fourstrings | the woods are lovely, dark and deep

the woods are lovely, dark and deep

[ What’s so special about this tree, huh?

For Wolfwood, the answer is simple. He’d done a job that pissed off the wrong people, was going to have to move again and dreading packing up all his shit, when a man pale as moonlight and broad in the shoulders as your average wagon had walked up to him like he was trying to put his feet through the earth instead of on top of it and told him he was now a guard. And Wolfwood had laughed – guarding is a shit job, too much sitting around, the payoff too brief when someone finally tries something – until the man produced a bag of more money than Wolfwood had ever seen in one place. He'd said yes, obviously. Before he’d asked what he was to guard.

He should have asked.

He’d roared with laughter when he saw the tree, which had gone… badly. The man who was paying him told him (in a voice that sounded very like he hadn’t used it in a long time) that he had already accepted the payment, and if he wasn’t going to take his job seriously there would be more serious repercussions than paying the money back. So Wolfwood thought… fine. It was out of town, there was a little cottage for him to stay in – not right next to the tree, but close enough to see it. Tough not to, really; it was big, must have been old as hell. And it was… nice, out there. Quiet and green with a well for fresh water, a river running to a lake that would be good for fishing, plenty of game to hunt, and a few wild fruit trees scattered around if he got a sweet tooth. He could use some peace and quiet after things had gone so badly. So he settled in, and became a guard for a tree.

It's still hard to imagine why a tree is worth enough money that Wolfwood will never need to obtain more of it, but he’s grown fond of it. He’s not sure what kind of tree it is; the bark is pale and smooth but knotted and burled in ways that mean Wolfwood almost sees pictures in it when he runs his hands over the trunk. The leaves change colour with the seasons; riotously green in spring and summer, bright and cheerful gold and red in autumn. But trees like that drop their leaves in winter, and this one… doesn’t. Those leaves turn dark but they stay on, providing shelter for all manner of woodland creatures while everything is cold and wet. And he starts to imagine he understands why the moonlight man is so fond of it, too. There’s… a feeling about this tree. Wolfwood find himself returning to it often, sitting under its branches to whittle (other wood, not this one – you don’t take risks like that when you’re paid this much), sometimes talking to it because there’s not another speaking being out here since the one time a dude approached it with an axe and Wolfwood had sent him off with a promise that if he came back the axe would be going through his skull. He gets attached. He rests under it as he makes things, eats his lunch under the shade of its branches. Gets drunk one day, tells a story about his escapades as a street urchin and thinks he hears the leaves rustling on this still and breezeless day, lets himself think that the tree is laughing along with him and pours a little of his wine at its roots like sharing a drink. When summer comes and the sun beats down hot he strips off under its branches, goes for a swim in the lake, and when he returns to the tree to doze while he dries off before dressing again he could swear the branches shift until the shadow of them keeps the sun off him, safe from burning. A woodpecker lands in the branches one day, starts hammering at the bark with its beak, and Wolfwood is nuts enough out here with no company but the tree by now that he swears he feels a wave of disapproval when he pegs a stone at the bird to move it away.

Sorry, tree, he says, but some lunatic paid me good money to make sure you’re not damaged. He runs a hand over its smoothly knotted bark, and tells himself next time he’ll just shout.

It’s a quiet life, but nice. He’s been there nearly a year. Complacent. Which is why it’s the thud of an axe that wakes him, not the sound of people. He rushes out, dressed in the pants he fell asleep in but sword in hand. There’s a brief yelling match – apparently this tree is magical and the men want the wood for – some shit, Wolfwood doesn’t listen. Swings his sword instead. He doesn’t actually want to kill them, because then he’d have to deal with disposing of bodies. That’s probably what gets him, in the end. They leave, injured but not imperilled, but one of them throws an axe at him as a parting shot. Not as bad as it would be if they’d swung it, but he knows from the sick, hot pain deep in his thigh that the bone is broken. It’s some kind of mania that keeps him on his feet until they’re far gone, and only then does he allow himself to go to the ground, drag himself back under the shelter of the tree and wonder how the fuck he’s going to get back to his cabin and tend this wound. He puts a hand over the shallow gash they’d made in the tree like the one he has pressed to his own leg, and counts himself lucky that these idiots apparently didn’t know how to use axes on men or trees. ]

This is a fine fuckin’ mess we’re in, huh?

