It’s not like Vash ever tried to be some sort of legendary gunman. He just did what he did best: He tried to spread love, promote peace and bring kindness to Gunsmoke. The fact that so many people recognized his image was more due to the unfortunate and well planned timing of his brother than any real effort on Vash’s part.
With a bounty in the millions, it was hard not to see the appeal in people wanting to get his picture. It was one of the drawbacks of being near any town or city actually on the map, besides the whole being shot at thing. Vash took that as a given. When Meryl first asked for his photo to go along with his interview, “his side of the story”, she explained, he couldn’t quite place the itching and crawling sensation he felt.
He sat down on a rickety little synthetic wood stool in the late morning light of a bar, shuffled toward the back corner where he wouldn’t draw as much attention to himself. Not many folks around, and the folks that were around were older and not interested in trying to bag a potential Humanoid Typhoon look-a-like.
The air was dusty and far too warm to even feel like it was morning with two of the suns already well on their way to zenith. The shutters were closed part way. Meryl tried to get the best lighting she could, positioning and repositioning him around that small space until she caught the sunlight just right. Vash smiled through the whole ordeal. It was a withering, dreadful creature that comforted everyone but Vash…
“Quit smilin’ like that, Tongari, you’re givin’ me the creeps.” Wolfwood let out a soft “yeesh” and dusted the sleeves of his blazer off in a dazzling show of bitchy restlessness.
…Correction. Everyone but Vash and Wolfwood.
“Eh heh, smilin’ like what?” he asked, rubbing at the back of his neck.
Meryl huffed a put-upon sigh behind the camera she was using. She sneezed once, causing her dark hair to shake around her head in a little shuffle. Compared to her, the camera was a huge, ancient, bulky thing. Vash would wager he’d been around for when it was still in use, but not by much.
“ I can’t really use any of these, they all look either forced and stiff or—”
“Like something from a child’s nightmare?” Wolfwood said unhelpfully over her shoulder.
“Hey—!” Vash squawked.
“Strange way to put it. But accurate.” Meryl quipped.
“You guys just want to bully me.” Vash pouted, eyes big. He made to shuffle off the stool when Wolfwood put his hand up to halt him.
“Woah there, pump the brakes.” He turned back to Meryl. “Maybe I can give it a go?”
Meryl looked up at him suspiciously. Wolfwood put on his most charming grin, the one that made Vash and every other person with eyes swoon. Meryl eventually shrugged her shoulders and passed the camera to him.
“Couldn’t hurt. Just don’t go wrecking Bernardelli property or try to charge me ‘hidden fees’,” she warned around a pointed glare.
Wolfwood chuckled in that deep timbre. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Wolfwood turned back to him. It was just dark enough that it was hard to see his eyes behind his glasses in the empty bar. Vash’s skin prinkled with the intense way his focus rested on Vash, especially when he rubbed a hand over his stubble, humming in deep thought.
Vash squirmed a bit in his seat. Attention was a complicated thing for him to be the center of. Wolfwood’s attention caused him grief-and-a-half if you count all the nights he spent lying awake thinking about his pretty brown eyes beneath his dark shades.
“Alright, Spikes. You stay right there.” He said finally. Vash nodded and got comfortable.
Wolfwood put the camera strap around his neck and pushed his shades up into his hair. They pushed some of his fringe back from his forehead too, giving Vash an unfiltered view of those haunting eyes. They were hooded, deep and cunning in a way that exilerated Vash. Vash looked away for a moment, trying his damndest not to let it show that it was a little bit sexy to see the way Wolfwood furrowed his dark eyebrows and narrowed his eyes when he was determined.
Click.
Vash whips his head back to him. “I wasn’t ready yet!”
Wolfwood steps closer to him, his shoes clicking against the hardwood floor, close enough now that Vash can just make out the smell of cigarettes and his rich cologne.
“Alright then. Go on now, get ready for me.”
Vash swallows and pouts at him. He crosses his legs and arms.
“I think I’m ready now.”
Wolfwood puts his hands on his hips. “Not like that you’re not. Here, try this.”
Wolfwood manhandles Vash’s arms back down and it floors him for a moment. It always does, how easily Wolfwood touches him. There is fear there sometimes, in his young eyes, undercut with catlike focus. Vash has seen it so many times, he knows what to look for, how to harden his heart against the ache it brings. But with Wolfwood, he never lets it stop him from reaching out. He hesitates a moment while he blinks at Vash, a touch too close, too intimate of a space before pulling back and ruffling Vash’s hair once. The scratch of his fingertips, however brief, sent tingles down the back of Vash’s neck.
