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Chapter Text

“Oi! Watch where you’re shooting that thing!” 

This was most definitely one of the worst ideas he’d ever had. Vash danced out of the way yet another spray of bullets from one of the most ill-advised weapons he’d ever seen, some gigantic cross-shaped gun wielded by the madman currently firing at the bandits trying to rob him. All he had wanted to do was quietly sneak out of the tavern with the silver he’d earned from tonight’s show when five goons popped out of the darkness brandishing shortswords. He hadn’t known what else to do, surrounded by so many foes with only his lute for defense. Perhaps asking the dark figure smoking in the alley for assistance wasn’t the wisest move on his part, but how was he to know the guy would shoot so indiscriminately? 

“You gotta problem, princess?” The stranger’s gruff voice mocked him from the other side of the squirmish, far too much undisguised glee as he swung his giant cross into one of the bandits. There was a sickening crack as something undoubtedly broke. Vash had to stop this from going too far, one of these men was sure to die if he didn’t put a damper on this fight. He strummed his lute, utilizing his fancy footwork to dodge slashing blades and stray bullets, infusing magic into his chords. 

“Kiss my ass! ” Vicious mockery was assuredly not the most helpful spell in his repertoire but it didn’t do much damage and it left an opening for his overeager companion’s attacks. The men were beginning to notice the unfair advantage one lowly bard now had and started to eye an exit. Vash almost breathed a sigh of relief, everyone would get out of this intact. That is, until a spray of blood soaked into his chest and the bandit in front of him collapsed. His fellow bandits rushed to him and fled the scene, leaving Vash blood-soaked and shell-shocked. He met the eyes of his savior and the bastard had the nerve to wink at him. 

“You can say ‘thank you’ at any time, Blondie.” He flipped that massive cross easily, letting it rest across his broad shoulders as Vash felt heat flood his cheeks. 

“Do you have any idea how much damage you just caused?” Vash flailed miserably, his gaze catching on the pool of blood glinting in the dim torchlight. “You very well may have killed that man!” 

“And ruined your fancy outfit, huh?” He taunted with a positively shit-eating grin, completely unconcerned for the sanctity of life. Vash glowered at him as he lit up another cigarette, casually shifting the weight of that gun like it was nothing. “Can’t ya just wave your hand and fix it all up?” Now that he wasn’t fighting, Vash could actually get a closer look at him. He wore heavy leather and chainmail armor, though a good portion of his chest was unprotected and left open to distract the eye. Vash tried to ignore the pleasant sight of those tan pectorals decorated in coarse hair and a simple cross necklace, forcing his attention on the scruffy far-too-pleased-with-himself grin and trailing smoke. 

“You could have killed all those—!” 

“Oh, piss off!” He interrupted, rolling his dark eyes. Vash wasn’t usually one to argue with a man who had such pretty dark eyes, but this was no time for distractions! “They were criminals, they wouldn’t think twice about slitting your pretty throat.” He watched in dismay as the handsome but reckless man brushed him off and started wrapping his cross again. The straps had come off in an instant and the eerie glowing gun had come alive in his hands. Vash had never seen a weapon quite like it but the machinery reminded him of his prosthetic arm. The color was even a similar enough hue, the same unnatural blueish-green. 

“I... I suppose I should thank you,” Vash conceded, anger dissolving the longer he watched those practiced hands expertly tighten buckles and straps. The way he was crouched down gave him a distracting view of his tight leather pants taunt on his impressive thighs. 

“You could buy me a drink?” He was smirking again, the lit end of his cigarette bobbing on his lips. Vash huffed, trying desperately to rein in his scattering impassioned thoughts. He’d had arguably too much ale in the tavern and struck out with the lovely ladies he’d had his eye on. It was a shame, too, they really had been beauties. And now he was being taunted with the most delicious man his wildest dreams could have conceived of and the guy was a trigger-happy loose-cannon hellbent on driving him mad. Or into his bed. 

“A drink ? Do you know how much it will cost me to get this much blood out of leather?” Vash’s voice had come out a lot whinier than he’d meant it to but he was in desperate need of a soft bed and cool glass of water thrown in his face. His red overcoat was precious to him and had been mercifully spared the worst of the stain. However, his black leather vest had not been as fortunate. 

“That’s not really my problem, is it, princess?” He stood, holding the concealed cross-gun on just two fingers over his shoulder. Vash very much wanted to get more friendly with those fingers but that wasn’t important right now. The more pressing issue was the muscular arm hooking around his neck to tug him back to the bar. “A drink’s the least you could do for the man who just saved your sorry ass.” 

༻❁༺

And that was how Vash found himself sitting back in the tavern he had tried to slip out of unnoticed, now with a gorgeous but off-limits companion. He made it a point to not jump into bed with mercenaries. 

“You want me to pay you how much? ” Vash could only gape at him when he pushed a slip of paper across the way, a written request for 20,000 gold pieces staring back at him. This guy has got to be joking, he thought. There was simply no way he could charge him this exorbitant amount of money for that back-alley scuffle. 

“You should have asked for my rates before hiring me,” He chuckled into his mug of ale, completely unruffled by Vash’s outburst. No matter how he protested, the mercenary was firm on his fee. Vash’s leg bounced as he scanned the patrons, needing this discussion to end as quickly as possible so he could leave before they found him again. The truth was he didn’t have that kind of money and he had no hope of acquiring it any time soon. But his brand-new companion asserted he’d stick around until he was duly-compensated. 

Vash really didn’t know how he ended up in these situations. Sure, he was weak for a pretty face and a charming smile but this was really pushing his good nature. And what kind of paladin in good-conscience could extort him like this? Weren’t they supposed to be holy warriors, empowered by celestials and gods? Nothing looked holy about this shady character, happily draining his mug and beckoning for another. 

“How exactly do you think a bard like me is going to repay you, good sir? ” He added the last part with dripping sarcasm, already pouty and tired of his insufferable handsome face. 

“I’m sure you’ll find some way, pretty thing like you.” He winked again, his grin showing off surprisingly sharp canines. “Ammunition's expensive stuff, y’know.” Vash mumbled under his breath something about not wasting bullets then but he trailed off before he could really get going. 

“I am grateful,” He admitted reluctantly, propping his chin up on his hand. “Even though you’re a morally-dubious ruffian, you did help me out of a bind there...uh?” Vash realized he didn’t even know the name of the man now shackled to him by debt. 

“Nicholas D. Wolfwood, at your service.” He held out a hand to shake and Vash tried to ignore that it was big and rough and warm in his delicate slim-fingered grasp. 

“Vash,” He supplied, a smile unable to contain itself softening his features. That is, until Wolfwood yanked him forward by their grasped hands. 

“You’re the Vash the Stampede?” Wolfwood sounded like it was the most laughable thing on this plane that the man across from him could be a legendary outlaw. 

“Not so loud!” Vash tried to admonish, hissing through his teeth. 

“Well, shit! Your bounty’s more than enough to cover what you owe me, Blondie!” Vash should never have opened his big dumb mouth. He yanked his hand free and contemplated running for it, but that huge gun gave him pause. He wasn’t sure he could survive a shot in the back from something like that. 

“ Please , don’t?” Was the only defense he could offer, trying to put his baby blue eyes to work. He’d been told his puppy-dog eyes were quite persuasive. 

“Relax, princess,” Wolfwood glanced away a bit too quickly, his eyes almost imperceptibly widening before he masked whatever emotion was trying to come through. “There’s not enough gold anywhere to actually pay out a bounty that high. It’s not worth the trouble.” Vash breathed a relieved sigh, relaxing back in his chair. 

“I’m glad you—” Vash began but was interrupted once more. 

“Strange that you never drew your pistol, if you ask me. Don’t know why you even needed me.” Wolfwood’s eyes were nearly black and burning into him like embers over the rim of his metal tankard. Vash squirmed under their scrutiny, settling a hand against his mostly concealed holster. 

“I prefer to talk my way out of things. Less people get hurt that way.” 

“Hard to wrack up a bounty that high on words alone, Blondie.” Vash glanced away, the crowded room shifting to reveal two newcomers. A short woman in white robes and dark hair spotted him at the same moment and he jumped to his feet. 

“We have to go, now!” He tried to yank the mercenary into a standing position but he stubbornly resisted, casting his own gaze around first. “No time, let’s go! They’re after me and I just gave them the slip!” 

“ Who’s after ya, princess?” Wolfwood allowed himself to be pulled onto his feet and rushed out, just barely getting his fingers around the strap of his massive gun. 

