Archive of Our Own

In the month of July, the city of JuLai becomes hotter than the seventh ring of Dante’s inferno, or in Wolfwood’s preferred lingo – Satan’s literal asshole. There’s a pun in there somewhere that Wolfwood is sure he could make, about Julys in JuLai, but his brain is too addled by the heat to think up anything clever enough. 

The heat is sweltering. The sun is unforgiving, doesn’t cast a single ounce of shade anywhere for one to take refuge, her rays so sharp and intense that Wolfwood feels as if all his energy is instantly sapped away the moment that he leaves his house. Every step outside feels like an intimate experience in learning what it’s like to be an egg cooked over a skillet. The hot air is heavy, humid, embracing him like an all-encompassing hug he doesn’t need nor want. His work at the orphanage involves him being outside often, monitoring the kids as they play outside, and those are the moments where he finds himself actively yearning for death. Inside, it’s somewhat better to an extent, the sun’s ruthless glare absent, but it’s still incredibly hot and humid. 

In the height of JuLai’s summer heatwave in July, Wolfwood is holed up at home as a refuge. Well, a more accurate term is that he’s bumming out at his friend’s home because it supposedly has a working AC, and Wolfwood generally spends every moment of free time there whenever he can because he gets too bored in his shitty apartment otherwise. Plus, he’s too poor to afford an AC, so there’s that too. 

It’s basically his own home at this point, too, except he doesn’t pay rent and has a nasty habit of raiding the fridge for any fresh food and cold beers. 

And his friend, Vash Saverem, is a sweetheart. He could never turn him away even if Wolfwood’s version of puppy dog eyes is just showing up at his doorstep with donuts and a grimace plastered on his sweaty face. His brother fucking hates his guts, though, but Wolfwood isn’t here for that fucker anyway. 

“It’s so fucking hot,” Wolfwood whines, sitting directly in front of the fan that only seems to push hot air back in his face. “Why is it so fucking hot?”

“ Nicholas , that’s the fifth time you’ve said that in the past hour. I know because I’ve been counting.”

Wolfwood ignores the way Vash says his given name, rolling it off his tongue in such a wily way that it makes Wolfwood shiver. Vash is the only one who calls him Nicholas, albeit sparingly when he wants to admonish him, but it makes his stomach twist into knots each time. Still, he can’t bring himself to tell Vash not to call him that. Rather than acknowledge the current twist in his gut, he gives Vash the middle finger without turning around, doesn’t want to turn around from his embrace of the small fan in the center of Vash’s living room. 

“It’s literally hotter than Satan’s asshole today,” Wolfwood continues, ignoring Vash’s pointed sigh. “Why isn’t your AC working again?”

“I don’t know,” Vash says slowly, “Nai said something about the interior breaking down from the heat.”

“Damn, even the AC couldn’t tolerate this goddamn heat,” Wolfwood groans. 

“Yep,” Vash agrees, “you can leave if you want.”

Leaving would entail Wolfwood leaving Vash’s house and taking the fifteen minute trek to his own apartment through the sweltering heat and ultraviolet rays that might as well be lethal at this point. It would also entail leaving Vash himself, and while Wolfwood is every bit of the opportunistic asshole that Nai, Vash’s asshole twin brother, says he is, he still likes to spend time with him just for the hell of it. They are friends for a reason, after all, does enjoy Vash’s company believe it or not.  

He’d rather bitch and moan about the heat with Vash to listen to him than bitch and moan about it by himself in an empty apartment anyway. 

“Nah.” Wolfwood turns around to face Vash with a grin he hopes looks charming instead of smarmy. “I know you’d miss my excellent company in my absence.”

It was a mistake to turn around because he comes face to face with Vash reclined on his couch, wearing nothing but a flimsy gray tank top and red shorts that are so tiny they might as well be underwear. It’s what he greeted Wolfwood with when he let himself in earlier after his shift at the orphanage, but Wolfwood was so sweaty and lethargic from the heat that he hadn’t spared him a second glance as he barreled inside, but he’s certainly giving him both a second and a third glance now.

It’s different, Wolfwood tells himself, because Vash is lying down and he must not realize how… suggestive he looks right now. His flimsy tank top is crumpled upwards, revealing a soft pale stomach underneath, his shorts hanging so low on his hips that Wolfwood can see his navel. His skin is tacky, too, droplets of water that are fresh from a shower mingling with the perspiration from the hot air. 

Wolfwood swallows. 

“Oh, I really don’t know what I’d do without your sunny presence in my life, Nicholas.” Vash rolls his eyes, stretching his back on the couch, showing even more of his skin as his tank top rides up. The sleeves are so wide that Wolfwood is flashed with a glimpse of nipple. “Please don’t bar me from all your endless enthusiasm and positivity.” 

There he goes again, saying his name so languidly, so oblivious to the heat that pools in the base of Wolfwood’s stomach as a result, something he blames on the general heat than the inferno blazing inside of him. He turns around again, rummaging in the pocket of his basketball shorts for a cigarette, fingers only trembling once as he hastily lights his smoke, letting the ash fill his lungs and burn his chest from the inside out alongside any pesky feelings he doesn’t need to be feeling. 

