Archive of Our Own

"Fuuuuck," Wolfwood groans below his breath, hitching the object of his attentions closer to his hips as he buries his face into the sweaty sheets, resting more of his weight on the doll pinned beneath him. It's too damned hot out at midday to be doing this, realistically, but it's not often he gets the shared hotel room all to his lonesome, never mind time to inflate Miss Punish Her to full capacity.

Vash said his merchant escort assignment should take until evening, and Wolfwood's got his own leads to follow up come late afternoon, so the set up is perfect. All he has to do is get in one lousy nut…

Shit, he's been too goddamn horny these last few weeks. It's been hard enough finding time to delicately tend to his private needs even when he and Vash manage to score separate inn rooms. When they're stuck sharing a unit, much less a single bed? Forget it. He's managed to sneak in some covert wanks under the former circumstances while Vash snores in the other bunk, but their collective wallet lining has been extra thin as of late.

That means no relief for Wolfwood Jr, not by his hand or Miss Punish Her or any other means — he hasn't exactly felt up to the task of schmoozing his way into someone's good graces for the evening. Not when Vash is right there looking like the tallest, lankiest drink of water this side of No Man's Land.

The plastic squeaks obnoxiously and Wolfwood tries to corral his wandering thoughts, tries to imagine the hastily lubed inner chamber that passes for a pussy on this thing has any kind of actual grip or softness to it.

Fuck. He really needs to get laid. This gag gift turned actual masturbation aid isn't exactly cutting it anymore— even drawing a mole under Miss Punish Her's left eye wasn't quite enough, not when Wolfwood has to stare at the original goods, day in and out. But he's imaginative, not to mention stubborn as shit, and he's sunk enough costs into this damn thing for one afternoon. The very least he can get out of it is a mediocre nut.

Wolfwood clutches at the squeaky thing's waist with one hand and shifts his weight onto his opposite arm, bracing his forearm along the mattress so he can get his face out of the sheets and some proper oxygen into his lungs.

Think about fucking Vash right here in this bed. Think about him beneath you, long legs spread, moaning for it, gagging for it. Think about how hot and tight he'll feel inside, how he'll squeeze the shaft like he's trying to milk the cum right out of it. How he'll buck up against you, trying to rile you up, trying to get you to press him down even harder, egging you on…

"Fuck, Vash…" Wolfwood pants, hips working harder as he finally gets into the swing of the fantasy. "Yeah… ngh. Fuck, baby… take it. Take all of it for me."

Think of how he'll grab at your shoulders and writhe underneath you as you pound his sweet little hole mercilessly, how he'll toss his head back and beg you to fuck him even harder, filthier. How his eyes will fill with overwhelmed tears, how he'll cry and moan your name—

"Wolfwood…?"

No, not like that. More like,

"Wolfwood."

Nicholas D. Wolfwood's eyes snap open. He whips his head around to see the object of his miserable affections standing in the doorframe of the inn room, all legs and leather and aww fuck him sideways, why now? The bed is oriented parallel to the door, so there's no way he can even try to spin this like he's got a real gal in bed— it's very obviously a fucking doll, and Vash is staring at him like he's never considered that Wolfwood might have naked skin under all his clothes (which is absurd, because they've showered together, and Wolfwood's allergic to shirt buttons.)

Shit. Did he hear that? How long has he just been standing there like a pervert? Would it have killed him to knock, or make some kind of noise walking down the hall, or… something?

"You're a damned liar," Wolfwood huffs, figuring that if he can't salvage his dignity, he might as well just jump straight to indignation. "What happened to 'I'll be gone til the evening?"

"They fired me," Vash says blankly, stepping inside the room and finally shutting the door behind him. The breeze from the door makes the tails of his coat rustle. He's staring unabashedly, eyes wandering down Wolfwood's naked form and up again from behind his glasses, his pressed-closed mouth making some funny shapes as he seems to have trouble figuring out what to say.

"Well, do you mind?" Wolfwood finally says, seeing as Vash isn't about to do them any favors. "I've got company, as you can see. And I've booked her for the next hour, so… vamoose." He isn't going to let Vash embarrass him about this, he isn't. There's definitely still a chance he didn't hear anything. Maybe.