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[ Hehe. Wolfwood's gonna have to work on his tree etiquette. And the best way he can think of to get Vash to stick around long enough for that to happen - ]

I do want you to be sure. Better get to work.

[ - is to start where he left off before they moved, kissing up the inside of Vash's thigh, grazing his teeth over the tender skin and sucking softly in the wake of it. ]

Mean.

[ even if his voice isn’t convincing at all — breathless and eager and hitching when wolfwood sucks on a sensitive little patch of skin. ]

Touching me is work?

[ If anything, touching Vash is the bonus for the best job Wolfwood's ever had -

but probably best not to bring that up now! Instead, he moves his mouth higher, pushes the fabric of Vash's robes up and away. He'd had enough of a glimpse of Vash nude to know that his whole... situation wasn't quite as human-looking as most of the rest of him, but this seems like the kinda situation where asking for a closer look is likely to get you the opposite. Until now, when Vash seems like he's definitely on board with Wolfwood getting to know it better. ]

You can love a job. And the way you sound is the best pay goin'.

[ And then he moves up, presses his mouth to what he's assuming is the goods but looks closer to the bud of an almost-bloomed flower, and kisses it - soft, slow, and followed by a warm curl of his tongue. ]

[ oh! wait!

it’s only when wolfwood starts to push the fabric of his robes up that vash… remembers! he knows enough to know that what he has between his legs is different from most humans, and it’s probably only polite to warn someone, right? after all, he doesn’t want to scare wolfwood aw —

and then, before he even has a chance to give voice to the thought, wolfwood is settling in between vash’s legs like he wants to make a home there, leaning in to press a kiss on the sensitive petals between vash’s legs. and he can’t help a little gasp, embarrassed to feel how much he’s already trying to bloom under wolfwood’s mouth. ]

[ If that gasp's anything to go by, Wolfwood can mark that theory as correct! And sure, he's not exactly sure how it works, but one thing he's learning about Vash is that his reactions make it easy to tell what's good, so maybe he'll just roll with it and listen out. Closes his mouth around it and sucks, soft pressure from his lips as he slicks his tongue over it. It's different, sure, but so is wanting to get it on with a tree-guy, and the longer Wolfwood spends down here the more he's convinced he can smell flowers. So less weird, more... new and exciting to learn. ]

Nico —

[ it escapes as a sharp little gasp as wolfwood closes his mouth around that bud and sucks, the sound tapering off into a little whine in his throat.

so turned on that those petals are desperate to bloom open the moment wolfwood lets them escape the wet heat of his mouth. ] Oh, that feels —

[ See, normally Wolfwood would take that as a sign to do anything except change what he was doing. Only he can feel that bud sort of... moving? Shifting under his tongue, pessing against the seal of his lips. He keeps at it for a while, but in the end curiosity gets the better of him and he pulls back to look, and -

oh, wow. The bud comparison wasn't far off, because freed from the pressure of his mouth in blooms into pale petals surrounding a deep pink slit and crowned with another pale bud, and Wolfwood chuckles as he lifts a hand to thumb tenderly over a petal, rub over the opening at the centre. ]

Wouldja look at that. Pretty.

[ just like vash had thought, wolfwood pulls back, and vash feels his petals curling themselves back in a gesture so undeniably greedy that it makes him blush. just the feeling of wolfwood’s breath pluming over the wetness of vash’s slit is enough to make him gasp, and his hips jolt helplessly when wolfwood rubs the pad of his thumb right over his centre. ]

H-Haha, thanks? I know it’s maybe not what you were expecting —

[ Wolfwood laughs, low but fond. ]

So far today my favourite tree turned into the hottest guy I've ever seen, a fish you usually have to catch with special gear swam itself into one of my traps like it personally wanted to be dinner, and a vine sprouted flowers to reassure me that I'm an okay kisser. If this was gonna throw me off, at this point that's all on me.