“The insurance company! Those pesky bureaucrats just won’t leave me be!” Vash shoved the man forward and just barely managed to get out the backdoor and down the dark alley before he heard the women’s voices pursuing them. It’s not that he particularly disliked Meryl and Milly’s company, they were generally on friendly terms. But sometimes a fella just wanted an evening to himself without getting lectured or babysat. And if getting some more time alone with a roguish mercenary happened to be a bonus, who was he to complain? 

༻❁༺

Wolfwood turned out to be a more welcome member of their little party than Vash had initially thought. The more he observed the paladin, the more he liked him. And it wasn’t just that he was attractive, no. Wolfwood had a good heart buried under all that bravado and cynicism that was making him increasingly difficult to resist. At one inn, he worked in the kitchen to aid the single mother owner overworked with little staff and too much debt. He was kind to children, always kneeling down with a grin and playful hair tousle. He could be stingy and gruff with Vash and the girls but he saw enough of that softness shine through. And to make matters worse, Wolfwood was a shameless flirt, especially when it came to undoing an extra lace or two on his shirt to get a free drink. But Vash hadn’t seen it go much further than that. Even with Milly, the two returned from their brief escapades together as nothing more than casual acquaintances, maybe even friends. 

Seeing the mercenary get hit on endlessly in every tavern they visited but never go home with anyone was starting to baffle him. He could smirk and say something suggestive, oozing charisma, but then shy away if things got too serious, if hands started wandering. It’s not like he would mind if Wolfwood needed their shared room to himself! He’d take a hint and busy himself for an evening if Wolfwood needed to blow off some steam. Vash was beginning to worry about him. He was chain-smoking and grumpy, his temper only subsiding after a few drinks. But no matter how many people offered, the paladin went to bed alone.

Vash naturally concluded that the two of them needed some quality time together. Vash hadn’t properly found a way to repay Wolfwood for his kindness or company, after all. It certainly had nothing to do with his own dry spell or Wolfwood’s progressively foul mood. He knew Wolfwood was interested in him, at least. He was an expert at picking up subtle hints that he was attracting attention. He’d caught Wolfwood staring at his hands or his lips too many times to be entirely innocent. And Wolfwood had a tell when Vash was getting to him, something he exploited whenever he could. So Vash decided to bend his rule about mercenaries and count Wolfwood among his friends, someone he’d eagerly assist if asked. 

He started by giving Wolfwood opportunities to make a move on him. Vash went to their room early, just so he could sprawl alluring in his bed for when his roommate joined him (he was ignored). He used the excuse of alcohol to get physically close, hanging off him with unsteady feet so Wolfwood could catch him heroically and carry him to bed (he didn’t). He played up a damsel-in-distress routine when they got in minor skirmishes but Wolfwood just called him a dumbass. He smiled, trailed his fingers along his arm, brushed up closer than he needed to when passing him by, but nothing! No matter how he tried to present himself, Wolfwood wasn’t taking the bait. Vash was almost at the end of his rope as the weeks dragged on. 

This had never happened before! Vash was pouting, finally accepting he may not be able to properly seduce his new friend this way. When he was a court musician, all the nobles fawned over him. They adored his music, they laughed at his jokes. Each of his suitors that had taken him back to their chambers had treated him like something precious and lovely. But ever since he was forced to flee, he’d been striking out. What was different? Sure, he was sober a lot more often now. But he always made a fool of himself when he drank too much. It was for the best if he tried to moderate himself. 

The girls were in some other shady corner, canoodling whilst Vash brooded. Wolfwood was across the crowded tavern from him, too far to make out his words but he was in a good position to watch him from his seat by the fire. Wolfwood was playing a game of darts with some rugged ranger, the two of them playfully jostling each other and trying to trip the other up. Vash wanted very much to insert himself into their game, jealously seeking Wolfwood’s attention, but he resisted the temptation. Wolfwood was allowed to cozy up to this outlander, even if it filled him with pangs of envy and rejection. 

Through watching the interaction, he gleaned something. The ranger set his hand against Wolfwood’s hip and helped guide his toss, pressed close enough to breathe into his ear. Wolfwood sucked in a breath, the tell Vash had understood to be when he was getting riled up. Perhaps he’d been going about this all wrong. He’d been interpreting Wolfwood’s withdraws from romantic attention as a lack of interest or perhaps a misguided attempt at sparing Vash the need to find lodging elsewhere. But the way he turned away from the over-friendly smile of the ranger revealed a more nervous expression than discomfort. This was interesting. It seemed Wolfwood was all bark and no bite due to an enderning bout of shyness! 

If Wolfwood was shy, then it was no wonder why he wasn’t responding to Vash’s advances. They all relied on the possibly inexperienced paladin taking the reins. Vash wasn’t often expected to be the assertive one. His suitors, regardless of their gender, had most often prefered him to be submissive and demure. He was a well-behaved dog, eager to please, a very good boy. He earned his treats gladly. But every now and then, he’d be given a suitor who wanted him to hold the leash. Vash liked that, too. He wanted to please , that was all. He didn’t mind which role he had to play as long as his partner was satisfied. 

Vash tried to play it cool when Wolfwood joined him by the fire, sinking into the armchair next to him and propping up his boots near the hearth. It seemed he had rebuffed the ranger’s advances and come to sulk with him in the brooding corner. Vash wanted very much to pry into his head and pick apart his thoughts but he’d learned the hard way not to pester Wolfwood too much. He didn’t want to start a fight. 

“He seemed...friendly.” Vash ventured tentatively, going for a neutral tone of voice. Or at least he tried, his insinuating eyebrow had a mind of its own. 

“Yeah, tried to snag my coin purse while I was distracted.” Wolfwood lit up a smoke for himself, branding his unstolen drawstring bag full of clinking coin. They’d gotten paid well for a bodyguard job recently and all the wealth was burning a hole in his pocket. 

“You know...I don’t mind bunking with the girls for a night if you need some alone time. I can’t help but notice you’ve been tense.” Vash batted his golden lashes, leaning over the arm to crowd in closer to the unimpressed scowl he was giving him. It was all for show, of course. Vash could see the subtle darkening of his eyes, the slight ruddiness flooding his cheeks under his coarse stubble, the way he sucked in his first inhale deeply before blowing a cloud of smoke in his face. 

Vash tried to suppress the cough but ended up hacking in a rather undignified manner while Wolfwood snickered to himself. 

“Don’t see why it’s any of your concern, princess, who I spend my nights with. Maybe I just need some quiet contemplation with the divine?” Vash had learned an awful lot about Wolfwood in their travels but he’d never seen him enter a temple or pray. He didn’t even know the name of his god, the unfamiliar cross symbol lost on him in his limited knowledge of religion. But even so, perhaps Wolfwood was more of a pious man than he’d taken him for. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve taken some vow of chastity, have you?” Paladins weren’t priests, he couldn’t be celebate, could he? The potential guilt and shame made him back off, face crumbling in regret. No wonder Wolfwood lost his temper when he flirted with him too much! He’d been hit and insulted and yelled at plenty by the mercenary beside him and yet he hadn’t learned. 

“N-no! Nine hells, I haven’t...that’s not...” Wolfwood covered his face in his hand, his cigarette pinched between his fingers. “I’m not celebate, I have my fair share of indulgences.” The way he was hiding his face gave him pause. He sounded like he was lying. Vash stood and tipped his chin up with just his fingers, leaning all the way in to prop his weight on the arm. 

“Then tell me, why do you keep denying yourself? I hope it’s not for my sake.” He watched Wolfwood’s throat bob as he swallowed, his eyes flicking nervously between meeting his gaze and his lips. Oh, Vash wanted to eat him up. 

“I’m not really interested in getting involved with strangers. It makes things messy.” There was that flicker of dishonesty again, Wolfwood leaning away from Vash’s gentle fingers. He had a fair point, Vash conceded. But he wasn’t a stranger! They were friends and what were friends for? There was a reason they called them sexual favors . Wolfwood desperately needed to relax and Vash could help. 

“Well, if you change your mind,” Vash began to offer but Wolfwood cut him off by leaping to his feet. It was sudden enough that they almost collided but Vash deftly sidestepped, narrowly avoiding a headbutt to his nose. 

“I’m getting a drink.” Wolfwood announced and was off, hurrying to the bar. Yes, perhaps a drink was the best course of action. He followed and draped himself languidly against the counter, a flirtatious smile aimed at the barkeep. 