Vash's mouth twitches. "This is my room, too," he points out, ever so unhelpfully, and Wolfwood is flabbergasted to see him start unbuttoning his coat like he means to stay a while. "I don't think I will 'vamoose,' but that's alright, you can keep going. Don't let me get in your way."

Wolfwood finds himself even more flabbergasted. "I beg your pardon?" He struggles to sit up into a slightly more dignified position without exposing himself, then realizes there is absolutely no chance of that. "This is kind of a private activity, you know."

"In our shared bed," Vash points out, tilting his head. "The one we both sleep in." Despite his words, he doesn't seem upset. In fact, some little alarm bell sounds in the back of Wolfwood's head, he seems remarkably calm and unbothered about the entire thing.

"Right," Wolfwood says, licking his lips and trying to figure out what the hell Vash is angling at. The question is somewhat answered for him when Vash finally pulls both arms free from his red coat and slings it over the back of the rickety wooden chair sat in front of the even more dilapidated writing desk, then turns the chair so it's facing the bed and… sits in it?

"…"

Wolfwood's a little speechless right now, he's got to admit. He's still half hard inside the doll, his naked sweating ass is out, and Vash is down to that leather undershirt with the cutout on the stomach that does insane things to Wolfwood's libido (right down to making him want to lick that entire patch of exposed skin ten times over).

Vash settles in the chair, defying physics in managing not to break it as he does, and slings a casual arm over the backrest, crossing one ankle over his knee as he gives Wolfwood a placid smile. There's something lurking behind it that unfortunately is very appealing to Wolfwood's dick.

"It's alright," he says, nonchalant as anything, which is always a huge red flag with Vash. "Go ahead, Wolfwood. I do feel bad for interrupting, so I'll just have to make it up to you!"

Wolfwood does not go ahead. His dick is confused about why it's hard right now. He swallows with some difficulty, then realizes he's staring at Vash's exposed stomach and drags his eyes back up to slightly safer territory.

"You gonna just sit there?" It's not that he's opposed to Vash watching him get off, but he would probably have chosen a slightly different angle, a slightly less absurd method if he'd known in advance he was gonna have company. "Didn't take you for the watchin' type."

Vash tilts his head, looking sweet and innocent as all get-out. Wolfwood isn't fooled for a minute. "Well, it seems rude not to make an exception for you, Wolfwood. After all, weren't you just talking about me?"

Wolfwood grimaces, unable to avoid flushing just a little. "Yeah, uh… About that."

Vash just leans back more in the chair, looking perfectly relaxed despite the worrying way it creaks under his lanky form. There's a glimmer of something in his bright blue eyes that Wolfwood isn't sure bodes well or not. He wants to think it does. Shit, Vash wanting to watch him is… a promising sign that maybe, this whole pining yearning longing fixation isn't entirely one-sided?

"I just think that before I decide if I'm going to 'take it all,' I should give the matter some proper consideration," Vash goes on lightly, as if he's not throwing Wolfwood's own dirty talk right back in his face.

Wolfwood chokes on his own saliva as his attempt to swallow ends up being poorly-timed. "Damn, Spikey. Could kill a guy like that," he mutters under his breath between coughs, adjusting awkwardly against the stupid doll. His erection is still deeply confused, unable to decide if it's flagging or getting harder. "Consideration, huh?"

"Yep," Vash says, as if the issue is settled. He gestures to Wolfwood with his prosthetic hand, giving him a little nod of permission. "After all, you can learn plenty about a man's technique just from observing. Maybe if I like what I see, I might want to get some hands-on demonstration."

Wolfwood's nostrils flare. The tension in the room has been twisting tighter with every moment since Vash arrived, and now it's just riding the line of snapping. He lets his eyes trail over Vash again, more deliberately this time, then licks his lips. God almighty, he would kill for a damned breeze in this room.

"S'that so…" Cautiously, still not entirely sure whether he's passed out from heat stroke and cooked up a delusion (unlikely— he's well hydrated and the heat isn't quite that oppressive.) All signs point to this being very much a real, if farfetched scenario he's blundered into. Especially when Vash's eyes do a similar pass over Wolfwood's naked form, lingering on his ass and somewhere in the vicinity of his shoulders before he meets Wolfwood's eyes again.

