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The altar’s stone is cold and digs into Wolfwood’s knees as he kneels to pray. He’s used to the unforgiving ache on his knees, used to spending hours at an altar. Prayer is nothing new to Wolfwood, he’s sure a good portion of his life has been spent in churches, spent listening to sermons and passing sacrificial wine. His prayers have been different lately, though. Wolfwood’s life has been swept up in the phenomenon that is the Humanoid Typhoon. He tries to tell himself it’s hard not to be.
Or at least - those are the lies Wolfwood tells himself. It’s all in the name of self preservation. Though, he doesn’t have much hope left for any salvation. The guilt, the shame, the sin - it all washes over him like high tide under two full moons. Wolfwood kneels at the stone altar and prays for absolution. He prays for God’s forgiveness, but quickly realizes it’s not entirely what he’s looking for. He makes one last prayer to seek forgiveness from the one he needs it from the most - Vash.
Though he’s finished his prayer, Wolfwood remains kneeling on the altar. He thinks of Vash - of his bright smile that rivals the sun’s, of ocean blue eyes that he hides away behind sunglasses. Not that Wolfwood knows anything of oceans or the secrets that Vash hides behind those sunset tinted glasses. Not that he has any room to talk, covers his own eyes in dark shades after a comment that his eyes gave away too much. And an assassin, a mark man can’t have that.
And so, Wolfwood builds his walls carefully. Has constructed them painstakingly over the years, doesn’t let anything past them. But, then there was Vash. A natural disaster in all senses, but god, if he wasn’t the most beautiful one this decrepit planet could ever wish to encounter. It angers Wolfwood just thinking about it, to think of all the care Vash puts out in this world, to have to be rejected, to be shunned. Wolfwood tries not to think about it most of the time. It makes him furious, makes him lash out at Vash. He doesn’t deserve most of Wolfwood’s fury most of the time, only when he’s careless with his own life, which seems to be a monthly recurrence.
Wolfwood looks up at the ramshackle altar, at least it’s made of stone and not wood like most houses of worship. It should be odd that no one inhabits the town. It seemed like a prosperous enough place when they first rolled through the town. Street after street, buildings that looked fairly clean. But, not a soul in sight. There often didn’t need to be an explanation - plants would be stolen, a gang of bandits roll through town, anything could happen at any moment in this desert they call home. There was no promise of stability, of comfort.
Wolfwood is roused by a familiar voice, one that sounds like a symphony of angels to him. One that he thinks of late at night under the protection of the moon and a thin bathroom door.
“I like the way you look when you pray,” Vash is grinning when Wolfwood whips his head to look at the direction of his voice.
“What, on my knees?” Wolfwood smirks, canines showing.
“Your expression. So devout,” Vash hums, sitting on a church pew.
Vash remains cool, unfazed. It drives Wolfwood crazy, makes him want to see a side of Vash the Stampede that he doesn’t show to the world. Wolfwood wants it all, craves to see all the innermost parts of him. Prayer and holiness hasn’t helped much since Vash has been by his side. All he desires is to be in between two scarred thighs, to have a metal arm wrapped around his own chest. There’s so much that Wolfwood wants it almost scares him.
Wolfwood grunts as he gets up, he’s been using less of his blue vials. They try to stay out of trouble as much as they can these days, although they’re often still unable to escape a town undetected. Vash seems to draw every single eye in a room to himself, endlessly charming and beautiful. It’s taken months for Wolfwood to be able to admit these things to himself, all the things that encapsulate Vash - his kindness, his sincerity, his own very brand of devotion.
He finds himself - as always - drawn to be near Vash. Their dependency on each other has grown, he can’t remember the last time he was without Vash. Their days and travels and lives have seamlessly blended, intertwined with one another. Wolfwood finds it a blessing, to be able to be close to Vash, to have him at an arm’s length. It makes his desire for his needle-noggin’ worse, but he can’t seem to bring himself to even spend a day without Vash by his side.
Wolfwood sneaks a glance at Vash, he’s relaxed and at ease. It warms Wolfwood from the inside, to think that he can bring a semblance of comfort, a luxury on this decrepit planet, brings him peace. For all he wants is to be good for Vash. to be strong and to be able to protect him. Wolfwood has never yearned for something so resolutely before in his existence, but here he is, praying to never leave the side of his very own natural disaster.
