Chapter Text
It’s not his dream job, but it pays the bills - and, quite frankly, there’s a lot of worse things he could be doing.
He’s used to the smirks that often come when he tells people where he works, the ones that immediately precede intrusive questions about whether or not he’s the kind of masseuse that offers happy endings. Nicholas finds that staring the person in the eye with a bored expression usually has them squirming with discomfort, turning the embarrassment on them instead and leading them to drop the subject entirely. He’s almost finished with his degree in social work: he doesn’t need strangers he meets at bars spreading rumours that he’s an erotic masseuse, sending who knows how many creeps his way and ensuring he never gets a job in the field he’s been working so hard to enter. Bringing up the deep tissue massages for athletes and lymphatic ones for people struggling with chronic pain usually shut even the most irritating of them up, seemingly giving legitimacy to something they sneered at before.
It’s not even called a happy ending, anyway, but he’s not about to tell them that.
He’s on his own out in reception one Thursday afternoon, idly arranging the folders on their business email because Zazie is a fucking beast who’ll sign up to any mailing list going and dooming them to a lifetime of chain mails and offers of penis enhancing medication. The others are busy in their own rooms while his day stretches out before him, empty and unburdened. His three o’clock cancelled - something about running over her neighbour’s dog and having to rush it to the vet - and so Nicholas entertains himself by sorting their emails out into important, non-essential, and Zazie’s shit to deal with.
It’s a blustery day and the wind has someone stumbling through the door, slamming it shut behind them as they pant for breath. Nicholas glances up, eyebrows raised, to find a blond man leaning against the wall, gaze on him. “Hey.” He smiles at Nicholas, almost vibrating from nervous excitement. “I called earlier about a massage?”
Yeah, he didn’t expect the guy who stammered and rambled down the phone an hour ago to look like this. If he’s honest, Nicholas didn’t expect him to turn up at all. His spiked hair and huge orange lenses are ridiculous but they don’t disguise the fact that Blondie is cute as hell, tall and lean with legs that seem to go on for days. They’re only accentuated by the leather trousers that cling to him, at odds with the baggy, faded hoodie on his top half. Blondie’s hands are shoved in the red pockets of the hoodie, visibly clenching in and out of fists.
“Yes, you did. You spoke to me.” He stands, smiling back at him. He doesn’t miss the way Blondie’s lips dig into his bottom lip, body language still tense. “You were looking for massages that help with back pain, right?”
“Right.” The man takes a step forwards, hands bundled in his pockets. “I don’t know if it’s from leaning over a desk or sleeping badly or my posture or what, but I’m starting to wonder if I have scoliosis or something because it’s getting unbearable. I’d like to wake up just once without the pain being the first thing I notice, y’know? It’s the worst way to start my morning.” He runs out of steam, sucks in a breath then steadies himself. “Sorry. I’m Vash.”
“Nice to meetcha, Vash. I’m Nick.” Nicholas has always felt like a mouthful, a cruel name bestowed upon him by someone he’s never known for the crime of being born on Christmas Eve. Vash takes another step closer and Nicholas leans against the desk. “Did you find us online?”
“I, um - I found your parlour on a website, yeah. It had a list of LGBTQ friendly service providers in the city.” Vash presses his lips together, eyes on his, and Nicholas smiles bracingly at him.
“Yeah, we are. There’s not a single person who works here who’s both straight and cis.” Vash’s shoulders relax slightly, some of the tension leaving his body and the corners of his lips lifting. Nicholas leans forwards, elbows on the counter. “If there’s anything for me to be aware of or anything you’d like to run through before we start, just say the word.”
There always tends to be a reason behind why customers seek out their business specifically and he knows by his expression that he’s won Vash’s confidence, despite the fact there’s still clearly a hell of a lot of nervous energy vibrating within him. “I’m trans,” Vash tells him, hands twisting together before him. “I used to go to a masseuse I was friendly with who’s known me since before I transitioned, but she moved away and I was dragging my heels about going somewhere else in case they were - well. You know.”
