[fic] Real Guys Don't Kiss Other Guys
Disclaimer: I don't own a thing.
Warning(s): bad! + rather short smut, fail!dialogue, abundance of typos + missing words (I do edit, but I'm not infallible and, while typing this, I'm very ill and dizzy. Please try to be understanding, thank you. I'll go through this again, when I'm less busy ... and less sick).
A/N: So obligatory author's notes – hmm, yes. I'm totally – yes, totally – not happy about this, seeing how this thing got way out of hand regarding the length.
And characterisation? Not as shiny as it could be and yes, this fic kind of sucks when I compare it to some of the truly well-written fics I've read in this fandom (If you like, want recs, I'd gladly provide you with links?).
Giftfic for ironicpanda and made a bit less fail by Dooki-chan.
...
Vash wasn't really sure what to make out of Wolfwood - he was a priest, yes – and an excellent shooter. He was also a good cook and definitely not as much of a jerk as his appearance might have suggested at first. And, again, he was a priest. Only that, despite his holy calling, he cussed, carried a huge gun around with him, cheated at chess and - as Vash could tell now - drank as heavily as a sailor. Maybe, not as heavily but, as far as Vash recalled, weren't men who'd devoted their life to the church not supposed to drink vodka?
That was what they were doing right now: drinking a copious amount of vodka in Vash's hotel room, which was too dark for his liking and adorned with a bed that was terrible to sleep on. The mattress was too springy and, whenever Vash turned and twisted around at night, it went squeak squeak, squeaking as a mouse trapped in a jar would have done. As a consequence, Vash couldn't get a wink of sleep this night. Which was bad because he rather needed his four to six hours of rest. Otherwise, Vash would get his ass handed to him like the boy who had cried wolf – something he neither looked forward to nor actively encouraged, though others might have disagreed. Vash himself, however, really just wanted to lead a normal life; it wasn't his fault that he had a bad reputation.
For being a feared criminal, I really tend to get crappy service, Vash thought morosely, rubbing his aching back. Hence, he was resorting to doing this - spending quality time with Wolfwood - or something like that. Because if he wasn't going to get any sleep, then he could at least make the most of the night. Besides, his tag-along girls had gone to bed, and that was fine too because he didn't have to listen to Meryl's constant criticisms of how drinking too much was "improper" and "only liable to cause even more financial damage". And while Milly was cute, Vash infinitely preferred Wolfwood as a drinking partner. Because he could at least predict what a drunken Wolfwood would be like - with Milly you just had no idea.
And Vash preferred not to find out. He wasn't that much out of his mind.
"Come on, buddy - drink up!" Wolfwood urged Vash, feeling that they deserved a little "fun" after the whole shooting match business. Though, to be honest, Vash didn't deserve it since he'd tricked him. Wolfwood didn't recall that he'd asked to be signed up for it as well. But, as the saying went, the act of forgiving was divine, and Wolfwood had no time or patience to waste the evening on lingering feelings of bitterness. He threw a quick glance at the room - small, a bit too cramped with a large wardrobe taking up three-quarters of it - and leaving only some space for the round table and the chair he was currently sitting on. Not to mention the bed.
Vash took up the glass and gulped it down in one ego, his Adam's apple bopping as he did so; after that, he put the empty container down with a loud sigh and fell back on his bed. Wolfwood watched him from his chair, the angle allowing him to see Vash's contented face, green eyes shimmering with real pleasure and a wide smile on his face.
Nearly looks like a kid, Wolfwood admitted to himself, thinking that he'd never met a man so full of contradictions before. "Say, Vash..."
Vash hadn't really been listening, losing himself in the comforting bliss of pre-doziness. He felt warm and idle, not really in the mood to say anything. Had he been in an Victorian room with a grandfather clock ticking away in accord with his relaxed heartbeat, Vash would have found himself in a perfect atmosphere. Or, if he really closed his eyes, maybe he'd see the blue sky and hear that song again - the one that sent chills down his spine, prickling through his senses like a fine needle.
But remaining silent was not an option, and he should never forget his manners, Vash told himself. "Yes?"
Wolfwood cleared his throat, suddenly insecure. Why was he feeling so hot all of a sudden? Oh yes, it was that damned desert heat, making his clothes stick on him like a second skin. "You ever killed a person before?"
Vash froze, as if he'd heard a gun-shot tear through the silence. "Why are you asking me this?"
