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.
Fuck.
Wolfwood was in a bad mood.
He ran out of cigarettes a day ago. His craving for nicotine, together with Vash’s horrendous driving skill, were giving him a headache. The harsh sunlight and the blistering heat was the cherry on top of his perpetual irritation.
Not to mention.
Primal needs were tunneling his vision.
All he wanted to do was to fill his stomach with good food using the bounty money that he collected earlier, get laid, have a few drinks then get some goddamn shut-eye before moving to the next town. It didn’t matter if he was travelling alone or with a companion. The cycle simply rinses and repeats.
It wasn’t much to ask. In fact, there was nothing too much about fulfilling one’s basic needs.
Four days.
They have been driving for four days. It wasn’t until late afternoon of the fifth day did they stumble upon a small town.
They made a stop at a workshop to have Angelina looked at, all the while exchanging small talks with the shop owner to find out the pieces of information that they need to pay attention to in this town. Once their business was done, Wolfwood told his travelling companion that he wouldn’t be back in the evening, to which Vash replied with a look of concern on his face.
Are you going to be alright?
The priest cut the conversation short and walked in the opposite direction that the blond was taking. It would be silly for the Humanoid Typhoon to waste his pretty head worrying about him. He was a perfectly capable man. The same couldn’t be said to Vash. Trouble was his dedicated stalker, like shadow industriously following you wherever you go. It would be ridiculous for someone like him to be worrying about adults like Wolfwood.
The saloon that he visited was overpacked. The pungent smell of body odor, food, perfume, gunpowder and alcohol mixed together in an indescribable cacophony of flavors filled his nostrils.
His expectation was set on the floor but this place’s lack of liquor and the quality of the alcohol managed to astound him considering how shitty they were. In his mouth, the shot tasted way too sweet with methanol and chemicals mixed together which would guarantee a hangover in the morning. Nonetheless, Wolfwood downed it like water. Beggars can’t be choosers, he told himself.
At this point, he would gladly take anything that had alcohol in it, doesn’t matter if it tastes like diabetes mixed with dry hand wash.
From his peripheral vision, he noticed someone approached him.
A woman with bright red lipstick and face caked with makeup that did nothing but accentuate the crows-feet at the corner of her eyes when she smiled. A wide grin cracked on his lips when she leaned over and whispered in his ear.
Exactly what he needed.
Sex was always good. He enjoyed it.
It was never good getting pent-up for a long time. Despite his proclaimed profession, he swore no vow of chastity. That is to say, he wasn’t a hedonistic man either, he simply lived true to himself. Just like how humans required food and water to survive, sex is a means to keep his body functioning like a well-oiled machine. It's the efficiency that he was talking about.
Looking up at the woman bouncing on top of him, he tightened his grip on her thighs and closed his eyes. Strangely enough, he couldn’t ejaculate. Even though his dick was as hard as a rock, he couldn’t come. It felt good inside of her. A bit loose but he wasn’t judging. Nevertheless, a wet and warm hole to use is good as any. It should have been enough, yet, for some reason, it just didn’t feel right for Wolfwood.
Some time around half an hour later, he laid next to the woman whom he had yet to learn the name of and stared at the moldy ceiling. His mouth itched for a cigarette. And maybe some more of that shitty alcohol.
He came in the end, with the woman’s hand playing with his perineum and her mouth sucking him off. The priest got what he wanted and in contrary to his initial expectation, it did nothing to his deteriorating mood. Tipping an extra bill for her aching jaw, he got dressed and left the brothel.
His next destination for the night was another saloon where he drank to fill up the hole in his chest.
The alcohol still tasted like shit but it washed away the taste of the woman’s lipstick in his mouth.
He might have had a few drinks too many when he stumbled out on the cold street. The night air was chilly on his sweaty skin and it helped him sober up a little. Going to another brothel was out of option, seeing that he was no longer in the mood for another round tonight. Clicking his tongue in annoyance and with the weight of Punisher heavy on his back, he staggered toward the only inn in town.
The uninterested old man at the front desk snorted upon seeing the priest at an unholy hour. The short hand of the grandfather clock pointed at one and he couldn’t care less about the number that the long hand was pointing at. It was late. With a concise description of his blond companion, he was shown to the room at the far corner on the second floor.
Dragging his feet as light as he could through the creaking corridor, he knocked on the door that was said to be his companion’s, twice, thrice, to which only silence greeted him. It was late, he reminded himself. The blond was probably asleep.
Wolfwood let out a long sigh and placed his Punisher down. He searched in his suit pockets for a pair of safety pins and a paperclip. Being a street rat meant one needed to pick up on a lot of stuff in order to ensure their survival. Picking a lock was the most basic amongst the basics.
With the dexterity of a half-sober man, he tinkered with the keyhole until a small click was heard. Pushing the door open as gently as he could, so as to not wake his sleeping partner, the raven haired man set a foot inside the room.
On the double bed laid a figure with his back against Wolfwood. His signature red coat hung on the chair, next to the desk facing the bed. A pair of cold and heat resistance boots placed neatly near the nightstand. The window was opened, allowing the night breeze to play with the mop of blond hair. The raven haired man leaned his Punisher against the wall, took off his blazer and indolently threw it on top of Vash’s coat.
