a few minutes they simply sit like that, Vash watching him closely as he finds the middle point between tensing enough to keep his balance and letting enough muscles relax so he can try to last. Despite the quips and near constant attitude, Nick likes to please and earn those praises. Vash could give it to him for nothing, but somehow that doesn’t connect in the preacher’s mind because he didn’t ‘earn’ it. So they play.
Vash starts slow. Wolfwood isn’t in an easy position so he keeps his touch simple to begin with, combing fingers through his hair and continuing down to trail over his neck. He works back up at the same pace, just as light.
“You look so good stretched out like this, just for me to see. You’re doing so good for me, Nick.”
Wolfwood makes a noise somewhere in his throat. Vash pauses the slow pattern of his hands to instead wipe at the other man’s neck, ensuring he won’t get sweat in his eyes. Nick lets out a breath but stays quiet so Vash allows the light touch of his fingers to resume. They wander first to his shoulders where he’s particularly careful not to press down, following the natural lines of muscle down his biceps. It's a brief touch, trailing back up to then ease down his chest.
Vash makes the line of his sternum a guide down, stopping at the two matching scars under his pecs. He makes a questioning sound and Wolfwood answers in a similar fashion, dull nuh-uh reply easy to make out in the quiet between them. Vash moves on, as far as he can reach with his own stretching arms. It’s almost a crime to leave his pecs untouched but that is a decision that lays securely in the priest’s hands only.
When he goes to stand Wolfwood sucks in a quick breath and makes a sound that lands somewhere between panic and worry. The muscles in his shoulders and abdomen clench where he’d gone to jerk and try to hold onto him but then has to hold himself steady to try and find that balance again.
“Easy,” Vash soothes, leaning to once again bury his fingers into dark hair. The reaction tells him plenty about where Nick is in the slow steps into the space that helps clear his mind. Where he can simply be instead of calculating every move he makes and every word he speaks. “I’m only moving around. I’ll be touching you the entire time.”
Nick breathes a touch too harsh for just a second but it seems to keep him calm, a few deep breaths while he finds his center and then he’s easing into that comfortable pattern once more.
True to his word, when Vash slowly moves around he keeps a hand on his partner’s chest, fingers splayed and slowly turning with his steps. He settles onto his own knees, spread enough to just barely touch Wolfwood’s own so he can’t pull them back in. He picks his touch up exactly where he’d left off before, soothing over the tension in his abdomen.
“You’re doing so good, Nick,” he repeats because he knows it comforts more than nearly anything else. His fingers trail down his stomach before separating on his abdomen so he can gently squeeze at his hips. Working down his thighs he feels the tension he’s keeping there, doing the bulk of effort to keep himself in position. The small tremor has evolved into a mild shake so he makes sure not to press or squeeze and risk upsetting his careful balance. Instead his touch moves back up, coming to a stop where he rubs his thumbs in small circles at his inner thighs.
“Can you give me a color?”
Wolfwood breathes out in a shudder before his middle tenses again, throat moving when he swallows around nothing once again.
“… Green,” he finally answers, low and only audible because Vash is listening for it.
“Great work, honey,” comes easy praise, thumbs inching up to the apex of his thighs. He can only get away with real endearments in the times they’re like this. He lets his touch linger there again before asking his next question: “I’m going to touch you here, alright?”
Nick makes a dull noise of approval. For a moment Vash debates on making him give a proper yes out loud but lets him have some mercy, fingers tapping over his legs before pulling away. He doesn’t leave the other man waiting for long, finger pressing at the bottom of his slit and sliding up, in, briefly, then up further before finishing with all but a flick over his clit. It earns him a harsh noise, starting as a groan and finishing in something closer to a whine.
“Fuck,” he croaks and Vash smiles at the curse. He doesn’t remind him of the rule about language; that’s something that has three strikes attached to it, so he’ll give a little reminder when the preacher inevitably does it again. Using his thumb he presses the pad of the finger between the lips of his pussy, just barely pressing into his hole to run around the very edge, stretching him open where he presses. The slide comes easier as Wolfwood’s slick spreads with the movement. His thighs have a stronger tremble now and Vash can hear the leather of the belts holding his arms in place creak as he tries to move.