“Guess there ain’t taming those spikes anyway,” he mumbled. Was Wolfwood always that red? Maybe the heat was getting to him, too.
Vash wasn’t sure what face he was making then, but he couldn’t be bothered to think about it much when his arms still tingled where Wolfwood’s hands had warmed them though his clothes. He smiled a little easier this time, and felt it turn a little dopey when Wolfwood praised him:
“That’s it, needles, that’s real nice,” he said behind the camera, snapping another few pictures.
Vash felt his posture relax a little and he uncrossed his legs, resting one boot on the floor and the other on the leg of the stool he’s perched on when Wolfwood grinned back at him.
“Almost done?”
“Ya can’t rush art, Tongari. Muses should be silent, ya know.”
“So I’m your muse now, huh?” Vash waggled his eyebrows.
“I’ll say you're a muse. Amusing to look at.”
Vash wheezed out a laugh at that. It was so stupid, how could he not? He heard the final click and felt the last of his anxiety drift with it. Wolfwood had that fond look on his face again. It was a strange thing, delicate and beautiful. It warmed his already sweet eyes, it softened his handsome face and made Vash feel hot all over. Vash could swear he’d only ever seen it aimed his way. He wished, selfishly, that it would stay that way.
“I think that was a keeper.” Wolfwood started, shaking the small polaroid between two fingers like a lit match.
Meryl piped up from her seat across a few tables down. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
Wolfwood handed her back the camera and fished out a crooked cigarette from his inner pocket. Vash watched as her face went from skeptical to disbelief to amazement in the span of a few seconds.
“What is it? Am I making a weird face again?”
“No, no!” Vash shuffled over to look over both of their shoulders, at the small photo, the corner of his mouth ticked up in a nice smile. His eyes flicked to Wolfwood for a moment to find he was already watching him.“I actually think Wolfwood’s right. This one’s a keeper.”
***
Meryl was sure that Wolfwood and Vash paid her no mind when they spoke to each other like this and Meryl would be damned if she let anyone take these small moments from them. Meryl had always received high marks in journalism school for her keen eye.
Vash and Wolfwood bickered and they laughed, their heads bent together, a vibrant blond and the inky raven of their hair mingled as they spoke like no one was watching. If they ever knew how much she saw, even in these small moments, they would both close in on themselves like terrified Thoma chicks.
Sometimes when she was caught between them, she knew in her heart she was the safest she had ever been. It was only fair that she bear witness to them, so that fleeting joy and, dare she say it, love, was given to someone who would cherish it when they were no longer together.
A fuzzy memory made itself insistent enough that she let it through. The light of a fire, the silhouette of Vash and Wolfwood sitting along the edge of camp whispering as the suns set and the absolute stillness of the lines of them came rushing toward her. Actually, come to think of it, the only times she’s seen Vash so attentive, focused is with Wolfwood.
She chuckled to herself. They were so stupid.
“Oi. What’s so damn funny, shortie?”
She let the melancholy slip away, to stare Wolfwood with his lip curled. It might’ve been scary if she didn’t know him.
“Oh, nothing, just… You could learn a thing or two about lighting.” She sang over Wolfwood’s offended squawk and Vash’s fit of giggles.
That’s how the very next day, Wolfwood ended up cornered as he stepped off Meryl’s truck, her arm full of an old camera, a look of steely determination that Wolfwood knew he would not be able to shake. Just as she opens her mouth to speak, Wolfwood holds out a hand, grunting a little “uh uh, one sec” and takes a long drag of his cigarette and blows out the smoke to calm his nerves.
“Alright, I’m ready. Hit me with it.” He rasped past the smoke filtering through his nose.
And she does. And he laughs and laughs because what else can he do? He spends all his time trying not to look too hard at Vash the-f*cking Stampede and now she’s asking him to look even harder. Meryl knew the feeling. Wolfwood, for all his flaws and bad attitude, he was a good man. He saw Vash from an angle Meryl could not, she accepted that. More than anything else, she wanted them both to find some happiness in this life and be understood for who they were. It seemed like the times she saw them happiest was with each other.
Meryl wanted her work to bring light to every piece of love that Vash brought to others. She wanted the complexities of his promise to humanity translated, at least in some small part, in the photos that she gathered. Who better to take them than someone who loved and understood him best. Wolfwood looked so well through that lens, she couldn’t resist. Because he looks so well.
