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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[ ah, man. it's a hell of a thing to live for a century plus and then get fucked to death by a guy you only met because one of the reporters that follows you around almost committed vehicular manslaughter. c'est la vie, or something.

not that vash is complaining! in fact, right now, he's doing the exact opposite of complaining -- making a useless mess of sounds into wolfwood's shoulder, getting his skin wet with an objectively gross combo of drool and tears. he thought it'd be better with his dick not caught inside him, but somehow? it's worse. because they're pressed so tightly together that it keeps sliding up against wolfwood's stomach on every thrust, and that extra layer of sensation is driving him fucking crazy. even the sound of wolfwood fucking him is making him burn, wet and filthy, audible even over their heavy breathing and the slap of skin against skin.

wolfwood calls him beautiful, and vash croons something stupid and senseless back to him. not understanding the praise, but blindly grateful for it --

and then wolfwood's fingers are on his face, brushing lightly over something that feels like it's wired directly to the feels good button in vash's brain. he jolts as the pleasure spears through him like an electric shock, crying out sharply and arching so hard it makes his muscles tremble with the strain. ] Nico!

Nico, I'm gonna come, you're gonna make me come, please -- [ it's a fevered jumble of words, shameless and needy. ] I wanna come, I wanna come for you, I wanna come with you inside me. Please, please, please --

[ Well, that did something. Just a touch, and Vash goes from sweetly crooning to frantic, and it lights Wolfwood up inside. He can feel Vash taut with need under him, the way he gets impossibly tighter, like his body's trying to beg for it, and Wolfwood knows he doesn't stand a fucking chance. It's coming fast, too fast, so he takes a gamble and grabs Vash by the head, turns it a little rougher than he'd like so his face is tipped up, and starts stroking his thumb over those feathers, each pass matching the determined way he thrusts deep into Vash. ]

Do it. Come for me. Be good for me, Vash, let me feel you come on my cock, so good for me -

[ he whines a confused little noise when wolfwood gets a grip on his head and turns his face up, blinking up at him with eyes gone glazed and hazy with pleasure. and then wolfwood is pressing his thumbs down against vash's cheekbones, rubbing --

and he's gone.

vash comes with a shout, way past the point of caring about thin motel walls or awkward road trips on the horizon. the glow of those runes tick up in intensity, more of them blooming into feathers, a few scattering on the sheets as vash writhes underneath him. and it's damn lucky that some part of his brain is engaged enough not to clutch at wolfwood with the prosthetic -- he claws at the mattress instead, and promptly rips a fist-sized chunk right out of it. ]

[ The prosthetic may not be clutching at Wolfwood, but Vash's cunt has no such concerns. The sight of him probably would have been enough to tip Wolfwood over as it is, but he doesn't get the chance to find out. Vash seizes around him, pulsing squeezes that would make it impossible to hold off even if he had the presence of mind to try, and the second that dam breaks and he growls out something that tries to be Vash's name those petals curls up tight around him, harder than their soft and delicate appearance would suggest was possible. There's a frantic and mindless part of him that wants to keep thrusting, to give in to complete animal impulse, but he can't. He's held firm, Vash squeezing around him like his body wants to wring him out completely, and nothing in heaven or the desert below could feel better than just letting it happen. ]

Good, so good, you're so good -

[ Mindless repetition as his orgasm rolls over him in waves, dragging out so long that he loses the ability to say it altogether. And when it's done - limbs tingling, eyes watering, breath coming so hard and heavy it sounds like he's forgotten how to do it the normal way - he collapses against Vash, still held tight, rubbing his lips against Vash's cheek because he doesn't have the control to kiss him yet. ]

[ wolfwood collapses on top of him, and vash makes a little hnngh noise that bears the responsibility of trying to convey his deep and eternal gratitude for the best sex he's ever had. words... are still a few minutes out, though.

and his breathing is still coming in hiccupping little sobs, mostly because he's fucking overwhelmed. every inch of him is buzzing with how good he feels, and maybe vash has built up a pretty decent tolerance for pain, but he's got absolutely no guard against this. having someone devoted to making you feel good, saying a bunch of tender shit to you for no other reason than that they like you enough to want you to hear it, and then getting to lay here in the aftermath and feel warm and cared about and absolutely safe. ]

