lies on the lips of a priest

[anthophilia]

[ When you live the kind of life Wolfwood does, you have to have rules in place. Like: some things you remember, and some things you forget, because if you don’t do the second thing there’s no way you’ll survive the first. Or: children are pure, and adults, in general, are shit. Or: People can call him Wolfwood (for preference), Punisher (if it’s work), or Nick (at a stretch), but nobody gets to call him Nico anymore. Or: it’s better to fuck without kissing if you can get away with it, because kissing – faces close so close you share breath, the thing that everyone needs to keep living – is how you catch feelings.

Vash has an irritating way of blasting right through all his rules.

Rule one, they’ve done okay with. He can’t remember what it was that tipped him off that the restless, fidgeting way Vash tossed and turned when they shared a bed meant he wanted to cuddle. And that’s good, because it’s probably some tearjerking, traumatic bullshit that causes Vash to be so fucking anxious when someone’s that close that he can’t be at ease unless they wrap him up close and kind. He did, though; figured it out, caught Vash up in his arms and felt the other man go pliable and sweet in his embrace, and he finally managed some fucking sleep. After that is where is all turned to shit. They next time they’d done it Vash had just been watching him with those big, clear eyes, his permanent blush starker even in the dark, and maybe it was some stupid plant power at play but Wolfwood lost his mind and kissed him. It had been good, warm and wet and heated, and Vash had said please, Nico, can I- with his hand already halfway in Wolfwood’s pants and of course he’d said yes. But when it came time to repay the favour Vash had brightly said oh, that’s okay, I’m actually really tired! and immediately done the worst job of pretending to fall asleep Wolfwood’s ever seen in his life, complete with little snoring sounds that were a hair’s breadth from the honk-shooo mimimimimi bullshit you see in old cartoons.

The next time they’d done it Vash had kissed him first, and he’d been really into it until he shoved one of his thighs between those stupidly long, slender legs with the idea of grinding it against Vash until he had no option but to let Wolfwood give him a blowjob or at least a handy, and realized Vash wasn’t hard. That had felt shitty, but he still let Vash get him off, and that’s how he knows he fucked up when he broke his rule: he kissed, and then he had to lay there feeling like worm shit after he finished and Vash answered his groping hand with thanks, but that was enough for me! and faked falling asleep again.

This time, when Vash thrashes around and Wolfwood pulls him in close, he jerks his head back when Vash leans in for a kiss. He wants it – of course he does – but his stomach’s sour as a hangover when he thinks about going through that whole performance again. Rocking his hardon against a pelvis so flat Vash might as well be one of those dumb boy dolls they make so the dolls with long blonde hair and ballistic plastic tits have someone for little girls to marry them to, coming in a way that makes him want to watch Vash’s face and tell him things he doesn’t tell anyone, laying there hating himself for it when Vash makes fake little mnm mnm sleep sounds.

He squints against the dark. A wasted effort, when the colour of Vash’s big eyes almost seems to glow, but he does it anyway. ]

You know you don’t have to do all that shit. I’ll still hold you.

Comments

[spiculatus]

[ the thing is, vash knows better.

he's been around long enough to know what happens to people if he hangs around them too long, like he's the carrier of some disease that catches slow but deadly. it's better to keep the world at arm's length -- and if he's lonely, at least that's better than people dying because he was selfish.

but vash isn't perfect. he makes mistakes. and no matter how hard he tries to be better, old selfish habits always have a way of rearing their ugly head.

it starts the first time he and wolfwood share a bed. no closer quarters than being crammed together in the backseat of the truck, but there's something different about it that makes him itch. maybe it just treads too close to one of those old aches that even time hasn't been able to heal -- the knotted-up scar tissue of a wound where infection still lingers underneath, a memory of the only other person vash has ever shared a bed with.

still! vash thinks he's being good. he's staying on his side of the bed, polite as you please, and resisting the urge to needle wolfwood awake with a thousand inane questions just to hear the rough rasp of his voice in the dark. sure, he can't seem to manage the trick of keeping his limbs still, can't remember how to lay still instead of tossing and turning. maybe it's just the way he's fighting the magnetic pull of the body next to him; vash wants to plaster himself up against wolfwood's side, wants to tangle their legs up together, wants wolfwood's arms snug around him. but it's better! not to get too close, not to risk the stain of ruin on him rubbing off on someone else --

and then wolfwood hauls him close in one abrupt motion, growls out something about bein' a fuckin' idiot into vash's hair, and proceeds to hold him so sweetly that vash has to struggle not to cry. (maybe he does. a little. but only after wolfwood's breathing evens out again, when there's no risk of ruining this enough to make him let go.)