She gets a little red after that, watching him crack up on a hotter than normal afternoon just a few miles outside of nowhere. Wolfwood just looks at her like he knows something she doesn't. She hates that stupid-ass smirk, hates that sometimes it helps Wolfwood get his way but he’s her best shot at this. So, Meryl changed tactics.
“You know, I’ve seen the way you look at him, Wolfwood.” She says plainly, her hands on her hips.
“The hell’s that supposed to mean?” He charges around his cigarette.
“Oh, you know what I mean. That soft look, that moony-eyed stare you give him across the campfire. Not to mention, that time in the saloon a while back-’
He looks scared for a second and then irritated. “ You don't know what yer talkin’ about, shortstack.”
“Maybe not. I do know that I can’t have all that yearning and angst blurring the pictures. It’s probably better I do it myself anyway…” She trails off, looks strategically to the side, hoping he’ll take the bait.
Wolfwood bristles a bit, shifting from foot to foot as he goes through the five stages in a few seconds.
“Well, I ain’t say I couldn’t do it. I’ll get you the pics you need, don’t you worry, shortstack. If only to get ya off my case.” He swipes the camera from her, stomping away to his side of the truck. She followed after him with a cunning grin on her face.
***
After Meryl enlisted Wolfwood into her scheme to get the perfect pictures for her articles, Wolfwood found himself looking at Vash in a very different way. As much as he was staring down the length of her trap, he couldn’t bring himself to pass up the opportunity.
That first time in the saloon, something had shifted in him. He asked Meryl if there was any way to make a copy of the photo. She looked at him like he’d grown a second head until he told her he was trying to have a point of reference for the type of photos she wanted. She was still skeptical but made the copy and handed it over. Wolfowod for once praised his training that he was able to keep a straight face like that, being handed such a treasure.
What he really wanted was a reminder. A reminder of Vash’s relaxed posture, his genuine smile and those beautiful eyes resting so softly on him from behind the camera. It was a lovely picture, highlighting his golden hair in the morning light and the strong length of him sprawled out on that stool. Wolfwood wanted a reminder for when things would inevitably change between them. Wolfwood didn’t know exactly when that would be, but at the end of this journey, he wanted to remember the kindness and affection in those eyes.
So, he pretended like he wasn’t trembling on the inside to have that photo in his hands. He held it close to his chest once out of sight and tucked it into his breast pocket.
It would be a long day. Wolfwood mozied out of the front doors of the Bernardelli building, letting the door creak shut behind him. He squinted in the sun and dropped down his shades, lighting a cigarette and gazing across the horizon. Wolfwood heaved up the Punisher he left right outside, adjusting the camera around his neck.
There he was. Just a little blonde-and-red blur against the sand and dust, high up on the dune. Wolfwood shook his head and started toward him. By the time he caught up, Vash had perched himself in a crouch at the apex of the dune. His sunglasses reflected so much of the late afternoon light in a dangerous glint until he turned to watch Wolfwood approach.
Wolfwood watched the bottle green of his prosthetic glitter as he shifted. Wolfwood couldn’t help it this time, not with how pretty Vash looked sunning himself. His profile glowed at the edges with the golden hour. His eyelashes were visible as he turned, his pupils small, leaving room for the brightest blue. The edge of his mouth curled up in a smile, lips plush and stupid hair falling onto his forehead.
“Wolfwood.” He said in that gentle tone.
Wolfwood blinked a few times, the clip of his own grin sharp in its unspoken tease. I’m here, and I adore you, it seemed to say.
“Tongari.” Wolfwood's grin turned wicked as he waved the camera around for Vash to see.
“More pictures?” Vash whined.
“Ya heard what Shortie said, they’ll be on her ass soon if we can’t get ‘em for her.”
Vash crossed his arms, tapping long fingers in thought.
“Look. I know this makes ya all squirmy and such—”
“Not squirmy. Rightfully wary, maybe—”
“Says the outlaw to an outlaw, but I get it. Since we gotta get the pictures anyway, I figured we’d do it your way, Tongari.”
Vash narrowed his eyes, a darker eyebrow disappearing up on his forehead. “My way?”
“Your way.” Wolfwood tried not to let the heat simmering low in his stomach get in the way of the task at hand. Being under Vash’s unwavering blue gaze did strange things to his heat rate and impulse control.