"Mhm. Go on, then," Vash says, for all appearances relaxed, apart from the intensity that's flared up in his expression. Even his mouth is mildly curved in a pleasant little smile, but the eyes… those eyes have Wolfwood pinned, smoking like an ant under a magnifying glass. "Let's see what you've got, Punisher."

Well. There it is.

Wolfwood huffs a disbelieving laugh, wipes his brow with the back of his hand, and gets to work, trying not to think too much about what this might mean for their already unconventional relationship. It's kind of awful peeling himself from Miss Punish Her, the sweat having stuck him uncomfortably to the plastic after he'd stopped moving, and the noises are downright laughable, but then he gets going again.

Vash watches the entire time. Wolfwood can feel the burn of his gaze like a cigarette cherry held millimeters from his skin. Fuck, if this isn't turning him on in the worst way, even as humiliation stains the back of his neck with a different kind of heat.

He grips the doll by the waist and rolls his hips, no more shoddy desperate thrusting. If there's any chance of Vash letting Wolfwood fuck him, he's gotta do this properly. Impress him. Make sure he knows Wolfwood knows how to treat a gentleman right in bed— not that Vash would ever consider himself such a thing, but if there's anyone who deserves every ounce of Wolfwood's focus and skill, it's him.

A prickling wave of arousal sweeps over him as he thrusts into that sucking, plasticky, lubed-up chamber. Wolfwood can only hope he doesn't look like a damn idiot like this, humping a demented doll into the mattress. He lets out a low grunt, wishing he'd maybe said something less stupid for Vash to overhear. But then again, whispering sweet nothings to a sex doll probably wouldn't have done him any more favors.

"Not bad," Vash hums, loud enough that Wolfwood's definitely intended to hear. He glances over, huffing, to see Vash's gloved fingertips stroking in contemplation over his own lips.

"Not bad? That's all I get?" Wolfwood's secretly none too upset at how Vash is staring, but surely he can wring a little more out of him.

"Keep going and maybe I'll have more notes," Vash suggests, ever so lightly. Oh, he's a damn tease. Wolfwood's so gone on him it's stupid.

"Yeah, yeah." He sits up properly for the first time onto his knees, pulling out of the doll before reaching for the bottle of lubricant and slicking his cock with his palm, ever so nonchalantly letting Vash get a proper eyeful of the goods. Just in case he's curious.

(Wolfwood really hopes he likes what he sees.)

"Not bad for a man of the cloth," Vash says, cheeky til the end. "Looks heavy." Wolfwood shoots him a lascivious look, hoping it's not too obvious that his heart is going a million miles an hour.

"Would you believe me if I said it was full of mercy, too?"

Vash chews his bottom lip. "I sure hope that's not true," he murmurs absently, openly staring at Wolfwood jerking himself. "How much can that doll take, anyway?"

Not as much as you, Wolfwood wants to say. Really, he wants to just chuck the doll to the floor and yank Vash onto the bed instead, but he clears his throat instead.

"I guess there's one way to find out," he suggests instead, reaching for the doll and holding it by the hip as he presses its stomach down to angle it better for him on his knees. Fuck, this thing is so hideous, but if Vash really wants a demonstration, Wolfwood's not about to blow his chance to impress.

He fucks the thing like he wishes he could fuck Vash, but about ten percent more respectful— working his hips, trying to demonstrate that he does know how to find the g-spot, as well the other spots he doesn't know the names for. It feels stupid fucking a doll as if it could derive pleasure from his actions, but thinking of getting to sleep with Vash makes it easy to push all that aside. Eyes on the goal.

"What is that…" Vash asks, suddenly. Wolfwood turns to look at him, then realizes he's staring at the doll's face.

Ah. Shit.

"What's what?" he says, hoping Vash will write it off as a highly improbable coincidence. Naturally, he does no such thing.

"It's got a little beauty mark right where I do." Vash sounds amused even as he plays up his feigned confusion. "Imagine that. Maybe with a few more scars… what do you think?"

"Never really noticed," Wolfwood lies like a lying fucking liar. As if he didn't draw the thing on himself in a moment of impulsive desperation to make the doll more tolerable. "Maybe if it had your hair, that'd be something."