He stalked over the bed and took a peek at the Humanoid Typhoon’s sleeping face. Under the artificial light of the street lamps that splashed through the window, the blond looked serene in his slumber. His hair was down, strewn across the pillow like threads of gold. Without the coat and the glasses, he looked nothing like the legendary gunman people were so feared of. Not that people could tell at first glance considering his ridiculous personality, Wolfwood couldn’t help but snort a little.
In a sweatpants and worn-out long sleeve shirt, Vash looked human enough if it wasn’t for the numerous scars, bruises and marks littered all over his body. And perhaps the prosthetic arm, too.
An innocent monster. The thought crossed Wolfwood’s mind as he sat down on the bed and kicked off his shoes.
The blond stirred from the thumping noises of leather footwear hitting the aged floorboard. Icy green eyes fluttered. It took a moment for the prosthetic arm that reached under the pillow to relax when he recognized the familiar silhouette of his companion. Wolfwood almost laughed. So this guy slept with a gun under his pillow as well.
‘I thought you weren’t coming back.’
Vash propped himself up with his human arm and rubbed his eyes. His tone was unhappy, the priest dared to say he was pouting, from being woken up in the dead of the night by a half-drunk partner who had no sense of delicacy.
Wolfwood grinned and lit a cigarette from the crumbled packet. Taking in a lungful of nicotine, he swung both of his legs on the bed, his back leaned against the headboard.
‘Yeah. I thought so. Turns out I prefer yer company more.’
Vash seemed to notice something. He scooted closer and took a sniff, only to scrunch his face up in disgust upon realizing where the smell was coming from.
‘Flattery gets you nowhere. You stink. I’m not letting you sleep on my bed smelling like- like that!’
The priest finished the last drag and put out his cigarette. Out of pure curiosity, he raised an eyebrow.
‘Like what?’
To his surprise, Vash actually leaned in to take another whiff.
‘Ugh. Tobacco, alcohol, perfume. And something. Anyway, you smell bad so please do me a favor and go wash up.’
Something? Wolfwood was intrigued. Oh. He nodded to himself. The blond was probably talking about that smell. He lifted his shirt up and inhaled. Smelled like sex. The distinct smell of human odor and various types of body fluids. Even if it was his own smell, the priest couldn’t help but cringe a little.
‘Geh.’
Vash was right. He needed a quick shower.
‘Told you. You smelled bad.’
The other man sighed and got off the bed. He rummaged through his baggage for a good few minutes before returning to Wolfwood with the stuff that he found. It was a shirt with frayed hems and a pair of shorts.
‘Here. You don’t have anything to change into right? At least use mine.’
As considerate as ever, the priest snickered. There was no reason to pass up on Vash’s offer so it was only natural for him to take it.
‘Aight. Thanks.’
Needless to say, that earned him a small smile from the blond. He always looked so damn happy whenever the stubborn priest listened.
Taking the set of fresh clothes with him, Wolfwood dragged his feet to the bathroom and did as he was told.
The water was lukewarm on his skin even at the hottest setting. Thanks to the shower, Wolfwood was no longer tipsy. It cleared his head and washed whatever was on his mind down the drain. The clear liquid poured down from the shower head, onto his dirtied skin, flushing away the remnant of his previous deed with the red lips woman. Running a hand through his scalp, the clergyman groaned in frustration.
The sex was bad but he was well aware it wasn’t the woman’s fault. She did what she was paid for. His head just wasn’t in it. It felt unsatisfying to come in a situation where he couldn’t focus on feeling good. What went wrong? He wondered and vigorously scrubbed his body clean.
It was frustrating.
Twisting the spigot, he got out of the shower and dried himself with the towel folded neatly on the rack. He put the shorts on but decided to leave the shirt for later. He didn’t want the water on his hair to wet the shirt. Mustering the energy to dry his hair was a pain in the ass, he thought, and returned to the bed where Vash was.
‘I’m done.’
Flopping down on the bed, he reached for another cigarette in the near empty packet. The towel draped over his shoulders, absorbing the moisture dribbling from his hair. As he was about to light up the matches, the towel was draped over his hair. Next thing he knew, his head was pushed down none-to-gently and the Humanoid Typhoon was massaging his scalp, absorbing the water into the piece of fabric in his hand. Wolfwood almost dropped the cigarette from his mouth. He didn’t have the chance to snap and ask what the hell was that about.
‘You are going to get the pillow wet. Hold still, I’m doing you a favor and help dry your hair, you unruly priest.’
The blond huffed. It sounded like he was complaining but his hands were gentle. Not too forceful and not too soft. Despite the fact that he has a prosthetic for an arm, the force that he put in his fingers was much softer than the touch of some humans’.
‘Yer know. Yer’ve changed.’
Come to think about it, the person that he met two years ago was afraid of physical contact.
‘Really? How so?’
Did he have no idea? Or was he pretending not to know?
The Humanoid Typhoon was scared of touching people, scared of being touched by people. This man used to be so clumsy at taking care of others because he was on his own for such a long time. Fast forward, here he was, casually drying Wolfwood’s hair like it was the most normal thing to do. Time changed people, or would it be arrogant for the raven haired man to say that he had his share of contribution?
‘Yer were shit at this, back then.’