“An asshole,” Nicholas says bluntly and Vash huffs with laughter, hands coming to curl around his waist. He can’t help but wonder if the blond is capable of ever remaining still, able to stop his hands from moving and fluttering.
“Yeah. You know how it is.” Teeth digging into his lower lip, Vash’s eyes flicker over him from head to foot. “I’ve had top surgery, but not bottom. I don’t mind you touching me anywhere - well, maybe not the soles of my feet because I’m really tickly, but I guess you wouldn’t be massaging there anyway - and I’m fine with any type of massage as long as it focuses on my back, so…” He trails off, shrugs then smiles, bashful but beautiful.
“Duly noted.” He makes a note to be cautious if he runs his hands over Vash’s chest, looking out for the first sign of reluctance. “Anything else?”
“I’ve got a prosthetic arm as well.” Vash shrugs off his coat, revealing that his left arm is a bright, shining contraption of blue-green metal, glossy when it catches the overhead lights. “I suppose you’ll want me to take it off in case you accidentally start trying to massage it, too.” He laughs at his own joke, slightly breathy with nerves. “It's up to you, really.”
“Blondie, I’ve seen just about every body size and shape out there. I wouldn’t be in this job if I balked at coming across something new.” Vash’s eyes widen at the nickname as Nicholas holds his hand out to him, palm up. “Can I see your arm? I didn’t know you could get them in that colour: it’s cool.”
“My brother designed it for me.” Vash stretches his arm towards him and lets Nicholas run his palm along his metal radius, surprised at its warmth. “He’s a biomechanical engineer-slash-doctor. He’s a total genius, obviously - he does all the repairs and maintenance for me, but he flies home a lot for business and of course that’s when it needs repaired and I get a lecture when he gets back and it’s malfunctioning - ”
He wonders where home is for Vash as he rambles on; where the hint of an accent on the edges of his sentences comes from. “It’s probably better if you leave it off the bed,” he tells him when Vash eventually runs out of steam. “Just so you can get comfortable, and so we don’t get oil in it.” Nicholas smirks at him, watching the way those blue eyes light up at the sight of it. “Can’t have your brother shouting at us, can we?”
“No,” Vash says, slightly breathless. “That’s a good idea.” He shifts from foot to foot, hands clenching again, which Nicholas takes to be as good a sign as any that he’s ready.
“If that’s everything - ?” He jerks his chin towards the back and Vash stumbles forwards like an excited puppy, footsteps heavy as Nicholas leads him to his room. He stands aside when Vash steps in, watching his reactions as the blond’s eyes flicker from the bed to the dim lights then back again. “Towels are in the basket beside the bed. I’ll be just outside: I’ll knock and wait for you to let me know when you’re ready, but take all the time you need to get comfortable. That okay?”
“Yep,” Vash says, gaze dragged from the flickering tea lights in the corner to Nicholas’ eyes, lips lifting in a smile. It creases the corners of his eyes in a way that shouldn’t be so pleasant but absolutely is. “Thank you.”
Nicholas nods, stepping out and quietly closing the door behind him. If he accounts for Vash taking off his arm he should be a few minutes at the very least, which seems a perfect amount of time to be able to sneak outside and have a cigarette. Two, if he feels like treating himself.
There’s a scrambling sound when he eventually knocks on the door, and a thump and yelp that’s probably Vash crashing into something. “Ready!” he calls, breathless, and Nicholas pokes his head in to find that he’s thankfully on the bed and, more importantly, uninjured. Now he’s almost naked he sees that Vash has got the body of a runner, fit and wiry rather than bulky. His broad shoulders taper down to a much thinner waist, lightly muscled. He’s propped up on one arm, smiling sheepishly at Nicholas with the towel slung low on his hips, hair flatter as if restlessly patting it down. “Hey.”