“Wet already, huh? You must have been pretty pent up,” the blonde drawls, continuing with the motion but occasionally pressing his thumb in properly. Only enough to be felt before pulling back to resume the slow pattern at his entrance. “Guess I need to pay you more attention. There are easier ways to ask than pouting until I notice, y’know.”
Nick’s hips give the tiniest jerk, a moan muffled and Vash knows he probably has a lip between his teeth. He pulls his hand back, spreading the slick around his other fingers. He lays his pointer and middle finger on either side of his flushed dick, teasing a closer touch by just barely moving his hand up and down. It isn’t enough, he knows, confirmation in the unhappy groan Wolfwood sounds out.
He’s fighting the urge to twist his hips into a firmer touch, Vash can see in the minute shifts he almost makes and how his posture wavers. The blonde smiles, cooing soft words about how good he’s doing before pulling back his hand and easily sliding two fingers in and angling up.
“Fuck!” Wolfwood shouts, abdomen shuddering as he gasps for a breath. He dips low with the lost focus, hissing a low groan out between his teeth as he barely manages to keep himself off the floor. Panting, he slowly eases up into the spot he’d found to balance at. All the while Vash keeps his fingers buried deep, the preacher’s own shakes making them rub at his g-spot in random intervals. It seems to drive Nick a bit crazy, soft sounds leaving him with each press.
“You know there’s no reason for that kind of talk,” Vash chides. Wolfwood makes a low sound of acknowledgement, reminder given. The blonde stops torturing him with the continued press inside, withdrawing his fingers only to press them back in nice and slow. He keeps the same slow pace as he continues to fuck his fingers inside, occasionally separating to stretch against his walls. He’s so wet it’s dripping onto the floor and it makes Vash smile, wolfish as the other man still struggles with getting his breath under control.
“Do you think you’ll be able to stay up if I start fucking you?”
Wolfwood outright moans, but he can see how he shakes his head.
“No? But you’ve done so well so far. Don’t you want to be a good boy for me?”
Wolfwood groans like he’s grinding his teeth, desperate for more praise but knowing he has to do something to earn it.
“Angel, I can’t—“
“Just a little longer, Nick, honey. You’re strong enough, just a little bit more.”
Wolfwood is losing his ability to speak with any sort of coherence, words jumbled in his now rapid gasps for breath. He’s almost where Vash wants to get him, where the preacher wants to be. It will only take a little of something else and the blonde is given the opportunity for that else when his partner chokes out another curse.
He immediately pulls his fingers free and Wolfwood makes a sound like a wounded animal while his thighs give their strongest shake yet. Vash would normally tell him why, what rule he’d broken, but Nick already knows, voice desperate:
“ No, no nonono,” The blonde is listening for a color but his pleas make his cock ache where it’s still trapped in his pants. “Angel, please, m’sorry please—“
Vash slaps down on his core, catching both his clit and labia in the single hit. Wolfwood cries out wordlessly, posture failing, falling. The blonde catches him with his free arm, solid prosthetic carrying his weight in that moment of gut-dropping uncertainty and keeping him off the floor. His flesh hand doles out two additional slaps that are no gentler than the first. Nick’s mouth moves but no sound escapes while his eyes widen to stare at nothing. He’s right on the edge and Vash can’t help but think about how incredible he looks, how honest his cries and expressions are when he gets like this. Focus narrowed only to where it’s directed, want for more, pleasure, too much, the strain of his own muscles, a sharp lick of pain.
Wolfwood takes the quick punishment so well that Vash can’t help but give him the reward he truly deserves. Two of his fingers bracket his dick, thumb pressing into it directly and rubbing in small, tight circles. It pulls an immediate shout, the preacher thrashing in his arms before sobbing in relief as he tips over that last little bit he needed to cum.