He's scared - not scared of me, but afraid nevertheless, Wolfwood realised and he was nearly sorry. Perhaps, he was becoming sentimental, but he felt that this anxious look didn't fit Vash at all.
"Why not - you're strong and, though you act dumb and what not, you're an excellent fighter. So, I'm wondering what's the deal with you."
Wolfwood was eyeing him with a look that clearly spelt out "don't fuck around with me" and - for a second - Vash felt fear build up inside of him, and that familiar tension (thick, thick tension that could only be cut through with a knife or dagger or anything sharp slowly, but steadfastly too enveloping everything around its wake with its long, thin arms).
Vash lifted himself into a sitting position. "What's the deal with you?"
Should have seen this coming, Wolfwood thought, and - grabbing a cigarette from his pockets and lighting it - shook his head. "You're quite sharp. But I'm not telling you."
Sighing, Vash flung himself back into a lying position. "Then I won't tell you either. It's only fair."
Fairness. Now that was a word he really had to digest for a second, as Wolfwood was quite certain you didn't hear that often in those parts of the world. Or anywhere, really. Then again, meeting tall blonds toting a red jacket (red, the colour of blood and war) and with a monstrously huge bounty on his head wasn't an every day occurrence either. Maybe when it came to Vash the Stampede, he just had to get used to the notion of expecting - as cliche as it sounded - the unexpected.
"You believe in that - fairness? Justice?"
"Hmm. I believe in love and peace," Vash replied unhesitatingly and - from the way he intoned it - one could tell that he was dead-serious. "I also believe that your life is precious, that - no matter what - you shouldn't ever kill."
Wolfwood felt like laughing - so this was his answer, was it? Something so trite, so simple and dull. It's something kids would believe in until reality was handed to them on a silver platter - and that got kind of painful at times. It could make you choke to realise that life was anything but fair. He really didn't get this guy.
Vash saw the doubt and – though it was well-hidden – bitterness flitter across Wolfwood's expression; uneasiness sank down on Vash and, for a moment, he wondered whether he should just stop talking. But then, he really did want know, regardless of anything.
"What do you believe in, Wolfwood?"
Wolfwood paused, cigarette stuck in his mouth. He believed in peace - yes, that he did. He believed in keeping children safe from abuse and he went around preaching (and killing people incidentally), so that he could collect money for the orphanage. "The same as you do, with a few alterations."
It was a bit of a lie, but then it was the truth as well. Besides, it wasn't like Vash was Sherlock Holmes or something.
Hopefully.
"You told me that my smile was fake, and that I was hiding something. But you're hiding something as well," Vash then murmured, but his tone didn't sound accusing. Indeed, by just admitting to his suspicions of him, Vash was accepting him.
And Wolfwood, somewhat calmed by that, smiled. Perhaps, it was the drink - the alcohol coursing through his blood - but he felt himself growing increasingly light-headed, and his surroundings became more and more blurry.
...
Wolfwood cracked his eyes open - dim moonlight shined in through the open window, bathing a few flecks here and there in yellowish-butter-like hue. He must have fallen asleep at some point, and Vash-
He didn't mind, he let me stay here, he mused in a wondrous manner. Other men wouldn't have been this trusting, especially in those kind of circumstances. Then, was trusting really the right word?
It was only when Wolfwood rose that he realised that something had fallen off his shoulders: a blanket. Eyes widening, Wolfwood grabbed it off the floor and shook his head; it shouldn't have amused him that much, but - then again - he really didn't have much in life to amuse him, anyway. So, why not relish in this a bit?
Vash was fast asleep, his heavy breathing breaking through the dead-silence of the night. He was sleeping on his stomach, and - with one of his fingers stuck in his mouth - looked so much like a boy now that Wolfwood felt that familiar surprise tingling inside of him again. Surprise and curiosity at this oddity he'd just met a few days ago - and then it dawned upon him crash crash crash like a brick landing on his head that he was watching Vash like some kind of love-sick schoolgirl.
Wolfwood wasn't the sort of guy to watch people sleep, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the other man: he wasn't pretty by any standards nor was he mumbling anything interesting in his sleep, it was just - geh, Wolfwood thought as he slapped himself on the forehead, he didn't know. It was just something. Maybe he'd understand it in the morning when his senses weren't that dazed, and his head didn't throb quite as painfully. Then again, as he swallowed his throat, Wolfwood knew that his thoughts wouldn't be any clearer in the morning. They never were.