“Hey. You ready?” Nicholas asks him and he nods, readjusting himself until he’s face down with his forehead pressed against the pad, exhaling hugely. Dimming the lights, Nicholas treads over to him and reaches for the bottle of massage oil, pouring it into his hands and rubbing them together to warm it up. “Just breathe, alright? That’s all you need to focus on doing.”
Vash nods as Nicholas stares down at him, at the ridges of his spine and chipped red nails of his right hand. Under the dim lights of the room he can see scars crisscrossing the pale skin of Vash’s back, faded silver with age. There’s a hell of a lot of them, parts of his back looking as though they’ve been almost gouged away. Pushing it from his mind, Nicholas settles his hands against Vash’s skin and begins to push upwards, the man soft and pliant beneath his touch.
It’s a mild surprise that Vash doesn’t chatter away during the massage, either taking his instruction of just breathing to heart or else trying to relax. He doesn’t mind the silence: most clients don’t speak while he’s working on them, letting only the sound from his speakers fill the room. They’re on seascapes now and Nicholas times the movement of his hands to the slow crashing of waves on a beach, the heels of his palms digging into the small of Vash’s back.
He doesn’t miss the way Vash tenses then relaxes with each push into his muscles, the little hitches then sighs of relief as his pain starts to ebb away. Given the fact his muscles feel tight as hell, Nicholas must be a miracle worker to him now. “You’re very tight here,” he tells Vash as he works out a knot in his muscle, the man beneath almost whining at the sensation. “Have you been under a lot of stress recently?”
“Yeah.” Vash doesn’t elaborate, chest slowly rising and falling as Nicholas’ palms knead his shoulders. He hums to himself, fingers trailing up the ridges of Vash’s spine.
“You can really tell.” The flat of his hand runs all the way up to the base of his spine, pressing down upon it. “You’re holding a lot of it in you.” His palm rocks back and forth, smooth and steady, and he hears the breath catch in Vash’s throat when his fingertips brush the hair at the nape of his neck, the shaved undercut rough beneath his fingers.
There’s not much difference when it comes to the sensation of Vash’s smooth skin compared to the scar tissue save for a few raised, rough patches here and there. It’s ironic that he told Vash to relax while he’s straining himself for any sound, any indication that the blond is in pain from his actions, but Nicholas supposes that he isn’t supposed to follow his own advice in this situation. Still, the more he works the more he feels Vash loosen under his touch until his body is totally lax against the bed, lips parted and golden eyelashes brushing his cheeks. Cherubic comes to mind but he forces it away, palms settling just under Vash’s shoulder blades.
“We’re pretty much finished here,” Nicholas tells him, though he’s still pressing down upon him. He can’t help but laugh when Vash makes an irritated sound in the back of his throat at the news. “So good that you want some more?”
“Maybe,” he says, words muffled, then turns his head so that his cheek is fully flat against the bed. Nicholas’ other hand is braced beside him and he sees Vash’s eyes flicker over it, focusing on his knuckles and short, chipped nails. He imagines Vash scouring their website, chewing on his thumbnail and ruining his nail polish as he checked out all the options. He wouldn’t have seen the service that’s playing on Nicholas’ mind; the one he rarely offers to clients, that he doesn’t breathe a word about outside of the four walls of the parlour.
He’s really tense.
Nicholas debates with himself for only a moment before he decides on it. Instead of wiping him down his hands trail the length of Vash’s spine again, back along his body and over the towel slung around his hips. “There’s another service I offer, actually.” His hands pause when they reach the back of his thighs, and Vash stills beneath him. “Have you heard of a tantric massage?”
“No,” Vash says slowly, though there’s suspicion in his tone. “What is it?”
“Well.” Nicholas’ hands don’t move, still splayed against his thighs and feeling the warmth of Vash’s skin beneath him. “I don’t strictly follow the rules of it, but it’s the closest thing I can compare it to. It’s a more - intimate massage.”
Vash stills at once. Nicholas can almost see the gears working in his mind, thinking about how there were no indicators online about the parlour offering sexual experiences, no supposed happy ending packages for sale. “Oh,” he says lowly, and his swallow is audible.