[ The world outside of Vash comes back to him slow as sunrise, until he can finally shape his mouth enough to make that rubbing into an actual kiss. He'd thought the sounds Vash is making were just breathing, but a tear slips out to track over his cheek and run warm against Wolfwood's face, and his heart breaks just a little. It doesn't matter how much he knows Vash is more likely to cry about what's good than what's bad, or that Vash doesn't even seem to notice he's doing it. It still makes him ache. Not enough to undo the still-thrumming echoes of pleasure in him, not enough to dampen how pleased he is, but enough. ]

Shh, shh. I've got you. You were so good.

M'sorry.

[ a mumble, smushing the words against wolfwood's skin when he presses his face against him. it's almost kneejerk; if wolfwood is gonna keep saying stuff like that, the tears are gonna probably make an extended guest appearance.

but he's happy! he really, really is. and he tries to make up for the crying by shifting until he's got both arms wrapped around wolfwood, smushing obnoxious little kisses all over his face. ]

Nothin to be sorry for. Except maybe ruining me for anyone else.

[ It feels good when Vash wraps him up like that, though. Like the reassurance he was not-so-secretly looking for that it's okay, that they're okay. He strokes one hand through Vash's hair, the other over his cheek, a fingertip tracing shapes and gliding over feathers, reverently curious now that he has the presence of mind to actually take them in. It's only slightly impeded by the kisses Vash peppers all over his face, but he finally gives up and tries to arrest the onslaught by just kissing him right on the mouth. ]

[ oh, man. vash definitely shouldn't like the sound of that. because maybe he shouldn't have done this in the first place, but maybe it's okay if he did as long as he thinks about this as a fling that wolfwood'll eventually pick up and move on from. any stake vash makes here should be like words scratched out in desert sand -- gone as soon as the next wind kicks up over the dunes.

but wolfwood's finger stroking along that feather makes him suck in a sharp breath, lashes fluttering as the sensation sizzles through him. good enough to make him whine, the sound muffled by the kiss wolfwood presses against his mouth. which is, for the record, also really good. enough to make vash feel like melting back into the mattress, smiling like an absolute dope by the time it breaks.

but... he lifts his non-prosthetic arm for a sec, squinting at the runes still glowing along his skin. they're already starting to fade, the feathers slowly smoothing themselves back down into skin. vash considers this development, and then: ] Oh. Huh.

[ profound. then he's going back to what's important -- wrapping his arms tighter around wolfwood and snuggling. ]

[ Wait, what does he mean huh? Does this not usually happen when he comes? Why does he sound like it's a new deve-

and then he's snuggling in close, and the urge to ask is temporarily lost to the urge to snuggle back, to let him know it's welcome. Wanted. He tips his face up, presses a kiss to the little beauty mark by Vash's eye. ]

I'm not too heavy for you?

[ He's seen Vash in action, he knows there's no chance he's literally too heavy, but that doesn't mean it can't be uncomfortable! ]

Mmm?

[ lazy and pleased, like a cat sprawled out in a splash of sunshine. but! he does take stock of things, not because wolfwood is even remotely close to too heavy, buuut. ] Nah.

But we can move if you want? [ because he's the one covered in the handiwork of whatever doctor he could find that would ask the least amount of questions, and that probably doesn't make for the best pillow. ]

[ He hadn't actually thought about it, mostly still too blissed out to notice, but for all that the assortment of metal patch jobs on Vash do nothing to cool his desire... some of them do dig in a little, under his weight. ]

Just -

[ It doesn't take a lot of effort to roll so they're still pressed close but on their sides, but he still makes a grumpy little sound at having to do it. Of course, once they're repositioned Vash's back is free for Wolfwood to splay a hand over, and that goes a little way to soothing him. ]

So. [ He grins, emboldened by managing the arduous feat of moving. ] Was it everything you hoped for?