“Can I ask what you pray for?” Vash asks, voice soft and even in the stillness of the church.
The stained glass above the altar is broken in parts; Wolfwood can tell it was once beautiful. A symbol of hope and worship.
“Forgiveness. Absolution for sins.” Wolfwood pulls out a cigarette. “You know, the usual.”
It makes Vash laugh, head tilted back, eyes shut without a care. Wolfwood remembers telling him to watch his back, that they didn’t even know one another. To not trust so easily. Wolfwood thinks about how much has changed, how much they know one another without even having to speak. The church is warm but Wolfwood can’t help but shiver.
“Can god provide that?” Vash asks.
Wolfwood knows it’s an actual question. Vash is curious, always inquisitive about what Wolfwood does at the altar, what he asks for from a god who may not care any longer about this planet’s inhabitants.
“I’m not sure, spikey. I don’t think he’s taking requests right now.” Wolfwood takes an inhale of the cigarette, blows the smoke out avoiding Vash.
“Will you take offense if I suggest praying to someone else?”
The air is still. The stained glass is covered by cigarette smoke. Wolfwood considers his next words carefully.
“Well, there is a certain blonde haired angel I’ve been eyeing. Legs for days and eyes that make you want to melt. Think he goes by spikey,” Wolfwood teases, figuring that Vash won’t mind a bit of banter. He’s terrified of being too serious, too much.
But Wolfwood’s figured out he doesn’t really need to worry about that. Not with Vash, not with the way he treats Wolfwood like he’s something worthy, like he’s something holy. It’s enough to drive any sane man mad and Wolfwood’s far from ever having sanity.
Vash grins, a glimmer in his bright blue eyes that makes Wolfwood feel lightheaded. Vash looks at him as if there’s no one else on this damn planet. It’s just the two of them – and in this ghost town, it may as well be. There’s nothing else but them and this church that should be considered a hazard the way it’s falling apart.
Wolfwood makes his way to Vash, breath hitching the way he’s watched. Vash knows he has all of him, that Wolfwood’s handed himself wholly and freely to him. He’d pray to his angel without hesitation, pious and ardent.
Vash stands and Wolfwood lets himself be crowded against the back of a church pew. Vash is warm against him, pressing their chests together and nosing at Wolfwood’s jaw. It happens so quickly that Wolfwood doesn’t have time to think, Vash acting with precision as he always does. Not that he’d ever push him away, body pressing right back against Vash’s without worrying he’s not wanted.
Not when Vash is ghosting his lips against his neck, moving to press the most chaste kiss against the shell of his ear.
“Will you show me?” His angel asks.
“Of course,” he responds instantly, ever the worshipper.
Vash finally kisses him and Wolfwood can’t help the satisfied groan that slips through his lips. It’s easily swallowed by Vash’s own eagerness, humming as he licks into Wolfwood’s mouth. Wolfwood only deepens their kisses, leaning back against the pew and pulling Vash against him.
There’s no space between them, pressed up against each other as Wolfwood’s hands move to that narrow waist he loves. Vash whines for it, rocking against him and tangling his fingers into his hair. He rewards his tongari with a roll of his hips, letting Vash feel his twitching length, feel how much he affects him. He’s wrapped around those pretty blue metal fingers and goddamn, he loves it.
Wolfwood can feel it – the subtle differences in Vash’s hands, one cool and one warm. It only reminds him further who he’s kissing, who’s moaning against his lips. It just makes Wolfwood burn hotter, nipping at Vash’s bottom lip.
“Let me show you, let me make you feel good,” Wolfwood rambles the moment they pull away to breathe, desperate pants as they stay close. Neither of them want to pull away, the thought of not being completely pressed up against each other almost unfathomable.
Sometimes Wolfwood thinks he’s going to die without Vash’s touch. It’s so terribly dramatic and embarrassing, but somehow he’s not ashamed of it. He craves Vash in ways that make him feel like he’s losing his grip on his own sanity when they’re not together. How he ever lived without this spikey haired freak angel is beyond Wolfwood.
He knows there’s no way he will ever be able to live without Vash now. Not when he knows what it’s like to have him like this. To be sharing the same breath as him, to feel like each kiss bestowed upon him like an angel giving his blessings.