“Salutations, my fair lady,” Vash attempted to bring her hand to his lips for a kiss but she hastily snatched her hand away. It hurt his pride a little, what was with him lately? Vash tried to inconspicuously check if his overcoat smelled in some way, only detecting his own mild soap and general wear of travel. She slid an ale to him without so much as a smile but gave one to Wolfwood beside him. 

“You haven’t had much luck with the ladies, have ya?” He smirked at him and Vash forlornly turned his face to the smooth wooden bar. 

“I don’t know what’s happened to me! Have I been cursed?” He shoved back up, big teary eyes directed at his silently laughing companion. “I never had this much trouble at the castle. I’ve always had a reputation for being easy but now...” Vash trailed off, his mind replaying the countless nights of drunken flirtation. His memories were understandably a bit hazy, drinks were always pushed into his hands no matter how many he’d had. He was a talented minstrel, they loved his songs, they called him beautiful. Was he simply a better flirt inebriated? 

“‘Easy’ how?” Wolfwood quirked up a brow, pausing in bringing his mug to his lips. 

“Y’know...I’m easy to get into bed...” Vash bashfully swirled his finger against the counter, feeling blush creep up to his ears. He wasn’t necessarily ashamed of his reputation but under the weight of Wolfwood’s scrutiny it suddenly felt trivial. When he braved a glance at his companion, Wolfwood’s expression was stormy. 

“ You haven’t had any company, either.” He pointed out, tone neutral despite his scowl. 

“Is this you offering...?” Vash tried for his flirtatious grin again, reaching up to twirl the lace of Wolfwood’s open shirt around his finger. “You and I could make beautiful music together.” The paladin immediately stiffened his posture, his complexion darkening with the rush of blood to his cheeks. He really was pent up if such mild flirting got him so flustered. Wolfwood downed his drink hastily and slammed it down harder than necessary, his stormy dark eyes anywhere but Vash’s direction. 

“That’s...the worst line I’ve ever heard, Blondie. You’re a bard, aren’t you supposed to be good with your words?” He indelicately untangled Vash’s fingers from his chest hair and stepped away, a forced cocky expression masking his obvious reluctance. 

“I can-!” Vash tripped over his feet as he tried to follow Wolfwood’s retreating form, tumbling onto the hard ground without a dashing knight to catch him. This evening was turning into a disaster. He took his ale back to his brooding corner to sulk and practice one-liners. 

Three drinks in, he was making himself giggle with bad puns. Wolfwood was avoiding him and he tried not to let it dampen his spirits too much. He should be an expert in wooing people, after all! This was a point of pride for him, he’d see it through. Wolfwood was just playing hard to get. Vash was more than familiar with that game. He liked to be chased and caught. Wolfwood seemed to respond best to a less subtle approach so he just had to wait for the right opportunity. 

༻❁༺

The tavern gradually thinned as the evening wore on, drunken patrons making their ways home or up to the inn. Wolfwood came to collect the rather tipsy bard slumped down in his comfortable armchair. 

“It’s getting late, you should get up to bed.” Wolfwood’s gruff voice was unbearably kind and it spun Vash’s already hazy mind. He smiled up at him dopily, yanking the paladin with surprising force onto his lap. The element of surprise aided him, Wolfwood clumsily cradled against his chest as he cooed, half-lidded. 

“I only want to help you, Wolfwood~ Please, I can make you see the heavens. I’ll ruin you for everyone else. Please, just let me take you to bed?” Vash trailed his hand up one strong thigh, his nose brushing up against a scruffy cheek. Wolfwood wasn’t making much of an effort to get away but there were a few strangled grunts escaping him as he squirmed. He was sat perpendicular on his legs and as Vash leaned back, he pulled the mercenary in closer. His fingers danced along his inner thigh, feeling the warmth through the relaxed black leather. His attention splintered as he caught sight of the ranger from before and a wash of smug satisfaction made him slide his hand all the way up to the laces holding Wolfwood’s trousers together with a smirk, sharp gaze locked on the poor sap who lost out. What he felt beneath the leather confines was larger than he expected and it twitched against his flat palm as he pressed a teasing kiss to Wolfwood’s jaw. 

“What in the nine hells do you think you’re doing, Blondie?” Wolfwood finally shouted at him, shattering the dreamy spell he’d been put under by the tempresses of his thighs and good ale. Vash blinked helplessly, his hand jumping away the instant Wolfwood protested. But the damage had already been done, Wolfwood was furious, his face flushed with rage. Vash couldn’t find the words to defend himself, he could only stare blankly into those mirror-black eyes, trying to find an answer. 

“I thought...isn’t this...how it works?” His voice cracked on the last note, stinging tears welling up in his eyes. None of this was how it was supposed to be. He remembered an evening where one of his suitors had done just this, capturing a squirming and protesting Vash who giggled at his wandering hands. He’d enjoyed that, hadn’t he? The memory twisted something sickening in his gut, his befuddled mind supplying him with a more sinister tint to his recollection. The tears were really falling now, dripping down his chin as his arms went slack and Wolfwood got to his feet. 

“I’m going up to the room now.” Wolfwood awkwardly straightened his tunic and belt, looking anywhere other than at the blubbering mess in the armchair. “You’re drunk, Blondie. Try to get some sleep.” And then he was gone. 

Vash took a restock of his time at the palace, flinching at the suppressed memories he didn’t like to face. He’d been so young when he found his way there, a delightful cherub with rosy cheeks and a heavenly voice. The royal family had adored him! He was given a home providing he sang and played his many instruments. But as he aged and his body became closer to an adult’s and not a child’s, the praises started to change. The attention he craved twisted into something else. They gave him so many drinks, such pretty colors and delicious flavors, but all of them meant to loosen his inhibitions. 

He was a fool. Vash knew that, deep down. For as much as they politely clapped at his singing in the main halls, it was nothing on the raucous applause he received for his drunken tabletop dances and improvised raunchy songs. He was a jester, a joke. None of the suitors who’d ever bedded him would see him as anything else. But he liked it, the attention, the praise, the wanting . He made them happy, didn’t he? 

Vash held his face in his hands until the tears subsided and the ground stopped swaying beneath his feet. Making his way up the stairs on his clumsy feet was a feat but he managed it, miserably shouldering into his shared room with Wolfwood. 

The aforementioned paladin had changed into his sleep clothes, a soft shirt with a deep v Vash wished wasn’t taunting him and loose drawstring trousers. His hair was damp and he was toweling it off idly when Vash entered. 

“I’m sorry, Wolfwood. There’s...there’s no excuse for my behavior.” He kept his eyes downcast, his arms wrapped around himself. He’d never felt more miserable. 

“You...want to tell me what all that was down there?” Wolfwood sounded far calmer and kinder than he deserved, his quiet footsteps bringing him closer. 

“I- Fuck, I just thought... I thought you liked me?” Vash felt another tear leak down his cheek and he sighed, brushing it off on the lapel of his overcoat. “I thought I could help . You’ve been grumpy and tense and you’re really sweet, Wolfwood. I just wanted to repay you.” 

“I do like you, dumbass.” Wolfwood flicked his forehead, earning him a pathetic wail of displeasure from the sad sack before him. “I don’t want your...services. I’ve forgiven your debt, don’t worry about it.” Vash blinked wetly up at him, his slouched posture making him appear smaller than he was. 

“B-but-! Wolfwood, I can still give you a hand! You really are pent up, I can tell. We’re friends, it doesn’t have to be...messy.” Vash wouldn’t dream of putting his hands on Wolfwood again, not without explicit consent, but he did shuffle a bit closer. “I should have just come right out and said it instead of playing games. I should have just asked you, I understand that now. But I thought you were playing hard to get. I thought you wanted me to...be more assertive.” 

“Stop thinking about what I want. What do you want?” Wolfwood was blushing again but his expression was stormy and angry. Not at him , Vash realized. But angry nonetheless. He tried to sort through his emotions, cringing at the still-fresh painful memories intruding in. Vash liked to be wanted and he liked to be praised. He liked to be helpful. If this was how he could be useful, then he wanted that! 

“I want to make you feel better, Wolfwood.” His mouth twisted at his answer, clearly unsatisfied. 

“Stop thinking about me. You’re always putting everyone else first, even if it kills you, Blondie.” Wolfwood stepped in, closing the distance to grab Vash by his coat. “Be selfish, indulge . Tell me what you wanted to get out of this.” He floundered, cheeks warming as he thought of all the parts of Wolfwood he admired. It’s not that he was getting nothing from taking the paladin to bed. He was handsome and kind and Vash liked him, Vash really liked him if he was being honest. 