it should be enough. but that's the thing about being selfish -- once you let yourself have a little taste, the hunger only grows.

and that's how he ends up with wolfwood's tongue in his mouth, his hand on wolfwood's fly, and it's all downhill from there. greedy. because he likes wolfwood, and finds that he likes to make him feel good just as much. likes using his hands for something that isn't hurting, likes the proof that he can be good for this, too. wolfwood deserves to be touched with kindness, with affection, and vash likes being the one to do it for him.

but he has to have limits to how much he can take. and that's why, each time wolfwood fumbles to return the favor, vash has to wiggle out of his grip and shut the whole thing cheerfully down. what he has is already more than he deserves; the further he lets the scales tip, the worse the risk becomes.

of course, trust wolfwood to not leave it at that.

the other man jerks back when vash tries to lean in for a kiss, and vash is only half-embarrassed about the little whine of protest when he's denied. this quick, and it's already become the kind of thing that he aches to be without.

but. ]

Oh. [ and vash lets it hang there for a long moment, puzzling the words over to himself. it's not wolfwood saying we shouldn't or i don't want to; it doesn't feel like a rejection so much as an offering. so, slowly: ] ... but if I want to?

[anthophilia]

[ That's the fucking question, ain't it? If he wanted to, Wolfwood would let him have anything. Stupid. Inexcusably fucking stupid, and that's what he gets for kissing. If Vash wanted to, Wolfwood would lay himself bare and let Vash take whatever he wanted. He'd forgo the smokes for a day so that when they kissed all Vash tasted would be the sweetness of the lollipops Wolfwood keeps tucked in a pocket for when he sees the kids - or, more likely, when he's run out of cash for cigarettes but the urge to put something between his lips and suck on it is still clamouring nearly as loud as the craving for nicotine. He'd do that, too, even though he's never really liked it as much as the other options - take Vash into his mouth and revel in the sounds he'd make, the way his big eyes would go even wider, the pink of his cheeks getting darker.

If he wanted to. Wolfwood snorts. ]

Idiot. You don't know what you want.

[ Because nobody can be happy with just that. Getting all hot and bothered, getting someone off, and then just laying there. And it's not just that he wouldn't be happy with it that tells him that. It's the fact that Vash pretends after, puts up that little shield to keep Wolfwood at arm's length. Vash has never made any secret of the fact that he thinks he owes people something, even if he's never said why. Well, he can find someone else to playact that penitence with. Wolfwood's not so hard up he'll let someone make him come as an act of self-flagellation (and he better never say so to Vash, in case the dumbass gets ideas about actual self-flagellation. ]

[spiculatus]

Do too.

[ it’s halfway to a whine, complete with a set of puppy dog eyes to get the point across.

it’s hard to wrap his head around why this is coming up now. and as much as vash wants to tell himself that this is something he could give up, the pang in the center of his chest knows better. it wouldn’t be enough, just to let wolfwood hold him. not anymore. not when he’s learned that he almost likes the taste of cigarettes as long as it’s on wolfwood’s tongue, not when he’s learned the sounds wolfwood makes when vash figures out how to make him feel good. ]

I want you. Why’s that so bad?

[anthophilia]

[ Oh, he's fucked. Vash flashes those feel-sorry-for-me eyes and asks why it's bad, and a part of Wolfwood that he's been trying his damndest to ignore flares up. The part that even when they'd barely met had been roaring, trying to get Vash to eat, and only quieted when he'd seen him by that campfire saying he deserved it. He wants to grab Vash's face and kiss him between the eyes and tell him he's not bad, that there's nothing wrong with him, that he deserves whatever he wants.

It's aggravating, and the thought of it makes him mean. He smiles, showing teeth. ]

Aw, Tongari. You want me? You wanna make me feel good?

[ Maybe it's unfair to have this conversation while they're already tangled up, but good. He could use the advantage. He presses a leg between Vash's thighs, rocks it against nothing. ]

What if I tell you what I want tonight - the only thing that would me me happy - is sucking you off? What then?