“It’s entirely up to you. If it’s not what you want, we can stop now and say nothing more about it. I meant it when I said that I wouldn’t do anything you aren’t comfortable with.” Nicholas’s palms slide further back, settling on the safer area of his knees. The last thing he wants is for him to feel pressured into it; for Vash to stay silent and just go along with it out of a sense of obligation. “And, just so you know, I’m the only one that offers this service, and only to certain people.”
“Certain people?” Vash repeats, voice hoarse.
“Yeah. Like I said, you’re clearly stressed. The tension’s obvious over your whole body.” His fingertips press into his calves, feeling the firm muscles beneath. “This would be a better stress reliever than anything else I could offer you.”
“What,” Vash says suddenly, lilting, “jerking me off as stress relief?”
Nicholas laughs, unable to help himself. “It’s not just that. It’s a massage of your erogenous zones - and, yes, that includes your genitals, but it’s not jerking you off. It’s a lot slower and more relaxed than that.”
Turning his head so that his other cheek is against the bed, Vash seems to consider his words as he wets his lips with his tongue. “So what would you do?” he says at last, and his hand fists at his side.
“Whatever you’re comfortable with. If you’re comfortable with penetration then I can do that, slowly and easily.” Both of his hands come down upon Vash’s right, massaging into his knuckles until he loosens his fist out. “Opening you up with maximum ease.”
“Right,” Vash manages, and his voice is tiny. “Okay.”
“All you have to do is lie there,” Nicholas continues, still massaging his hand, “receive the massage, and surrender to the senses and feelings you’re experiencing. It’s all about experiencing the sexual energy within yourself.”
Vash’s eyes flicker his way and Nicholas smiles down at him. He presses his thumb against the inside of the blond’s wrist, feeling the quickened pulse beneath. “And - open me up?” Vash asks him, gaze squarely on his.
“Like I said, I don’t follow it strictly. The giver’s not supposed to talk, and the receiver’s supposed to receive it passively and without necessarily having an orgasm - but I find it hard not to talk someone through it, and I’d rather they take pleasure from it.“
Vash is staring up at him, expression unreadable. He hasn’t taken offence to him - not that he expected the man to punch him and storm out - but it’s a relief that he hasn’t slid off the bed and politely made his excuses, his mind clearly working to make a decision.
“It’s entirely up to you.” Nicholas’s hand is still on Vash’s wrist, thumb still against his pulse. “If you don’t want it, all you have to do is say. We can end this right now, if that’s what you want.”
“No,” Vash rasps, so suddenly that it takes him by surprise. “No, I want it. I want you to - to touch me. Penetrate me. Please,” he adds, voice small.
Nicholas feels his eyes crease with his smile. “Good,” he says softly, and somehow it feels as though Vash has offered some great gift to him. “Okay. Let’s get you adjusted.”
Vash raises himself onto his forearms and Nicholas can see them trembling beneath him. The blue eyes rake over him, taking in the way the body oil gleams at Nicholas’ brown wrists. “What do you need me to do?” he says, with more strength in his voice now.
“Roll onto your side for me. That’s it.” Clutching his towel to his waist, Vash watches him push open a panel in the bed to reveal a gap one might expect to place their face into, but situated firmly at his hips instead. “It’s for your genitals,” Nicholas explains when he follows Vash's gaze, watching the way his lips part. “So that they’re easy for me to access.”
He can almost see Vash’s lips form the words easy access. Hands trembling, he removes the towel and drops it aside to settle himself back into place on the bed, cheek pressed to the warm material. Nicholas grabs the bottle of oil again and pours a generous amount onto his palms, rubbing his hands together to warm it.
“If there’s anything you want me to stop doing,” Nicholas says lowly once he’s ready, stroking his wet fingers down his spine and making Vash shiver, “then tell me. If it’s too much or you want to stop entirely, let me know.”