There was a momentary pause and he could hear the cogs turning in Vash’s head, trying to comprehend what his assumingly inebriated companion was trying to convey with his vague words. By “this”, he meant physical contact, Wolfwood was ready to elaborate, an explanation ready on his tongue. Vash took away the opportunity to do so by chuckling light-heartedly. The towel rustled on his head for a little while longer then flopped on his lap.
‘Hmm~ does that mean I’m a bit better at it now?’
So he was aware. The priest turned around and faced his partner. The blond was smiling, like he always does.
Throb, that was his heart, when he stared into those eyes.
His cigarette dropped on the sheet. He couldn’t care less about his crave for nicotine right now. What was this feeling? Why did his chest hurt when he looked at Vash? A mysterious thrill ran through his whole being as if someone had lit a match and set his gasoline heart ablaze.
What are the chances of a genuine smile starting a conflagration? He had no idea. All he knew was that he wanted-
‘Maybe. Wanna test it out?'
The blond tilted his head, blinking inquisitively, fanning those eyelashes against the pale skin of his cheeks. Wolfwood wetted his lips and swallowed.
He took the initiative by assuming the position of a predator stalking its prey, climbing on the bed and forcing Vash to back off. When the blond hit his head against the headboard, the priest had the gunman pinned under him, looking defenseless and flustered like a deer caught in the headlights.
‘What are you doing?’
It was easy to tell the other man was at a nonplus. Clear confusion was written within ice-green that Wolfwood thought was beautiful to gaze into.
‘Can I touch yer?’
Vash seemed to withdraw into his shell again. Hesitation oozed from his body language but Wolfwood would have none of that. He would push and push until he got what he wanted. Lucky for him, the Humanoid Typhoon yielded to other people easily, especially if it was a direct request. He didn’t know how to say no. He just couldn’t. Wolfwood thought it would have been great if the privilege was only preserved for him but this is Vash the Stampede he was talking about, someone who would unabashedly claim he loves a tree as much as he loves Wolfwood, so he gritted his teeth and swallowed.
The blond kept his silence. His gaze was elsewhere, suddenly finding interest in a spot of flaky paint on the wall. So Wolfwood played dirty. He dropped his head, lips lightly feathering the lobe of Vash’s left ear, tickling the silver piece or jewelry adorning his flesh, breath coming out hot in a filthy whisper.
‘Come on, can’t I?’
There was a hitch in Vash’s breathing as he closed his eyes and turned away from Wolfwood’s hungry gaze. He hid his face behind his human arm but the reddening tip of his ears gave himself away.
‘I don’t… know. We shouldn’t-’
He knew what Vash was getting at. There are a million reasons why he shouldn’t be involved with the Humanoid Typhoon. A man who was designated as mankind’s first human Act of God. He was a walking calamity. His prosthetic left arm hid a gun inside and his right human arm was a weapon capable of annihilating this whole planet. He destroyed July and blew a hole in the fifth moon.
Fundamentally, he was an entirely different creature from what Wolfwood was.
Nevertheless, Wolfwood ignored all of his rationale and narrowed down on the only reason why he wanted to touch this man. Every fibre of his being yearned for Vash. To touch him, to taste him, to have him, to violate him, to own him-
‘Please.’
He would like to believe that he was feigning desperation, anything to get the blond to give him the permission to be selfish. His hand was shaking with anticipation when he laced his fingers with Vash’s scarred ones. Slowly, shyly, Vash let his hand be pinned on the coarse, dry bedsheet. The corner of his eyes was red. He looked on the verge of crying even though Wolfwood had barely done a thing.
Ah, watching the blond’s resolve falling apart fueled the fire in his guts.
The priest thought it was about time he took a different approach to make Vash give in. Action speaks louder than words, after all.
Lips grazed on burning skin, peppering kisses on the gunman’s cheek. Vash shrinked away from the touch as if it burned. A distressed noise escaped those lips as he thrashed under the priest, putting up a mock attempt of resistance, his hands pressed against the naked chest, keeping Wolfwood from getting closer. He didn’t push the raven haired man back. He could have done so if he wished, and that was the opening that he needed.
His lips hovered above the trapped man, breath coming out hot and impatient.
‘Vash, want yer so bad. Lemme take care of yer.’
Breathless whisper caressed Vash’s lips, begging, pleading. Their lips were inches apart. Dark, lustful eyes locked onto icy green. Time seemed to stop. His heart was thumping in his ears. It pleased him to hear their heartbeat in resonance. Just a bit more, a tiny bit more, until Vash caves, he could tell, he could smell it, his triumphant within reach-
It was a one-way street the moment the blond gave up, finally giving in to the priest’s guile. A shaky “okay” rang Wolfwood’s victory bell. Meanwhile, it was Vash’s one-way ticket down the bottomless pit of regret in the morning after.
Wolfwood might be a servant of God but he wasn’t a believer. He didn’t follow God’s teaching; if he did, he would be a different man and never would he ever have Vash like this. Hell is where he would end up someday. He knew his place. So before that day comes, he wanted to at least have a taste of the forbidden fruit.
Vash tasted as sweet as he thought he would. He coaxed the blond’s pretty mouth to open up, granting entrance for the raven haired man to fully explore. Instantly, Wolfwood discovered a new type of drug that got him hooked. He never knew innocence could taste so good. Coaxing, encouraging the gunman with his tongue, he taught Vash how to interact in this new form of physical contact.