“I want...what you want. Whatever it is, I’ll do it!” He tried for a smile, sniffling as he wiped his cheek with the back of his hand. 

“Damn it all, Vash! What will get through that big empty head of yours?” Wolfwood shook him, growling. “I’m not jumping into bed with a guy who clearly doesn’t want this. Your smiles are the emptiest fucking things I’ve ever seen. It hurts to look at you doing this to yourself.” 

Vash started sobbing again, hiding his red face behind his hands. Wolfwood made a soft comforting kind of sound and pulled him into a hug. He was warm and solid, letting Vash lean his weight against him. Wolfwood had made himself clear that nothing was going to happen between them tonight and some part of him relaxed, relieved that he wouldn’t have to untangle all of that mess just yet. But this kindness was unexpected. He was so rarely held just for the sake of it, warm hands rubbing his back for comfort with no intention. 

“Tell me what you want, Vash,” He was so gentle with his request, his calloused fingers gently rubbing into the scruff at his nape. Vash sniffled, wiping his face on the towel draped over Wolfwood’s shoulder. He liked to be kissed and cuddled. It wasn’t often that he got that kindness, and he really needed it now. 

“I...I’d really like to kiss you...if that’s okay?” Vash was still hesitant to touch him and it seemed Wolfwood shared his sentiment, hands awkwardly hung in the air with no purpose. 

“Y-yeah, I can do that.” Wolfwood didn’t sound too confident about it but he took Vash’s cheeks in his hands and drew him in, hesitating only briefly before pressing their lips together. And that’s all it was, a slightly puckered press of his lips, closed-mouthed and soft. His scruff tickled at Vash’s chin and his upper lip and he had to fight giggles the longer the kiss went on without a single movement from Wolfwood’s lips. His fingers were starting to tremble, the mighty paladin pulling away red-faced and huffy. 

“You haven’t done this before, have you?” Vash smiled at him, biting his lip to keep from laughing. He didn’t know he could be any further enamored with him but here he was, warmth filling his chest. Wolfwood bristled and palmed his face away, cursing under his breath. 

“Fuck you, Blondie!” He tried to keep shoving Vash away from him but he was good and giggling now, clinging onto his sleeves to keep his balance. 

“I’d like to sometime.” Vash couldn’t help one last flirty comment, bringing Wolfwood’s hand to his lips to kiss lightly against his knuckles. “But I’ll settle for another kiss?” Wolfwood was still visibly embarrassed by his lack of experience but he nevertheless dipped back in for another kiss, brows furrowed in concentration. 

“Is this...good? Is it okay?” Wolfwood grimaced, pressing their foreheads together. 

“It’s nice,” Vash breathed, the simple innocence of such a sweet first kiss bringing new tears to his eyes. “You don’t have to be embarrassed, Wolfwood—” 

“Nick,” He interrupted, his shy hands finally resting on his hips. “If you’re gonna be kissing me, you might as well use my first name.” Wolfwood, Nick, rolled his eyes and huffed a little laugh through his nose. 

“Everyone starts somewhere, Nick. I’ll be happy to teach you all about it.” He couldn’t help his giddy smile, rubbing their noses together before Wolfwood pulled away in a show of mock outrage. 

“Keep it in your pants, princess. I’m not just a piece of ass over here.” Vash feigned a look of innocence, gesturing to himself. “Don’t try and act dumb, I’ve seen you undressing me with your eyes every chance you get. You’re doing it right now!” Vash flushed with the shock of getting caught. He wasn’t looking at him like that , honest! And in his defense, Wolfwood’s tits had looked at him first. He pouted, slipping out of his overcoat as Wolfwood took a seat at the edge of the bed. There were two, they’d already fought over which would sleep closer to the window or closer to the door. 

“Like you don’t ogle me?” Vash countered, watching Wolfwood try and fail to keep his eyes off the curve of his slim waist accentuated by his leather vest. “Now, be a gentleman and close your eyes while I change.” 

“Too shy to undress in front of me, Blondie? Weren’t you just trying to get in my pants all night?” Wolfwood diligently averted his gaze, fingers combing through his shaggy hair. 

“There’s a lot I can do without undressing.” Vash teased, relishing the ruddy hue it brought to his complexion. He’d never get tired of making him blush. Vash stripped off the tight vest and sighed, catching a glint of obsidian eyes on him. “No peeking!” Wolfwood snapped back to looking at the ceiling, leg bouncing in agitation. Once in his own sleep clothes, he drifted back over to his companion, tossing the damp towel on the ground. 

“Is it safe to look now?” Wolfwood had closed his eyes so Vash took the opportunity to cup his face and hold him still for a feather-light kiss to the bridge of his aquiline nose. 

“You can look at me.” Wolfwood opened his eyes and Vash watched as his pupils dilated when they focused on him, his dark lashes fluttering with nerves. “Can I climb up on your lap, Nick?” He bristled at the request, sucking a long breath through his teeth. His shaky exhale and slightly trembling voice squeezed Vash’s heart in a vice. 

“Y-yeah, you can.” 

“You sure?” 

“Get up here,” He growled, pulling Vash closer by his hips. He carefully perched on his knees bracketing Wolfwood’s thighs, draping his arms over his shoulders. 

“Is it alright...if I kiss you?” Vash was exceptionally gentle with him, taking care that the hinges of his prosthetic fingers didn’t catch in his hair as he carded through it. He couldn’t keep the playful giggle from his voice, though. Wolfwood nodded, his large hands squeezing around his waist. They almost touched at his fingertips and the thought made Vash’s head spin. “Just...relax and don’t think too hard about it.” 

Vash kept his lips just as soft as his trailing fingers, slowly coaxing Wolfwood to part his lips just slightly, just enough to suck his lower lip between his and flick his tongue in a light tease. He hissed into the kiss, making Vash giggle again. Eventually he moved on to kissing his face, peppering him with all the affection he could stand. 

“You’re so pretty, Nick.” Vash sighed, taking a moment to just admire him in the golden lamplight. He cringed away from the compliment, grimacing. “What, you don’t like that? Is handsome better?” Vash nuzzled his nose against his cheek, his hands drifting down to rest flat on his chest. 

“It’s fine,” Wolfwood gasped out, his self-control crumbling the longer he had Vash squirming around on his lap. “You’re the pretty one here, sweetheart.” Vash nearly fell off his lap from the shock of such an affectionate pet name falling from his sharp mouth. He always said “princess” with an air of sarcasm and “Blondie” like a curse. He wasn’t expecting something so sincere just yet. Wolfwood seemed to notice his slipup at the same time, shyly avoiding his eyes. 

“Can we...lay down now? Will you stay here with me?” Vash tried not to cling onto him, telling himself he’d be okay if he refused, but he very much wanted to keep being held and treated so gently. Wolfwood touched him like he was made of glass, like he was the most expensive and precious thing he’d ever held and Vash didn’t want that to end so soon. 

“S-sure, yeah...I can do that.” 

They climbed under the covers and cozied in, Vash leaning over to extinguish the lamp. The bed wasn’t exactly built for two grown men to fit, even one as lithe as Vash, so they had to practically tangle themselves together to get comfortable. Vash ended up with Wolfwood’s amble chest as a pillow, happily nuzzling the surprising soft patch of hair there and the cool metal of his cross necklace. He’d probably wake with an impression of it on his cheek but he didn’t care, finally warm and safe in his arms. 

Chapter Text

Nicholas D. Wolfwood didn’t know how he’d gotten himself here. Vash the Stampede had come into his life like a whirlwind and he couldn’t tell which way was up anymore. He was a mercenary, a tool, a weapon. A sword didn’t have desires of its own. A bullet didn’t care for who it was meant for. He was given orders by the Angel, the very being he’d sworn his oath to, this was just a job. The Punisher was meant to keep Vash safe and guide him to his slaughter. That safety had extended to even keeping him out of a stranger’s bed. Who knew what kind of danger Vash could get himself into by following his... Nicholas didn’t want to finish that thought. Vash still hadn’t noticed it was Wolfwood’s glare that made him keep striking out. He never thought his bed was somewhere he’d have to fight to keep Vash out of either. Sleeping with his mark, or anyone for that matter, was never in his plans. 