Vash leans over him to lave his tongue over his abdomen while Nick shakes through his orgasm. Even wetter than before, the blonde can hear how the slick around his fingers joins the previous collection on the floor with soft spatters. All he wants is to kiss him and swallow his moans until pleasure tips over to overstimulation, but Wolfwood is panting for breath so quick between short cries and half bitten moans that he doesn’t dare interrupt. They’re imperative to ensuring the preacher gets what he needs out of this entire scene.
The man’s arousal is too thick, the continued circles around his clit not slowing in any way. What may have started as an aftershock evolves into another orgasm forced out of him too quickly for him to keep up as he cries out wordlessly. The blonde keeps the motion, not letting him come down from his peak, but does shift his hand: thumb still circling, but two of his fingers dip down and thrust inside of him once again. The movements are short but merciless, fingers long enough to hit his g-spot despite the angle.
“ Vash! Angl—stop, I, I can’t go again!”
They use their color system, but Nick’s safeword is ‘Chapel’.
“Just one more, Nick. Be good, give me one more.” He’s all but thrashing in Vash’s hold, most of the movement in his hips as he’s torn between trying to move away and pushing into the touch that doesn’t let up either way. Wolfwood is shaking his head, mumbling any time he has the air to speak, all an incoherent mix of his name, please, I can’t and then quick, sudden curses as he suddenly realizes he can.
“Shit, shit—fuck—God, fuck shit!” The last jumble comes out in all but a scream as his sudden squirt drenches the blonde’s hand and arm both. The orgasm closes his throat and silences him as he shakes, legs shuddering out of their half-kneeling position so his thighs can clamp down around Vash’s wrist and forearm.
The point he’s waiting on finally comes as Wolfwood takes a new, deeper breath and lets it out in a broken sob. His prosthetic tightens in the hold keeping him off the floor and closer to his own chest. Finally he slides his fingers away from playing with his dick and hole, soothing over one of his still shaking thighs before shifting them both.
Vash puts his own back to the side of the bed, feet braced flat with his knees lifted. Nick is settled into his lap, one of the blonde’s belted thighs between his legs as he guides the preacher’s face to hide in the junction between neck and shoulder.
After such tight control this is where he allows Wolfwood to have some of it back. Combing his fingers through the other man’s hair, he checks in before letting him do as he likes, other hand keeping a stilling hold on his hip despite how Nick twitches with aborted attempts to grind down. Vash isn’t certain if he even knows he’s doing it.
“Color?” He tries, the other man making a sound of protest as he’s kept from what he wants. He strengthens his tone, firmer as he speaks again. “What is your color ?”
Wolfwood sobs into his shoulder and Vash chews at his lip. It had taken a lot to get him this deep, but if Nick is so far gone that he isn’t hearing questions the blonde needs to end this sooner than later. He gives him one more chance, gentle fingers gripping his hair and pulling his head back.
“ Nicholas. I need you to give me a color or we need to stop.” It’s an order and a warning both, but Wolfwood finally seems to realize he’s being spoken to because he responds with a low nuh-uh protest before taking in deep breaths to try and properly speak. His face is a mess; he’s never been the sort that’s pretty when he cries, splotches of dark pink across his cheeks and down his neck. Tear tracks run down multiple paths because he simply can’t hold still.
“Nn nh, ” he starts, stops to take a deep breath and tries again. “Gh, green. Please,” he’s practically slurring.
“Pl’se, I’ll be good, I promise, I’ll make you feel so good, just, just let me—“
Another sob, this time grateful as Vash finally releases his hold on his hip, the one in his hair following shortly after. Wolfwood drops himself down against the thigh he’d been straddling and slowly rubs himself over the leather of multiple belts while returning his face to the crook he’d been guided to before. Vash lays a hand over the back of his neck, rubbing idly into the muscle there. One tether to keep him moored while he seeks his pleasure however he likes.
At this point, when he’s managed to get Wolfwood to that perfect place between not enough and too much , things like modesty and every other little thing that the preacher carries on his shoulders fades away in a simple haze. More, less, however he likes, lips parted to pant for breath just that little bit too quick to stoke the fire Vash had started. He keeps wandering between quick jerks and slow grinds, wobbling thighs tense around his one.