It was laughably easy how the Humanoid Typhoon got carried away despite his objection to any of this a few minutes ago. Wolfwood sucked, licked and devoured to quench his thirst. The more he got, the more addicted he became. His hand tilted Vash’s head to fit their mouths together in a better angle. He swallowed the noises that Vash made with utmost devotion. Delicious vibrations incited his greed.
‘Ah- W-Wolf… wood.’
They broke apart, only because the gunman suddenly pushed him with renewed strength with his hands. The thin string of saliva connected them broke when the priest pulled back, his hand still buried in those blond strands. Quiet, broken gasps leaked out from Vash’s bruised lips and Wolfwood’s gaze trailed from the exposed, scarred, damaged skin on his stomach to his face.
The priest held his breath.
The shirt that he wore was pushed to his collarbone, bunched up above his chest revealing skin and bones. He had seen the blond naked before. He knew what to expect underneath the layer of flamboyant leathers and jackets. Pale, white skin marred by the hands of humans, littered with patches of damaged skin, suture stitches, protruding bolts, burn marks, permanent abrasion collars from gunshot wounds; old injuries, new injuries criss-crossing on the canvas of his body.
On his chest, right above his heart, mounted a metal plate the size of an adult’s hand to protect the vital organs beating underneath.
What was this feeling, that was bubbling in his ribcage? Pity? He had no right to pity Vash. Anguish? Because this man chose to keep these souvenirs as a reminder to himself? Irritation? At who? The people who did this to him? Vash? Or at himself-
The priest shook his head as if to discard the distasteful thoughts. He couldn’t let this distract him. Knowing how the blond was, he assumed that the man would probably get the wrong idea by his sudden lack of enthusiasm.
Apparently, he did.
His prosthetic hand hastily moved to cover his mouth. The shirt that he wore was tugged back to its original place, covering his torso and his knees bent up in an attempt to push Wolfwood off. His face burned with shame, unshed tears threatened to overflow, spiky blond hair disheveled. Wolfwood marveled at the superb sight of the Humanoid Typhoon with blatant amazement. In front of him was the perfect picture of vulnerability that he doubted Vash the Stampede had ever had the courage to show anyone.
For the first time in his life, Wolfwood understood the concept of being torn between the desire to “protect and treasure” and the urge to “violate and possess”. He wanted to tease him, wanted to make him cry, wanted to spoil him rotten and wanted to hug him tight.
With tenderness that surprised even himself, he asked the blond.
‘Hey, have yer done this with anyone?’
Vash froze and avoided the priest’s scrutinizing look. He shook his head, blond hair swaying lightly. Wolfwood waited, because he thought Vash wanted to add something, from the way his prosthetic arm quivered.
‘... no… I doubt that anyone… is interested in such an unsightly body.’
A barely audible voice, without any intention to conceal his melancholy. The Humanoid Typhoon, naturally, didn’t have any complex about his own body, rather, he welcomed the scars and marks as parts of himself, a fragment of his existence. People, however, might not be comfortable with looking at his tattered body, that much he was aware of.
It tugged at Wolfwood’s heartstring.
Certainly, the damage done to his body was gruesome to look at. Not to mention, no matter how he looked at it, Vash was still a man with his tall frame, long limbs, trained muscles and broad shoulders. There was nothing feminine about the gunman; no soft breasts, no elegant curves, no sweet flowery smell. Squinting as hard as he might, Wolfwood would never find any similarity between the women that he held and the Humanoid Typhoon.
Wolfwood questioned what kind of damned person would want to indulge in carnal desire with a body that looked like it had survived the most horror of history? Jokes on him. Apparently, he would.
Under normal circumstances, it would be natural for anyone to be deterred by the sight of Vash’s wounds and scars. That is to say, under “normal circumstances” and for “normal people”, that is.
‘Unsightly, huh. These are proof that yer have been sticking to your belief this whole time. Yer body is not unsightly, rather, it’s the opposite.’
Wolfwood’s brain was on auto-pilot. He blurted out whatever was on his mind instead of choosing his words carefully like how he would his sermon. Satisfying his own needs was no longer his top priority. He needed to tell Vash-
‘Yer have any idea how yer turnin’ me on?’
The raven haired man said while gesturing at his lower half that has been rock hard this whole time.
Vash looked at him, dumbfounded. It was almost comical, considering the time and place, to tell his partner that he had a boner because of him.
Real smooth Nicholas, the priest cursed at himself and cleared his throat.
‘Huh? But… how?’
Vash wasn’t laughing so what he said must have had some kind of impact on the blond. Ice green eyes stared at the clergyman in disbelief. He didn’t seem to trust his ears, nor did he trust his visual optic. Wiping away a stray tear, the brown skinned man cradled his partner’s cheek in his hand. When the eye contact was established, Wolfwood bent down to steal a kiss from the unsuspecting blond.
‘Don’t ask. On that note, does that mean I get to be yer first?’
‘Ugh!’
A lovely shade of red decorated his skin upon hearing the priest’s question, or rather, his presumptuous assumption. The man’s hold on his cheek prevented him from turning away. He wondered if he had gone overboard with his teasing because Vash refused to open his mouth. Instead, the blond did his best to glare at the raven haired man. It was ineffective against the priest, considering the state that he was in…
Teary eyes.
Flushed skin.
The legendary gunman looked good enough to eat-
‘... don’t state the obvious… idiot.’