“But we never do things my way!” He pouted, eyes brimming with mirth.
“Tch, well, I’m making an exception.”
Vash brought one gloved finger up to tap against his chin in thought. He paused for so long, Wolfwood had half a mind to poke him to see if he’d fallen asleep with his eyes open.
“Hmm, I think I like the sound of that.”
Why am I not surprised? Wolfwood decided to keep that bit to himself. They lapsed into a comfortable silence. Vash looked back across the rolling dunes, spread out in an endless wave in front of them. Wolfwood could look nowhere else but at the way the wind ruffled blonde tufts and how the sleeve of Vash’s red coat slid down one shoulder.
Wolfwood suddenly felt like a voyeur, some perverted creature consuming Vash for his own pleasure. He felt vaguely queasy at the thought but mostly so intrigued by what he might be able to capture with the dusty old camera Meryl had lent him.
The distant roar of an engine caught the air and Vash turned just so in the direction of the sound. The curve of his throat and the side of his jaw were all on display for Wolfwood’s greedy eyes. He picked up the camera, clicking once to let the shutter do its job.
Looking through the little viewfinder sent a wave of longing through Wolfwood, like he was looking at this moment from the future, where it was already a beautiful memory. Another click and Vash turned his back around to look at Wolfwood.
“You’re a natural, Blondie.”
“Not really sure what I did, but I’ll take it.” Another one of those heartbreaking smiles aimed straight for Wolfwood caught frozen in time with the click of the camera.
Wolfwood pulled his face away from the viewfinder, looking down at all the little photos developing in his lap. Vash’s long fingers came into view for only a split second as he snatched up a polaroid.
“Gross! Did you have to make me look so pathetic?” He complained, wrinkling his nose, cutely.
“Not sure that was me, Spikes, that’s all you right there.” Wolfwood teased with a raspy cackle around his cigarette.
Vash shook his head, pushing his shades back up his nose.
“Think those are enough for Bernardelli?”
“Who the hell knows. Greedy bastards.”
“Well.” Everytime Vash said it like that, Wolfwood’s hair stood up on the back of his neck. It always meant he was up to no good.
“Since they want a spectacle in their papers, I think we should give them a spectacle.”
Wolfwood didn’t follow. He said as much.
Vash leaned in close to him, nearly giving him a heart attack as he looked over the rim of his orange glasses at him.
“Ever seen one of those double-dollar pin-up magazines?” he prompted.
Wolfwood felt his forehead pinch at the question. “Course I’ve seen ‘em, what’s that got to do with your—” Wolfwood cut himself off, jaw clicking shut at the lecherous way Vash’s grin just kept growing.
“Oh, f*ck off, Blondie!” Wolfwood could feel his ears heat up with how badly he flushed.
“What? It’s not like it’ll be something they haven’t seen before.”
“Not sayin’ I’d mind seeing you in a little cowboy uniform but what about me, huh? Do I look like I signed up to be involved in a boudoir—”
A single piece of debris singed past both their heads as a metal monstrosity came leaping up from underneath the dunes just in front of them.
Wolfwood’s mind was still reeling from the fact that Vash—private, stubborn, camera-shy Vash—had suggested pin-up photos for the Bernardelli newspaper.
His scrambling would have been funny if he weren’t sweating bullets thinking about seeing Vash in any state of undress, let alone purposefully provocative.
“We’ll talk about this later, Tongari,” he snapped through gritted teeth.
Vash’s laughter could be heard over the sound of gunfire filling the open air.
***
Wolfwood tried to just think about the annoyance he felt at the time, and not about how badly he wanted to get his hands, his mouth, his body, anything, near Vash, somehow. He wiped his hands on the tops of his slacks and took a grounding breath in. He knew there was something budding between them. Each time Wolfowood took another picture, he found new things to adore about Vash, and the more he seemed to open up to him.
After Milly’s cousin gave them a small safehouse to lay low in after being caught in the shootout on the Dunes of the Bernardelli outpost, the two of them haven't had a damned thing to do but boil in the heat between them. Somehow they both thought it funny over a bottle of Bride to take some more boudoir type photos of Vash. Ya know, like friends were sure to do. Friends who shared the most mind blowing, toe curling, I’m-so-glad-you’re-alive kiss he’d ever had in his worthless life amidst the flare of bullets and the gnashing of bounty hunters.