Vash can’t say if he cums again or an aftershock hits him just right but he stops the other movements in favor of humping the edge of a thick belt and sobbing into his shoulder as slick trails down leather. He stills, lungs forcing him to pause and try to catch his breath. Vash uses the opportunity to start kissing a slow path across his shoulder.
Vash decides it’s a good time to start talking.
“You look so good in my lap like this,” he breathes out against his neck. “Like you were made for this, to find all the pleasure you could possibly ask for. I love seeing you like this, so happy I get to watch while you drive yourself a little crazy.”
The moan Wolfwood lets out can only be called wanton, hips moving to drag his pussy across his thigh harder than before. He has his bottom lip caught between his teeth to fruitlessly try and hide how his moans start to fade from simple pleasure and ease into want that he isn’t able to get more of himself. He might be able to come again but Vash already knows it won’t be the same that he’s capable of with his hands free. More than that, they both know how the blonde’s length can reach deep inside to scratch the itch developing deep within.
“Please,” Nick manages, cruelly grinding his clit against soft leather. Vash hums, giving his neck a small squeeze to remind him he’s right here.
“My good boy, you’re doing so well… but if you want something you need to ask for it,” he reminds in a warm and comforting tone. Wolfwood whines before sinking his teeth into the meat of his shoulder as he cries again, this time in frustration as he works to get words from his mind to his mouth. The bite isn’t against any rules, practically encouraged in moments like this where Nick’s movements are hindered or limited. He keeps the hold on his nape gentle but firm, taking mental note whenever his muscles tense or relax.
“Please,” comes a miserable sounding moan, teeth releasing their hold for it. Wolfwood writhes in his arms, hole making an obscene sound as he lifts up and then back down, each wet and so arousing Vash needs to take a moment to breathe himself. He murmurs soft encouragement into his skin after, reminders of how proud he is and how well the other man is doing.
“ Please, ” he begins again. “Please, Angel, I—I need more, please fuck me, I’ve been good—“
“Shh,” Vash eases, grip loosening to run down Nick’s back until he reaches the belt around his biceps that still holds his arms tight and immobile. “You’ve been good; I’ll take care of you, don’t worry.”
He doesn’t count what was technically a curse, along with the last few, his partner too deep to pay mind to rules that are made specifically to help him into the headspace he’s already actively in.
He brings both hands down and holds at the thickest part of his thighs, making sure Wolfwood is leaning against his chest before finally easing himself up to his feet. It’s not difficult to lift him but he wants to keep his movements smooth and easy with the preacher so deep in.
Vash lays him down and helps him finally stretch his legs out straight, earning a relieved groan that makes him smile. He starts low, rolling his knuckles into muscle that desperately needs a more relaxing touch to ease tension and will inevitably be sore in the morning. He works up, over calves and under his knees briefly to continue over his thighs.
He starts to roll Wolfwood onto his front when he makes a noise of protest. The blonde pushes him down flat on his chest, prosthetic palm planted between his shoulder blades. Nick makes a sound somewhere between a groan and a desperate whine; To make up for the rough handling Vash combs his other hand gently through his hair, voice soothing.
“Easy, honey, it’s okay. I’m going to let your arms loose, okay?”
Wolfwood seems to hear his words and lets them sink in before giving a soft sound to show he’s alright. His muscles relax and Vash does his best to keep his relieved breath quiet.
“ Good boy, ” he eases, leaning to place a brief kiss to the back of his neck. “Just keep still and don’t jerk away from me. Remember, you can cry if you want to.”
He can hear Nick give a small sniff before turning his head a bit more into the blankets so he spurs himself into action, working with careful but quick movements. How he does this can be the difference between a good headspace and a complete drop but Vash hasn’t made that mistake in ages and doesn’t plan to ruin his streak now.
The belt around his biceps had been the first on and now it’s the first off, Wolfwood biting down on a noise as the other man has to press his arms just that tiny bit closer to pull the prong of the belt out. Once free he eases the belt loose an inch or so at a time so Nick’s shoulders don’t drop down all at once. When he can set it aside both hands move to the joints of his shoulders, thumbs pressing deep into muscle. Wolfwood bites into the blankets and lets out a muffled sob, tension easing but the deep ache of soreness settling in with those massaging fingers.