Praise the Lord, thanks for the meal.
Wolfwood didn’t waste his time stripping Vash of his clothes. The other man’s protest was swallowed by a hungry priest. Running his tongue over kiss-swollen lips, he tasted iron when sharp canines broke through delicate tissues. It wasn’t enough. Greed knows no bounds. All Wolfwood asked for was a taste and next thing he knew, he was sucking his companion’s mouth like a parched man on an oasis.
There was no way Vash was guileless in this narrative either. He was a being that possessed both the inexperience of a virgin and mature lewdness. Should he wish to stop, the Humanoid Typhoon could easily push him away; yet he chose not to.
Sweet moans filled the room, embellished from time to time with occasional groans and suppressed sighs as curious hands explored an unknown territory of skin and metal. Wolfwood learnt, bless his street smarts and nimble fingers, how to make Vash sing for him, playing him like a fiddle, finding all his weak spots and caressing it, abusing it, playing with it. If he was to go to Hell for his sins, including the sin of defiling innocence, then Vash’s lust-filled cries made Hell a better place for the priest.
Kisses rained on his neck, his collarbone, his sternum, his scars, his wounds, his stitch marks and everywhere that his lips could land on. Lovingly, tenderly, like a lover would be, Wolfwood mapped out the blond’s body and descended downward, finally paying attention to the painfully aroused manhood between those long legs.
‘Ah- not there…’
His startled protest, naturally, fell on deaf ears. The priest planted a hand on the gunman’s thigh for leverage, his other hand fisted the base of Vash’s raging hard-on. Whatever he couldn’t cover with his hand, he made up for it with his mouth. The blond let out a choked scream as his hips bucked up into the warm crevice. Fingers carded through dark locks, pulling on his scalp. Had the priest not prepared for his frantic reaction and placed a hand to keep Vash steady, he would have gagged on his dick.
‘Wolf…wood… s-stop… I-’
With the sensitivity of someone who wasn’t acquainted with pleasure, Vash’s reaction spurred Wolfwood on. Sly fingers slipped lower to fondle his balls, a wicked tongue teased the slit then swirled around the crown of his dick, giving long, wet stripe that was anything but torture to the inexperienced man.
It didn’t take long for the blond to shoot his load. His balls tightened, a muffled scream were all the signs that Wolfwood needed to prepare himself. A thick, warm and salty liquid filled his oral cavity and he gladly drank it all. Slurping the last of cum spurting out from his softened member, the priest released his hold and straightened his back. With a crack of his tired neck, he glanced at the boneless man lying with dazed eyes, still soaked in the afterglow of his orgasm.
It was just one simple blowjob without any fancy technique and the Humanoid Typhoon already looked wrecked. Wolfwood couldn’t wait to see more of that debauched side of him.
‘Heh, was I that good?’
That earned him another resentful glare for the tenth time something that night. Shakily, Vash lifted himself up and pulled the blanket over his naked body. Like a sulky child, he scowled at his companion.
‘Don’t ask me that! Why did you swallow?! You didn’t even stop when I told you to- ugh. Perverted priest!’
Wolfwood chortled.
‘Yer are so unreasonable. I did my best to please yer and this is what I get? If yer hated it that much then how about putting up some real fight?’
Nervous icy green jerked up to stare at Wolfwood.
‘What-’
The priest slammed his hand on either side of Vash’s head and the frown on his face deepened.
‘I’m serious. If yer wants to run, do it now. If yer wants to call it quit, then hit me. Otherwise I won’t. Even if yer cry, I’m not gonna stop.’
This was his final warning. He might have been the one to start this out of his selfish impulse but forcing someone against their will wasn’t his hobby. Inside his slacks, his dick was so hard, it was almost unbearable. However, he would allow the other man a leeway as the final act of mercy tonight.
The blond was on the verge of crying again but Wolfwood made no move to comfort him. He watched as Vash sniffed, occasionally, he bit back a choked sound and exhaled between short, rushed breaths. Time was ticking, it felt like forever for the priest. Until it was Vash who broke the silence.
‘You are always… so unfair.’
The raven haired man let out a sigh of relief and offered his partner a small smile.
‘I know.’
Vash must have seen through everything. He knew how cunning Wolfwood could be and how he was willing to play dirty to get what he wanted. He knew that he couldn’t bring himself to say no to this man. It was his loss, ever since the beginning.
He closed his eyes in acceptance and loosened his hold on the blanket. The raven haired man gently pried his hands from the soft fabric and placed them on his shoulders. Kisses rained down on Vash’s neck, his cheeks, his nose, his eyelids and finally, on his lips. Chaste, feathery touches left by Wolfwood’s devilish lips stirred his troubled heart.
He could feel fingers tracing his rear and testing the muscle of his entrance. The blond couldn’t help but tense up a little. Wolfwood seemed to notice his discomfort.
‘Relax, breathe. Yer are too tight.’
He whispered and nipped on Vash’s pierced earlobe. To his surprise, his partner made the first request that night.
‘Kiss me.’
Who was he to not obey? Anything that the blond asked for, the priest was more than happy to provide. Their tongues intertwined, exchanging saliva and hot breath. Not forgetting his main task, Wolfwood kicked off his borrowed shorts and pulled out a small bottle of lube from his pocket, all the while without breaking the kiss. His left hand played with Vash’s exposed nipple, pinching and pulling it. The blond reacted well to the stimulus, his back arched, unconsciously seeking more.