Wolfwood wasn’t really sure Vash would go for it when he offhandedly said he’d love to see Vash spread out over the cover of a magazine like the pin-up girl in her little cowboy hat in the papers. Vash just tucked his chin down, the bright blue of his eyes visible behind orange tinted glasses, and smiled. They were hunkered down in a bank of bedrock when Vash spoke about it again.
“Wanna give it a shot, big boy?”
He didn’t need to ask Wolfwood twice.
He did however ask Wolfwood to turn around while he peeled off his black pants turtleneck. Wolfwood could hardly believe Vash had agreed to do this, to take a photo wearing nothing, for their own fun. He can feel his body heat up when he hears the sound of Vash’s clothes hitting the floor.
He’s fully clothed in comparison, he has to tug on the edge of his collar with his rising flush. He can hear Vash’s little “aht, aht!” as he wiggles out of his trousers. Wolfwood can hear the bed dip in a little creaking noise as he sits down. It sends a shiver up Wolfwood’s spine. He lets out a long sigh to mask it.
“You done back there, Tongari?” He throws over his shoulder.
“...Yea. Yea, you can turn around now.”
He does. A bright curiosity guides his eyes in the soft evening light. It comes in bursts of color for him. The golden fluffiness of Vash’s hair contrasted with the edge of his dark undercut leading to a long slender neck, the smattering of jagged scars across the curve of his chest as it filled with a fluttering breath. Soft, downturned eyes blinked shyly back at him behind round frames, just barely concealing the most beautiful blue that Wolfwood had ever seen.
The length from his chest to just under the dip of his navel was curved up with the light arch of his back, strength radiating and humming from Vash in waves along his muscled form. He was tense, shoulders bunched up a bit by his ears. His earring caught the light of the dipping suns when he turned his head just slightly, those clever eyes falling down to Wolfwood’s shoes and dragging back up again in a coy, hooded gaze.
Vash’s powerful runner’s legs were pressed together, his ankles crossed and tucked toward him. He leaned forward just a tad, leaving that soft place at the apex of his thighs a mystery, a shadow falling just over it. He sat just on the edge of the bed, shifting a little the longer that Wolfwood tried and failed to think of something to say that wasn’t -
Seeing you like this has haunted my dreams.
I’ve never seen anything or anyone as beautiful as you.
I want to die between your legs.
Wolfwood swallowed hard and tried not to gape like a thirsty Thoma at the light flush building on Vash’s cheeks or the way his lashes fluttered so softly. Vash’s lips parted just slightly. He noticed it everyday but it was still unbelievable how kissable those lips were, plump and pink.
“You just gonna stare the whole time?” Vash asked, playful and light despite the nervous waiver of his voice.
Wolfwood shook himself, making the camera hanging from his neck flop awkwardly against his chest. In a jerking motion, he took a step forward, sweaty palms reaching up to pull off his blazer and fling it on the back of the nearest chair.
Vash’s eyes widened with every step he took toward him, dipping down the front of Wolfwood’s shirt a few times. Wolfwood’s heart was racing faster than during a shootout as he towered over Vash for a moment, the movement causing Vash’s head to tip back up at him. His shadow briefly blocked the glare on Vash’s glasses, finally giving him a peek behind the veil of the world’s best gunman. It allowed him to see just how large Vash’s pupils had gotten. Wolfwood’s knee brushed against Vash’s in a chaste mimic of a caress. Wolfwood watched Vash’s Adam's apple bob.
Wolfwood slowly unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt, rolling the sleeves up, falling into a character he was a bit more familiar with. It was easier this way to pretend it was all fantasy that guided his actions and not the pure want of Vash in any way he could have him that drove his actions.
“Wh-what are you-”
“It was gettin’ a little warm here. How ‘bout we get to work on those photos, hm?”
“Oh,” Vash looked down at the place where Wolfwood’s shirt tucked into his belt and back up at him, his watery eyes beaming back at him with amusem*nt. The only thing that gave him away were one bottle green and one pale hand fisting at the sheets beneath him. “I have some new pose ideas. Maybe we can try them out?”
“Let’s start with this one, I think I like this angle.” Wolfwood said, raising the old camera up and pointing the viewfinder down at Vash.
“Why’s that?” Vash asked absently as he tried to wrestle the camera back a bit from his face without squirming so much he opened himself too much.
“I kinda like seeing you all flustered like this. Usually nothing gets under your skin.” He chuckled as Vash pouted at him. He was so pathetic looking sometimes, but Wolfwood knew his whole disguise the moment he met him. It was unbelievably, infuriatingly charming.
