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You've reached Nicholas D. Wolfwood, undertaker extraordinaire. You know what to do.

text ☓ audio ☓ video ☓ action ☓ gifts in the form of cigarettes

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From:

bountyfull

[ It doesn't have to be gentle to get Vash's attention, blue eyes darting back to Wolfwood wide and a little shocked at his friend's sudden reappearance in his personal space. He exhales a confused sound even as Wolfwood's lips land on his own. He stares at Wolfwood even then, pupils pinpoint sharp for a moment or two as his heart vibrates in his throat. It's a second, then two, before Vash's eyes are half-hooded, and he presses back into the kiss and the feel of it.

He's a little thankful that he manages to keep from doing anything ridiculous like stumble over his own feet while standing still, mind way too focused on the way Wolfwood's lips feel against his own. Belatedly, maybe, he tilts his head just a little, just slightly, a soft pleased hum leaving his throat as he flicks his tongue over the curve of Wolfwood's lips.

It was only a few minutes ago that Wolfwood had him shoved up against this tree for wildly different reasons. The press of bark against his back is a weird sort of comfort, keeping him upright while letting more of his focus shift to the new sensation of lips on his own. It's not his first kiss, but perhaps one of the few he's felt drawn to return.

One arm isn't nearly enough in this moment as he lifts his hand up to tangle in dark unruly hair at the back of Wolfwood's scalp. There's no pull to it, but it's a little desperate in the way he holds on, keeping Wolfwood from leaving again. Wolfwood's teeth nibble at his lower lip and Vash slides into the opening to lick into his mouth, slipping his tongue past teeth to taste him. It's not elegant, but it's enthusiastic, his own shakey exhale lost between them. ]

From:

nickotine

( wolfwood has never been as impulsive as vash — that kind of goes without saying by now, doesn't it? — but the sound of his voice had been enough to find the rest of his resolve crumbling, slipping through the spaces between his fingers like so many grains of sand because he can't stand to hear him sound like that.

like he's losing something, too, even if he's not quite sure what it is.

nothing about this is elegant, it can't be when there's nothing in him but the kind of desperate need that's been beating in his chest right alongside his frantic heart when he'd realized he couldn't find him. because damn it, he still had so much he needed to say, so much he needed to apologize for because in the end, a stupid piece of paper could never be worth trading a life away, and he needed vash to know that he was sorry, so sorry, if he could do it all over again it would be so different —

( would it have been, though? when it had meant the difference between keeping the orphanage safe or letting it fall into the wrong hands? )

he's not thinking about that now; the only thing on his mind is the way their mouths fit together, vash's lips so soft and warm against his own that he's not entirely sure he isn't dreaming the whole thing, perfect as it is. it isn't long before he lets the punisher go, lowering its weight to the ground at their feet as gently as he's able without putting any distance between them because he needs to have both hands on him. needs to create as many points of contact as he possibly can just to be sure it's real.

that now-free hand presses against the very center of vash's chest, fingers splayed damn near possessively over the warmth of his skin beneath a layer of fabric and a quiet, soft moan is startled out of him when the other's tongue slides into his mouth; he curls his own against it, tasting him in turn and groaning at the sweetness of him. it's so much, and still not enough all at once.

absently, the hand at his neck slips up to brush away the wetness teasing the corner of one eye with the pad of his thumb, and he pulls back just as much as he needs to murmur against his mouth: ) Don't cry. ( a brief nip of a kiss, and then: ) You beautiful idiot.

From:

bountyfull

Sorry.

[ The apology is muttered breathlessly as Vash pulls in a chest full of air, not quite willing to put any additional distance between them, either. He moves to chase after another kiss, the motion subtle but also abruptly stopped as he settles a hand atop the one splayed against his chest. It's almost like he's trying to make sure that what he feels is real, the past few moments just a little to the left of surreal.

He finally relents, if only to lean into the warmth of the hand to his face, shifting the angle of his jaw just enough to nose against the palm of Wolfwood's hand. He's NOT crying, not right now, the wet there having only been the threat of action rather than his emotions following through. ]

Wolfwood...

[ It's just his name, at first. And then after his lips find a place just below Wolfwood's thumb to press his lips to, he speaks again. ]

If I go.[ About his arm. If he goes and listens and considers it... ] You'll come with me?

[ It's a little needy maybe, a little out of the ordinary for him, and there's something to the way Vash makes sure to keep his hold on Wolfwood where he's got his one hand. Like he's making sure, in a round about way, that Wolfwood isn't going to leave. ]

From:

nickotine

( well. that makes two of them, doesn't it? wanting to make sure what they're feeling is real —

of course he hadn't been thinking when he'd closed that distance between them, when he'd taken the blond's mouth in a kiss that he swears he's going to be able to feel, to taste in the back of his mind until he can no longer take a breath, and while he's never really thought about death in terms of his own very much up to now, he's pretty sure he could take the final steps to his grave in that very moment and feel like he has no regrets.

finally, a distant voice insists once again, you're finally gettin' your shit together, aren't ya?

vash nuzzles into his palm, and his heart fucking aches as he does it, wanting nothing more than to take away any of the hurt that still lingers in his chest, the ache of everything he thinks he's missing and replacing it with everything he has in him to give. anythin' you want, blondie. anythin' i've got, it's yours until you decide you don't want it.

he leans in and brushes a kiss to the center of the other's forehead, nosing beneath the fall of his bangs with a hum. more of a rumble than anything else. )

'Course I'll go. ( he says quietly at first,like it's a secret just between the two of them. ) Haven't you figured out yet, there's nowhere you could go that I'm not gonna follow?