Lewd , the priest murmured and pulled away to squeeze the lube onto his fingers. Vash whined from the sudden lack of contact, his eyes already misty from physiological tears. The raven haired man didn’t keep him waiting for long. When his lips returned to take Vash’s breath away, his middle finger, which was properly lubricated, pushed through his ring of muscles.
Before the blond could register what happened, Wolfwood pinched his nipple hard and squeezed it between his fingers. An electric current ran through Vash’s spine. He whimpered pitifully under the priest, weak hands clung to his back like his only lifeline. Empty words of sweet nothing and praises were poured into his ears as Wolfwood worked on loosening him up but all he heard was a buzzing sound when his vision zoned out.
It felt weird but not entirely unpleasant. His brain was too distracted to care about the discomfort that he might have felt somewhere when the priest put his second finger in. He was too focused on Wolfwood to care. His scent, the familiar gunpowder smell mixed with the smoky scent of tobacco. His rough, deep voice from his excessive smoking habit. His skilled fingers, his chapped lips, his sturdied body, his warmth. It was overwhelming and dizzying in a mysterious way.
‘Spikey, hold on to me.’
Vash sobbed and followed the instruction blindly. Strong hand supported his back, guiding him to straddle Wolfwood’s lap.
‘Aight. Up yer go.’
Wolfwood was smiling at him almost apologetically. If Vash didn’t know any better, he would have been tricked into believing that the priest actually felt the slightest bit of remorse over the situation. It was the same face that Wolfwood made when he gave out candies to the kids that he met during their journey together. A gentle face, a voice full of compassion and empathy. For some reasons, and under various circumstances, his chest was always filled with a sense of relief whenever he saw the priest’s smile.
Since when did Wolfwood hold such power over the Humanoid Typhoon’s state of mind? He didn’t want to find out. Even if he wanted to, he didn’t have the ability to think straight now that they were busy getting caught up in their affair.
Wolfwood took his flesh and blood palm. With the resilient perseverance, his lips mouthed the pale, wounds-ridden skin on the back of his scarred hand, dark eyes closed, dark lashes fluttered. The gunslinger had never seen Wolfwood pray, that man rarely showed other people his priestly moment but he had an inkling his partner would hold the rosary the same way he held his hand as he uttered praises to the Lord.
A perfect imitation.
‘Oh, don’t get sentimental now. Yer cry over every damn thing.’
The overlapping images were shattered as Wolfwood grinned at Vash, his eyes twinkled with mischief. Almost caringly, he wiped away another stray drop of tear on his cheek.
‘Way to ruin the mood. You don’t think that I would seriously hit you now and put an end to your caprice?’
Shaking his head, the gunman asked, prosthetic arm slung over Wolfwood’s back shifted to place on his shoulder instead. The heat that transmitted from the priest’s palm to his human one was warm, the kind of warmth that Vash wasn’t used to.
‘Yer won’t. Even if yer hit me, I’m not letting yer go. I told yer, idiot, I want yer. Besides-’
Wolfwood’s cocky smirk bared his straight, white teeth.
‘- yer don’t want me to stop either, do you?’
The blond thought about his response but none sounds about right. Ice green eyes lowered. What should he say to defend himself from such accusations?
‘There yer go lookin’ like yer lonely again. Yer really are testing my patience, Spikey.’
Since when did Wolfwood see through his facade?
‘Patience is a virtue. Considering your profession, I think you are familiar with the concept, Mister Priest.’
Vash smiled as the raven haired man gave a snort.
‘Yeah right. Then I’m gonna ask yer one last time-’
He held his breath. His palm was sweaty. His heartbeat started to sound too loud in his eardrums.
‘-what do yer want, Vash?’
A dirty move. Not that he expected Wolfwood to play fair to begin with. The priest was an unreasonable man after all. Of all time and place, he just had to address the Humanoid Typhoon by his name now.
Slumping his shoulders, Vash exhaled in resignation.
‘... you… if you would have me.’
The priest didn’t need to be told twice.
‘Good boy.’
It was exactly what he had been waiting for.
As much as he would love to take it slow, Wolfwood’s mental thread of self-restraint snapped and flew away with his reasoning the moment Vash shyly grinded down on his hard-on, swollen lips let loose sweet sighs and the priest’s name, sounding delicious on the tip of his tongue. Ice green eyes blazed with lust, no longer able to control his excitement.
The clergy man licked his lips and placed his hands on either side of Vash’s hips. The blond could take three of his fingers, he should be ready. The little noises and needy sounds that he made backed up his interpretation. Vash’s fingers tangled in his hair to pull the priest into another kiss.
‘... don’t make me- nn, wait.’
Your enthusiasm is much appreciated , the priest whispered. His dick slipped in almost too easily. Slowly, he slid in, through the ring of muscles. Vash keened and Wolfwood could feel metal clawing on his back.
‘Ugh… feels good. Hahh, Spikey.’
His inside was throbbing and pulsing, like a beating heart, as it pulled him in, gripping like a vice. Wolfwood grunted and forced Vash to stay still, his grip on the other man’s waist steeled when he finally sheathed himself in. It felt so good, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. In his head, he thanked the woman at the bar from the bottom of his heart, seeing that without his previous deed with her, he would have embarrassed himself by coming right on the spot, just from being inside Vash. His companion seemed to share the sentiment as he gasped for air, hips writhing in Wolfwood’s hold, his dick hard as a rock, rubbing against his stomach.