Yeah, it’s already hot enough, but Wolfwood will make himself a little hotter if it means he doesn’t have to look at Vash like that, pure and unadulterated want coursing through his veins. He curses underneath his breath, waiting for the tobacco to placate the simmering heat thrumming underneath his skin. 

“Hey, you know I’m joking, right?” Vash says, brushing a hand over Wolfwood’s shoulder, the heat of his fingertips bleeding through the fabric of his thin t-shirt. “You know I love having you around.”

Of course, Vash would misconstrue Wolfwood’s silence as being offended and nothing else, so endlessly pure the way that he is. Vash is too good for this world, he thinks. He closes his eyes, letting himself bask in the heat spreading from Vash’s fingertips, the only kind of warmth that he actually welcomes in this sweltering heat, before he shakes his hand off. 

“Yeah I know, dumbass.” Wolfwood takes a drag of his cigarette. “Jus’ got a little lost in thought.”

“I see.” Vash hums, yawning at the tail end of it. “You just need to nap; the heat makes you cranky and tired.”

Vash’s voice is soft and quiet, as if he’s talking to a child, all understanding and sweetness that makes Wolfwood sigh audibly. Vash is his best friend, has been ever since they were in high school playing for the same baseball team, a friendship that continued all the way past college into their adulthood. He knows the ins and outs of Wolfwood, how to placate him when he’s cranky, but also how to wind him up even further when he’s already wired with too much tension. 

Goddamn, when’s the last time Wolfwood got laid? He doesn’t even fucking know, but it’s been a long time if all he can see every time that he closes his eyes is the long expanse of Vash’s soft stomach and long pale legs that go on for miles. 

“It’s not like napping on the floor is particularly comfortable,” Wolfwood grunts, blowing out a wisp of smoke. 

“Then why don’t you come up here?” Vash offers. 

“It’s hot enough without the two of us wedged on one small couch,” Wolfwood replies, “it’s not the weather for cuddling in case you haven’t noticed.”

Except Wolfwood is thinking about anything and everything but cuddling. 

“C’mon, Nicholas, don’t be so difficult.” Third time in a row, Wolfwood thinks with a shiver. “Just come up here and sit opposite me. That way you’re not hogging the fan to yourself, too.”

Wolfwood sighs, defeated as he puts out his cigarette in the ash tray that Vash so thoughtfully bought just for him with yellow flowers etched into the metal a few years ago, and drags himself onto the couch opposite Vash. Their legs are tangled together instantly, Wolfwood’s darker legs, peppered with dark hair, contrasting starkly against Vash’s smooth and hairless pale legs. Vash smiles at him, his blue eyes lighting up behind his round glasses, as he hooks his ankle around Wolfwood’s. 

Wolfwood’s chest clenches as a result. 

“Come now, was that so hard?”

“Shut the fuck up.” Wolfwood kicks at Vash playfully with his free foot. 

Vash laughs, widening his legs to avoid Wolfwood’s kick, and Wolfwood has a taunt ready on his tongue that turns to ash as his mouth goes instantly dry as his eyes dart to Vash’s crotch. He notices that his tiny red shorts have shifted with the movement, loose enough for Wolfwood to see Vash’s pussy on full display. Worse, his pussy is spread because of their seating position on the couch, Vash opening up his legs wide so he can accommodate Wolfwood on the couch, their long legs tangling together without needing to touch each other too much. 

‘Why the fuck is Vash not wearing any underwear?’ Wolfwood can’t help but think to himself. ‘Sure, it’s fucking hot, but what the hell?’

He averts his gaze immediately, the whole ordeal only taking less than a moment, so Vash is none the wiser. And yet, the image is emblazoned behind Wolfwood’s eyelids, can’t help but see Vash’s clit sticking out between his labia, his eyes catching a glimpse of his entrance from the slight part of his pussy. 

Oh God, he’s going to lose his fucking mind. He needs to stop thinking about Vash’s pussy, about how he’s practically naked right now, but the more he tries not to think about it, the more he does think about it. How is he not supposed to think about it when it’s right there, could catch another glimpse if he shifted his gaze once more? He can’t stop thinking about it, the heat simmering in the base of his stomach turning molten, can feel his cock twitching in his own shorts. 

“How’s work been lately?” Wolfwood asks, almost desperate for a distraction, can’t afford to get hard in front of Vash right now. He knows that Vash wouldn’t judge him for having a boner, would probably just laugh at him for having the same hormonal control as a teenage boy going through puberty, but Wolfwood would rather avoid that awkwardness altogether. “Are your kids still giving you hell?”

Vash laughs, ignorant of Wolfwood’s plight as he launches into a long monologue about the kids in the summer class he’s currently teaching at the kindergarten class in the local school in JuLai. They both work with kids, but Vash has a way with kids, a natural talent for dealing with them that Wolfwood will never be able to replicate. Probably stems from his boundless kindness and unending patience, genuinely loves talking about them, decorates his house with the drawings and crafts they give him as gifts. He also cries at the end of every year when his kids graduate from kindergarten because, naturally, he grew attached to the kids yet again.  