"Cute," Vash says, clearly unconvinced by his efforts. He's still reclining with one ankle over the opposite knee, all shiny metal and leather, and fuck, Wolfwood wants to shove his face between those thighs and inhale. "You've always been… cute."

"S'that all?" Wolfwood huffs, staring him down while he continues to fuck the stupid doll. And then, because he can't actually bear to hear the answer to that question, he barrels onward. "You really gonna make me finish in this damn thing?"

"Oh? Are you close?" Vash's little smile is gonna do him in. His eyes flash behind his tinted lenses. "You know, I've gotta admit I'm a little curious about that part." For a second, he sounds like his regular, goofy self. "Are you loud when you finish? Or would you say you're more of the quiet type?"

"Jesus, Spikey."

"It's just a question." Vash gives him his best innocent moue. The way he's subtly palming himself through his pants sort of ruins the effect— or maybe makes it better, Wolfwood's not really thinking too straight right now. "Can't a guy ask his buddy about these things?"

"If he wants his buddy to blow a gasket," Wolfwood grumbles, but fuck, he's getting close. If he just thinks about Vash beneath him, thinks about fucking him silly until he can't manage any more flirty faces, until all he can do is grab at Wolfwood's back and moan his name… nonono, he needs to get his head back in the game, he can't look like a two pump chump.

"Maybe that's what I want," Vash says, quieter, more serious. Well, he's sure not helping the whole 'don't nut immediately' agenda Wolfwood's trying to stick to. "I've only ever heard you through a bathroom door, or when you're trying to keep quiet because you don't want to wake me up. Now you don't have to worry about that."

Wolfwood bites his lip to stifle a moan. "You been spying on me, tongari? Like some kind of pervert?"

"I'd say you're the pervert, touching yourself in the same bed," Vash counters, but when Wolfwood dares to glance at him, his cheeks have gone a little pink, and he's grinding the heel of his hand against himself with a little more enthusiasm. "I'm a good friend, Wolfwood. I never blamed you for doing what you have to. I know people have needs." He pauses, amusement flickering across his face. "Even priests."

Wolfwood laughs, breathy and a little lightheaded. "And what about you," he dares to ask, since Vash so kindly left an opening. "Does Vash the Stampede have needs, too?"

"Mhmm," Vash confirms, sucking part of his bottom lip into his mouth. The chair creaks when he rocks his hips into his own touch. And then, just as breathy, "Yeah, sometimes. Sometimes, I do."

Something about that admission gets Wolfwood hot all over, as if it wasn't already sweltering in here with all the activity he's been doing. "Maybe we ought to— hnn— solve two problems at once," he suggests, wanting nothing more than to fling the damn blow-up doll onto the floor and drag Vash out of that chair. Or maybe just kneel in front of it, fuck. "Seems more efficient."

Vash tilts his head. Even with the rosy flush that's taken over his face, there's still something calculating in his eyes that never fails to get Wolfwood hot. He's seen that look plenty of times when Vash has dropped his whole harmless idiot act and gotten serious— like he's mentally dismantling someone in the blink of an eye, distilling their entire being into a list of potential weaknesses and charting the exact path his bullet needs to take if he's to gain the upper hand.

It's not a look Wolfwood's had aimed at him in a long, long time, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy it. He knows Vash doesn't miss his marks, and fuck him if he hasn't developed something of a competency kink.

"Finish in the doll first, Nicholas," he says ever so casually, as if he hasn't just ordered Wolfwood to nut for his viewing pleasure. "Then we'll see about that."

"Some nerve on you, Blondie," Wolfwood grumbles, because that's really not fair, pulling out the first name on him. And whatever that voice was. "Kinda defeats the purpose if I'm already spent, doesn't it?" Vash probably knows that's not true— curse his big mouth for spilling during some drunken ramble that the serum pumping through his veins gives him the refractory period of a teenage boy. Whether or not Vash believed him at the time… well, that's anybody's guess. But his memory's sharp as anything, whatever he claims otherwise.

"That shouldn't be a problem," Vash says, entirely unconcerned. The leather of his gloves creaks against the leather of his pants, and maybe Wolfwood has a kink for that too. "Doesn't matter to me either way."