Vash nods jerkily, shivering again as Nicholas’ wet fingers run the length of his back, coming to settle on either side of his ass. He uses one large hand to spread his cheeks and hold them open, trailing his fingers over his hole with the other, touch feather light. Vash stiffens when two of the oiled fingers press against his taint, testing him. “Just relax,” Nicholas says in a soothing voice, gently pushing down and beginning to massage into him. “Deep breaths. Focus on how this is making you feel.”
Breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, Vash seems to be biting down on his tongue as Nicholas’s fingertips brush themselves along his perineum, oil dripping to the bed below. One of the deepest scars is carved into his hip, ending just below where the towel had been wrapped, but Nicholas ignores it. He’s more focused on Vash’s ass, small but toned, lending further weight to his theory of the man being a runner.
“This’ll work out all your stress for sure. You’re relaxing for me already.” He pushes his hand wider, spreads Vash’s cheeks wider with a single hand, and feels Vash tremble as a droplet of oil runs over his hole. He scoops it up with his thumb then presses it back into his skin, directly between his pussy and asshole.
He’s sure Vash has been fingered before, but nothing like this. Not when the other person has deliberately massaged around his hole without focusing on penetration, coming just short of his folds. The soothing music in the background switches to a new track, and the low crashing of waves fills the room.
“All good?” Nicholas murmurs and Vash nods, cheek against the bed. Nicholas’ hand keeps him spread and the other focuses on his taint, thumb pressing against the edge of his pussy. The blond shivers at the first press against it, the finger sliding inside him with zero resistance, and Nicholas is sure his low laugh tickles the hairs on the back of his neck as he feels Vash’s dripping wetness. “Ah. You came prepared.”
“Not for this,” Vash says in a rush, relaxation going out the window. “It was earlier, at my apartment - I was frustrated, and - ”
“And tried to work out your frustration with an orgasm,” Nicholas finishes for him. “That’s understandable. It’s a stress reliever, isn’t it?” He pushes his finger deeper and Vash’s breath hitches. “So, tell me. What were you doing?”
“Doing?” His voice is hazy as Nicholas slowly pulls his finger back, dragging against his walls, and goes weaker still when a second pushes in alongside it.
“Earlier.” Nicholas keeps his own voice calm and steady, remaining fingers splayed against his ass to open him up as the two inside him gently scissor, thumb to his perineum. “To try and make yourself cum. Was it just with your hands, or did you use toys?”
“I - ha.” The breath escapes Vash as Nicholas’s fingers stretch him out, leisurely and unhurried. “I used toys,” he manages at last, ragged. “A - a dildo, and then - ah - a vibrator. For my g-spot.”
“I love a vibrator,” Nicholas says, as casually as if they were discussing the weather. “But it clearly didn’t relieve you of all your stress. That’s okay, though. That’s what I’m here for.”
Vash makes a little noise in the back of his throat but it fades at once at the tease of a third finger against his hole. “Normally I wouldn’t go in with so many fingers so quickly,” Nicholas says quietly, as the fingers breach his pussy and push inside to the sound of Vash’s shudder, “but I think you need the feeling of fullness to relax, more than others might need it.”
His words cause Vash’s lips to press together, eyes tightly closed. “How did you know?” he says, and Nicholas can’t help but smile at the inadvertent confirmation.
“I’m psychic.” Vash huffs then gasps at the fingers curling inside him, the wet shlick of Nicholas opening him up. “Do you always break your dildo out after a stressful day?”
The blond’s head tilts back, exposing the pale column of his throat. “A lot, yeah.” His lips part again, mouth hanging open while Nicholas’ fingers stroke over and over inside him. “There’s one that - that has a mechanism that lets it eja- ahh, ejaculate inside you.”
Shit. Though it was dormant until now his cock twitches in his pants, hardening at once at the mental image of Vash bouncing himself on a dildo, pressing a button to make it cum inside him until synthetic semen is dribbling out over his folds. Swallowing hard, Nicholas forces himself to keep breathing steadily, focusing on pleasuring Vash instead of letting his other hand creep towards his own crotch.