His heart is so big, his soul so good, and all Wolfwood can do is look down at his pussy that’s still on full display like a goddamn degenerate. He licks his bottom lip, wondering idly what it would be like if Vash could spread his legs a little more for him, if Wolfwood had the chance to bury his face in Vash’s pretty little pussy. He wonders if he would taste as sweet as the rest of him is. 

He has a feeling he’d taste good, that he’d be so tight, too. God, he’s such a shitty friend, but he blames Vash for putting him in this situation. And the heat for addling his brain, the steady whirring of the fan that keeps pushing more and more hot air around the room. 

“That sounds great,” Wolfwood says vaguely when there’s a lull in conversation, though he’s not entirely sure if that response suits whatever Vash was rambling about. It’s usually a safe enough answer.

“It sounds great that my student broke his arm climbing a tree?” Vash frowns. 

Apparently, it’s not a safe answer in this scenario, though. 

“No, no, of course not.” Wolfwood shakes his head. “Sorry, I must have lost track of the conversation.”

“Yeah, your head is in the clouds,” Vash agrees, shifting so he can lean in close enough to press his forehead against Wolfwood’s. His breath hitches in his chest, staring at Vash, at the pink sheen of his bottom lip, the pretty beauty mark underneath his eye. Vash hums. “You’re warm, but I can’t tell if it’s because of the heat or if you’re running a fever.”

Wolfwood certainly feels as if he’s running a fever, as if his whole body has turned into an inferno of molten lava, one that’s erupting from within. His cock twitches again at the close proximity to Vash, the scent of soap and the fresh sheen of sweat making his cock stir and his heart do a series of acrobatics that he can barely keep up with. The proverbial fever that’s consuming him only festers when Vash cups his cheek with his prosthetic hand, cool to the touch against his sweaty skin. 

He shakes his head. 

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Of course I’ll worry about it.” Vash pouts, so adorable that Wolfwood finds himself wanting to kiss it off his face. “You’re my best friend, Nicholas.”

Wolfwood feels his self-control fraying at the corners, the string threatening to snap. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. It’s typically never this hard for him to resist Vash. Sure, he’s been attracted to him since high school and in love with him for the better part of a decade, but he usually has a better handle on his feelings. He’s usually able to compartmentalize, pushing aside his inane fantasies for when he’s alone in his bedroom, scrolling through pictures of Vash and wishing for things he shouldn’t have. 

Now, in this stupid heat, all he can think about is kissing Vash and fucking him against this goddamn couch. 

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re too good for this world?” Wolfwood asks Vash, lips tilting upwards as he rubs his fingers against his ankle in small circles. 

A giggle falls from Vash’s lips at the touch, falling flat back onto his end of the couch again, but he doesn’t pull his ankle away from Wolfwood’s hand. His legs are still spread wide open, and Wolfwood can still see right through Vash’s shorts to his pretty pussy, and thinks idly that there would probably be enough room for him between his legs. That it would be even better if Vash wrapped his dainty ankles around his waist as he pushed his cock inside that pussy that keeps on taunting him. 

Wolfwood wonders if Vash hasn’t realized how exposed he is because of how hot it is, the stagnant and humid air making him fail to realize that his flimsy little shorts aren’t covering anything at all. 

Or maybe, Vash is aware, a depraved thought at the back of his mind whispers, and he wants him to see. 

“Only you, every single day,” Vash responds, lips tilting upwards into a bright smile. “You’re just biased.”

“Maybe I am,” Wolfwood agrees, voice taking a husky tone as he brushes a kiss to Vash’s ankle without thinking. “But you enjoy the praise, don’t you?”

“Wolfwood…” Vash trails off, staring at Wolfwood now, his baby blues unreadable for once. “You know I'm ticklish.”

“Yeah, you are.” Wolfwood does indeed know this, feels bold as he brushes another kiss higher against his calf. “Pretty sensitive, aren't you?”

“Maybe a little?” Vash offers, laughing heartily. “I wouldn’t know.”

Vash, the angel that he is, squirms but doesn't push Wolfwood off, even though Wolfwood knows he could kick his ass if he wanted to, seeing as Vash has more strength in his pinky finger than Wolfwood has in his whole body. Rather, he watches him with his pretty blue eyes that look a shade darker than they usually are, his prosthetic arm clenching the couch cushion underneath him so hard that Wolfwood is surprised that it doesn’t tear. 

This is the point where Wolfwood should say that he's sorry, that he pushed the joke too far, and suggest a movie. If he does that, they can both laugh it off, pretend that nothing happened. They can go back to being a normal pair of best friends, or at least a normal one and his sleazy best friend who's in love with him but also can't stop thinking about all the ways he wishes he could bend him over and make him cry. It's a status quo that they're used to, after all. 

“Yeah?” Wolfwood licks his bottom lip instead, kneading Vash’s calf with his calloused fingertips. “D’you wanna find out?”

Wolfwood is cooked, by both the heat and horniness, logic having long since left the chat. Any coherent thought he could have had has dissipated, thinking only with his cock, and his cock has never been known for making smart and sound decisions. 