[spiculatus]

[ vash is braced for an argument. it's what he's expecting! he's used to needling wolfwood until the other man barks and shows his teeth, because sometimes it's the only way they can ever seem to figure out how to have a conversation. it's part of their routine, comforting in its familiarity, and --

then wolfwood decides to pivot and hit him with that.

vash slams his mouth shut so fast that the click of his teeth is audible, eyes going wide. even more shocking than this turn in conversation is his reaction to it -- the sudden rush of heat that blooms upward from his core, how dangerously tempting it is just to go pliable and give wolfwood anything he wants. he's caught so off guard that he doesn't even get the chance to brace himself for the thigh wolfwood slots between his own; the other night, he'd had time to knuckle down on his own reaction, but now? it gets a gasp out of him, a helpless hitch forward of his hips.

dangerous!!! ]

I-I-I -- Wha --? [ which is the most cognizant thing he can manage, considering half of his brain is screeching a red alarm warning and the other half might be trying to melt to slush. the laugh is more of a kneejerk self-defense mechanism than anything else, wriggling in a vain effort to gain a little space back. ] A-Ahaha, that's n-nice of you to offer, but --

[anthophilia]

[ Vash laughs and shuts him down, tries to wriggle away, and Wolfwood's smile gets wider, sharper, and - against all his better efforts - sadder. ]

Yeah, that's what I thought.

[ He doesn't let go of Vash - holds him in place, not just because he's making his point but because the cuddling shit is still on the table. He likes it too, after all. He keeps his leg right where it is, too, even though now he's gonna be fucking haunted by how it felt to have Vash rock forward against it. ]

You don't want me. You wanna feel like you're doing something nice for me, because you think you're not worth anyone's time unless you're doing something for them. Well, you can fuckin' cut that shit out. I'm here 'cause I wanna be, not to see what I can get out of you.

[spiculatus]

[ this... isn't going the way vash thinks it's supposed to. he didn't think about it like this! (okay, maybe he didn't actually think about it much at all.) honestly, he'd almost taken it for granted that it was fine if wolfwood was selfish, because vash wants him to be, and that makes it okay, doesn't it?

he hadn't... actually asked himself what happens if wolfwood wants to do more than just take from him. ]

... it's not like that. [ slowly, carefully. half because he's trying to figure out for himself what it is like as he goes. ] It's not...

I do want you. I do. [ stubbornly! splaying his hands across wolfwood's chest as he says it, idly smoothing down the lapels of his jacket, like he can press the truth down beneath the surface of the other man's skin. ] It's just... I think...

[ fidgeting. ] ... there are things, um, I think you might not like? If we... [ it's awful, now that vash is confronting it. awful to spell out that he's trying to hide things that might have been a deal breaker all along, that he was hiding them because he was selfish enough to want to take whatever he could get. ] ... I didn't want to ask you to deal with it. Not for me.

[anthophilia]

[ Not for me, Vash says, and Wolfwood wants to shake him. He says it like maybe it'd be worth dealing with for someone else, but not for Vash, not for a man who's so good and kind that it makes Wolfwood furious sometimes, who puts himself in front of any danger if it means shielding someone else from it, who smiles at Wolfwood and makes it feel like warm rain in the desert. ]

You're not asking. I am.

[ Or as close as he can get to it. If he said I want to deal with it, I don't care, I just want to be with you Vash'd think he was possessed. He does the next best thing, lifts a hand to brush the mess of hair back from Vash's face, lets the touch linger a little longer than necessary. ]

So what is it? The prosthetics? I can tell it's not just your arm. I know it's not scars, I've seen you take enough hits that you already know that's not gonna shock me.

[spiculatus]

[ wolfwood runs a hand through his hair, and the gesture is so tender that it makes vash ache. he doesn't cry! (mostly because he's pretty sure wolfwood will clock it as another attempt to escape the conversation if vash tries it, and he doesn't particularly feel like interrupting the cuddling to get himself throttled.) ]

Erm... I guess, yeah, that's part of it. [ because here's the thing: vash knows exactly what his body is. even nai, who loves him more than anyone else in the world, is disgusted by the scarred ruin vash has made of himself. and it's okay! vash likes to think he's far enough removed from vanity not to care -- his body is a vessel that does what he needs it to, and a memorial to remind him why he needs to do it. it serves the purpose he asks it to.

but that doesn't mean it's easy to forget what revulsion looks like in another person's eyes. it doesn't mean he wants to see it in wolfwood's. ] It's not the kind of thing most people want to see, haha.

[anthophilia]

You already know what I think of most people.