This time when Wolfwood shoots a glance at him, he realizes he's read this all fucking wrong.

Vash has no intention of letting Wolfwood fuck him. He's just waiting for Wolfwood to tire himself out with the doll so he can swoop in and have his own fun. There's a glint in his eye as he licks his lips and makes it obvious that he's staring at Wolfwood's ass, which Wolfwood has stupidly, unwittingly been bobbing up and down in front of him like he's waving a flag for a bull.

Wolfwood shudders, losing his rhythm for a moment.

Fuck. He's so used to being on top, doing all the seduction, making it all happen. But Vash…? Okay. Yeah, fuck. He's into that. He's so goddamn into that.

"Nick?" Vash's voice brings him back to the present. It's husky, quiet, like they're sharing a secret. "If you're not into that—"

"Oh, I'm into it," Wolfwood huffs, cutting him off as he redoubles his efforts to destroy Miss Punish Her from the inside out. Now that he knows Vash's intent, he doesn't mind if he cuts things a bit short. "I'm… yeah. Very into it."

Vash gives him a pleased little smile, biting his lip and rocking his hips up into his hand in a little show for Wolfwood to enjoy. The pliant leather is stiff and straining beneath his palm, and Wolfwood really wants to find out what's in there. He's got no idea if somebody like Vash would have a normal-looking human cock, or something more otherworldly, but fuck if he's gonna complain about Vash wanting to stick it in him. He just hopes he's up to the task.

"Pervert," Wolfwood accuses again, but he's watching Vash just as intently as Vash is watching him. "You've had an eye on my substantial assets this whole time, haven't you?" It's a lighthearted tease more than anything, but Vash surprises him by flushing even darker, his chest expanding with a deep breath that makes the sweat beads on his bare abdomen catch the light.

"Maybe I have," he says, not joking at all, and… oh heavens, help him, that's… that's so… "You're a difficult man to ignore, Nick."

Shit. This first-name business is really going to his head. Wolfwood's fit to fucking burst. His thighs burn as he gets serious about fucking the doll, ignoring its stupid squeaking noises as he chases his orgasm. Enough screwing around. He just wants Vash to rail him right through this crappy mattress.

"Fuck, Vash," he blurts out, holding the doll down and slamming into that tight, squelching plastic hole. His own hole is practically tingling in anticipation of getting the same treatment. "Close… real goddamn close."

Vash surprises him by getting up from the chair, heavy boots clunking on the floor as he walks over to the bed, planting one knee on the mattress not far from where Wolfwood's hand is bracing him upright.

"Close enough?" he asks, cheeky, as if that's what Wolfwood meant, but like hell is he about to complain. He can smell Vash, all clean sweat and leather and gun oil, and that faint trace of something cool and sweet that always seems to follow him.

"Closer." Wolfwood decides to go for broke. He's rewarded when Vash hums and reaches out with his prosthetic hand, the worn-smooth leather of the glove he wears over it tracing along Wolfwood's sticky back, down to the curve of his ass where he's pumping away. The touch alone has him nearly blowing his load, he's so fucking close, breathing harshly with his hair hanging around his face.

"Cute," Vash says again, and then his fingers are squeezing a handful of Wolfwood's ass cheek. "How about this?"

"Closer," Wolfwood groans, shameless, and is miraculously rewarded with two of Vash's fingers pushing down between his cheeks, rubbing over his hole as he thrusts, giving him something to grind back against. His balls are aching, drawn up taught, he's about to blow.

"If I get any closer, I'll be inside you, Nick." Vash's voice is a warning shot-through with desire, heavy enough to pin Wolfwood under its weight.

Fuck, it's too good, he's not gonna—

Wolfwood cums with a shuddering snap of his hips and a grunt— in truth, more of a whine, but who's counting. He slams himself as deep into the toy as he can get, emptying himself with hard, jerking spurts. Vash's hand doesn't let up, teasingly dipping just the tips into his fluttering, spasming hole, which only draws out the pleasure that's got Wolfwood's head absolutely spinning.