“I thought you said it was too hot,” Vash dodges the question. 

“Sure,” Wolfwood agrees, “but sometimes it’s better to let off some steam, right?”

Wolfwood watches Vash squirm on the couch, trying to close his legs, but it’s harder now with Wolfwood acting as a barrier between them on such a narrow couch. His eyes dart downwards, past Vash’s wet bottom lip and his exposed collarbones that give him so much grief, past his soft stomach that he wants to mark in hues of red and blue, all the way down to those damned shorts that will send him to an early grave. 

He can still see Vash’s pussy, bare but also slick now. So wet in a way that Wolfwood is positive has nothing to do with the heat or sweat, and everything to do with Wolfwood’s effect on him, and it makes him positively salivate with the desperate urge to taste. 

“Yeah,” Vash eventually says, wetting his pink bottom lip again, “and it’s not like there’s anything better to do.”

“Right.”

Wolfwood can think of a few things that they could do, that he could do to Vash, but he keeps them to himself for now. Instead, he hums, letting his hand move upwards to the juncture of Vash’s knee. Another sensitive spot, can see the way Vash’s body straightens as if electrocuted, his knee jerking but remains in Wolfwood’s hold. 

Wolfwood forces knees apart forcibly, eliciting a small sound from Vash that goes straight to his cock, and straightens the one to his left the best he can. He brushes his finger against the sensitive patch of skin there, feeling Vash jolt underneath him. 

“Did you know you have a beauty mark here, too?” Wolfwood muses. 

“No? Maybe? I don’t know,” Vash replies, his face looking all too warm as he tries to adjust his shorts. It doesn’t help much, the fabric too loose to cover anything, Wolfwood still having a front row seat to his cute little clit and his oh so wet hole on full display. “Does it even matter?”

“Not really.” Wolfwood shakes his head, licking a long stroke alongside the beauty mole, the salty taste of sweat bursting on his taste buds. “I just like it.”

“ Wolfwood ,” Vash groans. 

“And you have an identical one here, too,” Wolfwood marvels, pressing a wet kiss to the beauty mark, scraping his teeth against it as he does. “Is that ‘cause you’re a twin?”

It’s a filthy position, Wolfwood knows, with him seated between Vash’s spread out legs like this. Stretching them far back so he can press kisses to his thighs, his pussy spread for him. If anyone were to walk in on them, they would think they were doing something else entirely, and Wolfwood thinks that Vash is starting to realize that. 

He’s starting to feel dizzy with the rush that gives him. 

“I don’t know,” Vash whines, burying his face in his hands. Wolfwood can see the warmth spreading across his cheeks from underneath his fingertips, all the way to the tips of his ears, down to his collarbones. “Too much.”

“Want me to stop, Spikey?” Wolfwood prompts, pulling away just enough to give Vash the space he needs.  

Vash stills for a moment, piercing blue eyes peering at Wolfwood from behind his fingertips, studying him for a moment before he shakes his head once. 

“Good.” Wolfwood grins, something predatory swelling in his chest. Vash likes this.  

Wolfwood crowds Vash again, feeling the heat exponentially increase as he buries his face in the soft, smooth skin of his inner thigh. Vash whimpers as Wolfwood’s stubble brushes against him, but he’s pliant as Wolfwood digs his fingers into one thigh hard enough to bruise, pressing another kiss into his inner thigh. One that quickly becomes wet as he bares his teeth, biting him hard enough to bruise, his blood burning as he listens to the small, muffled moan that Vash lets out from behind his hands. 

It’s that small moan that prompts Wolfwood to chase it even further, wanting to elicit even more as he leaves more kisses up Vash’s thigh. Each sound going straight to his cock, not even caring about how the room suddenly feels ten degrees hotter, that he feels as if he’s burning up from the inside out. 

“Looks like you’re also sensitive to being bitten,” Wolfwood muses. 

“Why do you have to narrate everything?” Vash complains, tugging Wolfwood’s hair, oblivious to how that makes his cock fully harden in his shorts. “Your beard just feels funny.”

“You’re just so expressive when you’re feeling shy,” Wolfwood replies. “It’s cute.”

“Oh,” Vash says, his hands curling over his face, but Wolfwood can see how he’s positively preening from the crinkle of his eyes. “I see.”

Wolfwood laughs, making sure to brush his beard against his thigh again as he leaves another mark on the inside of Vash’s thigh that renders him into a whimpering mess.

Once he reaches the juncture of Vash’s thighs, his nose brushing against the red fabric of Vash’s slutty shorts, the place he’d been coveting, he hesitates for only a moment. Somehow, Wolfwood feels that if he pushes the fabric aside, shoves his face in Vash’s perfect cunt, they’d be passing a point of no return.

“I wonder if you’re just as sensitive here, too?” Wolfwood wonders, breathing a hot puff of air against his pussy. “Or maybe you’re even more sensitive?”