[ that's fair! and vash even unwinds his legs from wolfwood's waist to make it easier, even if he just ends up tangling their legs together once they're rolled over on their sides. it's... nice. just to lay here like this with someone, snug and secure. really nice, so nice that it makes him ache if he thinks too much about it.

but! ]

Nuh-uh. [ but before wolfwood's dick can shrivel up and disappear forever, he's plunging cheerfully along. ] I had no idea you could even hope for that.

You're amazing.

[ He's laughing again, but it's soft. In his voice and his eyes both. ]

Gotta be honest, Tongari, I feel like you did most of the work there. What was it you said about the right encouragement?

[ His dick may not have pulled off any cool tricks - other than making a Plant nut, which is admittedly pretty cool - but it's never been so damn encouraged in his life. ]

You think? I mean, I might be a little fuzzy on the details, but I remember a lot of just laying there.

[ and drooling. and crying. and making a lot of embarrassing noises. we don't need to talk about it!!!! ]

You'd probably just get mad if I said thanks, huh?

[ Christ, if the sex was that good when neither of them knew what they were doing, imagine what it's gonna be like when they've got some practice under their belts! But Vask asks a question, and he shrugs. ]

It's better than sorry. But only if I get to say it too. So: thanks.

[ oh.

it catches him off-guard, and there's a second where he just blinks, owl-eyed with surprise. and... huh, okay. he gets the impulse to shut that down! but if he does, wolfwood gets to do it too, so...

there is only one course of action. ]

You're welcome! [ cheerfully! punctuating it with a kiss right on wolfwood's mouth. ]

[ For fuck's sake. A grown man acting this cute should be sickening. It shouldn't be making his heart do a funny little flutter in his chest! Time to pivot. ]

So... [ He reaches, plucks a fallen feather from the bedding. He'd half expected them to disappear when the ones still on Vash faded, but apparently it really is just... weird biology, and not magic. ] Does that usually happen?

[ the question gets a drowsy little mm? in response, and then wolfwood holds up that feather between them. vash goes a little pinker at the sight of it, giving a sheepish little ehehe. ]

Nnnno? I mean, I don't think so. [ he doesn't have a wealth of experience to fall back on, after all. ] I usually have a pretty good handle on it.

... is it, uh... [ a little fidget. ] ... does it bother you?

Wolud have scared the shit out of me if it was anyone else. I must be getting used to all your little surprises.

[ But Vash sounds sleepy, and the last thing Wolfwood wants to do is ruin that by leaving any room for misundertsanding, so: ]

I said it already. It's beautiful.

[ it hurts. the way it does when you have to dig a bullet out of a wound before it can start to heal. blooming up from his chest like something with thorns, knotting in his throat and stinging at the corners of his eyes.

he’s used to being called a monster. watching the way curiosity turns to revulsion and then to fear, knowing it’ll happen if he stays too long, lets the edges of the mask slip just a little too far.

he’s not used to this. ]

You don’t have to — [ he blinks hard, and it’s enough to make two twin tears spill free. a wet sniffle, then a hiccup. ] Sorry.

I don't have to. But I do.

[ He can't quite bring himself to tell Vash not to apologize, not when it feels like progress that he stopped himself even if it was only for Wolfwood's sake. He tips his face up, presses a kiss to Vash's forehead, bumps his own against it. It's... frustrating, that so much of what Vash feels about himself is tied up in problems he can't fix, but he can be here. He can make sure Vash knows he wants to be. Maybe that'll be enough. ]

I know.

[ it’s why vash believes him. he’s not so naive that he doesn’t realize wolfwood has his own ulterior motives for being part of their group, but in every other respect? wolfwood doesn’t bullshit him. he’s always told vash exactly what he thinks, even if it cuts.

it’d be cruel, vash thinks, to assume wolfwood is the kind of person who’s honest about the bad and lies about the good.

and he’s smiling! a real one, even if the tears are still coming. ] I believe you.

I don’t get it, but I’m glad.

[ Funnily enough, the tears actually help. He's pretty good at telling the real smiles from the fake ones, but they're a nice clue. And hey, since it's a real smile, he can probably get away with being a bit of a shit! ]

I gotta say, though... if I had thought you were freaky, that would have brought me 'round. Damn.

[ okay, that gets a laugh. a wet one, but still! ]

Think I should start using that to convince everyone?

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