[ And Vash seemsed to like that touch, so Wolfwood puts a fingertip there instead - not pushing in yet, but a little mre pressure in the rubbing, suggesting it. ]

Can I?

[ ah! well! when you put it that way, maybe weird genitalia isn't so high up there on the list of things to get all tied up in knots about?

and then wolfwood teases against his slit with the slightest press of his finger, and that train of thought promptly scatters all over again. vash can't help the way his hips try to roll down against the other man's hand, already greedy for it, but at least he's got the grace to blush a little at how shameless a gesture it is. ]

I -- yeah, please, yes.

[ The way Vash rocks down against his finger is all the answer Wolfwood needs - but it's still real nice to hear the breathless, stuttered affirmative, see the flush in his cheeks. It makes Wolfwood grin, until he puts his mouth to better work lapping gently over those petals as he slips his finger in and starts stroking inside of Vash. Just the feeling of that makes him groan low in his throat - Vash's skin is relatively cool to the touch but the core of him is hot and beautifully slick. Tempting. And opened up like this Wolfwood can tell there's more to the flower comparison than the apperance - the taste of Vash is almost like nectar.

No wonder people head out on whole quests to try and fuck a nymph! ]

[ oh.

vash didn't realize how much he'd been aching for it until wolfwood slowly eases that first finger into him, and just that is enough to wrench a low moan out of him. his human hand keeps stroking through wolfwood's shaggy hair, almost petting, like a silent offering of praise for a job well done.

... not that his mouth is too shy to join in on the praising, obviously. ]

Nico, that feels good. Can you -- ... more?

[ Perfect. Vash is just perfect. The sound of his voice, the way he pets through Wolfwood's hair so sweetly. What's he gonna do in the face of all that? Make Vash wait?

Impossible. He slips another finger in to join the stroking, shifts his mouth so he's working over the little bud at the top - it's positioned right, so maybe that'll make it better, too. Kind of exciting, figuring all this out - and even better getting the kind of feedback that lets him know he's getting it right. ]

[ he moans all over again as wolfwood eases in another finger to join the first, unable to stop his hips from rocking down greedily into the combined efforts of his mouth and hand. it's the kind of pleasure that feels like warm syrup melting over his skin, building slow but good --

and then wolfwood promptly sucks around his clit, and the slow part goes right out the window.

vash cries out sharply, fingers tightening in wolfwood's hair and hips rocking up before he can help himself. it's a struggle just to remember not to tighten his thighs around the other man's head in a desperate bid to keep him right there. ] Nico, oh wow, please, that feels -- Wow, so amazing, you're amazing, please --

[ Holy shit. Wolfwood was plenty hard already, but that reaction takes him right from hard to aching. Not to mention it's a hell of a thing to be told you're amazing by a literal magical being with a face like an angel and a pussy that looks like a flower and feels - if the sensation of it around his fingers is anything to judge by - like heaven itself.

So what's he gonna do? Double down, obviously. Get those fingers stroking just so, aiming for that place that's gonna get a reaction and then staying on it, adding the circling of his tongue to that sucking over what he's now pretty sure is a clit. There's part of him that still kinda thinks of this as an audition, but it's a pleasure all of its own - the taste of Vash, the scent and sound of him, the way he moves. Gorgeous. ]

[ it seems like all wolfwood needs is that praise to go ahead and double right on down with what he’s doing, and wow. those fingers crook up against a spot inside him that makes it feel like his insides are full of stars, and keeps right on working over vash’s clit in the meantime, and wow. (is he saying all these wows out loud?)