"Shit," he finally croaks once he's got enough breath to manage a single word. An aftershock rocks through him, and then he hears the sound of Vash shifting behind him. And then a familiar sound, one that usually comes from Wolfwood himself after a long bout of chain-smoking, as Vash spits right onto his hole before rubbing it in. Because of course his aim is impeccable with that too.

Wolfwood lets his upper body collapse against the doll, turning his head to the side as he tries to process the fact that Vash just watched him cum inside his sex doll and now is preparing to finger him open like there's any possible way Wolfwood will be able to handle him right now.

Shit, this position probably makes him look like a complete slut, straddling the doll with his ass up just for Vash, his cock slowly slipping out of the doll and leaving a mess in its wake.

"Feel better?" Vash asks, and Wolfwood is absolutely not prepared to feel his other hand— still gloved— squeeze along his spent, half-chubbed dick. He hisses with sensitivity but pushes into the touch anyway, because like hell is he going to push Vash away when the man is finally, finally touching him where he wants. The hand retreats, and then he hears something that makes his heart nearly stop.

"Mm. Not bad, for a smoker."

Wolfwood's brain fully stops working. All he can register is that Vash is still working his spit-coated fingers into his very interested, very eager ass, and the fact that Vash just tasted his cum.

"I'll stop," he says, stupidly, and Vash laughs with his entire chest.

"No, you won't," he says, then gathers up more of Wolfwood's cum with his prosthetic hand before returning to working Wolfwood's hole open. Fuck, that's filthy, using his own seed as lube? Christ in heaven, who knew the depths of depravity lurking behind that innocent face?

Wolfwood thinks again about all the buckles and leather. Okay, maybe he should have seen it coming. Out of his coat, Vash always looks like something out of a BDSM wet dream. Not that Wolfwood knows anything about that.

"If it meant you wanted to— ah, fuck," he swears, moaning shamelessly as Vash works one of his fingers deep enough that he can actually feel it inside, stretching him open. "There's… the lube's right there."

"I know," Vash says, unconcerned. Something twists deep in Wolfwood's stomach. Oh, fuck. That's. He's.

"Sadist," he accuses with no small amount of glee, spreading his knees a little more so Vash doesn't get the wrong idea. "Don't you know I'm— hnghh— a very delicate man? Are you really going to be such a brute?"

Vash's response is to move between his legs and kneel closer, gripping Wolfwood's hip for balance and leaning over Wolfwood's back until his face is hovering next to Wolfwood's shoulder. His finger pushes deeper and Wolfwood squirms despite himself, a tight noise pulling itself out of him like taffy.

"You don't sound like a delicate man," Vash says, entirely too sweet, entirely too reasonable. "And you don't feel like one, either. Get rid of the doll, won't you, Wolfwood?"

Wolfwood doesn't have to be told twice, wincing as he peels his sweating chest off the damn thing for what he dearly hopes is the final time— it's really starting to irritate his chest hair— and tugs the entire doll out from beneath him, casting it towards the floor and wincing when it lands face down, splattering his cum onto the wood.

"Oops," he says, breathlessly, but Vash doesn't give him time to dwell on it, curling his finger down until it strokes right over Wolfwood's extremely sensitive prostate. "Oh fuck, oh fuck me. Vash… Christ."

"I thought you wanted closer," Vash hums. The sadistic little shit. Wolfwood adores him entirely too much. And then, "ahh, you smell so good." His tongue is blindly hot against Wolfwood's shoulder, leaving a rapidly-cooling wetness in its wake. "Taste good. Do you fuck good too, Nick?"

If there's one thing he can't handle, it's being dirty-talked by Vash the fucking Stampede. Wolfwood buries his face in the sheets, burning up with sweet embarrassment. That's his job! "You're the one who was taking notes," he mumbles, shamelessly rocking his hips into Vash's touch and hissing when the bastard purposefully skims his prostate again. "You tell me."

"No," Vash corrects, pressing down more firmly until something closer to a wail tears itself from Wolfwood's throat. "I'm not talking about what you did with that doll." He slides his finger back, then pushes it back in deeper, with purpose. "I'm asking how well you take it."

Wolfwood arches his back, nodding like a drunken puppet; strings too loose, fully at Vash's whims. "Fuck me and find out," he says, realizing only after the fact how much it sounds like he's begging. Well, that's fine, because he is. A man of God must take every opportunity to humble himself, after all. "You are gonna fuck me, right? I swear, Vash, if you're just messing with me..."