“Nicholas, please. ”

Any remaining dregs of reason that Wolfwood was trying to piece together dissipate and fade into nothingness as Wolfwood pushes Vash’s shorts to the side so he can get a close look of his cunt. He feels like a fucking weirdo when he takes in a deep inhale, one that makes him heady with the tangy and sweet scent, because Vash is so wet now, he’s getting his own wetness on the couch. 

“Y’know, Spikey,” Wolfwood drawls, making sure to enunciate each word as he spreads Vash’s pussy apart to run his finger through the sopping wet folds. “It really is so very slutty of you to wear shorts like these without even bothering to wear underwear.”

“I —you know how hot it is,” Vash whines, throwing his head back when Wolfwood’s finger brushes against his swollen clit. “I, I really didn’t think you’d see, honest.”

“I bet you hoped that I would,” Wolfwood replies, rubbing his clit between his fingers in a massage that has Vash writhing underneath him. “You wanted me to see your pretty little pussy, tease me with it, didn’t you?”

Vash’s teary eyes as he shakes his head is the last thing Wolfwood sees before he replaces his fingers with his lips. He sucks on it, tanginess and the saltiness of sweat mixing on his tongue as he rolls it over his clit in a long stroke. Vash whines, his fingers tugging on his hair to bring him impossibly closer, thighs clasping closed around Wolfwood’s head in a surprising display of strength, as if he wants nothing more than to suffocate Wolfwood in his cunt. 

And if Wolfwood is being completely honest, it would probably be the best way for a sinner like him to go out. 

He sucks on Vash’s clit harder, his nose digging into Vash’s navel and his hairy beard probably burning like a bitch against Vash’s soft pussy, as his hips buck into his face. Desperation is laced into every muscle of Vash’s body as he barrels closer and closer to an edge that only Wolfwood can push him off of. Wolfwood feels as if he’s going to be lit ablaze, his own hair sticking to his forehead as he buries his face in Vash’s sopping wet pussy. 

“Wolfwood, oh fudge, I – I’m so close,” Vash says, back arching against the couch’s armrest as Wolfwood sucks him off in earnest, “Gonna cum, oh my God —”

Vash breaks off mid-sentence as he cums, his wet slick getting all over Wolfwood’s face, which he laps up relentlessly with his tongue. He loves the taste, the way it’s both salty and sweet, a flavor he doesn’t think he could ever get sick of. A flavor he seeks even as he makes quick work of removing Vash’s ruined shorts altogether and moves downwards to Vash’s twitching hole, so pretty and red, beckoning Wolfwood forward to get a taste. 

Vash’s body, quivering from the weight of such a forceful orgasm, groans helplessly. 

“Wolfwood, I just came, what are you doing?”

“Eating you out obviously,” Wolfwood says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, lapping up a dollop of cum that trails from Vash’s cunt all the way down to his ass. “You didn’t think we’d finish so soon, right?”

“You don’t have to do that — oh. ”

Vash makes a small sound, tears welling in his pretty eyes as Wolfwood brushes his tongue against his entrance in a circle before he pushes it inside. Wolfwood watches from underneath his lashes with interest as Vash collapses against the couch again, giving Wolfwood free reign to fuck his pretty hole with his tongue, groaning as he feels his walls clamp so tightly around his tongue. 

Humming, he brushes his finger in alongside his tongue, stretching him out. He’s so wet that his finger slides in easily, pushing in another finger alongside the second one, scissoring him open. Wolfwood fucks Vash with his tongue and his fingers, letting them curl against what he imagines to be Vash’s g-spot, something wicked coiling in the base of his stomach when he hears Vash moan, uninhibited. His name falling from his lips like a prayer and Wolfwood the sinful priest that worships his body. 

He sounds like a whore, Wolfwood thinks idly, and he can’t get enough of it. Would listen to this on repeat if he could. 

When Wolfwood starts fucking earnestly Vash’s hole with three fingers, his tongue stroking him all the way from his asshole back to his swollen clit, he can feel the tension seize Vash’s ultra-sensitive body on the tip of his tongue. 

“Nicholas, Nick, Wolfwood,” Vash babbles, shaking his head desperately. Words that contradict the movement of his hips, thrusting them even closer towards Wolfwood’s face. “You gotta stop, I feel weird, I —”

And Wolfwood, the insufferable shit that he is, only doubles down further. Fucks his fingers directly against Vash’s g-spot, sucks on Vash’s clit harder, brushing circles against the smooth skin of Vash’s hip as a semblance of comfort. But Vash isn’t comforted, the litany of his moans coming out more and more breathless and desperate, his body falling apart underneath him, until he finally snaps and squirts all over Wolfwood’s face with a weak ‘Nicholas’ falling from his lips. 

Vash’s body quivers as he squirts, his body arching as he cums so hard that the guttural groan that’s wrested from his chest doesn’t sound much like Vash at all. Wolfwood takes it in stride, though, continues to fuck Vash through his climax even if that makes him squirt again from all the sensitivity. 

Wolfwood doesn’t know if that’s quite what he expected, is now drenched in Vash’s cum and his own sweat, but it’s probably one of the hottest experiences of his life. 