vash comes with what can only be described as a wail, and this time he does forget all about not squeezing wolfwood’s head between his thighs. his spine arches hard enough to leave the bed almost entirely, and his voice is a senseless mess of things that are supposed to be praise, pleas, wolfwood’s name — but are honestly coming out just sounding like a mess. ]

[ There's nothing Wolfwood's ever experienced that is more charming than a nymph (?) saying wow, wow, wow and then coming so hard that he squeezes his thighs tight enough around Wolfwood's head to make his ears pop. He can feel Vash's orgasm, squeezing around his fingers and pulsing against his tongue, and it's incredible. He stays right where he is, though he lets up a little - gentling Vash through it until the pressure around his skull lets up, then shifting his mouth just enough to kiss softly at Vash's thigh as the movement of his fingers slows to something so slow and gentle it's more like petting. ]

You're really somethin', you know that?

[ he?? is really something??? vash???? he didn’t even do anything!!!

and it feels like he really needs to say a lot of words to convince wolfwood that he’s obviously the amazing one here, but neither his brain or his mouth seem like they’re in the mood to work correctly, so. he settles for a tug on his hair, trying to pull him up for a kiss. ]

C’mere.

[ Embarrassing that Vash tugging at his hair gets a little rumble of pleasure out of him, but Vash sounds if not beyond noticing, at least beyone teasing him about it. He withdraws his fingers, gives that incredible flower pussy a little parting stroke, and goes as directed - up to plaster himself against Vash's side and kiss him, slow and lingering. ]

[ slow and lingering is good! really good! and usually? vash wouldn’t complain about it at all!

but! wolfwood moves in to press himself up against vash’s side, and somehow that still doesn’t feel like enough. it’s why he rolls them until he’s straddling wolfwood’s hips, making a low, eager sound into the kiss at the feeling of wolfwood’s cock nudging impatiently up against him. ]

Should be more careful. [ there’s a lilt of teasing in his voice, scraping his teeth along the other man’s jaw. ] Might be dangerous if you make me never wanna let you go.

[ Oho! Wolfwood's very pleased with this development. As is Wolfwood's dick, which twitches under the feel of Vash. He can't help rocking his hips up, rubbing, even as he grins. ]

I've never been good at making safe choices.

[ And anyway, Dangerous is his middle name. Chosen, sure, and chosen when he was too young to realize he had in fact misremembered the saying Danger's my middle name, but the folk at the orphanage thought it was cute enough to put on documentation and now he's stuck with it. ]

Yeah? You’d like that?

[ despite himself, vash likes it too. he’s never really been comfortable with the idea of worshippers, felt like maybe people should make better choices when they wanted to devote their lives to him, but now? ]

Being all mine?

Yours.

[ He can't think of anything he wants more. There's been plenty of religion in Wolfwood's life but he's never really thought of himself as religious, but now he can see where it comes from. Finding something so beautiful, so comforting, something that brings you such peace you want to devote your whole life to it? For the first time in his life it makes perfect sense. He skims his hands over Vash's sides, brings one to rest against his cheek. ]

All yours.

[ vash knows this is nothing like the old days — this isn’t a rite, and wolfwood isn’t a priest swearing a lifetime’s worth of devotion.

… but doesn’t that make it better? it’s wolfwood wanting to belong to him just because he’s vash. it makes something glow inside his chest, warm and happy, and he leans into that hand on his cheek. ]

All mine. [ it’s soft, warm, adoring. and punctuated by the way he resettles himself so that he can reach down and guide the head of wolfwood’s cock along the slick warmth of his slit, lashes fluttering at the feeling. ] Which is why I’m gonna make sure I take good care of you.

Fuck.

[ Breathed out, soft and low, but it may as well be a prayer for the sound of it. The feeling of Vash so slick and warm and right there feels more like a promise than a tease, but it's suddenly very important to Wolfwood that he leave this part of it in Vash's hands; it's something that must be given, not taken. Not that the conviction stops him from clamping that hand that's not at Vash's face to his hip and near begging for it. ]

Please -

the woods are lovely, dark and deep

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