Vash been dreaming - of green fields and butterflies and that song. It felt nice to be touched, and although that hand was calloused and larger than Rem's, having those rough fingers lightly tracing his face was comforting.
"What are you doing?" Vash then asked, eyes fluttering open and fixing Wolfwood with a look that made him stand back a bit. Not because it scared him, but it was more inquisitive than he'd expected.
"You were awake all this time?" Wolfwood asked, bemused. Here he'd been making a bloody fool of himself and, all that time, Vash had been awake. Really.
Vash scratched his head awkwardly and coughed. "Hard to be asleep when you've got another guy staring down at you. Or touching your cheek. Are you some kind of pervert?"
I guess I must be, watching an idiot like you sleep.
Now was the time to run away or laugh like a maniac and pretending to be off your rockers. Wolfwood sensed the tension which had always been waiting around the corner - like a crafty spy - flare up in the room again. "And if I was? Would you push me away?"
He didn't know to which purpose he was saying this. Hell, he had no fucking clue what was coming over him - since this wasn't how you usually talked to a comrade. But Wolfwood knew - deep down - that he and Vash weren't all that normal, and that what was considered proper could not be applied them.
Vash didn't like the way Wolfwood was looking at him, his blue eyes boring into his own as if he were searching for some kind universal truth. Or, better said, it was the kind of look a wolf gave its prey while licking its teeth with noticeable relish.
Shit, Vash thought, I should have gone on pretending to be asleep.
"Guys don't do this - and you're a priest." Vash knew this was a stupid argument, but – damn it – there wasn't anything else he think of right now.
"I do a lot of things that a guy shouldn't be doing," Wolfwood returned, grinning mischievously, as the wicked idea whirling inside of his brain possessed him even further. "And no one said that doing this would make me less of a real guy."
And with that, he grabbed Vash by the hem of his shirt - and kissed him. Vash froze, his body stiffening to such an extent that it made Wolfwood hesitate for a second. He'd expected surprise, but not this – not Vash being that fucking unresponsive. Irritation seized hold of Wolfwood, and he felt himself sweating – if there had been a clock in the room, it would have ticked slowly, accentuating the awkward tension hanging over the room even further.
Enough was enough.
"Fuck, you could at least do something, tongari," Wolfwood muttered, breaking the kiss as he finally realised that Vash was really not going to do more than just keep his mouth clenched tightly shut. It was like kissing a corpse, which Wolfwood – being a perfectly sane guy, thank you very much – didn't appreciate too much. And he'd outgrown the phase of kissing pillows as well. "Or is that you're just too chicken to let someone that close to you?"
There were some thing in life that Vash had never been able to deal with – cruelty and being intimidated. Wolfwood seemed to have an uncanny ability to cross boundaries that no one had managed to break through. And one of them was that, in spite of his age, Vash was very much a child at heart.
And, like any child, he didn't like to be patronised. Also, being a guy, he just couldn't say "no" to a challenge either.
Fuelled by anger, he put his gloved hands on Wolfwood's cheeks and just brought their lips together. It wasn't something he'd have done under usual circumstances, but somehow that stupid, smug grin of his just had to go – and if this was the only available solution, so be it.
Wolfwood was quite surprised. He'd not expected Vash to be this childish and leap up at the unspoken challenge as violently as he had. Moreover, he'd not expected Vash to kiss that badly.
It was then that understanding lit up in Wolfwood's brain - Vash was a damned virgin. Hell, judging by how he'd reacted to the kiss, it was very likely that this had been his first. Moreover, if this shouldn't have been evidence enough, the second kiss had made things painfully clear.
How pathetic, Wolfwood mused and bit back the urge to laugh out loud.
"What are you lookin' so amused for?" Vash asked, irritation flaring up in him like a light bulb flickering in a shoddily-kept corridor. Or in one of those cheap kitchens.
"You suck at this."
It was a blow to his ego and he should have retorted that Wolfwood tasted like cigarettes; however, Vash – tired and feeling his head start throbbing as if it had been used as a football repeatedly – really didn't feel like hiding things. Mostly.
"I -" Vash scratched his head awkwardly and looked down at the floor, suddenly unable to meet Wolfwood's eyes. "It's not like I've really had opportunity to um, polish my skills."
You mean lack thereof, Wolfwood thought silently, but decided to keep that to himself. There was no reason to further aggravate the poor guy. Besides, he'd not waste a perfect opportunity. "Fine, I'll teach you."