But Nicholas held him in his arms, he kissed him, and nothing made sense anymore. Vash was an absolute menace trying to show him scrolls of anatomy or raunchy novellas sold in dark corners of shops. He claimed it was all in the name of helping him but Wolfwood didn’t want it. As a child he’d been taught that if he touched himself he’d go blind and he believed it for an embarrassingly long time. The orphanage he’d grown up in was run by old-fashioned people who tried to instill in him virtues of chastity and restraint. And then he’d been taken and made into a hunting dog, his own pain or desires completely obsolete. By time he was grown and out in the world, there wasn’t any point in it. His fellow mercenaries were the last people he’d want to end up with and he didn’t care for one night of pleasure followed by a lifetime of shame. Nine hells, he already felt enough guilt from just kissing. 

The Punisher was not a soft thing, he wasn’t built for comfort. But Vash was laying on top of him, his chin propped on his hands as he gazed lovingly down at him. They were just laying here, fully dressed and appropriate but he couldn’t stop feeling like he was doing something wrong. It was wrong to make Vash trust him. It was the worst thing he’d ever do, betraying the gentle man on his chest, full of love. He was trying to keep his expression neutral through all this, since Vash was looking right at him . But the angel seemed to be lost in his own thoughts. 

Wolfwood knew Vash wasn’t an aasimar like he pretended to be; he was an angel, the twin of his master, the very same being he was eternally bound to. He still remembered seeing her for the first time. She was a broken thing, a mess of wings and rings and fire. He’d barely been able to look at her. He certainly couldn’t understand her when she spoke. But the Angel had accepted his vow and imbued him with her power. He could still hear her sometimes, whispering nonsense in his ear. If he tried—

“What are you thinking about down there?” Vash’s voice drew him out of his thoughts, his finger lightly tapping his nose. Nicholas felt his face warm, looking away from his sparkling blue eyes. 

“Uh...you?” He panicked, not wanting to disclose any of the mess he’d been dwelling on. 

“All good things, I hope.” Vash rested his hand on his chest, not with intention, just resting. Nicholas tried to relax. Vash had been exceedingly patient with him. There were nights he couldn’t bear to even look at the angel in the bed next to his, longing for him to be here instead. But that just hurt, too. Vash’s voice was always soft and breathy when they were alone like this, like he was afraid of startling him. He’d heard Vash’s obnoxious laugh and his ridiculous deep seductive voice that didn’t work in the slightest. Except that it was endearing. Vash could act just like an excited puppy eager for his master’s attention. 

That thought turned his stomach. They were both dogs, in their own ways. He was trained to kill and Vash was taught to please. They bore the same scars, in that way. Vash was so open and soft, here, like this. He wasn’t wearing that mask with him. It made the deepening cracks in his own fill with warmth and ache in equal measure. 

“What were you thinking about?” Nicholas tried to drag himself up out of the spiraling thoughts, his hands dead things at his sides. He raised them with some effort to rest on the small of Vash’s back. This, too, felt dangerous. He was toeing a line he was too scared to cross. 

“Oh, you know...” Vash blushed a bit, his fingers spreading on his chest. Wolfwood’s heart rate picked up a tick, his eyes immediately skittering away. Right. They were pressed together closely like this. Vash’s legs were between his, his warm solid weight reassuring and comfortable, but it did present a slight problem for his... Well, he was just a man, after all. 

“I should’ve known,” Nicholas grumbled a bit, only a little annoyed. Vash was always gentle with him now and even though he pouted about it for a bit, he’d always back off if Wolfwood asked him to. It had taken some convincing on Wolfwood’s part to even get Vash like this, the angel still a bit gun-shy when it came to Nicholas’s boundaries. The morning they’d both woken up to Vash getting a little too friendly with his thigh was enough to make them both need some space to deal with their mutual mortification. 

“I was just thinking...” Vash began, waiting until he had Wolfwood’s attention to continue. Wolfwood braced himself wearily for another plea to educate him. “It’s okay if this is all it ever is, you know. I enjoy your company and this is enough, if it’s all you want.” Nicholas’s thoughts promptly left his head as he stared blankly at Vash above him. 

“You’re really okay with that?” 

“I know you’ve never done this before and you’re nervous. That’s okay! You don’t ever have to! And you know I haven’t made it a secret how much I admire your- uh, you .” Vash was flushing deeper now, starting to gesture with his hands as a nervous tic. “But I’m okay with this, I really am. I don’t want you to feel like you’re disappointing me. And I don’t want you to feel like you’re using me, either. There isn’t anything you’d ask of me that I wouldn’t want to do.” 

Wolfwood thought he might cry. Vash had made it his entire life's work to give. He sacrificed his time and his safety and his well-being for others. Some who deserved it, and others who didn’t. And here he was, denying himself again . For him . The Punisher deserved this kindness the least of all. But Nicholas, oh he wanted it. Like the greedy sinner he was, he wanted all of Vash. That night when Vash had touched him, he’d never felt such immediate shame at how much he wanted it. He’d had to put himself in a cold bath just to cool down. He ached to give Vash something back, to make him feel as warm and safe as he made everyone else. 

“I—” Nicholas choked on his words, his voice gruffer than it should be. “I want to.” His face and body flooded with heat, part excitement and mostly embarrassment. Vash’s eyes widened with his surprise, both his hands now resting on his chest. Wolfwood knew how much he liked it and he left his shirts open a bit more just for him. Vash was in one of his shirts now, claiming all of his were dirty. 

“Are you sure? You really don’t have to, Nick. I don’t want to hurt you.” Not again. But he didn’t know. Vash didn’t know that his reluctance wasn’t a lack of desire. Nicholas brought his hands up under his shirt, just feeling the heat of Vash’s warm skin. He ran hotter than a human should, but he wasn’t human. 

“I want to,” He stated firmer, locking eyes with him. The Punisher was a weapon, yes. But he’d also been crafted to serve the Angel’s orders. Vash was an angel, a being of light and air he’d been made to worship. He could kneel at his altar instead. The thought made his cross burn against his chest, the symbol of the Eye a constant reminder of what stood between them. He took it and tossed it to the side, ignoring the warning. 

“What do you want to do?” Vash leaned in, obviously trying to restrain his eagerness. “Start small, I don’t think—” 

“Teach me how to make you feel good. Just you.” Wolfwood wanted to crawl into his shallow grave for how quickly the words left his lips but it had to be done. He could do this. The Punisher felt no fear. 

“What? Uh...Nick, that’s not exactly...” Vash was blushing up to his ears now, the tips turning pink. “I don’t have what you’re expecting.” 

“I don’t have any experience with what’s supposed to be there. I don’t care what it is, just show me.” He huffed it out a lot more irritated than he wanted to but Vash didn’t have any reason to be shy. Nicholas knew he was, of course. He didn’t let him see him without his shirt still but he could touch him like this, as long as he stayed away from his chest. Wolfwood slowly moved his hands up that impossibly tiny waist, drinking in the little gasp it got him from Vash. 

“Well, with romance like that, it’s a shock you’ve never gotten anyone into your bed.” Vash’s sarcasm aside, he was right. Wolfwood had no idea how to do this. 

“Please, Vash,” Wolfwood tried to make his voice soft like his, letting his furrowed brow relax into something closer to the tenderness he felt. “I want you to have something good for once. I want you to have someone who cares more about you than themselves.” He was barely clinging onto his tattered pride by hiding behind “someone” there. The agonizing tenderness in his heart made him squeeze his hands around his ribs, pulling him down closer to his lips. “Please?” 

Vash was painfully gentle with his kisses, his mismatched hands cupping his cheeks. He’d still ask sometimes, if he wasn’t sure. But Wolfwood didn’t want his soft kisses tonight. He’d gotten better with practice and sometimes they’d gone a bit too far. He remembered with some lingering regret the heated kisses they’d shared down a darkened alley that had been interrupted by a wyrm attack on the village. Trying to focus during that fight had been a struggle. 

He met Vash’s soft lips with more hunger, biting just hard enough to make Vash let out the little moan he loved hearing. He’d been learning everything he could about Vash’s reactions, playing them over and over again late at night when sleep eluded him. One benefit of only being with Vash was he could target everything he’d learned as accurately as he could shoot. He waited until Vash’s breaths were ragged to flip them over, now straddling him as he trailed his kisses down his neck. Vash wasn’t wearing any pants so Wolfwood tried to be mindful, lifting his shirt only enough to expose his stomach for more kisses. 

“W-wait! Wait!” Vash pushed up a bit, face crimson as his coat. Nicholas froze, propping up on his hands to give Vash some room. He was a wreck, blush spreading down his chest. “You want to do it now ?” 

“Why not now?” Nicholas felt there was no time like the present. If he had time to build up to it, he might just chicken out. 