“Thanks for the meal.” Wolfwood licks his bottom lip as he finally extricates his face from between Vash’s legs, taking off his ruined t-shirt in one fell swoop. “It was delicious. And, yeah, I guess you are more sensitive down there.”

Vash glowers at him from behind the foggy lenses of his glasses, his face flushed, his blonde hair that’s usually groomed to perfection now plastered to his forehead with sweat. His chest is heaving, as if he’s trying his best to gather any air, but failing to do so. 

He looks absolutely debauched, especially with his legs trembling and his pussy wrecked and still dripping cum and slick because, of course, Wolfwood couldn’t gather all of that with his tongue. Naturally, the couch cushions underneath Vash are ruined beyond repair, a problem that Nai will have to deal with later. 

Wolfwood isn’t the only one looking, though, can see the way Vash’s eyes roam over his chest with interest all the way down to his cock that is so obviously hard in his basketball shorts. Fleetingly, Wolfwood wonders if Vash likes what he sees or if he’s too hairy and big for someone as pretty as Vash. 

“You’re horrible,” Vash says, pulling Wolfwood down by his cross necklace with a surprising amount of force that has Wolfwood stumbling and falling into his chest, his nose bumping against Vash’s chin painfully. Vash cups Wolfwood’s cheeks so that he’s forced to look at him. “You’re supposed to take me out on a date and kiss me first before you make me cum so hard that my brain stops working.”

Dating and kissing Vash, huh? It’s something that Wolfwood has been thinking about several times a day for almost ten years now, but never thought he’d ever be able to do. It’s funny that even as he was eating him out, the thought of having the actual privilege of kissing Vash never crossed his mind, let alone ever asking Vash out. Fucking around and having sex is one thing, but Vash was always too out of his league for any of the other stuff —richer, nicer, the prettiest guy he ever laid eyes on. How could Wolfwood ever measure next to him?

He licks his bottom lip, a different kind of want simmering in his chest, the kind that doesn’t have to do with lust and everything to do with his stupid heart that always does somersaults whenever Vash is involved. 

“Yeah?” Wolfwood grins, brushing his nose against Vash’s. “Sorry ‘bout that, ‘m not so good at anything more than casual one night stands.”

“Well you’d better start practicing because I’m definitely not a casual one night stand.” Vash glares at him, tugging his hair so painfully that it feels like a thinly veiled warning. Message received. 

“That so?” Wolfwood muses, basically speaking the words into Vash’s lips now. This is the first time he’s noticed that Vash has another beauty mark on his face besides the one below his eye, another smaller one, barely visible right underneath his bottom lip. “Then what are you, Spikey?”

“Your best friend.” Vash cards his fingers through the damp strands of Wolfwood’s hair. “But I could be more if you wanted me to be.”

Wolfwood swallows, immediately understanding the implications of Vash’s statement, the confession loud and clear, even through the foggy haze of lust and want. It feels surreal, he almost wonders if the heat finally succeeded in cooking his brain, Vash’s proposal being nothing more than a mirage in a desert for a desperate man like him to chase after and ultimately find nothing. 

But the moments pass by, the loud ring of silence reverberating in Wolfwood’s ears, telling him he neither misheard nor did he hallucinate any of this, so he nods. 

“Would want that a lot.” Wolfwood nods, doesn’t want to say that there’s nothing more that he’s ever wanted. “But I also wanna kiss you before I lose whatever’s left of my goddamn mind.”

Vash’s face splits into a grin, one that looks too stupidly happy as he nods eagerly, wrapping his hands around his nape. 

“Yeah, you should have done that like, forever ago, but better late than never?”

Wolfwood, rather than replying, decides to make up for lost time by leaning in to kiss Vash. His lips are so soft, plush against Wolfwood’s own chapped lips, and Wolfwood can’t help but kiss him harder. Vash hums into the kiss, doesn’t seem to mind the tangy taste of himself on Wolfwood’s lips, nor does he mind when Wolfwood nips at his bottom lip to grant him more access which he so readily gives him. Wolfwood licks into Vash’s mouth, tongue moving against Vash’s, breathing him in. Vash moans into the kiss, teeth clashing against Wolfwood’s, the kiss so wet with how eager Vash is to reciprocate Wolfwood’s kiss. Vash’s glasses bump against Wolfwood’s face, too, and it hurts a bit, but Wolfwood can’t bring himself to stop kissing Vash to take them off his face. Doesn’t want to stop kissing Vash ever if he can help it. 

It’s such a clumsy kiss, nothing like the fantasies he had that were on a pornographic level of experience —hell, Vash still seems scared to touch Wolfwood anywhere beyond the nape of his neck —but Wolfwood loves it. Can’t get enough of it, actually, the kisses making his whole body thrum with searing hot arousal that he can do nothing to mitigate. His cock is so hard now that he finds himself rutting it against Vash’s pussy by accident, eliciting a groan from them both. 

“You’re hard, Wolfwood,” Vash breaks the kiss to remark breathlessly, his lips now red and swollen from Wolfwood’s lips. He looks down over the foggy rim of his glasses. “You’re so big, too, oh my God.”