“Easy, there you go,” Vash murmurs, making slow circles from the joint and down his arms, paying special attention to where the leather of the belt has dug into his skin. He moves to his left arm first, repeating the motion of unfastening the belt. This time he holds at the newly-loosened wrist, forcing Wolfwood to uncurl his arms at his pace rather than his own.
He eases his wrist down to the small of his back, holding it there and murmuring praise into his shoulder while he works at the last belt. Nick is crying steadily under him, each new freedom shaking him to his core with the mixture of relief and pain. He takes his other wrist into the same sort of hold once free, fingers tight as he guides both his arms to carefully stretch out at his sides.
Wolfwood lets loose a stronger sob, forehead digging into the blankets below. Vash soothes him through the initial pain, a line of slow kisses starting at one shoulder and moving across to the other.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, lifting up to be heard and working his fingers into muscles from the wrist up to where his previous touch had been forced to stop at his biceps. He gives another kiss to his nape before working fingers back down, Nick’s soft cries the notes to his conductor’s gestures.
When Vash can truly be sure that his partner has been properly eased out of each tight hold he lifts up on his knees to turn him back over onto his back. Wolfwood moans softly, somewhere in his own headspace as the blonde settles between his legs and stretches to cover him with as much of his body as he can. His hands trail over limp and relaxed arms up to his palms, intertwining their fingers and giving a gentle squeeze.
The kiss he presses to Wolfwood’s lips starts slowly and becomes a silent conversation. In a language only they know, Vash ventures forward, tongue licking across a swollen bottom lip before venturing forward to claim his partner’s mouth properly. Nick groans into the press, fingers squeezing down into the blonde’s hold. They settle comfortably in this in-between, tongues moving against each other and softening their rough edges into something softer.
Gradually, Vash encourages Nick’s hands to relax enough for him to pull his own away, making another of those massaging paths up sore wrists and forearms, once again pressing firm into the strained muscles at his biceps. His fingers soften as his touch skates over his shoulders and comes to rest at his nape, holding gently there while his thumbs soothe over his neck and come to frame his jaw.
He can finally take a moment to breathe, kisses easing back to a simple but steady press of lazy lips. Wolfwood’s eyes are unfocused, hazy as he looks vaguely up at the blonde. Vash moves his fingers up, both hands moving to comb through dark hair.
“Hey, honey,” he starts, lips trailing kisses away from his lips and along his jaw to all but whisper in his ear. “You’ve been such a good boy for me, can you tell me what you want, now? Do you want to stop?”
Soothing fingers through hair, fingertips rubbing gently at the preacher’s scalp.
“Hn,” Wolfwood moans, eyes falling shut as he gives his head a lethargic shake. He takes a slow breath before speaking. “Inside. Please, Angel?”
Vash moves back to his mouth and gives him another sweet kiss, the next deeper as he works his tongue against Nick’s. It’s languid, soft, stretching out until he pulls back and gives his lips just one more quick peck. He reaches down with one hand, pulling his actual belt loose before easing the zipper of his pants down. Finally. He shoves both pants and briefs down to hang about his thighs, letting out an unsteady breath against the preacher’s lips as he eases back down to settle his cock between the wet, so wet, lips of his cunt that has taken so much attention tonight. He grits his teeth to keep from thrusting against Nick’s core, dragging in a breath between them.
“Color, honey,” he pleads, wanting, yet this isn’t about him. This is not about his wants or needs, it’s wholly about the man that remains pliant under him who moans and drags a sore leg up and over his hip to open himself up further.
“Green,” Wolfwood breathes out, urging tired arms into movement. He wraps them both around Vash’s neck, hands holding opposite forearms to keep the hold secure in an unspoken mimicry of the harsh way he'd been tied. “Green, Vash, c’mon.”