[ That they can get fucked. He's never tried to hide that. It's not that he hates people, it's just that every time you let someone in, you turn yourself into a hostage. Just waiting for them to let you down. And it's... awful, to realize that might be how Vash is thinking of him. Measuring out how close he'll let Wolfwood get, trying to stave off the moment when Wolfwood will disappoint him. And he will, for sure - that's the kind of person he is - but not like this. His brows draw close over his eyes, knitting in a frown. ]

You've got a real cute face, Tongari, but you have to know that's not why I'm here. Plenty of cute faces out there. Smooth bodies, too, if that was what I was after. It'd be easy to find one of their beds to crawl into.

[ But he hasn't. He's here, and it's a lame fucking move but if he's already in this deep, he might as well thread his fingers through those on Vash's prosthetic.

Holding hands. Look what he's been reduced to. ]

[spiculatus]

[ a blink, processing. and then another, because the way wolfwood threads their fingers together adds... another layer to things.

but! then his expression brightens like sunrise over the desert, when the first rays of light catch the sand and make it glitter. ]

You're saying... you like me for me, right? [ he knows he has to be treading close enough to obnoxious to risk getting punched, but he can't help it. in fact, he's just gonna go ahead and make it worse -- bumping their foreheads together and dusting a little flurry of kisses across wolfwood's face. ] Right?

[anthophilia]

[ NO KISSES! That's what got him into this mess! But he doesn't pull back from them, because apparently being an idiot is catching. He doesn't really want to let go of Vash's hand, not when doing it made him smile like that, but he does wish his arm wasn't pinned underneath them so he could use it to put a hand over Vash's face. ]

Shut up. I'm not saying it.

[ He's trying to look disgusted. It's... not very effective. ]

[spiculatus]

You don't have to.

[ practically wriggling, like a puppy that's forgotten it doesn't need to use its whole body just to wag its tail. he's still aware that there's a real risk of wolfwood actually getting a good look at him and saying actually, nevermind, but still! even if that happens, he's got this to carry with him. ]

You like me. Just a little.

[anthophilia]

Yeah, yeah.

[ And he's never been very good at getting out of danger once he's in it - not until it blows up in his face, at least - so he does what he'd thought about before, leans forward and presses a kiss between Vash's eyes, right on his forehead. Fuck it, he's already lost this battle. ]

That get it out of your system?

[spiculatus]

Nope!

[ cheerfully. wolfwood is gonna hear about this daily.

but... hmm. vash chews on the inside of his cheek for a minute, thinking it over, before: ]

... okay. If you see something you don't like, you have to promise you'll say so. [ and then, maybe a touch more brightly than he feels: ] It's okay! It won't hurt my feelings or anything.

[anthophilia]

[ wait

is that a yes? Vash is gonna let him get a hand on the goods? Vash is into it after all? Was it just admitting he had fucking feelings for Vash that he needed? Christ, he should have done that ages ago.

But. ]

I'm not gonna like seeing where you got hurt. No deal.

Counteroffer: If I see something that makes me wanna stop, I'll say so. Best I can do.

[spiculatus]

[ considering! it still seems... wrong, somehow? showing someone something they're not going to like, then asking them to deal with it just because they like other parts of you.

but... there's something to be said for letting people choose, isn't there?

so. ] Okay! Deal.

[ but, ah... now that they're down to brass tacks, it's actually a little nervewracking! so he requires another moment or two of fidgeting before he finally puffs out a breath and untangles himself enough from wolfwood to be able to sit up. it also requires letting go of the other man's hand, which is absolutely not what vash wants to do, but... maybe if he asks nicely, wolfwood will let him hold it again later.

shrugging off the jacket first, because that's the easy part. and then, fiddling with the hem of his undershirt, trying for lighthearted and coming up just short: ] Last chance to back out?

[anthophilia]

Fuck off.

[ Lightly, on a laugh. Like hell he's backing out now. But Vash is back to fidgeting, nervous, and Wolfwood reaches up to give his arm a squeeze. It's not much, as far as soothing goes, but it's what he's got.

Now that he thinks about it, he's always had all his clothes on, too. Just... rearranged enough for access. Feels like it's maybe a dick move to lay there fully dressed while Vash strips off for him, so he props himself up a little, lifts his jacket open with one hand. ]

Would it help if I -?

[spiculatus]

Oh. -- Oh!

[ lighting up again, like a puppy that's just been offered a treat. ]

Yeah. [ and then, catching himself a little: ] I mean, is that okay?