"Pass me that lube and you'll see if I'm messing with you," Vash says, licking him again like whatever kind of salt-starved desert creature he probably is. He moans quietly, like Wolfwood's shoulder is the best thing he's had in his mouth all week, gripping his hip tighter with the hand that isn't currently working Wolfwood open. "Just— you should know. I don't do this often… if I'm too rough…"

Wolfwood reaches behind himself to pass the bottle of lubricant along. "Spikey… you don't gotta worry about that. You could fuck me through the damn floorboards and I'd be thanking you. What's the point of havin' that serum if I'm not puttin it to good use."

Vash's laugh is bright, genuine. He takes the lube, and then there's the sound of leather, something being removed, the cap of the lube. A shuffle, and it occurs to Wolfwood that Vash still has his boots on— that's how damn eager he was to get up in Wolfwood's business. He's distracted when he feels a cool touch against his hole. This time, it's Vash's actual flesh and blood fingers— two of them sliding easily inside him, filling him up like they're supposed to be there.

"So hot inside, Nick," he groans, then wastes no time fingering Wolfwood hard and fast, quickly reducing him to moaning gibberish as Vash scrambles his few remaining brain-cells. "Can't wait to feel you around me. Been thinking about this— so pretty like this."

The praise goes right to his dick, makes heat creep up the back of his already sweaty neck. Wolfwood pants and moans, fisting his hands in the damp sheets, wondering how he's gonna manage Vash's dick when his fingers are already doing this much.

"You're just sucking me right in," Vash says, because apparently he's a real motor mouth when he goes going. "Who knew you'd be so— so slutty."

Wolfwood huffs, gasps out a laugh. "Have I ever hid it?"

Vash spanks him with his prosthetic hand without warning, more of a smack to jiggle the flesh than to actually punish. "Should have done this sooner," he grunts, repeating the motion to Wolfwood's moaning delight. True to form, he's already nearly at full mast again. "That suit of yours… all that skin always on display. Makes me want to do bad things to you, Nick."

Wolfwood's mind is swimming. Is this really happening? Vash finger-fucking him and confessing all his nasty little fantasies he's had for who knows how long? This has to be the best damn day he's had in years, if it's not some kind of heatstroke-induced hallucination.

"Maybe I want you to do them," he confesses, groaning deep in his chest when Vash pushes back in with a third finger. "Fuck… you don't gotta do three, just get to the main course. I like when it's too much."

Vash hums. "You're not really in a position to tell me what to do," he reminds Wolfwood, pistoning his hand harder in retaliation, and oh… fuck, fuck, fuck, his goddamn prostate. Immediately humbled, Wolfwood nods hurriedly against the sheets.

"Three's good, three's good!" Of course it is, he's practically drooling. Might even be actually drooling, he's not sure of anything anymore. Between the overstimulation and Vash just… being Vash. Christ, if this is hell, he's in heaven. Or something.

"That's what I thought," Vash says, sounding pleased. He leans back, pressing kisses down Wolfwood's back. It's sweet in the kind of way that makes Wolfwood immediately suspicious. Sure enough, when Vash works his way down far enough, he grips one of Wolfwood's ass cheeks and takes a bite that actually fucking hurts in the best possible way. He can't help a yelp, his hips twitching away instinctively, but Vash hauls him right back, smacking him in admonishment while his other hand pumps unceasingly, knuckles hitting hard against Wolfwood's swollen rim.

"Who said you could go anywhere?"

"You're insane," Wolfwood groans, arching his back deeper to properly appreciate the way Vash is almost viciously stretching him open. He's coming to very approving terms with the fact that he's more than a little bit in love, and the object of his affections is an absolute sadist. What kinda luck is that… "Think that's gonna bruise?"

"I'll make it bruise," Vash promises. "Just for you, Nick."

"Just for me, huh?" Wolfwood turns a little, peeking back over his shoulder. "Didn't know I'd earned such— hngh!— preferential treatment."

There's a devious smile in Vash's voice that matches the one on his face when he answers.

"Anything for the worst priest I know."