“Well, I just... I’m not dressed, I would want it to be, you know, a little more special? I want to be pretty for you.” Vash had to be crazy, that was the only explanation.

“I think you look perfect like this.” He really did. His golden hair was flopped over his forehead, still limp from his bath. He wore his undergarments and Wolfwood’s shirt, his soft scarred skin mostly on display for him. His face was flushed and his lips were just a bit puffy from their kisses. He’d never looked better. Vash seemed flustered by the praise, pulling the shirt down just a bit lower. 

“You really think so? I mean, I know it’s not... It’s a lot.” He meant his scars. Nicholas traced his fingers over a particularly nasty-looking burn scar at his hip, his thumb resting on the jut of bone there. 

“You are the most gorgeous creature in all the world, angel. These don’t change that.” He pressed a light kiss to it, wishing he could kill whatever monster had given it to him but Vash would never let him. He got these scars from being too merciful. It was Nicholas’s favorite thing about him, how could he think they were ugly? 

“Oh,” Vash said, so full of wonder. Nicholas leaned down for another kiss, careful not to crush Vash with his weight. “I’ll show you what to do for me on one condition.” Wolfwood groaned, tucking his face against his neck. “I want to return the favor. It doesn’t have to be tonight, if that’s too much in one go. But you deserve it, too.” Wolfwood felt a traitorous twitch in his breeches, a fresh wave of shame and pleasure flooding him. The thought of Vash’s hand on him again was enough to occupy his thoughts for a long tense moment. 

“Fair’s fair.” He kissed Vash’s neck because it was in front of his lips and then got back to covering his skin in kisses. He even placed a few over his shirt on Vash’s chest, leaving it where Vash had moved it. As he trailed further down again, Vash spread his legs so he could get comfortable between them, Wolfwood’s fingers trembling with anticipation and nerves. 

“I just want to say before you see it, it’s weird. Don’t freak out, okay?” Vash was getting himself comfortable against the down pillows, propping himself up so he could better see what Nicholas was going to do. He wasn’t doing anything at the moment, his hands fisted in his breeches over his thighs. Wolfwood was having a staring contest with Vash’s undergarments, and losing. “You uh, might also want to lose your shirt. It can get...messy.” 

“Sure you just don’t want a show?” Wolfwood looked at him with his wolfish smirk, snark coming easier to him than whatever well of devotion he’d opened up inside him. 

“I’ll admit you look damn good shirtless but trust me, it is precautionary.” Wolfwood took off his shirt over his head, making sure to flex every muscle he could with the motion. He liked seeing Vash get all flustered about it. He reached out for him with a little whine and Nicholas scooted closer, letting Vash get his fill of touching his abs and squeezing his pecs while they kissed. He made the sweetest little sounds when he got worked up. Nicholas didn’t quite understand why but it made him proud nonetheless. 

Wolfwood kissed his way south again, taking his time now that he felt a little more confident. But that lasted briefly as he set his hands to the waistband. His heart pounded in his chest. He’d never done this, he didn’t know what to expect. The only thing he could discern from behind the fabric was that Vash appeared to be completely flat, not like him. Not what you’re expecting, he’d said. He swallowed and steeled himself, quickly glancing up at Vash for approval. Once given, he pulled them down slowly, averting his gaze to focus instead on getting them off. Vash closed his legs and drew them in anyway, shyly rubbing his thighs. 

“Just...don’t freak out, okay?” Vash was trying his best to relax again, taking even breaths. 

“Has that happened before?” He set his hands gently on his knees, just holding them. “Because there’s no way it’s worse than some of the things I’ve killed.” 

“...Poetry,” Vash replied flatly. 

“I... Everything’s so pretty about you, angel,” He tried again, flushing at the correction. “I can’t imagine this will be any different.” Wolfwood pressed a kiss to his knee, gently rubbing with his thumbs. “I’ll be fine, I won’t freak out.” Vash huffed a hard breath, blowing his bangs out of his face before slowly opening his legs. 

At first, Nicholas didn’t understand what he was looking at. Between Vash’s thighs was a pair of wings, white tipped with gold and pale pink. They were folded tight to his body, completely hiding anything that would be underneath. Wolfwood simply stared, his features carefully neutral since he knew Vash was watching for his reaction. 

“Can I...touch them?” Nicholas hesitantly settled closer, resting Vash’s legs around his hips. He only touched Vash’s thighs, his fingers skimming along old scars and fine hair. 

“Just be gentle.” Vash fluttered his hands with his nerves before resting them on his stomach. Wolfwood slowly pet one of them with his thumb, the feathers unbelievably soft. He was careful to go with the grain of them, the wings giving a slight shudder when he gently pinched one between his fingers. It extended like a bird’s wing, the inside feathers more pink and downy. He could feel the thin delicate bones, struck by how fragile they were. It slipped through his fingers and fit closely to body again, Vash giving a shiver. 

“...Are you moving them?” 

“It’s... somewhat involuntary.” 

“What should I do?” Vash made a strangled noise in his throat but reached down and took Wolfwood’s hand in his. 

“Take these and gently rub between the wings. They’ll open up as I get more...comfortable.” He touched his middle two fingers, blushing face turned away from him. It seemed a bit rude that Vash was suddenly being the bashful one. Wolfwood hesitantly did as he was asked, the hidden depths hot and slightly wet. He tried to be mindful of the feathers but they didn’t seem to mind getting a little ruffled as he stroked his fingers slowly between them. Vash gave a slight jolt and little sigh when his calluses caught a particularly sensitive spot, Wolfwood murmuring a soft apology each time. 

“Too rough,” Vash complained, his knees squeezing him between them. Wolfwood apologized again, feeling guilty for hurting him. He was about to suggest giving up when Vash slid his hand down between the wings, his long slim fingers rubbing in slow circles. As he watched, the wings opened far enough to see the dark pink skin shining with the slick fluid. Wolfwood had no idea what he was looking at, really, but there seemed to be a fleshy nub near the top Vash was giving his attention to. 

“Lick your fingers first, they’re too dry. And go slow, it’s sensitive.” Vash withdrew his hand again, shifting to get comfortable once more. 

“A little more direction would be appreciated. I have no damn clue what I’m doing here.” He did what Vash showed him, noting the slide was easier with a little spit. As he worked the little nub, he noticed it stiffen under his fingers and Vash’s breaths picked up, his hips giving the smallest pushes into the pressure. 

“That’s fine, it’s good.” Vash made a soft sound as he drifted his fingers down, gathering more of that wetness. “Careful, that’s sensitive too.” He writhed as Nicholas slowly dragged his fingers, his finger sinking just slightly into the hottest place yet. He assumed that was where he was meant to... Wolfwood gulped, hardly allowing himself to even think it. There was no possible way he could fit anything in such a small space. 

After the millionth time Vash made a noise of complaint, Wolfwood had just about had it. He sucked his fingers into his mouth, glaring down at Vash’s fluttering wings, when a thought struck him. If his hand was too much, he knew something softer he could try. He sank onto his stomach and kissed the fine blonde hair that led to soft feathers, his hands firmly holding Vash in place. 

“Nick-!” He sat up further, his fingers threading through his hair. Wolfwood looked at him, licking his lip. “That’s— You really don’t, uh...” Vash was redder than he’d ever seen him, his eyes shinier than they used to be. 

“Does it feel good?” 

“Yes, but—” He didn’t wait for the complaint and licked over the bud, trying to mimic his fingers with his tongue. The response from Vash was far more enthusiastic, his fingers tightening in his hair. Good, he could do this. Vash tasted bitter but it wasn’t bad. And the smell... He couldn’t put his finger on it but he couldn’t help burying his nose in further. The wings fluttered against his cheeks, the soft feathers sending shivers through him. With his mouth busy and Vash finally enjoying himself, he felt his thoughts drifting off again. 

Holding Vash’s wing in his fingers reminded him of being a small boy. He’d found a bird with a broken wing at his orphanage and the caretaker, Miss Melanie, helped him nurse it back to health. He remembered holding the fragile little thing in his hands and watching it fly away. He held Vash in his hands like that bird, the hands he’s stained with blood. He’d forgotten that before he was a killer, he’d been gentle. Nicholas’s hands weren’t always so rough. 

Vash was fragile in many ways but he was also a terrifying force of destruction. Wolfwood had witnessed the cataclysmic power he could wield if necessary and it frightened him. Vash could level an entire city, he could carve a crater into the moon. Vash was the furthest thing from a lowly sinner like him and he had no right being here between his legs, dragging from his lips soft gasps of his name like music to his ears. Like this, Wolfwood could pretend he was just a man. 