“No shit, Sherlock, have you seen yourself?” Wolfwood prompts, pressing a kiss to the beauty mark below Vash’s eyes, the one that’s bewitched him for so many years now, rutting his cock against Vash’s folds. “I’ve been dying to be inside of you.”

“Really?” Vash smiles at him bashfully, not even a coy gesture, but genuine flattery. 

Wolfwood doesn’t even know how this could ever be a point of contention, because all Vash needs to do is look at himself in the mirror, and he’d have to know that literally anyone and everyone would froth at the mouth for the chance of one night with him. Surely, everyone, not just Wolfwood, has to be crazy about him. How could Vash be unaware of this?

He nods his head, brushing a kiss to the corner of Vash’s lips. 

“Yeah, ‘course I would. You’re perfect,” Wolfwood breathes, barely holding himself back from listing off every perfect thing about Vash because then they’d be here all day and it’s too goddamn hot for that. “But we don’t have to if you don’t want to, ‘m happy just being here with you like this.”

“You could,” Vash says slowly, averting his gaze from Wolfwood’s, “do that , I mean.”

“Do what?” Wolfwood teases, drawing out the words, peppering kisses against Vash’s jawline, eliciting a breathy moan from Vash when he tugs on the hoop in his ear. He brushes his tongue against the shell of his ear, breathing a hot wisp of air directly against it, feeling the way Vash shudders underneath him. “You’ll have to be straightforward with your words, Spikey.”

Vash squirms, seemingly just now realizing that he’s trapped between Wolfwood’s body and the couch underneath him, no chance of escaping. His fingers taking purchase against his shoulders, as if he’s searching for an anchor to tether him to the moment. 

“I didn’t know you’re such a bully.” Vash pouts. 

“Oh, sweetheart, there’s so many things you don’t know about me.” Wolfwood presses his cock directly against his hole, nothing separating them but the thin fabric of his shorts, watching the way Vash’s eyes widen at the touch. “But I’d have lots of fun showing you.”

“Fine, fine. You can do what you want to me,” Vash tries again, warmth exploding across his cheeks as he speaks. “be inside of me or whatever.”

Wolfwood knows that for somebody like Vash —who always prizes love and romance above everything else, heart always on his sleeve, and likes to do things as traditionally as possible —he’s giving Wolfwood a lot. Probably more than Wolfwood deserves, but he wants to cherish it, make sure that Vash feels good, so good that he never wants to let Wolfwood go after this. 

“So eloquent.” Wolfwood laughs, smothering the sound against Vash’s collarbones. “But it’s good enough for me.”

Wolfwood moves down, pushing Vash’s tank top over his head so he’s completely bare underneath him now. He looks divine underneath him, pale and slender, soft skin with his prosthetic arm and the scabbed over scars that decorate his body being the only contrast in color against his fair skin. There’s an array of scars across his chest and torso, some from the accident that resulted in the loss of Vash’s arm, and the scars from his top surgery a few years ago. 

His fingers trace over his chest, hyper-aware of how Vash watches him with bated breath, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

“You’re gorgeous, Spikey,” Wolfwood tells him, “can’t believe you’re letting me touch you like this.”

Vash moans at that, praise whore that he is, burying his face in his hands again. But he still watches as Wolfwood makes his way down, worshiping his body as he does. Then, sweet boy that he is, he says, “I guess you’re not so hard on the eyes either.”

Wolfwood would be lying if he said he didn’t preen at that. 

He leaves a trail of kisses down his chest, brushing his lips against Vash’s nipples, hearing him whimper underneath him. Can feel the rapid pace of his heartbeat underneath the palm of his hand, a rhythm he wants to sit down and memorize later. Brushes a kiss against the scars on his chest, the smaller ones on his torso that Vash doesn’t like so much, and continues to move down until he reaches his navel. 

Vash is dripping wet again, Wolfwood realizes, brushing his finger through his folds and it comes back wet with his slick. 

“Stop teasing me,” Vash begs him, “please, just do it, Wolfwood.”

“Nicholas,” Wolfwood corrects him, “call me Nicholas, I prefer it when it comes from you.” 

He pushes down his shorts and underwear just enough to reveal his cock. He sighs, pumping it a few times to stave the edge off, grinning at the look of pure, unadulterated want that paints Vash’s face as he looks at his hard cock. His red lips parted ever so slightly, making Wolfwood wonder about how pretty those lips would be wrapped around his cock. Another time, though, since he’s sure there will be many more times like this to come. 

“Nicholas,” Vash repeats, rolling the name off his tongue slowly, tasting it. It’s not the first time he’s called him by his given name, but Wolfwood shivers as if it is, a dollop of pre-come falling from the tip of his cock. “Please fuck me, Nicholas.”

Wolfwood groans, didn’t think that hearing Vash say ‘fuck’ and ‘Nicholas’ in the same sentence would have such a visceral effect on him, but it certainly does. His stomach coiling with want, brushes the tip of his cock against Vash’s hole. 

He might as well be a saint for being able to hold back for this long. 