Vash blinked. He didn't need to be taught anything and – right now – Wolfwood sounded like one of those seducers you'd meet in a gay bar, attempting to get in your pants by any means possible. "That is really not necess-"
Wolfwood kissed Vash again, using the opportunity to plunge his tongue deep into the other man's mouth. This time, Vash didn't freeze, but his strong and large hands gripped Wolfwood by the shoulders, holding on tightly.
Vash froze when he felt callused hands reaching towards his jacket, and he immediately stiffened again. Something like fear and yet not fear – because he wasn't scared of Wolfwood, was he? - coiled in his stomach, and he pushed Wolfwood's hands away, not too harshly but still with a keen determination.
"Don't - " Vash then whispered, his voice laced with uncertainty. He looked away, before continuing,"My body – it's covered in scars. Not a pretty sight."
Something inside of Wolfwood jolted painfully at the way Vash was smiling up at him – it was not fake, and yet he could see the age-old sorrow on his face, reminding Wolfwood once again who Vash really was.
They call him the Humanoid Typhoon, but he's really just a deeply sensitive, kind and vulnerable man. Crazy too, but definitely not bad.
"It's okay. My body's the same," Wolfwood said reassuringly, thinking it cute that Vash was so self-conscious. That was a rare trait nowadays. "But we don't have to do this, if you're not comfortable with it."
"Don't talk me as if I was some innocent maiden!" Vash retorted indignantly. "I never said I was not comfortable with it – it's just that ... I don't know if you'll think me sexy once you -"
Vash broke the sentence off, not wanting to continue. Sighing, he rose from the bed and walked over to the window. There wasn't much to look out from: darkness was everywhere, and the only thing his eyes could perceive were a few lights here and there. But, tapping his gloved fingers against the windowpane, Vash just stood there, not really thinking about anything. Or anyone. He'd learned ages ago that wallowing on the past too much made you only more miserable than you already felt.
Meanwhile, Wolfwood tried to make sense of what was going on, and what Vash – stupid idiot that he was – was doing to him. Yes, he'd been attracted to people before – for all the wrong reasons, too – but he'd never really wanted someone as much as that daft, daft peace-loving fool. And it wasn't pure lust. He wanted to know this man – explore and taste and unravel all the secrets that made up Vash the Stampede. Because, deep down, something told him that it was more than worth it.
(And, like a fly that is being drawn to a bottle of sweet-smelling jam, he edged closer and gave in to the madness that was gaining control over him).
"Just take your jacket off – I mean how crazy must you be to even sleep in it?"
And he's even wearing his gloves.
"You're right. I'm so attached to it – I'll just get out of it."
And yet, Vash was hesitating, nearly nimbly taking it off, letting the red material slip past his shoulders and then throwing it on the chair Wolfwood had dozed off in. Wolfwood watched, surprised at how elegant Vash could be, and -
-and that's when Wolfwood saw Vash's scars – furious marks and still healing patches of red that ran like furious criss-crosses over his skin.
"It doesn't disgust me, Vash. It's part of you – just part of you," Wolfwood whispered before grabbing Vash by the shoulders and placing a gentle kiss on his lips, which ended just as quickly as it had started.
Vash turned around, facing Wolfwood again, and smiled this time. Maybe, it wouldn't be that bad to just lower his guard a little?
"Okay."
Vash didn't know who initiated the kiss first – whether it was his need to suddenly feel close or Wolfwood's desire to be with him.
It didn't matter. For once, Vash thought, that nothing mattered at all.
If he'd known that he'd be scoring that night, Wolfwood would have proceeded to get some vaseline or whatever else you could use as lubrication. But, as luck had it, he really was empty-handed, and – somehow – this didn't sit well with him. Oh well. He'd have to make the best of it.
Only that's a bit difficult to make the best of a situation when the person you're going to fuck is not only a living legend, but a virgin, Wolfwood thought, feeling uneasiness churn in his stomach when he realised just how much responsibility that entailed. Because you never forgot your first time, no matter how often (or depending on how much of a loser you were, how rarely) you got laid afterwards.
"Vash, this will be a bit uncomfortable, but I need do it or whatever we'll do next will hurt like hell."
And boy, Wolfwood knew how much it could hurt, but he preferred not to dwell on unpleasant memories. Life was too short and all that shit to waste it on soliloquies or interior monologues on how the fates had treated him wrongly.
