#// wolfwood stop being SWEET you're gonna ruin the MOOD

[forgivenpunishment]

Wolfwood rolls his face against the wall, biting his lower lip as he quietly, bashfully moans his lover's name. Hopefully it's too quiet for Vash to hear, but Nicholas knows better than that—if he has enhanced senses, Vash must have them at least tenfold. Face now a beautiful shade of sunset red, Wolfwood looks backwards again with the other eye, watching this special facet of Vash the Stampede that so few, if any, have had the pleasure of seeing.

He looks so calm and in control like this. Wolfwood could get used to this, but admittedly he does enjoy it when Vash rolls over for him. Hopefully he's not into the whole... degradation thing. They'd never really discussed it, but looking at him now, the undertaker realizes he'd never be able to be mean during sex with Vash. Vash just deserves someone, something gentle. Everyone else in the world, including himself and, yes, Wolfwood too, is mean. These moments should be cherished and adored for what they are. He supposes that he really does put too much thought into things—maybe it's just because he can now.

"You don't need to get me nothin', Blondie. You're the best damn thing I could ever have. No better gift than you." Another moan punctuates his thought, and Wolfwood finds himself arching backwards to encourage Vash to go deeper, to spread him open. The warm sensation is a bit strange at first, but now that it's suitably in and on him it just makes him want more.

"I'd say y'could get me somethin' for my birthday if you really felt like it, but..."

Ah, that slipped out.

One of Wolfwood's major tenets: do not talk about his birthday. Don't bring it up, don't even acknowledge it, because he knows the reaction the answer gets out of people.

"... It really ain't that important to me, darlin'. Just like being here with you. Fighting with you by my side, traveling the world with you—I like all that. Keep doin' that, being my friend, and it doesn't matter what you get me."

A tremor shakes through his body at the end of his sentence, and another, louder, moan escapes his agape mouth.

"Ahh—Vash—right... right there—"

Hey, he was just checking-- if Wolfwood didn't care, or didn't want it, then he wouldn't bother. Like he'd said, they were just a little bit beyond that point; they'd pretty much been beyond it since they'd started having sex. God knows Vash hadn't thought about anything like that when he'd first climbed on top of--

Focus!

... h-how was he supposed to focus when he got to look at Wolfwood like this?! Corset boning and sheer fabric seemed almost eager to compliment the bronzed skin and sculpted muscle. This view let him complete the full picture of Wolfwood in the outfit, even if it was a little skewed and (now) missing some pieces. It was still dangerously tempting-- even gifting his left hand a mind of it's own, gliding down along the curve of his waist and hip.

"You thought of everything, huh~?" he chuffed, giving his ass a squeeze with his left head, and tugging gently at the sparkly ribbing with his right. Wouldn't want to loosen it-- "two presents with so much thought put into them... and I got you cigarettes and candy. I'm really gonna have to step up my game for next time."

Whenever that was. Vash hadn't exactly restricted little gestures and gifts to specific occasions, but that was neither here nor there right now. He tore through the tamper seal with the help of his teeth, spitting it out and popping open the cap like he wasn't wasting any time-- and he really wasn't, now. If Wolfwood had already started them off, then he was going to try going with two fingers; getting them nice and slick (oh, whoa, this stuff really is warming) and urging the undertaker to spread his legs just that little bit further-- by way of squeezing his ass again, and using his thumb to expose his entrance a bit more.

"This stuff does heat up a little. Just warning you..."

Just like the first time, the Plant painted over the hole with the pads of his fingers, making sure it was sufficiently lubed up, too, before prodding the ring of muscle and slipping the slick digits inside--