Hearing his actual name from his partner’s lips a second time makes his own breath catch, so incredibly rare that it always manages to catch him off guard. Vash finally gives a moan of his own, allowing himself to ease his hips into movement that has his length sliding up and then down across Wolfwood’s hole. His slick spreads easily over his cock while he leans to kiss his partner again, the preacher moaning into it and all too happy to allow that questing tongue past his lips once more.
Vash trails a hand down his chest to his abdomen, rubbing at the junction of Nick’s hip before he guides his other leg up around his hip to match the first. He braces on his forearms as they move against each other in an easy flow of pleasure, lips only parting when the need for air becomes desperate.
When the blonde can feel his dick is slick enough he eases back, slotting the head against Wolfwood’s soaking core. He pulls away from their kiss so the other man can speak freely, sucking a mark into the sensitive skin of his neck as he slowly cants his hips forward to sink into his cunt. More from feel than sight, Vash knows Nick drops his head back and moans as if he’s a starved man smelling food for the first time in days. One of his hands separates from his previous hold to sink into blonde strands, fingers curling to hold tight.
These are the moments he truly waits for, the ones he savors. Tension slowly forced out of where Wolfwood carries it like he’s lanced a wound for him. It’s not the worst metaphor he’s ever thought of because it is oddly similar, pressure building up until it bursts. That’s what used to happen, the shadows from Wolfwood’s life folding in over each other and twisting inside until he started a fight just to have an actual outlet. He prefers this, their own little dance that no one else knows the steps to. Nick’s eyes are unfocued, expression and shoulders relaxed while Vash rocks into him, deep rather than fast.
It’s how Wolfwood likes when he’s this deep and Vash isn’t afraid to admit he prefers things a little slower, more sensual, skin against skin in an easy slide. When the preacher tilts his head and makes a soft sound of want, the blonde answers the more or less unspoken request and moves so they can pick up those slow kisses where they left off earlier.
Sensations and movements start to blur into one, hands wandering and holding at each other while Vash keeps his slow but reliable pace, just occasionally grinding himself deep as far as he can reach. It pushes the head of his cock against that natural barrier inside, something he knows the other man enjoys when they’re having sex like this, slow, more of a slow press than a hit which brings him out of subspace faster than a bullet. Their kisses start to edge into something breathier, sharing moans and air as they climb toward their mutual peaks.
“You can touch yourself,” Vash breathes out, pace still slow but speeding into a more casual push and pull while Wolfwood seemingly instinctively rocks into every thrust. He makes a broken sound of relief, one of his hands snapping down to play with his dick. Nick rubs at himself in desperation, noises more air than audible sound. His back is arching, hips twisting as he tries to get just that little bit more he needs. Vash leans close, lips trailing over his ear as he speaks.
“Nicholas. Be a good boy for me. ”
Wolfwood is going to be hoarse in the morning with how loud his shout is, fingers digging into the blonde’s shoulders like he’s the only one keeping him stitched together. He is, in a way. There’s a gush of wet between them and Vash shifts, pulling one of the preacher’s legs over his shoulder as he increases how fast his thrusts are coming while Nick draws his own orgasm out with the continued pace around his clit.
Vash knows he’s oversensitive, likely feeling like one large exposed nerve right now but he keeps rubbing, shake working through his frame with each new pass of his own fingers. It makes him unbelievably tight around him and after such a long time watching Wolfwood slowly unravel it’s amazing he’s lasted this long. He hilts himself and grinds as deep as possible, cum flooding the man under him.
Even he had to admit he was a bit pent up, his cum gushing out of Nick’s pussy before he’s even done pumping it into him. The other man finally jerks his fingers away from his dick, holding at the sheets over his own shoulder as he moans through the feeling of being overfilled with more on the way.
When it’s all over with Wolfwood slumps, arms relaxed with his hands near his head. Vash stays up on his forearms to savor the feel of his drenched and warm pussy occasionally tightening in aftershocks he’s unable to control until he finally goes soft.
Then he slowly pulls out, a new wave of cum following right after. He scoops up a generous two fingered dollop, briefly dipping between his folds to encourage even more onto them. He sits up on his knees, letting Nick’s legs rest over his own thighs. Leaning forward, he murmurs one last command to actually bring this impromptu session to a close.