Click
“I wasn’t even ready that time!” Vash snatched at the camera for a moment. Wolfwood dropped the camera back to his chest, the two of them slapping at each other’s hands.
Nicholas snapped one more, just to watch him turn more pink. Sneaky bastard he could just make out over the shuffling of sheets.
“C’mon, up ya go.” Nicholas coaxed, patting the assortment of throw pillows at the head of the bed. He fluffed a couple, trying his best not to look too hard when Vash crawled on all fours to lean against the headboard. He silently prayed to God to give him strength, seeing the shift of Vash’s back muscles and the fuzzy back of his undercut.
“Like this?” Vash whispered, a little breathless. He looked up at him with such trust in shimmering eyes, it made Wolfwood want to hold him. And tease him.
“Actually, I was thinkin’ more -” He drew a circle with his index finger, miming around.
“Oh, oh!” You mean-” Vash tucked his legs underneath him, turning with all that hidden grace so his back was flush against the bed, legs propped up by the wall and outstretched toward the ceiling.
“Yea, that’s perfect.” Wolfwood watched a hitch of breath catch on his chest, Vash’s eyelashes fluttering at the praise. Wolfwood really was trying his best to be a gentleman here but who the hell was he fooling when the position just made him think of how Vash’s own gaze strayed to the buckle of his belt earlier, how if Vash were just a little lower, his head would hang over the bed, exposing his long neck, laying at the perfect height for-
Wolfwood didn’t know how long he’d been staring but he felt his eyes trail down to between Vash’s thighs again before Vash snatched a pillow beside him and sent it flying at his head.
“Stop bein’ such a baby, I thought you said you’d do anything for that box of donuts, don’t you let me waste my hard earned double dollars!” He complained, rubbing the side of his head.
“I didn’t think you’d try to embarrass me!” He admonished, groping at the bedside table for a dusty book to preserve what little modesty he had left.
Wolfwood just chuckled, letting the intimate space around them guide his hand.
Click.
In the viewfinder, Wolfwood could see through some unknown viewer’s eyes how soft Vash looked at the moment, the mischievous twinkle of his eyes, the beautiful open smile lighting up his face, the comfort and trust he exuded. It made Wolfwood dizzy with want for him. He wasn’t sure he ever wanted anyone to see these photos.
Nicholas looked down at his hands, two blissful photos of a complicated man. He looked back at Vash, spread out over the bed and ready to go along with whatever he wanted to do. It was a lot to handle.
Wolfwood bent down at the waist, watching Vash’s smile falter, his eyes almost crossing from how close Nicholas was, how their noses almost brushed against each other. “I wanna try one more thing.”
Vash just sighed, and nodded, his keen eyes tracking Nicholas.
Nicholas helped him back up to a sitting position, mindful of his fingers pressed into scarred skin, reveling in the contrast of it next to soft, supple patches. Vash’s long legs dangled off the side of the bed.
Wolfwood was chasing something, something he could not put into words, but it squashed down any nerves he may have had about being so close to Vash. He pressed one knee between Vash’s legs and the other just to the side of his hip.
Vash squeaked out a sound, distracted enough that Wolfwood could push him back down onto the bed. Wolfwood pinned Vash’s wrists to the bed with one hand and with the other he looped the camera strap back over his neck and plopped it right next to them on the bed.
“Now this is an even better angle.”
“You think, mister famous photographer? Seems more self-serving on your part.” His voice was more high pitched now, worked up from Wolfwood’s warm hands on him.
Wolfwood leaned down, a small grin on his lips as he watched Vash settle underneath him. He chuckled darkly at how easy he was. Any artist would thank their lucky stars to have a model like Vash as their muse, and here Wolfwood was, this precious man underneath him instead of at the fingertips of someone who actually knew what they were doing. Funny what wondrous moments God deigned to bestow a sinner like him. He took Vash’s chin between two fingers and tilted his head to the side, marveling at how pliant he was. He stooped down, cheek brushing Vash’s.
“We both know if you didn’t like it, you’d have stopped me a long time ago.”
Some tantalizing cross between a whimper and a gasp of utter scandal left Vash’s mouth. Suddenly, one of Vash’s wrists was free, wiggled out without any fanfare and his center of gravity was promptly thrown onto his back. He landed with a small “oof”, lap full of Vash’s warm thighs, one cold palm pressed against his chest and the other somewhere near his head.