“I’m yours, Nick, I’m right here,” Vash croons, voice low and sweet. Wolfwood melts only further, dragging Vash closer, closer.
There’s nowhere else to go but to fall back into each other, kissing as if they would die without the other. To think that Vash wants him this much, craves him as much as Wolfwood does.
It’s almost unreal except here they are. Hands tugging at clothes, grinding messy against each other’s hips. And they’re in a church to top it off. Wolfwood doesn’t question how in the world he ended up here in the hold of an angel. He’ll show Vash how much it means to him, how much his needle noggin head has become his entire universe.
Wolfwood trails kisses down Vash’s neck, slowing down their frantic, desperate energy. He sucks a mark against Vash’s bare skin, previous bites having faded. Vash’s neck is one of the only parts of him remaining mostly unmarked, free from the scars and implants that cover the rest of his body. Wolfwood loves them, each and every one – they’re part of Vash after all. Even with the hate he carries knowing they’re all from a place of hate, from the fear and anger of humans.
And so, Wolfwood makes sure to leave his own marks, ones from adoration, from love. He sinks his teeth into the soft skin, lapping his tongue to ease the sting. Vash moans bright and pretty against his ear, getting Wolfwood’s cock to drool precome into his pants. He can feel the heat from Vash’s petals radiating, driving him mad already. Wolfwood can already imagine how flushed they are, pink and drooling as they wait for attention.
“So good for me,” Vash praises and it goes straight to Wolfwood’s dick, getting him to groan as he licks at the column of Vash’s neck.
He paws at the red coat in his way, still fully buttoned up and teasing him. “Off,” Wolfwood huffs, fingers stumbling as works the dozens of zippers and buttons on the offending garment.
Vash laughs and it serves to only make Wolfwood feel drunk off him alone. He drags his tongari against him, knowing Vash can feel him, cock kicking with every roll of their hips, precome drooling steady in his boxers.
“Let me help,” Vash murmurs against his lips and it makes Wolfwood shiver for no damn reason other than he gets to feel Vash’s skin.
His hands are greedy as he helps get Vash’s coat off and thrown onto a pew next to them. Wolfwood’s already slipping his hands underneath Vash’s shirt, groaning when he gets to feel heated skin. He touches and grabs and squeezes, all while grinding himself against the apex of Vash’s thighs.
“Mhm ,” Vash sighs, sounding content as if he’s just had a good nap. “Can feel you,” he rolls his hips harder, getting Wolfwood to moan, high and desperate. He should feel pathetic, but he doesn’t, not with Vash. “Can feel all of you, how badly you want me.”
Wolfwood doesn’t get to make a retort or even groan in agreement – nimble fingers are tugging off his blazer and unbuttoning his shirt. It happens somehow simultaneously so quickly and so slowly, Wolfwood almost begs for it.
Clever fingers are back on his skin, Vash running his hands up and down his chest. Wolfwood lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, letting Vash be just as greedy as he is, thumbing at a scar on his hip. He’s not surprised when Vash’s hands find his pecs, grabbing and squeezing till he’s murmuring a hushed fuck! and dripping so much precome his pants are sticky with it now.
Vash’s thumbs flick at his nipples, already pebbled from the drafty church. Wolfwood hisses with the stimulation, rutting his hips into Vash’s covered cunt, almost sobbing when he hears a wet squish of his petals. His angel’s dripping for him, just as much as Wolfwood is for him, too.
“Vash .” It’s all Wolfwood can manage, grabbing so tightly at his hips, they both know it’ll bruise. They both also know Vash will be admiring the marks in their shitty inn bathroom the next morning, grinning as he admires his most devout worshipper’s work.
Vash doesn’t make him wait any longer, pulling away just enough so he can work the zippers on his pants. Wolfwood can’t hide the half moan, half whine at the loss of Vash’s warmth against him, trying not to show how affected he is by any amount of distance. Vash notices though – always does. There’s never anything Wolfwood can hide from him, they know each other too well now.
They know each and every tell, every quirk. It’s a form of love Wolfwood never knew before, to care so deeply for someone, to know them in every way. It makes him lightheaded when he thinks about it too much, instead throwing his blazer onto Vash’s red coat on the pew. Wolfwood doesn’t even have time to take his shirt off before he has a mostly now naked Vash back on him.