(And, like any materialist, Wolfwood did not believe in fate, in spite of the cross he carried. Money was what made his world go round).
Feeling fingers up your arse wasn't the most pleasant of things, Vash quickly decided – screwing his eyes shut and trying his utmost to catch his breath. The sensation was unlike anything else he'd ever experienced, which said a lot. But he forced himself not to whimper and just breathe as calmly as he could. He wouldn't make Wolfwood feel guilty; he'd bear it like he bore everything else – with a happy smile. Or something like that.
He's bearing this quite well so far, Wolfwood noted and felt a sense of pride flair up in him. He wasn't that scary, after all.
"You can just do it already. I don't mind pain," Vash said through gritted teeth, his voice shaky and – in spite of all his attempts at bravado – Wolfwood could tell that he minded the pain very much.
What an idiot. Seriously.
"I know, you masochist. You, perhaps, might not mind but I do – since it's not necessarily going to be that cool for me either if I just enter like that," Wolfwood retorted testily, his good humour decreasing due to the stupidity and immaturity he was dealing with.
He didn't say it, but there was another reason too – Wolfwood didn't want to hurt Vash anymore than necessary. Looking at the scars that decorated his body like a patchwork, he felt himself growing sick because it reminded him again of how much Vash allowed himself to get hurt. Over and over again.
You'd probably be much happier if you stopped playing the hero all the time, Vash.
"Just relax – and leave it up to me. Unless you'd like to be on top?" Wolfwood didn't really care – he was certain he'd enjoy it the other way round as well. Actually anything was fine as long as Vash agreed to it. Right now – rather than looking relaxed – Vash with his face all flushed and his blond hair lying all sprawled over the pillow, looked way too nervous and damn fucking afraid. Which was neither flattering nor comforting for Wolfwood.
It wasn't easy to say the next few words, but Wolfwood would rather go to hell than force someone into having sex with him. Not that he was pushing Vash into doing it; however, he didn't want Vash to sleep with him just because it was something that he felt he had to do. "Or would you rather – I mean, we don't have to go this far if this isn't what you want, Vash."
Blue eyes widened in surprise. Vash took a deep breath – and then shook his head. "It's fine. Probably better if you're on top this time."
This time? It means he really does want it.
Wolfwood smiled – and let out a sigh of relief.
"If you say so." Wolfwood wasn't going to back down now and licked his lips, knowing that the next thing he'd do would be awkward as hell. But he also knew that it would give Vash more pleasure than he'd possibly ever dreamt about. Still, it would be awkward.
Well not for me. But for Vash most likely.
Wolfwood leaned down until he was face to face with Vash's cock; to his delight, it was hard. That was splendid – he could get going now.
Vash sucked in his breath, not having expected that – not Wolfwood's mouth engulfing his cock. Definitely not. Of course, he'd dreamt about getting a blow job, but he'd not thought that about ever experiencing one. And it felt good: Wolfwood's mouth was hot as it engulfed his penis again and again, sucking without any inhibitions.
"You're less afraid now, are you?" Wolfwood asked, pausing in his actions and just looking at Vash's flushed face again – his green eyes were clouded with desire and he was panting. A good sign and – undeniably - proof of the fact that he'd definitely not lost his touch. Not that Wolfwood had ever questioned his abilities, mind you.
Wolfwood knew what he was going to do next – and he'd do it, even if it would hurt Vash at first. But he was too hard and the word "patience" had never been part of his active vocabulary. Besides, Vash seemed more or less ready.
"I'll do it now. Brace yourself," Wolfwood warned, knowing that Vash would have done so anyway.
And then he was inside – inside of Vash who was hot and tight and felt so much better than he'd expected. But it wasn't that merely: it felt so good and awesome because this was Vash. Not some random whore, but Vash.
"You fine?"
Somehow seeming to have lost the ability to speak, Vash only nodded and closed his eyes. The intrusion hadn't hurt as much as he'd expected it to – the stinging pain was there and it was uncomfortable, but it wasn't the end of the world. Frankly speaking, he'd nearly seen as well experienced enough of that and this was nothing compared to what he'd seen or experienced – no question about it.
Only a bit, Wolfwood thought, biting his underlip, as he waited for Vash to get used to feeling of being penetrated. Of course, the temptation to just start slamming in was there - it was so strong that he bit against his lip more forcedly, feeling his teeth sink deep into sensitive issue. But it wasn't strong to draw the coppery-sweet taste of blood yet.