He stared at the angel hovering above him, his fair falling in his eyes, a self-satisfied smile showing off sharp canines. Wolfwood tried to think of anything, anything but the fact that Vash’s sex was pressed against his own, with the barest amount of fabric separating them.
“I think you were saying something, Wolfwood?”
Vash brought his warm hand down to rest on his chest as well, long fingers fanning out and pressing hot points across it. The pressure was breathtaking, Vash’s hands barely managing to toe the line between pinning him in place and groping.
He looked divine perched like that, confidence returning to him in small doses until he took his place like some kind of royalty on top of Wolfwood. Wolfwood felt around for the camera.
“C’mere, blondie.” He rasped on his back, raising the camera just enough that he cradled it against his face. Vash just continued grinning at him. He preened for a moment under the attention before dissolving into giggles.
Click, Click.
An ache bloomed in Wolfwood’s chest. It was hard enough knowing he’d have to part with Vash eventually, but knowing that even these small pieces of him would be inaccessible to him in a few days time just made the small moments between them all the more precious.
Vash’s fangs caught on his bottom lip and Wolfwood couldn’t bring himself to feel that ache for very long.
“Your turn.” Vash’s voice had dropped down an octave, sending a searing bolt of arousal through Wolfwood.
Vash picked up the camera with deft hands, already two clicks in by the time Wolfwood dragged his mind from the longing to feel those teeth on his throat.
Wolfwood sat up on his elbows. He knew he looked good but he hoped it was good enough for Vash.
“Like what you see, Blondie?” It came out so much softer and vulnerable than he intended.
Vash let the camera bounce away, pawing at Wolfwood’s chest until he lay flat on the bed again. His eyes were so bright behind his sunglasses. There was a palpable hunger to his gaze that made Wolfwood want to squirm beneath him.
“Sometimes I think I like what I see too much.” He whispered.
Wolfwood felt his heartbeat rush in his ears. He reached up with both hands, shaky and clammy, to lift Vash’s sunglasses from his nose. He cradled Vash’s face in his hands, watching the small pulse of plant marks glow in his irises. Wolfwood kissed the tip of his nose, watching it flush rosy red with the attention, followed by the pulse of eager reach of the glowing marks.
Wolfwood hadn’t done this that many times, and the times he had were fumbling, rushed things that gave him only momentary satisfaction. He wanted this to be different. He licked his lips, watching Vash watch him was addicting.
“Vash.”
The man in his lap responded with his whole body. His thighs squeezed at his sides, cool palms came up to cover his own hands, his eyelashes fluttered as he blinked, his pupils swallowing up bright blue. The silent question in Wolfwood’s eyes, in the reverent way he said Vash’s name, was answered with a warm embrace.
“Yes. Yes, yes.” Vash breathed, a single tear catching on Wolfwood’s thumb.
They both tried to get Wolfwood out of his clothes as quickly as possible. Vash made a noise of frustration and tore Wolfwood’s belt from its loops, manhandling him out of his pants.
He chuckled at Vash’s eagerness. “I’m not goin’ anywhere, Tongari.”
“Stop talking and kiss me. Please!” Vash climbed back over him, crushing their mouths together in a sloppy wet press.
Wolfwood gathered Vash up in his arms, kneading at his hips, his back, fingertips skating across Vash’s back while Vash wrapped his arms around his neck. Wolfwood laid him back down against the pillows, watching him get comfortable. Vash’s hair fanned out along the sheets, his dark undercut a stark contrast to the beige.
Both of their pants filled the room as Wolfwood parted his thighs around himself, grinding them together. He watched what he could only describe as a flower at Vash’s core, relaxed over him.
“You want it like this?” He asked breathlessly, transfixed by the way the head of his co*ck kissed Vash’s fluttering petals. Wolfwood blinked up just in time to see Vash watching the same thing.
“Yeah” he sighed, “It’s been a while, but like this, to start I think.”
Wolfwood lifted one of Vash’s legs over his shoulder, kissing the side of his knee, sweat gathering along his forehead as he tried to slow down.
“How long?”
Vash moaned filthily as Wolfwood rocked against him.
“I don’t know, maybe- oh - thirty years? It’s-”
Wolfwood’s jaw dropped as he stared at Vash.
“Thirty years?!”