Not that he’d ever complain, more than happy to pull his angel back against him, licking at his lips. Vash lets him in easily, letting Wolfwood kiss him sloppy and messy, moaning as he rubs himself off on Wolfwood’s still clothed hips. He doesn’t keep his hands idle, letting them wander across Vash’s body, grabbing handfuls of his mostly just muscled ass. Still, Vash moans for him, petals reaching for his dick, even while clothed.
Vash rubs himself off on him, the both of them still pushed up against the pew where Wolfwood had initially gotten cornered. The thought of them pulling apart to move somewhere else – more private, more quiet – it doesn’t seem very important to either of them right now.
Being in this quiet, abandoned church seems as good as any creaky inn bed. Being together like this is a luxury to them both, this much Wolfwood knows. And so, he keeps letting Vash grind his bare hips against him, petals wet and drooling all over his pants. Not that Wolfwood could ever complain, being covered in Vash’s slick is a heavenly state of being.
“Fucking hell, baby, Vash, please,” Wolfwood groans, eyes rolling back in his head as he feels the way Vash’s cunt tries to get at his dick, trying to get it inside him instinctively.
Vash only responds with a bite at his neck, getting Wolfwood distracted enough to unzip his pants and tug his boxers down just enough. He’s moaning at the first touch of Vash’s metal fingers around his length, pulling him out and leaving the waistband of his boxers just underneath. It’s so damn desperate of them both that Wolfwood’s afraid he’s going to come the second he feels Vash’s petaled pussy, the way he’s still fully dressed with his dick out and leaking.
“Nick, Nick!” Vash moans as he grinds his hips in close and, oh fuck, he feels like heaven just with the first contact. Wolfwood can feel how wet he is, petals immediately wrapping around his cock, rubbing up and down, guiding him towards wet heat. He can’t help but buck his hips forward, aching to get himself inside already.
Neither of them are in the right mind to do anything else but rut against each other, moaning as the head of Wolfwood’s cock bumps against Vash’s chubby clit. He doesn’t have to look to know how swollen it is, jutting out and begging for friction. Wolfwood can’t get his mind to work to guide himself inside, to touch Vash’s puffy petals or his hard clit.
Vash is licking into his mouth again, being even more of a distraction as his cunt does the job for them. They finally rut just right against each other to get Wolfwood’s tip to catch against Vash’s dripping hole, slick and more than prepared to take him just by how turned on he is. Vash’s petals do the rest of the work, guiding Wolfwood inside of him.
“Darling, Vash, Vash! , please,” Wolfwood cries out, trying his best not to come on the spot. Vash is just so hot and wet and soft all around him. He squeezes Wolfwood’s cock in, inch by inch, clenching down so hard that he’s seeing stars in his vision.
“Feels so good, Nick,” Vash whines, taking him just like that, the two of them standing and still pressed up against the pew. They never made it anywhere else and Wolfwood will think about that later.
For now, he ruts forward, grabbing onto Vash’s hips to pull him down on his cock. The sounds are obscene, filthy as they echo through the empty church. Vash’s hands grab at his chest, at the hair at the back of his head, gripping onto his shoulders. They’re both holding onto each other as if they’re about to disappear, about to combust right here into thin air.
Wolfwood thinks he almost might with how good everything feels, slick gushing out with every grind of their hips. The front of his pants are already soaked from Vash’s earlier rubbing and it only gets worse with each frantic rut. In Wolfwood’s opinion, it only gets better . He loves being covered in Vash, addicted to how wet he gets, how much slick he drips until there’s a puddle. Evidence that he made his angel feel good, took care of him, showed him pleasure.
“Gonna fill your pretty cunt up, have you dripping with me,” Wolfwood babbles, shaking when he feels Vash’s petals rub up and down his cock with every thrust, as if they’re guiding him.
“Mine, say you’re mine,” Vash requests, peppering kisses and nips to Wolfwood’s neck.
And how could he ever say no to his angel? Wolfwood gives in to his every wish, every whim. He tries not to show it, but all he wants to be is good for Vash. He deserves kindness, softness in this life. Wolfwood doesn’t know how the universe decided he should be trusted with such an angel, but all he knows is that he’ll be by Vash’s side for as long as he’ll have him.
