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Wolfwood reeked of cigarettes, sweat, and gunpowder. That alone was enough to fry Vash's brain into a pathetic mush of need and lust, but it was only recently that Vash had realized those sharp, bitter scents hid something much sweeter. Tucked away under his blazer and sunglasses, hidden from the world.
Vash didn't know how Wolfwood managed to get them considering how harsh their planet was on anything gentle and delicate, but tucked away under his jacket, under his shirt, he wore a rosary. Whether or not they were authentic roses didn't concern Vash in the slightest. What concerned him was the comforting smell of floura seeping off the other man's neck as he shielded the blond from falling debris. In the commotion the rustic beads rolled higher than they usually sat, allowing the taller man a peak at what dulled his senses to the outside world.
"Oh Lord Almighty," Wolfwood spat under his breath.
Whatever overly prideful group of vigilante thugs decided today was the day they would take down Vash The Stampede, blew a hole in the wall of the bar the two men had been seated in for drinks. Instead of doing anything new, they bellowed with all the same shit Vash had heard for a century. All he wanted to do was press his face deeper into the crook of the priests neck and breathe.
Breathe in the warm, layered scent of sweat and roses. Let himself fall entirely into the sensation of the Wolfwood's collarbone digging into his cheek.
Oh, how the roses reminded him of home.
"Spikey!" Vash was jerked from his hazey daydream as Wolfwood stared at him confused.
"Spikey are you concussed or some shit, we've gotta get outta here."
"Yeah.... Must've hit my head or somethin," Vash finished.
The chase that ensued was nothing the two hadn't done before. They fell into the hectic yet easy rhythm of ducking into alleyways, shooting, running, mocking the attackers with sly words, more running, more shooting, and so on.
Between Vash's masterful sharpshooter tricks and the show of confidence and intimidation Wolfwood displayed with the punisher, the lackey group of bandits never stood a chance. Chasing them off with tails between their legs seemed to be the easiest thing in the world.
That night Vash couldn't sleep. His mind was clouded with just the memory of that floral scented necklace. With just one whiff of the rosary, the man was addicted to smelling it again.
Not just it.
No, it was more than the flowers. It was Wolfwood. Vash needed him.
___________
It had been weeks since Vash caught sight and smell of Wolfwood's rosary, and things were going about as expected for the humanoid typhoon. Nine more groups of bounty hunters tried to kill him, he'd gotten a particularly nasty shot in the shoulder, and Angelica had sputtered out of commision in the middle of nowhere, at least 85 miles past the last town.
Worst of all, Vash had a hangover drilling into his skull with the bright desert sun beating down on him and the priest.
Their only saving grace was the dust blown abandoned shack Vash was able to pick out across the dunes as the sun set. Wolfwood offered to drag both the faulty motorcycle and his cross on his own due to the other man's injured shoulder, but the blond became indignant at the suggestion.
Once they set up camp within the flimsy, but still much appreciated walls, Wolfwood slid his blazer off and rolled his shirt sleeves after propping his treasured vehicle up in a way for him to access the motors. If Vash didn't already feel like slamming his head against the ground before, he certainly did now. Big, strong hands connected to thick fuzzy forearms. The folded sleeves of his off white button down only extenuated each flex of his biceps as he wrestled and cursed at the motorcycle.
With his headache almost gone Vash could now feel heat that had been pooling in his gut the moment the other man removed his jacket. Hell, maybe even before then. Being stuck in close proximity in the cramped cabin with a sweaty, frustrated, dressed down Wolfwood, Vash could barely think straight.
With a heavy sigh and a pause, letting his head thunk against the wood floor, the priest scooted himself out from under the vehicle, eyes immediately finding Vash's.
"'M tired and sore, I'll try fixin' her tomorrow," he said.
Before the other man could respond, Wolfwood continued.
"That, and I can't get any work done when you're staring at me like you wanna eat me."
The warmth of embarrassment immediately flooded to Vash's face upon hearing he'd been caught looking.
"I- Don't know what you're talking about," Vash said, trying to brush off his guilty conscience with a forced laugh.
"C'mon blondie, you've been weird for weeks. Anytime my backs turned I feel like your eyes are burnin' straight through me."
The collar of Wolfwood's shirt slipped down just enough for Vash to see a hint of deep, muddled red against the man's dark skin.
Mouth suddenly dry, he swallowed.
"Wolfwood," Vash hesitated.
"How long have you had that rosary."
Taken aback by the odd question, though it was more alike to a statement than anything else, Wolfwood had to mentally catch up to answer the question.
"I got it at the orphanage."
His hand came up to mindlessly fidget with the round beads, eyes distant, lost in the memories of a different time.
With the beads being more out in the open, Vash could smell them, even from across the room. It was like getting punched in the gut with longing. Noticing his sharp intake of breath, Wolfwood's eyes refocused on the man opposite of him.