He came back from his drifting thoughts when Vash let out a cry, his back arching off the bed to press into his tongue. Nicholas looked up at him with concern that he’d done something wrong again but Vash was quick to reassure him, holding his head down by his hair. 

“No, please, don’t stop. Just like that, Nick.” He softened his grip to pet his hair back, his prosthetic gripping the sheets instead. Wolfwood didn’t mind the rough treatment, though. He wanted to make Vash do it again. The nub he’d been giving his attention to seemed bigger in his mouth, the skin darkened from the extra blood flowing to the area. Nicholas pulled away and Vash whined, wiggling his hips unhappily. 

“Relax, can you tell me what’s going on here?” He gently touched his thumb to it, wringing another little groan out of him. 

“It’s...uh, shy. It needs some coaxing to come out.” Wolfwood just stared at it, the wings fluttering around his hand as he gently stroked it. And then it clicked, this thing was his...well, it looked something like...a dick. He mentally cringed at the word but there wasn’t any other he’d rather use. It seemed everything about Vash was shy. 

“So...if that’s your dick, what’s this?” He slowly slid his thumb down to the molten place, the wet inner depths twitching against him. Vash gasped quietly, his hips rocking against the slight pressure. 

“That’s...where you uh, you know .” His face was positively crimson, his hands fluttering uselessly in front of him. 

“I don’t, you have to tell me.” He smirked a bit, enjoying watching Vash try to use his brain in such a state. It felt good to know he was finally getting a taste of his own medicine. 

“That’s,” He huffed, gesturing loosely. “Where you go in. ” Wolfwood glanced at it with apprehension. Surely he was joking. 

“What happened to all those anatomy lessons you wanted to give me? None of this sounds very scientific.” He had to bite back a laugh as Vash’s head was thrown back, both his hands covering his face. 

“I didn’t think you’d want a live demonstration , Nick!” 

He pressed light kisses to the inside of his thigh, his thumb gently stroking up and down the seam. Vash was groaning and trying to roll his hips into the friction, frustration clear in his tone and body language. 

“What do you want, angel? I need you to tell me what to do.” Wolfwood was a clever man, he could probably figure it out. But it was more exciting to make Vash use his words. He threw his hands down, his clear blue eyes shining and sharp. 

“Please, Nick, just finger me already!” Nicholas was taken aback by the light in his eyes but it wasn’t the first time Vash had glowed around him. When he stalled, trying to understand how that space was going to fit his fingers, Vash slid his hand down again to show him. He felt around with those long slim fingers before he slowly slid his middle one in, solidly emptying Wolfwood’s head of any thoughts as he watched. 

All too soon for either of them Vash retracted his hand, his finger shiny with the wetness now dribbling slowly out of him. 

“Just go slow, and put your mouth on me again.” Vash’s voice was gentle as he slid his fingers back into Wolfwood’s hair. Nicholas would have been content to just watch Vash play with himself but he had a job to do. He’d been given his orders and he’d see them through to the end. His cross burned at his back where the pendant had been flung but he ignored it, diving back into the soft downy feathers between Vash’s legs. 

His fingers were thicker than Vash’s so it took more patience to work them inside. But once he did, he started to understand the appeal. The wetness leaked down his hand and made sticky noises that went straight to his head, tangible evidence he was doing something right. The hot crushing heat around his fingers also drove him nearly mad, imagining what it would be like to bury himself inside. Vash had quickly become a whining, wriggling mess, his breathy voice a constant stream of “Yes!” and “There!” and his name and more pleas for him to go faster, harder, deeper. 

And all the while the little nub he’d been licking had grown into something he could firmly fit his lips around and suck, earning him a harsh tug of his hair and a ragged gasp. He was pulled off and he licked his lips, meeting Vash’s flushed gaze. 

“E-easy, please! I don’t want— I’m gonna finish too early like that.” Too early? Wolfwood wanted nothing more than to get him there, why drag it out? He obliged his angel though, peppering soft kisses around to give him a break. He noticed a faintly glowing script on Vash’s skin, the pale blue pretty against the pink and gold. A voice in the back of his head warned him, this was dangerous. A slight tingling had started in his fingertips buried deep inside like the charge in the air before a storm. Wolfwood desperately wanted to know what would happen when the lightning struck. 

“Please, please, please , Vash,” Wolfwood started mumbling against his feathers, his own breaths coming as pants. He sucked the rounded point of his dick into his mouth and flicked his tongue, both of Vash’s hands clawing at his hair for it. “Please, finish. I want to see it, I want to make you feel good. Please?” His voice was coming out closer to a whine than he wanted, his face warming with shame, but Vash was pushing himself into his fingers, his voice rising in urgency. Wolfwood went back to his sucking, careful to keep from getting too rough but it hardly mattered anymore. Vash held him down as he grinded against his face, his heat squeezing around his fingers with the rising pitch of his voice. 

When the cord finally snapped, Wolfwood felt a zap against his lips and his hand, sharp enough to get him to pull away. Vash was glowing brightly, his legs trembling as they relaxed and he melted into the mattress. There was a mess before him of fluids and feathers but Nicholas didn’t care, he was beautiful. He gently lapped up the leaking wetness, Vash showering him with soft praises and his hands in his hair. 

“Nick, love, please come here?” Vash cupped his cheeks to get him to look up and he saw two small fluttering wings sprouted from his temples. Nicholas crawled his way back up to Vash’s lips and kissed him breathless, Vash hands wandering all on their own over his chest. 

Nicholas sat back on his hunches, suddenly feeling skittish about Vash touching him. It felt ridiculous after what he’d just done but Vash’s fingers had brushed over his hip and he’d suddenly become painfully aware of the growing problem in his breeches. On his stomach, with his entire focus on urging an orgasm out of his beautiful angel, he’d almost forgotten about himself. 

“Oh! Well, look who’s happy to see me,” Vash cooed, sitting further up and letting his shirt fall over him once again. 

“Just ignore it, it’ll go away.” Wolfwood blushed and tried to hide the obvious tent in his pants, grumbling. 

“No! Nick,” He whined with big sad eyes, trying to grab his wrists. “It’s calling out to me, can’t you hear it? ‘Oh, please, Vash! Please help me, I’m dying of neglect!’” Wolfwood huffed, nearly too embarrassed to even form words. Why in the Nine Hells Vash using that voice when talking about his dick made him somehow harder was going to put him in his grave. 

“It’s fine , Blondie.” He looked away to try to calm himself but the visions of Vash’s slim fingers wrapped around him, or even worse, his pretty mouth, kept assaulting him. He’d never wanted anything more in his life and the thought terrified him. He wasn’t supposed to have needs or desires. He wasn’t a man but a blade. Vash getting close would only hurt him. 

But he didn’t pull away. He stayed where he was between Vash’s spread legs, the wetness he didn’t lap up shining against his thighs. Vash had trusted him not to hurt him. He could do the same. 

“…What are you wanting to do?” Nicholas kept his eyes fixed on a spot in the hardwood floor, his wrists captured in Vash’s gentle hands. 

“Whatever you’re comfortable with. It can just be my hand, if that’s okay?” He rubbed his wrist with his warm thumb, the pad gently calloused from his lute. 

“I don’t know…” Wolfwood made a face, his stomach giving a lurch at the thought. 

“What if…it’s your hand?” Nicholas slowly glanced back to him, relaxing just slightly. “You touch yourself and I’ll just watch. And maybe give you some helpful pointers?” 

“And that’s something…you’d want to do?” 

“Yes!” He nodded eagerly, drawing himself up on his knees. “I don’t want you to keep denying yourself. Trust me, you’ll thank me.” 

Wolfwood wanted to believe him. He’d never been brave enough to touch himself but he had felt occasional brushes or early morning grinding against the mattress before his shame kicked in. And if Vash was anything to go by, the experience was meant to be…heavenly. But he couldn’t shake the feeling he wouldn’t enjoy it. 

“Alright. How uh, how’s this gonna work?” He rubbed the back of his neck, already feeling the anxiety creeping up his spine. Vash nearly toppled out of bed in his haste to get something from his pack, his cute little butt waving in the air. Nicholas had to quickly look away, more unholy thoughts assailing him. 

“Found it!” Vash proudly presented a small jar and climbed back onto bed. “For your hands! I’ve never met someone with such rough hands before.” Vash got comfortable propped up against the pillows and patted his lap in invitation. 

“…You can’t be serious.” 