“Don’t have a condom, just so you know,” Wolfwood says, letting the tip slip into Vash’s hole shallowly. He feels like he’s being sucked in, his hole so impossibly tight around his tip. 

“Neither do I,” Vash groans, widening his legs to grant Wolfwood more access to close any remaining distance between them. “Doesn’t matter right now, just fuck me.”

It matters a little bit, but Wolfwood doesn’t need any more convincing after that, bottoming out with one snap of his hips, catching Vash’s groan with his lips. Kisses him deep as he fucks him slow and deep at first, picking up the pace as he fucks Vash harder, breathy moans falling against his lips that make Wolfwood’s brain stop functioning altogether. Vash is so tight around him, clenching his cock so tight as if he doesn’t want to let him go, his body a furnace underneath him. Every part of his body lighting ablaze as Wolfwood’s darker hands roam over every patch of skin he can reach. 

Vash wraps his legs around Wolfwood’s waist, bringing him ever closer just like how he’d fantasized about, except so much better, Wolfwood’s body slotting perfectly against Vash’s. Not in the least bothered by how hot it is, how sweaty and gross they’ve both become from the close proximity, the fan doing nothing to help them both. 

“You’re so perfect,” Wolfwood whispers against Vash’s lips, shuddering breaths falling from them both. “Can’t get enough of you.”

Vash is unable to respond, however, his blue eyes rolling back, tears falling down his cheeks. Wolfwood groans, pressing a kiss into the crook of Vash’s exposed neck, making sure to dig his teeth to leave a mark somewhere visible that would probably give Nai a heart attack later. 

He fucks Vash harder, making sure to piston his hips towards that spot that makes Vash clench and see stars, knowing he hit the jack pot when Vash’s clench around his waist, his moans growing ever louder. He continues to angle every thrust at the same spot, snaking his hand downwards to tease Vash’s clit in tandem. He’s going to cum soon himself, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t get Vash to cum first. 

“ Nicholas, ” Vash moans his name, the sweetest Wolfwood has ever heard of it. “I —I’m —oh my God, hah .”

Wolfwood doesn’t need Vash to elaborate any further for him to know that means he came, can feel it in the way he clenches around him in such a vice grip, punching a guttural groan out of Wolfwood’s chest. He closes his eyes, overstimulated by the way Vash’s cunt is so tight around his cock, the hand in his hair, the steady whisper of Nicholas, Nicholas, Nicholas falling from his lips like a prayer. 

He cums before he can even realize it, before he can even gather himself enough to pull out, cums deep inside of Vash with a small groan. It’s the best sex he’s ever had, he thinks, as he fucks Vash through his own orgasm, Vash whimpering and quivering with each weak thrust. 

Wolfwood pulls out slowly, a trail of cum mixing with Vash’s following as he does, leaking out of his pussy and onto the already ruined couch. It’s such a debauched sight before him; cum trickling out of Vash’s hole steadily as his whole body shivers with a sheen of sweat and other questionable fluids. 

“Fuck,” Wolfwood groans, “you’re probably gonna have to burn your couch.”

“Probably.” Vash nods with a laugh, pulling Wolfwood down into his chest to cuddle him. “But that’s neither here nor there right now, just hold me.”

“It’s still too hot to cuddle,” Wolfwood whines, but he doesn’t make any move to extricate himself from the sauna that’s Vash’s body. 

“You don’t get to complain about this, you’re the one who said, and I quote, ‘sometimes it’s better to let off some steam’, ” Vash says, burying Wolfwood’s face against his sweaty chest, “so now it’s your turn to suffer.”

Wolfwood groans, feeling as if he can’t breathe anymore, because this isn’t the kind of revenge he wanted from Vash. Why won’t Vash get that Wolfwood runs hotter than he does, so this is a special brand of hell for him?

Well, heaven packaged in hell if he gets to suffocate against Vash’s sweaty tits, he supposes. 

“Okay, but how about we take a shower?” Wolfwood proposes, “we can even take one together to save water.”

“You’re just saying that because you wanna go for another round in the shower.” Vash slaps his shoulder playfully. “But that’s also not a bad idea.”

“See? Even if I have ulterior motives, I always have your best interest at heart.” Wolfwood shoots him a smarmy grin as he stands up, offering Vash his hand so he can stand up, too. “You’ll always be my number one.”

“Thanks, Nicholas.” Vash shoots him a wry glance, but it’s laced with fondness. “I love you, too.”

Wolfwood freezes on the spot, watching frozen as Vash leaves him behind to go to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Wolfwood blinks slowly, processing the words and what they mean before chasing him, his heart accelerating too fast for him to catch up with him. He knocks on the door, but Vash refuses to open it.

“Hey, that’s no fair! Say it again!”

“Nothing is fair in love and war, Nicholas.”

Wolfwood only barely resists the urge to collapse to his knees, wailing, but Vash, angel that he is, eventually takes pity on him and lets him in so he can take a very much needed shower. And also, so he can ravage Vash as he so pleases. Teases Vash so much until he’s forced to keep saying those words again and again, three words he will never grow sick of, especially when they come from Vash himself. 

Maybe July heatwaves in JuLai aren’t so bad, after all.