"I haven't smelled flowers in... such a long time," Vash admitted.
The sincerity in his tone immediately softened the priest's deminor. Vash watched him bite the inside of his cheek assessing the confession.
Startling the blond man, Wolfwood lurched forward to sit closer to Vash.
Once again he was drowned in the scent of chain-smoking and holy devotion. He needed more.
The dark haired man hesitantly began to pull the necklace over his head, unsure of the actions he'd started.
Vash's body shook as he inhaled deeply and he couldn't resist any longer.
His hand shot out to stop him from removing it further.
"Leave it," Vash whispered.
It was not a gentle whisper. Behind its quiet facade those two words were filled to the brim with an innumerable number of emotions.
Need. Guilt. Lust. Hope. Fear. Anguish. Love.
Vash swore he could hear Wolfwood's breath hitch in his throat. He moved closer, slowly testing the waters by crowding into the shorter man's personal space.
The priest's dark brown eyes gazed half lidded at the blonde's face. There was not a hint of discomfort at the man's advances.
"Vash."
Finally blessed with the freedom of permission, Vash's head fell to the crook of Wolfwood's neck. The air just surrounding his skin almost felt thicker as he hungrily sucked in a breath.
It was hot and heavy in the back of his throat like the cheap whiskey they'd shared the night before. The light burn of cigarettes made his head spin while the soft scent of roses pulled at his heart in a delicious, painful way.
"Oh god, Wolfwood."
Vash pushed closer to him, finally dropping the other man's wrist, instead choosing to wrap an arm around the priest's waist while the other hand tilted his head to the side, allowing the blonde more access to his newfound addiction. In doing so the blonde found himself between the man's legs.
At the gentle manhandling, whatever barriers for embarrassment Wolfwood had crumbled to dust as a small whimper rose from the back of his throat. His hands were still grimey from tinkering with Angelina, but Vash couldn't care less as the man under him desperately pawed and grabbed at his coat.
Vash was drunk off the scent of Wolfwood. But not drunk enough to miss the push of something hard against his hip.
The blonde moaned open mouthed for the first time that night, pushing himself against the tent in the other man's pants.
"Spikey."
Taking one more deep breath, Vash raised his head to once again meet eyes with Wolfwood. Before he could register it, the man beneath him tightly gripped his hair and pulled him into a brutal kiss.
Any sense of patience was ripped from both of their bodies as they mindlessly licked and groped and ground into each other.
Wolfwood tasted even better than he smelled.
Pulling back, Vash abandoned his coat and began pulling at any strap and buckle that would allow him to wiggle out of his leather garbs. The priest panted heavily, palming at his bulge while he watched the man in front of him take off his shirt.
"You have no idea how long I've wanted to see you like this, angel."
Affection bloomed in Vash's chest at the rather apt pet-name, but his focus shifted the moment he was able to get his waistband low enough for the cold night air to dampen the heat between his legs. He didn't think he’d ever been as wet and slick as he was now, and that's saying something considering his "hormonal teen years" had lasted about a quarter of a century.
Wolfwood's eyes laid heavy on Vash's increasingly declothed form and he had to slow the hand on his dick to a much more tepid pace.
"Need your shirt off, Nic."
Desperation clinged to the air like smoke as the priest grins, slowly sliding the buttons through their holes as more of his luscious dark skin was revealed. Vash nearly wept at the newfound sight of the black, curly hair adorning his chest.
Needy fingers slid across Wolfwood’s skin as the blonde once again leaned in to huff the air of the others neck. He could die like this. Warm, drunk on lust, and smelling just the perfect combinations of scents that made both his eyes and his sex weep. But only because it was him.
Patience wearing thin, Vash made the quick effort to toss off his boots and finally shuck his pants off his shins.
“If I'd known you liked flowers this much, I would’a gone t’ hell and back to find you some.”
A pang of something sharp in Vash's chest nearly brought tears to his eyes. The statement seemed to roll off of Wolfwood's tongue, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. As if loving *him* of all people was the same.
Vash was too stunned to speak.
So instead he yanked the priest's pants down and pushed his legs up next to his shoulders. Something in the shorter man's mind finally shattered fully and in that moment they both knew that this was something they could never come back from.
If the humanoid typhoon knew anything, it was that you can *never* go back.
Vash nearly headbutted Wolfwood with the force of his next kiss. High whimpers and low moans permeated the air as the blonde rubbed his slit against the other man's dick. It was depraved, sloppy, and technically unsatisfying, but the way both of them groaned with every buck of the hips brought a level of disregard to what was considered satisfactory.
One particularly harsh thrust allowed the head of Wolfwood's cock to kiss at the entrance of Vash’s cunt, and the slick that drips down nearly causes the priest to lose control.