His concentration takes the form of silence, and there’s a few minutes where the only noises in the room are the low music and the wet sound of his fingers moving inside Vash. “How are we doing?” Nicholas says at last, measured. There’s slick pooling upon his fingers, oozing out of Vash as he finger fucks him, and he sighs as Nicholas’ newly wetted fingers slide in to their knuckles.
“So good.” Vash is slurring now as Nicholas keeps his fingers knuckle deep, massaging against his inner walls. “Feels so good.”
“That’s great. You’re doing amazingly.” Nicholas’ other hand splays against his ass, palm pressing into the cheek as he continues to work him open, wider. “You can almost see the tension leaving you. Just keep giving into that feeling.” Vash’s eyes flutter closed and a moan escapes him when Nicholas’ fingers finally find his g-spot, circling the roughness before pressing down upon it. “There,” he says, satisfied. “Isn’t it so good to just lie back and be pleasured?”
Vash hums in response, every muscle lax and loose. Oil is dripping down his skin, a growing puddle of it spreading beneath his thighs as Nicholas pours more over and into him, easing the smooth glide of his fingers as they pet at him. The only sound is the soothing music, the squelch of Nicholas’ oiled fingers and his quiet, smooth voice as he talks him through it.
“You’re lovely and loose for me,” he murmurs, and he opens his fingers out against Vash’s walls to prove it. “So little resistance. Your body’s so willing for me to stretch you wide.” His pinky finger stops petting at Vash’s hole and instead presses in alongside the others, sliding inside him without an ounce of resistance. “That’s it,” Nicholas tells him, utterly calm despite the fact half his hand is inside Vash, his fingers pressed right to their knuckles. “That’s a good boy, so good and relaxed for me.”
Beneath him, tears spill down Vash’s cheeks and soak into the bed below as his hips press back, mindlessly trying to take Nicholas deeper even as the fingers spread within him. His hand comes down on the small of Vash’s back, pushing him back flat against the bed again. “Easy now. Just lie there for me and take it.” The muscles relax under his touch, Vash going limp at once, and Nicholas smiles at the back of his head. “There’s no sense in rushing things along.”
He continues pushing four fingers into him, marvelling at how easily Vash is opening up for him. Sure, it might be the fact he was masturbating before he came here - and it takes everything in Nicholas not to imagine Vash with his legs in the air, fucking a dildo into himself as he gasped and cried - but he’d like to think it’s from how relaxed he feels under his touch, willing to give in to all the sensations he’s offering.
“I bet that you’d be able to take my whole fist after another session or two,” he says without thinking, a shiver going through Vash as Nicholas’ knuckles catch on his hole. “You’ve never been fisted before, have you?” With obvious difficulty he shakes his head and Nicholas huffs with laughter. “Didn’t think so. Well, you work your way slowly up to it, finger by finger with lots of oil. You need to be nice and relaxed for it, your body ready and willing to open itself to something that feels too much, but which it absolutely can take. And for you…”
He presses his fingers in to the deepest point they’ve been yet and watches Vash’s eyes pool with tears at the push of his thumb against his taint. “Look how pliant and loose you are. I think you’d be able to take a fist no problem.”
By the way Vash is trembling and pressing back on him, he seems more than willing to try. Nicholas’s thumb remains where it is, gently stroking his taint while he continues on in his calm voice. “Focus on what my fingers are doing now. How they feel against your g-spot; what it’s doing to your body. How are you feeling?”
The blond swallows once, twice, before he can speak barely above a whisper, as rough as sandpaper. “Good. So good.”
“That’s it.” Nicholas’ other hand settles on the small of his back again, speaking above the low squelch of the fingers pushing in and out of Vash. “Now, I’m going to focus on your g-spot for another few minutes and give it all my attention. Then I’ll move my other hand to your front, alright?”
