fourstrings | lies on the lips of a priest

lies on the lips of a priest

[ 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.

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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. ]

[ 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?

[ 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. ]

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.

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?

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.

[ 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.

[ 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?

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 -?

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?

[ 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. ]

[ 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. ]

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.

[ 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. ]

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. ]

[ 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. ]

[ Vash is still against the kiss, which should maybe be cause for concern after that flinch, but he keeps it up anyway until he's done. It's just a little thing but it lingers, and he finally leans his forehead against the other man's and smiles. ]

Don't tell me you thought that was gonna be enough to scare me off. I already know you're too damn fast to let yourself get wrecked up. Maybe a little more than I thought, but you're gonna have to do better than that if you wanna chase me out of your bed.

[ His hands are still on Vash, and he loops one around his back, holding him. There's still the pants - Wolfwood's pretty sure nobody has real ankles that skinny, but he doesn't know how high up the prosthetics might go - but it feels important to let Vash know first, let him take a little pause. ]

[ okay, listen!! vash knows if he gets all mushy about wolfwood being nice, it's just gonna make wolfwood mad! but...! in the end, he's just a lil guy. there's only so much he can take, and that stomps one foot right over the line.

but he is trying!! bravely!! mouth wobbling, eyes wet, one lone (wet) sniffle escaping. ]

That's -- [ hiccup. and then he's smushing his face against wolfwood's, in what's probably supposed to be a nuzzle but ends up almost being more like a headbutt. ] You're so nice to me.

Christ knows you won't be nice to yourself. Someone's gotta pick up your fuckin slack.

[ And he really is fucked, because as soon as he says it he feels mean. Meaner than he wants to be right now, so he gives Vash one of those gentle headbutts right back. ]

Let it be me.

[ it doesn't matter how gruff wolfwood's voice sound, or how harshly he tries to frame whatever he's saying. none of it ever covers up what vash has always been able to see in his eyes -- a heart that cares so much that wolfwood has to pretend otherwise, just to protect it. ]

Okay. [ watery. and stupid! and selfish! and risky! ... but he can't help it.

but. ergh, wait. ] Ah --

Uh, before you say that, maybe you should see... er, the rest.

Alright. Lemme have it.

[ One more little kiss before he pulls back, just to be sure. But now there's a little thread of anxiety creeping into him. He had no idea how bad the damage to Vash's body was. What if the reason he's so shy about letting Wolfwood touch him, the reason he's never felt even a little hard when they've fooled around, is...

nah. You'd die if your dick got blown right off, right? The blood loss alone would take you out. Better just to wait and see.

... but if his dick did get blown off, Wolfwood's gonna find some other way to get him off. No arguments. ]

[ aw, man...! tonight feels like it'd be way easier if they could just leave it at that and spend the rest of the night kissing. but! vash gets how stopping now would be a slap in the face to everything wolfwood just said to him, even if there's a difference between scars and... uh. ana... tomical differences?

it'd be nice if there was a guidebook for these sorts of conversations.

instead, vash is left to forge clumsily ahead all on his own! and showing seems like it'll be easier than telling, so. he toes off his boots first, letting them fall to the ground in two clunks. wolfwood already said the prothetics didn't bother him, so there's probably no need for a bunch of fanfare about these -- extending from the knees down, the same lost technology as his arm.

but the thing that's got him worried? what's on display once there's not a stitch of clothing left, once vash (reluctantly) leans back a little and spreads his thighs so he's on display. between his legs is a bloom of soft white petals, still folded up to protect the pink slit underneath. it's the closest his body resembles that of his sisters' -- the petals share the same runes that their skin does, a stark reminder that he's something inhuman. ]

It's... ah. I know it's different. [ and just talking about it is embarrassing! but he hurries on, cramming this next bit in: ] If you think it's gross, you don't have to touch me! I'm not asking -- er, expecting, I mean --

... well. [ fidgeting. ] That's why.

[ There's a second, before Vash parts his thighs, that has Wolfwood thinking he was right and there's just nothing there. In a way, that's a good thing - it induces a brief panic that means when he sees what's actually there, his primary reaction is relief. Not that... he knows what it is, but it's something, and it's not blow off or plated over, and he's counting that as a win. Even if he could really use a cigarette right about now.

He leans closer, peering before he remembers his manners. It's probably rude to just stick your face in someone's... flower bud coochie??? right off the bat, so he leans his side against Vash and gives a little huh. ]

How does it work? Does it still feel good, and everything?

[ He's an idiot, but on occasion he is very task-focused. ]

[ ... well. wolfwood isn't vaulting out of bed and calling vash a freak, so that probably counts as a win? kind of hard to judge the exact scale of his victory, since wolfwood is still peering at it like... well, something alien. which is, to be honest, perfectly fair. ]

Uh, yeah. I guess so. [ which comes out remarkably steady, considering that his face feels like it's about to catch right on fire. (once, a long time ago, rem had shown he and nai an old film reel about something called sexual education. it was bright, colorful, and absolutely non-threatening -- if not more than a little confusing, once vash figured out that the parts they were talking about didn't really line up. he's desperately wishing he could just shove something like that in front of wolfwood now.) ]

Do you want me to... [ his cheeks are burning, and he's fidgeting like the sheets are itchy with sand. ] Uh, I mean, if it helps, I could --

[ like??? a practical demonstration??? ]

Yeah.

[ Instant agreement, even though he doesn't know exactly what he's agreeing to. A demonstration? Guided tour? Whatever, it doesn't matter. If they're gonna keep doing this he wants to know how to make Vash feel good too. And yeah, his junk is weird, but it's not like it's gross or scary. He cuts his eyes to Vash's face, and - jesus, his face is so red it's a wonder he couldn't feel the heat coming off it. He brushes his lips against Vash's cheek, smiles. ]

It's unexpected, but it's pretty. Like a flower.

[ Which makes sense, if Vash is... connected to plants? Part plant? A plant in disguise as a mostly-human dude? That's a train of thought he squashes when he finds himself deliriously imagining himself as a horny bee, eager for nectar. ]

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