Something sappy and saccharine sweet in Wolfwood tells him, it’s going to be forever. It’s almost a sickeningly tender thought, but Wolfwood doesn’t push it away.
Instead he gives in to Vash’s desires, responding easily, without hesitation. “Yours, ‘m yours. All for you, angel.”
Vash keens and it’s all Wolfwood can do to keep him on his cock, gooey strings of slick and precome splattering to the floor. He’ll come to terms about the mess they’ve made in a church of all places later, only thinking about filling Vash’s cunt up with his spend. His balls ache heavy and full where they’re still in his boxers, Vash only having the patience to pull his cock out to get inside him.
“Close, gonna come, Nico! ” Vash moans for him, shaking in his arms as Wolfwood keeps fucking into his cunt, massaging him like he’s working him for his come.
“There you go, let go for me, Vash, c’mon, baby,” Wolfwood coaxes, feeling how his balls tighten, more than ready to spill their load into Vash’s awaiting pussy.
It’s unreal how well Vash takes him, how his petals wrap snag around his cock to keep him from pulling out. As if Wolfwood could ever come anywhere but his angel’s perfect heat, pulsing around him in tune with Vash’s frantic heartbeat.
It only takes a few more sloppy grinds for Vash to come, spilling messy and wet between them. There’s a rush of slick as Vash comes in his arms, spilling in a river to the stone floor. There’s so much of it, wetting the front of Wolfwood’s pants completely as Vash comes in a torrent, wet puddle beneath their feet.
There’s no hope for Wolfwood to hold out any longer, not when Vash’s petals are grabbing at his cock, soft walls massaging his entire length. “Fuck, gonna come, go-” he interrupts himself with a groan, “Coming, coming, fuck, Vash!”
Once Wolfwood starts coming, he can’t stop. Not when Vash’s petals are locking him in place, not when every single one of his instincts are telling him to fill his angel up. To spill his entire load as deep as he can get it inside Vash, till he knows he’s going to be fully marked by Wolfwood.
Vash croons for him, massaging him even in his post orgasmic haze. His petals tighten as much as they can to not let a single drop spill, but it’s difficult with how Wolfwood’s got his rim stretched out around his cock. He’s got Vash nice and fucked loose already, thinking about how good it’s going to feel tonight when he slips right back into his pussy, how his earlier load will drool out and smear on those swollen pink petals.
Wolfwood whites out, only able to feel Vash around him, everything else fading to the background. All his senses focus on Vash, on the heat surrounding his cock, how each rope of come is met with a clench of his pussy. He keeps rutting till he’s fully spent, panting against Vash’s neck where he’s found himself. Wolfwood kisses and licks at the marks he left earlier, slumping against the back of the pew as Vash hums, nuzzling against his cheek.
It’s so terribly sweet that Wolfwood can’t do anything but pet at Vash’s sides, both of them coming down together. Vash’s petals are still wrapped snug around them, not letting him pull out just yet. He lines kisses across Vash’s neck, nipping at his collarbone just because he can.
“Think I convinced you?” Vash asks and Wolfwood can hear the tease in his voice. It takes a moment for his pussy drunk mind to catch up, remembering their earlier conversation.
“I may need some more convincing,” Wolfwood grins, unable to help himself from teasing Vash right back.
He gets a laugh out of Vash for that one and a kiss to his lips, letting himself get lost for a few long moments. It’s easy to be with Vash like this, lazy and sweet and so damn good. Wolfwood gets his response with a clench of Vash’s cunt and a bite to his jaw.
“May as well spend some more time in this town, don’tcha think?” Vash asks, pulling away just enough to rest his forehead against Wolfwood’s, knocking their noses together.
“Might as well see the sights while we’re here,” Wolfwood responds with a kiss to the corner of Vash’s mouth.
Maybe it’s moments just like these where Wolfwood feels utterly at peace. These small pieces of his life that make it all worth it. At the end of it all, Wolfwood thinks it’s always going to be Vash for him. There’s nothing else that he knows, nothing else that will do that isn’t his spikey. And how Wolfwood loves him so, kissing Vash’s nose just to see him grin.
After all, Wolfwood is nothing but a devout worshipper.