“Spikey!” he gasped as a warning.
“Oh my, Nicholas, you're so sensitive,” Vash chuckled, finally finding himself capable of teasing the other man once again.
Wolfwood convulsed when he finally sank himself down upon his dick, and he clutched onto Vash’s shoulders as if for dear life.
From an outsider's perspective, it would look as if the blond had the raven haired man in a mating press, but in reality Wolfwood found his cock flush inside the other, fighting off his impending doom.
He began to understand why they called him the Humanoid Typhoon because the priest found himself ruined with the attention he was receiving.
Vash curled up on top of the other man simultaneously fucking himself and leaving kisses and puffy breaths on his skin. Each time their hips met left stars in the blonde man's eyes while Wolfwood’s were screwed shut. A wave of possession crashed over Vash and he wrangled one hand from its position behind his knee and grabbed the other man's chin.
“Look at me, Nico.”
Wolfwood shook violently at this point, utterly lost in the debauchery that this man has inflicted upon him. The priest finally pried his eyes open to find Vash staring right back at him.
“Take a picture, it'll last longer,” he huffed, ignoring the distinct lack of power in his own voice.
Vash grinned as he returned to his newfound home in the corner of Wolfwood's neck and shoulder, this time choosing to bite and suck at the skin.
Maybe it was his imagination, but the blonde swore that the other’s tight flesh tasted just as gentle as the rosary smelled. Only now it was accompanied by the salty twinge of sweat that always adorned him by the end of day.
He licked and gnawed at Wolfwood as if he *were* trying to eat him, and that sent a sharp snap of pleasure down every string of nerves within himself.
Wolfwood’s mind shot Vash’s name out of his mouth, but the final straw that broke what little sanity he had left fell out of the other man's mouth, just in the crook of his jaw and neck.
“Nic,” he gasp. “Love you, Nic. Love you so much.”
His head thumped against the wall behind him as he threw it back, mouth open as if he were begging God to forgive him even though no sound came out. Vash peppered kisses everywhere he could reach and Wolfwood shivered and jolted at every one, like each peck is pushing him over the edge again and again.
Before he can even catch his breath, Vash received an order.
“Stand up.”
For a moment the taller man feared he had done something wrong, but the look in Wolfwood's eyes asked for trust.
He stood on slightly wobbling legs as the priest's spend dripped from his pussy and down his thighs. Still sitting, the raven haired man reached around the other’s legs and pulled his cunt to his face.
The bitter saltiness of his own cum did nothing to hide the strong, musky taste of the slick it was enveloped in.
It's nearly unbearable.
Plush sensitive skin sliding together wetly, the beautiful curve of Wolfwood's nose pressed against an aching, needy clit.
If it weren't for the wall in front of him and the man beneath him, Vash was sure he would have toppled over as soon as the others' skilled tongue cupped the curve of his body.
The blonde’s eyes became hazy, unfocused, as Wolfwood sucked him into his mouth, slurping lewdly.
Whatever small shifts and movements Vash had been making with his hips increased in tempo and velocity, fucking the other man's mouth in earnest.
He tangled his fingers in his hair, pushed his head against the wall, and keened his name out like it was the only thing that could save him.
“Nic -gasp- Nico, ‘m close.”
Wolfwood groaned, so low in his throat it was almost a growl, and hastened his ministrations. His tongue swept down into Vash’s sopping cunt, and he pressed his face into the other man's crotch as much as it was physically possible like he believed it was *his* turn to feast upon him.
Bellowing thunder burned in Vash’s eardrums, his whole body going taut as a board as he gushed all over the man in front of him. Wolfwood dutifully licked him clean and helped the blonde return to the floor.
Vash couldn't look at him. Anxiety crept in just the same as the air returning to his lungs and brain. He found himself unable to speak.
Wolfwood would not allow that.
“Angel, what’re you thinkin’?”
Vash laughed internally, how could he possibly even begin to describe the wealth of self loathing and shame that was instilled within himself. He destroyed everything he's ever touched or owned, even his own body, which was two thirds flesh and one machine. There would be no hell hot enough for him if Vash hurt him like he hurt himself.
A sharp little flash of pain sent a shock through his system as Wolfwood stubbornly bit and nipped at Vash’s earlobe.
“For once in your life get out of that pretty blonde head of yours,” he grumbled into his ear.
A shaky intake of air broke the silence as Wolfwood fondly groped and cooed sweet words into Vash’s mind, and he finally started to relax.
The blonde now looked through watery eyes at the man next to him, who'd given him more than he was capable of destroying, and kissed him. Slow and tender, pulling at Vash’s heart and tears like the water pumps every town sprung up around.
“Thank you,” he choked out.
He really knew Vash all too well.