“I am! Sit here, I’ll look over your shoulder.” Wolfwood groaned but settled against his chest, resting his elbows on Vash’s thighs. “You can take your time. Sometimes it helps just touching your chest or thighs before going right to it.” 

Nicholas felt awkward but he hesitantly rubbed his thighs, trying to mimic the way he touched Vash. He didn’t get any less tense so Vash started kissing his neck, gently murmuring against his skin. 

“Is it okay if I touch your chest?” Vash asked him softly, nipping his ear. Wolfwood shivered at the sensation but nodded. Vash’s hand snaked around his ribs and up his chest, hugging him as much as he was exploring. “Can I touch your hips?” Nicholas nodded again, leaning further back against Vash’s chest. His breath hitched when Vash’s fingers slipped just under the waistband of his breeches, the skin there flushed and too warm. Just from such little attention, the problem in his pants was growing, his shameless little soldier eager for Vash’s fingers. But Vash pushed no further, sliding his hands back up to his chest and thumbing gently at his nipples. 

“Shit, Blondie,” He cursed softly, his skin extra sensitive. Vash kissed his shoulder in apology but he could still feel his smile against his skin. 

“Are you warmed up enough?” Vash hugged him again, hooking his chin over his shoulder. “We don’t have to keep going, you know. If it’s too much—” 

“No, I’m fine.” He felt ridiculous for being afraid to touch his own dick. Everyone did it, he knew. He’d heard more than his fair share of stories from drunken men bragging and being crass. Nicholas had nothing to be intimidated by. He took a deep breath and pushed his breeches down to his midthigh. Vash gasped at the sight of him, heavy and hard against his hip. 

“Oh, you are big.” Vash breathed, his arms tightening around him. He could feel Vash’s barely restrained urge to touch him, the trembling in his fingers tickling against his chest hair. “F-first the lotion, for your hands. Not too much.” Wolfwood fumbled for the little jar and took a small amount of it onto his finger. It was odorless and creamy. He had to admit it made his hands softer. It occurred to him then that this was how Vash’s hand was always so soft. He took it then and pressed soft kisses to his knuckles, distracting himself briefly from the task at hand. 

“The things I do for you...” He sighed but eased his hand down, just barely skimming his fingers over the sensitive skin with a hiss. Vash continued on with his kisses against his neck, sucking little marks there. He should chastise him for it since they’d be a pain to try and explain away come morning, but he liked the reminder that his angel was there just behind him. 

“This is for you too, love.” 

Nicholas took another deep breath and took himself in hand, just thumbing against the leaking tip. The glide of his hand was easier but still not what he expected, not after all of Vash’s slipperiness. Vash seemed to have the same thought and gently tapped his wrist. 

“Spit in your hand.” His voice was still soft but it held a certain commanding tone to it. Wolfwood complied without much time to overthink it, and went back to it. Stroking himself was more awkward than he’d anticipated, even with Vash giving him gentle encouragements in his ear and trailing his fingers along his skin. 

“Blondie, I don’t think this is working—” 

“What are you thinking about?” He nuzzled his neck, squeezing him tightly. “You have to get out of your head a bit. Think of something that excites you.” Wolfwood cast his thoughts to the visions of Vash that had been plaguing him ever since they’d first met. Fantasies more familiar than he’d ever care to admit came to him easily, his hips bucking up into his hand. “There you go, what are you thinking about?” 

“...You, dumbass.” Vash giggled and kissed his jaw, giving his pecs a playful grope. 

“I’m flattered. Anything in particular?” 

“Fuck off, I’m not telling you.” Wolfwood felt a fresh flood of shame and arousal at the thoughts playing out in his head, his unoccupied hand gripping Vash’s thigh. It was too much now that he was intimately familiar with what lurked between the angel’s legs, the thought of those soft wings and slick heat torturing him. It wasn’t long, embarrassingly so, before he felt a tightening, his heart pounding his chest. But Vash grabbed his wrist, stalling his hand. 

“Wait, not yet!” Wolfwood groaned at the denial, his dick bucking in complaint. “Trust me, it’ll be better if you wait.” He begrudgingly forgave him and returned to his fantasies. They got worse as he built it up again, picturing Vash on his lap instead, his soft sweet voice moaning out his name. But that wasn’t in his imagination, he realized. Vash was moaning in his ear and calling his name. The sound was enough to make him groan, his release approaching quickly. 

But once again, Vash caught his wrist and stopped him. Nicholas swore more emphatically this time, wanting to throttle him. He only forgave him because Vash started whining in his ear, “Just a little more, please? Please, just a little more. I can’t help it, you’re so sweet like this.” Nicholas blushed at his pleading but it went straight to his dick, the mental image of Vash begging for him too much. 

He was allowed to continue once more, Vash trailing his hands back up his chest. It was too easy to see Vash propping himself up, his blush all the way down his chest and up to his ears. Wolfwood regretted immensely that he couldn’t see him from this position but his memories were clear enough. He spent a humiliating amount of time admiring the golden-haired bard that had made him question his entire life. 

Wolfwood squeezed his hand around himself the way he remembered Vash had constricted around his fingers, the sounds Vash was making in his ear threatening to tip him over the edge. He was bucking his hips up into his tight fist, wishing it was Vash instead. He wanted it, it was just there, in his grasp. But he could already feel Vash’s hand sliding down, his whimpers barely muffled against his neck. 

“Please, angel,” Wolfwood’s own plea gave him pause, his voice nearly cracking with his pent-up frustration. “Let me finish, please? I can’t— I can’t do it anymore. Please, I wanna make a mess of you.” He was picturing thrusting up into that wet heat, his hands wrapped around Vash’s hips to keep him in place. Vash’s lips found his ear, his hands drifting lower until they rested on the insides of his thighs. 

“Go ahead, love. Fill me up, Nick.” Wolfwood lost his rhythm as he got close, his senses overwhelmed with how sensitive he was growing. He whined, turning his face towards Vash’s face. But he wrapped his hands around his as it faltered, guiding him into finishing. Nicholas came against his stomach, the cord snapping with more force than he expected. Vash pumped slowly for him as he rode it out, cooing in his ear about how good he did, how pretty he was, how pleased he was. Wolfwood was only half-listening, his body fully relaxing into Vash’s chest. He could feel sweat sliding down his knees and forehead, his breaths coming in shallow pants. 

“Fuck, Vash. By the gods and the Angel and all her saints.” His mouth felt dirty with the praises of his patron but he had no other words for what he’d just done. Wolfwood wasn’t certain if he was thanking them or asking for forgiveness. 

Vash started to squirm, firmly pinned to the headboard by Wolfwood’s weight. He was strong enough to move him if he had to but he was softly whining about it instead. Nicholas was completely limp, dozing in his arms and more than content to let him stay there all night. 

“Nick-! Let me up so I can clean you off.” He bit his shoulder, not hard enough to puncture skin but enough to make him yelp. 

“Tough shit, princess. I’m not moving.” Wolfwood crossed his arms in defiance. Vash pouted and hugged him, going for kisses instead. 

“Please? I’ll clean you up and then we’ll go to sleep. I can imagine you’ll finally get a good night’s rest after that.” 

With great reluctance, Wolfwood sat up enough to let Vash stand and then flopped onto the mattress. Vash got a washcloth to wipe up his mess from his stomach and then he pressed slow intentional kisses around his abs and hips. Nicholas hummed softly, petting through his hair. 

“Is that why you told me to take my shirt off?” He asked lazily, his eyes not even open. Vash slid his pants back up for him and tied the lace before straddling him, resting his weight on his stomach instead of his lap. 

“Partially. The real problem is me.” Wolfwood peeked open an eye, looking up at the man of his fantasies. He almost regretted it, a low groan escaping him. 

“You weren’t that bad.” Thinking about that wasn’t helping him calm down one bit, even though his dick was spent. He’d never get the mental image of Vash riding him out of his head at this point. 

“Well, no...not this time.” That got Wolfwood’s full attention, his hands coming up to grip his thighs. 

“You mean...you get messier? Did I not do it right?” He started to spiral, of course Vash hadn’t enjoyed it! Nicholas had no idea what he was doing and Vash had just been humoring him. This was the most humiliating thing he’d ever done. 

“No, no, no! You did wonderful for your first time. It doesn’t happen every time, it’s nothing to do with you. I just wanted you to be...prepared...in case it did.” No matter how Vash tried to reassure him, all Wolfwood heard was he didn’t do a good enough job. But that wouldn’t stop him, no. He’d just try harder the next time. 

If there was a next time. 

He really wished there would be a next time.