For someone who wasn’t used to intimacy, Vash was responsive to everything and sensitive to anything the priest did. Sandwiched between their stomachs, the raven haired man could feel his dick weeping with renewed interest. Sticky precum smeared on their skin was proof enough that the Humanoid Typhoon was enjoying this as much as he did. His back arched, sweats ran down his torso and his face contorted with something other than sadness and loneliness for once.
Imperfect as he is, this creature before Wolfwood took his breath away.
‘Wolf…wood?’
Sensing Vash’s troubled look, the priest raised his head and offered him a reassuring smile.
‘Yeah, just… gimme a moment. Yer good?’
To which the blond gunman nodded slightly.
‘It’s weird… inside…I’m full of you…’
Ah, he had done it. He just knew what to say in order to get the priest riled up. Without warning, Wolfwood snapped his hips up into the velvety heat. Vash’s heels dug into his lower back as he sobbed loudly. His hole tightened up lusciously around the throbbing member.
The little hiccups and small whimpers tugged at his conscience, just a little, because he knew how Vash was. It took Wolfwood a willpower rivaling a Saint’s to refrain from just pulling out and ramming all the way back in again because the blond mattered. He wanted to make it good for Vash, wanted him to enjoy this as much as he did.
‘Fuckin’ tight.’
The gunman on his lap squirmed. He bit down on the other man’s shoulder, his eyes wet and hazy as his hole stretched to accommodate the intrusion, sucking the manhood in with earnest. It felt like he was being eaten up. Gradually, he moved, shallow thrusts and clumsy at first, then established a rhythm to rob Vash of the ability to speak coherently and keep him full of Wolfwood.
Though inexperienced as he claimed to be, the blond gunman exuded an alluring charm in bed. He didn’t need to teach Vash how to shake his hips, how to grind down, how to make himself feel good, the blond was a natural. He had his hands on the priest’s abs and matched his movement with Wolfwood’s. Licking his lips like a starved animal, Wolfwood let go of his waist and reached for Vash’s dick. He was rewarded with a startled cry.
‘W-wha…?’
‘Keep movin’. Fuck, yer look so good ridin’ my cock like that.’
He could hear the hitch in Vash’s breath when he rubbed circles on the slit of his penis, smearing translucent liquid over the bulbous head. He stilled but Wolfwood would have none of that. They were just getting to the good part. The gunman trembled and collapsed on top of his chest from the onslaught of sensations as the priest continued jerking him off.
‘Wolfwood… If you do that… ahh… I-I…’
‘Yer gonna cum?’
Vash could only nod as the only form of confirmation that he could manage. His mind was muddled, his brain short-circuited from the relentless waves of pleasure assaulting his senses. He has been feeling lightheaded for a while now, after having discovered a certain angle to grind down on Wolfwood’s dick that sent electricity current down his spine. It was damn good, mind-blowing even because half of Vash’s vocabulary was reduced to gibberish ever since he discovered that spot.
The raven haired man’s lips on his whispered promises but his ears couldn’t register what he said. The heat didn’t subside, it only got worse.
He called out the priest’s name like his lifesaver because he knew he wouldn’t be neglected.
‘Wolfwood, please- ahh.’
He was under the priest now, back pressed against the squeaking mattress, his head supported by a pillow, out of breath and bent in half with his legs on the other man’s shoulders. The hard length entered again and Wolfwood kept his promise. He fucked him good. Rough thrusts pushed him onto the bed with a cry that could break a lesser man. His body seized up, his nerves picking up pleasure from what Wolfwood was doing.
‘Fuck, nghh, yer taking me so well. Wanna fill you up. Hah, yer like that, Spikey?’
Obscence spilled from a mouth that was unbefitting of a priest yet it turned him on greatly. A rough, callused hand was toying with his cock, stroking leisurely, occasionally thumping the dribbling slit. Another hand got a firm hold on his thigh and Vash could feel those blunt nails digging in his skin, hard enough to leave bruises in the morning. His thoughts were interrupted when Wolfwood hit the spot that made him throw his head back and scream.
‘Whoa, did it feel that good? Haha, yer are drooling.’
If he wasn’t busy picking up pieces of his shattered consciousness, the blond would be scowling at Wolfwood. He didn’t even have the time to form a proper sentence when the other man picked up the pace and fucked into Vash with pure abandon. Strings of convoluted consonants were gouged out of him, his jaw opened, a trickle of drool leaked from the corner of his mouth.
He let himself be taken away, drowned by the ecstasy and let himself suffocate. His hole clenched around Wolfwood, pulling him in as his own cock twitched, balls tightened, ready to come again.
The sound that Vash made from the abused vocal cord was frantic when he climaxed in the priest’s hand. The raven haired man was still moving, cursing under his breath in short jagged breath as he shoved forward and tried to get as much of himself in Vash’s body. His entire body got goosebumps from how good it felt when he let himself go inside of the blond. The guttural groans that he made, signaling his own release, sounded like a beast’s.