Because then when Wolfwood was about to despair, Vash's face looked remarkably less tense and he was no longer keeping his eyes closed or gritting his teeth. Wolfwood didn't wait for a verbal affirmation and just started to move, hissing as he started to thrust, gently at first but picking up pace as need took over.
It was then that Vash started to breathe more heavily and his gasps turned into small moans: his sweat-drenched body squirmed and he clenched his fists every time Wolfwood drove into him. This felt wonderful and it was like a fever, he registered dimly. But it wasn't only that. He'd never really expected that someone would really want him – not really. And that – the knowledge that someone wanted and, maybe, even needed him - touched Vash more than anything else.
Vash is surprisingly non-vocal. I'd thought he'd be screaming or something like that.
Wanting some kind of reaction from Vash other than the irregular gasps here and there, Wolfwood's hand balled around his erection, earning a surprised yelp from his partner.
"Feels good?"
"Nnnn," Vash replied unintelligibly, his further set of comments muffled by the hand he covered his mouth with as Wolfwood started to pump harder.
Smirking like he'd just won in the lottery, Wolfwood continued to move his hand up and down Vash's arousal, quickening as he sensed that he himself wasn't going to last much longer either. All the time, he was still driving in and out of Vash's body and the sounds of their slick bodies slapping against each other filled the room. Vash cried out as he spilled himself over Wolfwood's hand; Wolfwood slammed in - once, twice- until he came as well, burying his head in the blond's sweat-covered neck as he let his orgasm roll over him.
Wow, this was a blast, Wolfwood thought dimly, most of his thoughts still suffused in the after-bliss of sex.
The only shame was that it hadn't lasted longer. But Wolfwood decided that he'd not fret about it. After all, tomorrow was yet another day.
...
"Vash!"
Wolfwood was already dressed, fixing the man still sprawled out on the bed with a look that promised him hell on Earth unless he got his ass out of it and -
Oh hell, I'll not only kick his ass, but keep him from eating his beloved donuts. That'll be enough to drive him over the bend, Wolfwood thought maliciously, licking his lips in sadistic anticipation.
Unware of his friend's dark thoughts, Vash glanced at Wolfwood, taking in the worn suit and asked himself whether the guy even owned another set of clothes.
Probably not, Vash agreed mentally, he's probably given everything to the kids.
Vash's face lighted up at that thought – and he felt a new wave of affection for Wolfwood rise up within him. He was a sweet guy.
Unfortunately, Wolfwood was not in the mood to be sweet or cute now. He rolled his eyes, took a cigarette out of his pocket and, lighting it with the heel of his boot, put into his mouth. Soon, the room was filled with the bitter odour of nicotine again – a smell that was as familiar to him as the weight of the cross he'd sworn allegiance to. "So you getting up or not?"
"I'm not getting up yet. It burns – you didn't tell me that it'd hurt down there-" Vash complained, cringing as that stinging pain shot up as he attempted to sit up.
Wolfwood winced at the description, thinking of pre-teens trying to describe sexual intercourse in biology while blushing furiously and trying to restrain a giggling fit.
"Now, you're behaving like a baby. What am I supposed to tell the girls? That Vash the Stampede won't come down because he's a pansy and can't stand a little pounding?"
Well, it had been ass-pounding to be fair, but it wasn't like that warranted staying in bed all day long, which seemed to be what Vash was intending to do.
"Don't say anything - " Vash started to say, but paused as a thought seemed to grab possession of him. And then, with a flash, he did stand up – blankets wrapped loosely around his hips – and grabbed Wolfwood's wrist.
"What are you-?" Wolfwood started, but his words were interrupted by a large oouf as he was rather ungraciously pulled towards the bed. The suddenness of being tossed onto bed – or on top of Vash, to be more exact – had made Wolfwood drop his cigarette. Luckily, it had been put out, though how Wolfwood didn't know, being pre-occupied with more pressing matters at the moment.
"Just stay here for a bit," Vash hastily replied, not meeting Wolfwood's eyes. Instead he just lay still, allowing himself to take a deep breath before speaking." Stay here a bit with me."
"You're in a for a second -"
Vash rolled his eyes. "No, but stay. Just stay."
And Wolfwood did. After all, you didn't say no when being asked so nicely.
(And the promise of more sex was nice too).
...