[anthophilia]

[ Well that's flattering! He snorts, shakes his head, and just starts undressing. The jacket goes easy, and he gets his shirt off fast just so Vash doesn't feel... lonely, or whatever. He's got his own fair share of scars - the meds heal just enough to keep you going, they weren't designed to keep anyone pretty. And then, with the thought that maybe Vash'll have an easier time of it if he's not being watched, he just keeps going. Pants and underwear hit the floor, and he's sitting there in nothing but a tangle of anticipation and morbid curiosity and - embarrassingly - half a chub starting to fill out just with the thought of what they're doing and what it might lead to. ]

[spiculatus]

[ it was probably wolfwood's intention that they strip at the same time, huh?

unfortunately, as soon as that first piece of clothing peels off and hits the floor, vash is enraptured. just sitting there staring like it's a show, mouth half open and eyes shining with interest. and... oh! they hadn't specified, but, uh! it makes sense that pants would be part of this equation, which is...

... jeez, a whole other thing.

a thing that he's forgotten all about (for a second), because all that bare, tanned skin in front of him is making him itch. ]

Can I touch you? [ breathlessly, leaning forward just a little like he can't help himself. clearly, obviously, forgetting his half of the bargain. ]

[anthophilia]

No.

[ He's grinning, though. Vash is staring like he's starving and Wolfwood's a whole meal of things raised on a farm instead of scavenged in the desert, who wouldn't get a kick out of that? Still! He bumps a knuckle under Vash's chin, and the grin turns a little softer when he meets his eyes. ]

Play comes after work. Take it off, Blondie.

[spiculatus]

[ that merits a whine, like wolfwood is doing this specifically just to torture him! ] Hardass.

[ but! okay! he's kind of regretting asking wolfwood to strip, because now if he gets his shirt off and wolfwood slams the brakes on the whole thing, vash is at least a little convinced he might die. still...

he hesitates for another second, then puffs out a breath and finally reaches down to tug his shirt up and over his head in one motion, because he'll lose his nerve if he goes slow. and there it is! the skin marred with ugly, mottled scars, the parts of him reinforced haphazardly by metal to reinforce the places where the damage had been too severe.

leaning back a little, eyes locked resolutely on the wall just past wolfwood's head, letting him look. he's itching to make a joke, but he can't quite think of one -- there's no way i told you so wouldn't come out sounding hopelessly bitter. ]

[anthophilia]

Well, shit.

[ He knew it was gonna be bad, but... it's bad. Vash's body is a testament to pain, every time he put his body between some stupid frail human and death carved out on his skin. There are parts where there's metal that looks like it's fucking bolted on, and Wolfwood can't think too hard about the kind of damage that's holding together or he's gonna feel dizzy.

He's not as polite as Vash. He doesn't ask. His hands hover for a second - it feels a little sacreligious to put hands that have caused so much pain on a body that's already endured more of that than anyone should - but he gets over it. Strokes gently even though some of those scars look so deep they probably don't feel anything, mapping out the damage with touch. It's funny, but the places that aren't scarred or plated are incredibly soft. The parts of him that aren't a ruin are perfect. No in-between. Isn't that just like him?

It's fucked up, but it's beautiful. It's written all over his skin: no amount of suffering is enough to make him stop protecting others, even with his own flesh. Wolfwood knew that about him already. Hated it and loved it already.

He leans in, presses a kiss to one bare shoulder, lifts his face to kiss Vash on the mouth. Softer than any other time, but meaning it. ]

[spiculatus]

[ well, shit seems like a pretty good way to sum it up, actually. and vash's mouth twists with a wry little smile -- he'd known it'd be too much, really! he's not going to be disappointed or surprised when wolfwood wants to call the whole thing off; if he still doesn't mind holding him after, that'll be great! and even if he doesn't, it'll be okay.

vash will survive it, the way he's survived a hundred thousand things before.

but he doesn't realize how tightly he's wound, not until wolfwood touches him and makes him flinch. immediately, he breathes out a little sorry, sorry!, eyes snapping down to watch what wolfwood is doing with his hands. it's... almost a mistake. because the other man is touching him gently, almost reverently, like he's the first tender bud of a young plant and not something scarred and broken a thousand times over. there's a part of vash that wants to push his hands away, to tell him to stop, because he doesn't deserve it and it feels like stealing. but there's another part, a larger one, a selfish one, that wants to arch up into wolfwood's hands and beg shamelessly for more.

he's still caught between the two when wolfwood leans in. kisses him with more softness than vash has ever known, and vash is stunned by the sudden feeling that wolfwood has reached right inside his chest and wrapped his fingers carefully around vash's heart. ]