“What are you going to do?” he rasps, and Nicholas watches his eyes roll back when all four of his fingers stroke over his g-spot.
“Well, this hand’s gonna stay exactly where it is, stretching you out nice and wide, but I’m going to focus on your… what am I okay to call it?”
“My clit,” Vash whispers. “Anything. I don’t mind.”
“Your clit,” he continues soothingly, as if the debate never happened, “with my other hand, and being as gentle with it as I am now. I want you to be open and relaxed for me and you’re so good now, responding so well to me.”
He can tell Vash wants to be good for him, pliant and willing to take anything he offers him. He stays flat on the bed as instructed, swallowing over and over, so relaxed that he doesn’t try and hump Nicholas’s hand or try to push himself back on his fingers.
He returns to the oil one final time before his thumb and forefinger encircle Vash’s clit and gently push back the hood, thumb massaging into it. “Good boy,” Nicholas whispers as he shudders, rolling the hood back and forth. “You’re doing so good.”
He begins to slowly pump Vash, a gentle pulling motion as he keeps dragging his hand in and out of his hole. Saliva is dripping down Vash’s chin, lips parted and eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as he drools. The squelching’s more pronounced now Nicholas is working him with both hands, knuckles catching on Vash’s hole and fingers continuing to work his stiff clit. There’s the chirp of nature sounds from the speaker, the lewd sound of him pressing deeper still, but he’s sure Vash can hear his voice over the sounds of his body.
“That’s it.” He doesn’t speed his fingers up, continuing at that gradual pace as he feels Vash’s warm walls begin to flex around his fingers, rocking ever so slightly into his touch. “Easy does it. You’re nearly there, I can tell.”
Vash doesn’t, perhaps can’t respond. He lies there, prone and blissed out, as Nicholas’ fingers press into his g-spot and fingers slowly pump his clit. A moment later he’s rocking his hips, the slightest, smallest movement, and Nicholas allows it.
“Just let go,” he whispers, petting the bundle of nerves and thumbing the wet head of his clit as he drips, drips, drips to the puddle beneath him. “Let go and cum for me, Vash.”
He does so with a sob, tightening around Nicholas’s fingers as he squirts, coating his hand in fluids that only add to the mess on the floor. His orgasm seems to go on for minutes, body twitching and convulsing - and he’s crying openly now, fat tears rolling down his cheeks as he rocks back on his fingers and Nicholas soothes him through it. “That’s amazing, Vash, you’re so amazing, cumming so well for me.” His fingers keep pumping Vash’s clit and he clenches around the part of Nicholas’s hand still inside him, still pressing against his g-spot and forcing squirt after squirt of fluid out of him.
He’s shivering by the time the tremors finally ease away, when the flood has ended and the last drops of slick are dripping from his folds. Nicholas releases his clit and settles his hand on the small of his back again, rubbing it comfortingly and helping him to loosen up enough that he can pull his hand free with a wet sound and a whimper from Vash. “You did so well, so, so well.” His oily hand brushes Vash’s neck as he cleans the other off against the towel, noting how Vash’s eyelashes are spiked with tears. “I’ll get you a blanket.”
Vash doesn’t protest. He’s boneless as Nicholas eases him up from the bed, slumping against him the moment he’s in a seated position and Nicholas wraps a blanket around him, his arm joining as it encircles his shoulders and lets him hold Vash close. “You’re going to be feeling a lot of endorphins right now,” he tells him, thumb stroking his bicep, “and I don’t want you to have a drop. So we’re going to sit here and have a cuddle until you start to feel more like yourself.”
Though he expected Vash to question the drop, he doesn’t. Nicholas reaches for a bottle of water tucked into the bedside basket and presses it against his hand, and Vash’s eyes flicker down to it. When he doesn’t make a move he takes it back and cracks it open, holding it up to his lips until he begins to sip at it. “Well done,” Nicholas says kindly, setting the bottle aside when Vash is finished and pulling him closer. Head resting against his shoulder, Vash’s eyes slide closed. “You should be proud of yourself for that, because I know I am."