“Open.”
Wolfwood groans but allows his mouth to drop open, allowing Vash to spread cum over his lips before pushing the rest deep to the back of his mouth. Without being told the preacher starts to lick them clean and then simply sucks on the digits.
“There you go,” Vash soothes, using his other hand to gently pull the collar loose before tossing it aside. Scene officially over. He eases onto his side and pulls Nick close, gently pulling his fingers free before guiding his head into the junction of his neck and shoulder. Wolfwood hums, teeth giving the blonde’s neck the gentlest bite that can still leave a mark before starting to suck a mark into his skin.
Vash hasn’t quite pinned down the oral fixation reasoning yet, but it’s an obvious self-soothing habit that the blonde truly doesn’t see an issue with. For now he simply holds him close, one hand running a slow and steady path up and then down his back. The other stays at the back of his neck, brushing over the skin there but slowly increasing the pressure until he can properly ease at the knots he’d felt earlier.
For a while, Wolfwood wanders in the hazy area between drowsing and edging toward wakefulness as he shifts and small aches and pains settle into tired muscles. Even as fit as the preacher is, he’s going to be feeling that position he had on the floor in the morning. When the man takes a somewhat surprised breath as he shifts, Vash knows he’s finally eased out of his headspace and murmurs some soft reminders about where they are and what time it is, where his gun is leaning against a wall.
It still takes a minute; a loss of control is something he struggles with. Not so much handing it over to Vash but accepting that he had done so later, or right now. It’s all fine, the procedure familiar to them both by now. Wolfwood reaches up, rubbing a hand over his face before clearing his throat.
“Shit,” he mumbles, voice sounding like it was hauled through rocks. Vash gives a little grin, squeezing his shoulder.
“Welcome back. I’m gonna get up to help us get cleaned up, alright?”
Nick murmurs something but it must be an agreement with how he carefully untangles himself from Vash before laying down on his stomach. He brings his arms up to cross around his head, giving an occasional dry-throat cough. It doesn’t take the blonde long, fetching and wetting a cloth from their tiny bathroom and one of their canteens before coming to sit on the bed next to where his partner is laid out. He eases one of Nick’s knees up for easier access, earning a hissed curse when the lukewarm cloth touches first at his thighs.
“Fuckin’ warn a guy, will ya?”
“Sorry,” Vash apologizes, trying to work quickly. “Pretty sure the temperature doesn’t get much warmer than about room temp.”
They’ll have to throw a blanket over the biggest of the mess on the sheets but the thing that truly matters to Vash is that the other man can at least sleep without feeling like he’s covered in sweat and cum. He gets him about as clean as possible and convinces Wolfwood to shift over, getting creative with sheets and blankets to keep them from rolling into a mess sometime during the night. Before Vash settles he also has the preacher take some slow sips of water, keeping the canteen close before he finishes undressing and joins Nick in bed.
This, now, is Vash’s turn, forehead pressed to the other man’s shoulder so he can feel how warm he is, right here with him, he hadn’t actually hurt him. It’s something they’d figured out along the way. He suspects that they could probably do an entire scene without speaking; all the rules and trust is already there, practiced and proven to work for them.
“Hey, Needles.”
Vash peeks an eye open to find Wolfwood has shifted one of his arms, palm up and giving a little wiggle of his fingers. The blonde laughs, then shifts one of his own so they can intertwine their fingers again.
“You trying to romance me, preacher man?”
“I’ve got about as much stability as an overcooked noodle, so no.” There’s a softness in his eyes that only peeks out in these close moments of theirs, where they’re as safe as they’re likely to get, exhausted in the fun sort of way, settled close like this where they can pretend for a little while that everything is fine. Nick shifts, pressing his lips to their fingers. “Thanks.”
Vash knows what that actually means between them, the three-word phrase practically a death knell with lives like theirs. So they make their little dance steps just on the edge of admitting what it really is like it might keep fate blind just a little longer. He lets his smile bloom, giving their hands a similar kiss.
“You’re welcome.”