They both needed a moment to just get their respiratory system working efficiently again and get air into their lungs. After a minute that dragged out like ten, Wolfwood shivered and gave a few shallow thrusts before slowly retreating his spent cock. A trail of cloudy fluid dripped out from Vash’s used hole and spilled onto the bed sheet. The blond was sticky from sweat. Spurts of his own cum had gotten on his stomach, already in the process of drying. His spiky blond hair was in a disoriented state, stuck to his temple and a few strands matted to his forehead.
Wolfwood wasn’t any better. His neck spotted an angry bitemark. The area on his shoulders were red from the friction and a dull ache introduced itself in his lower back as a result of Vash’s heels digging into it.
Vash was the first to make a move, by supporting his upper torso up with his elbow. He was halted by the foreign feeling of dampness in his lower back when the residue of their affair started to leak out. Blood rushed to his face, clearing his blissful post-orgasm state of mind as he realized the horror of the situation.
They have done it.
They have really done it and Wolfwood even came inside.
The priest must have mistaken his companion’s frown for discomfort.
‘Hey, yer need help? Is there pain anywhere?’
Vash shook his head and made a noise from the back of his throat.
‘Can I have some tissues? It’s… going to get on the bed.’
‘O-oh. Yeah, sure.’
Fortunately, Wolfwood didn’t make any crass comments. He left the bed briefly, then came back with a wet towel and a bottle of water in hand. Vash accepted the towel gratefully and cleaned himself up with it. Once he was done, Wolfwood took away the towel, handed him the opened bottle of water and waltzed back to the bathroom. Being left alone, the blond could hear the water running.
Now then, what kind of face should he make when he looks at Wolfwood? He couldn’t really pretend that they were drunk and laugh it off, like nothing happened. His memory could recite Wolfwood’s heated whispers and it was enough to make Vash’s face combust into various shades of red. Burying his face in the pillow, the Humanoid Typhoon lamented over the suspended consequence of their whim, hanging in the atmosphere like the blade of Damocles.
Secretly, he was happy when Wolfwood held him. His entire existence resonated with joys when the raven haired man touched him and told him that he was wanted. He didn’t know how much he wished for company, both physically and mentally, until Wolfwood drilled that into him with his words and action. A hundred years of wandering the world with only solitude as his loyal companion did that to him.
Wolfwood broke the circle, crossed the line and showed Vash something that made him long for, for the first time in a hundred years.
‘Stop soakin’ yerself in sentiments. I could hear what yer are thinkin’ from over here.’
A big and gentle hand brushed through his hair and jerked him back to reality. Vash shifted to peek at the man from the pillow. Wolfwood had a rare, non-crooked cigarette in his mouth and he was already in the process of lighting it. Initially, Vash didn’t like the acrid smell of smoke, it resembled gunpowder’s, of conflict and haunting nightmare when the Ark crashed onto this planet. The raven haired priest came, forcefully re-write his olfactory memory of the unpleasant odor with the image of an unruly, impulsive man who was willing to go through length for him.
It brought a small, genuine smile to his face.
Since when did Wolfwood become special to him, a creature who loved everyone and every living being on this planet equally? He let him into his life and welcomed his comforting presence. His feelings towards the priest were long anticipated since his first appearance in Vash’s life.
Rem taught him about the world and about love. She had never taught him about this complex of “wanting something to happen” and “afraid of losing what he has”.
‘Don’t be so mean. My whole body is sore because of you.’
He complained but his tone was light. Wolfwood finished his cigarette and snubbed it in the ashtray placed on the nightstand. He crawled under the cover, together with Vash, his face close but maintaining a respectable distance to peer into the face of the lengendary gunman.
‘Ah, my bad. Yer better get used to it then.’
He said, nonchalantly, uncaring of the restlessness which was starting to show on Vash’s face. The blond masked it with a nervous laugh. He prolonged the sound, forced it to come out until he couldn’t. Dark eyes, so dark it reflected nothing at the bottom of them, were still on him, staring at him, studying, the corner of his eye crinkled, just the slightest bit, hinting amusement.
‘Your joke isn’t funny.’
He looked away, at the naked chest of the man, the toned abs, the scar on the side of his abdomen to the slight tear on his lent shorts.
‘I ain’t jokin’ though.’
Wolfwood had the audacity to chuckle, sounding like it was a complete stranger’s business. It was unnerving, how Vash was the only one affected by this whole scenario.
‘Bad taste.’
He muttered as his head was pulled against the chest that he had been staring at for the past few seconds.
‘The same goes to yer. Go to sleep, Spikey.’
Underneath Wolfwood’s brown, sun-kissed skin, Vash could hear a heart racing, thumping in a tempo too fast for a normal human heart and the realization hit him. So this was how Wolfwood felt all along while keeping up his cool bravado. How cunning, but he couldn’t bring himself to hate that dishonest part of the priest, not that he could, even if he tried.
‘Good night, Nicholas.’
The priest’s eyes widened, no longer than seconds, when he heard his name for the first time that night. It was more fufilling than anything he had done the past years, after entering adulthood and this life of an itinerant servant of God.
Closing his eyes, Wolfwood pushed the lingering thoughts that he had to the back of his mind. Their time was limited and he would like to delay the foreseeable ending to the best of his capability. He would deal with his foolishness, their foolishness, in the morning, over a cup of coffee and some donuts, or some time later, if possible.
As of now, Nicholas could proudly claim that he didn’t regret a thing.
.