Vash doesn’t voice it, but he doesn’t disagree either. He lets himself be held while Nicholas pets his hair then reaches for a damp cloth, wiping down his back then moving to his stomach and legs. He doesn’t mention the squirting, not sure if Vash himself wants to acknowledge it, and yet Nicholas marvels over him as he wipes his soaked legs, cleaning away the last remaining droplets. It’s quite possibly the best reaction he’s ever gotten out of someone during a massage, the puddle on the floor a testament to how strong Vash’s orgasm was.
“How are you feeling?” he asks him when he’s finished cleaning him, arm returning to encircle the man’s shoulders. Vash mumbles something under his breath and Nicholas nudges him, still kind yet firm. “Gonna need a better answer than that, Blondie.”
“I’m fine. Good, actually.” He blinks his eyes open, gaze focused rather than hazy, and clears his throat. “Really good.”
“Good,” Nicholas echoes, trying not to feel too smug. “That’s really good.” He smiles at Vash when the man pulls himself away to sit up properly, rolling his neck on his shoulders. “You think you can stand up?”
“Uh-huh.” Vash slides from the bed, squeezing his eyes shut then opening them again. He glances down at himself then at Nicholas, a pink flush spreading right down his neck to his collarbones as he seems to come back to reality. “I’ll just - get myself ready.”
“Take your time.” He sees the prosthetic arm's gleam from the corner of his eye and jerks his chin towards it. “Did I get any oil - ?”
“No,” Vash blurts out and Nicholas could kick himself, sure he’s just said something inadvertently offensive. “No, it's fine. Thank you, though.” He swipes the towel up from the floor and wraps it around his hips, not looking Nicholas’ way, and he knows when he’s being dismissed.
“I’ll be at reception. Take your time,” he repeats and Vash nods, lips twitching in the approximation of a smile, and Nicholas quietly closes the door behind him.
It’s a few minutes before the sound of combat boots echo down the hallway and Vash appears, hair tufty as if he’s been running his hands through it. The prosthetic arm is almost hidden by the long sleeves of his hoodie. “Hey,” he says, more strength in his voice than before, one foot knocking against the other and smiling at Nicholas from his spot behind the reception desk. “Well, it didn’t hurt to walk just there.”
“Excellent,” he says, trying not to feel too smug. “It’s what you came here for, isn’t it?”
Came probably wasn’t the best word to use, given how the pinkness returns to Vash’s cheeks, but with it comes a sheepish grin as he pulls his wallet out of his pocket. Nicholas rings up his bill, and the smile fades as Vash’s eyebrows pull together. “I thought - ”
“I’d charge you more for our session?” Nicholas finishes, grinning at him. “No, no. It was an offer from me, so I wasn’t gonna demand extra money from you.” He adores sticking on an asshole tax for customers who so much as breathe too heavily in his direction, but Vash - wide-eyed, long legged and endearingly honest - definitely doesn’t fit into that category.
“Oh.” Vash’s throat bobs with his swallow. “Well. If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.” He watches the way Vash shifts from foot to foot, eyes bright and cheeks flushed. “Any issues at all - any pain, even if it’s mild - call and let us know. There shouldn’t be, but just in case.” It’s the mildest way he can think of in encouraging Vash to come back, despite the fact he just had half his hand inside the man.
“Okay.” Vash seems to be struggling with multiple syllables, but squares his shoulders and meets Nicholas’ gaze. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
He’s far too endearing in just the way he thanks him, those huge, downturned eyes impossible to look away from. “Anytime,” Nicholas says, and means it. He smiles at Vash who returns it with one of his own, taking a step towards the door that seems all too reluctant. “See you again.”
He doesn’t voice it as a question despite the temptation, and Vash’s eyes glint behind the oversized shades. “See you,” he echoes, then hesitates - but a second later and he’s turned on his heel, letting himself out and quietly closing the parlour door behind him.