Wolfwood could see the long journey that separated them. He imagined the lonely nights of Vash gazing up at the stars, the painful days nursing his own bullet wounds, the ache of leaving your only family. He blinked deep brown eyes back at Vash, grateful his sunglasses were nowhere to be found. Now, he could see each one of those years reflected back in ethereal blue eyes. It was as breathtaking as it was heartbreaking.
“Fraid so.” It was such a simple thing for him to say, but the truth of it hit Wolfwood hard.
But here they were, in some god-forsaken no-name town, playing photographer and model across the sheets of a creaky bed. Somehow, despite all those years, all the people Vash had met and loved and lost he wanted to share this with Wolfwood. He couldn’t understand where his luck had changed along the way. He’d be damned if he let it go to waste.
“Well, that just won’t do, darlin’” Wolfwood whispered softly, brushing Vash’s fluffy bangs from his face. Vash kissed his palm, nuzzling it. His panting, damp breath tickled Wolfwood’s wrist.
Wolfwood braced himself on the pillow beside Vash’s head, and their eyes met. It was like a livewire down Wolfwood’s spine to see that swirling lust in Vash’ watery eyes. He pushed their lips together, noses bumping sweetly while he tried to press every bit of his affection, his enthusiasm, his love into the seam of their mouths.
Wolfwood pushed into him. Just the head had popped through the Vash’s inner petals, the outer ones undulating and fluttering around him further, red hot and slick around him. Vash gasped wetly, breaking their kiss. His head fell back, his arms circling around Wolfwood’s broad shoulders. Wolfwood dipped his head down to rest at the crook of Vash’s neck. He let out a stuttering breath, overwhelmed by how tight he was, how f*cking wet.
“Nicholas!”
“Oh, oh, God-” Wolfwood let out in a whoosh. Vash’s long legs wrapped around his waist in a vice grip, shoving his co*ck further into Vash with a single minded goal to get him deeper.
“Vash,” he pleaded.“Vash, slow down, I-”
Vash just locked his ankles behind his back and squeezed him harder between his legs. His puss* was pulling at him in pulsating caresses all along the length as he was forced to bottom out. He bit down hard at Vash’s shoulder to muffle an embarrassing whimper.
“Ah- hah, you’re so big. It-it’s so good, Nicholas. Nick, it’s so good.” He panted, running his warmed up hands though Wolfwood’s raven hair, pulling lightly at the locks at the back of his neck.
Wolfwood groaned at the absolute filth coming out of his mouth, pawing at Vash’s hips and thighs as he got his bearings. He pressed their foreheads together, squeezing his eyes shut to ground himself. He cupped Vash’s face for a moment, cradling him while he caught his breath.
“Please, please, shut up. If you keep talkin’ like that, I’m gonna-” He moaned at the feeling of Vash squeezing around him harder, his soft, squishy walls drawing him in further. He wasn’t even sure he could move at the moment, the way Vash’s petals locked around his co*ck.
“Will you?” Vash cooed at him, pupils blown wide. “Say you will. Please, say you will!” He begged.
“Oh, f*ck-”
Wolfwood’s hips twitched, rolling himself just slightly in and back out of Vash. Vash bit at Wolfwood’s bottom lip, sharp canines nipping at the tender skin. Nicholas kissed him back hard, bruising their mouths together and using the momentum to thrust fully back into Vash fully, rocking them both with the force.
“Harder, harder, Nick-” he said against Wolfwood’s mouth, his nails scratching along the back of his neck, sending goosebumps along his arms.
How could Wolfwood deny him?
He squeezed the soft parts of Vash’s hips, pulling almost all the way out and pushing back in, dragging Vash down to meet him. His breath left him all at once, the head of his co*ck brushing up against something inside Vash. Vash’s toes curled when he bottomed out, fingers scrambling across his shoulders. His pretty mouth curled around a small smile, his blush bright pink across his cheeks, the bridge of his nose and down his heaving chest.
He did it over and over, both moaning as he bumped that sweet spot again. Vash’s flesh hand shot out, pressing a palm against his stomach. There was a searching glint in Vash’s eyes that made Wolfwood want to smother him in adoration. It filled his field of vision and pushed him closer to the edge. He knew he wouldn’t last long, not like this, not with Vash coiled round him like some kind of vine, panting so sweetly between them. His mouth tasted like the clinging balm of sugar as Wolfwood dipped his tongue into his mouth. Vash sucked once on his tongue, tugging on Wolfwood’s hair and squeezing him harder between his legs.
“Nicholas, Nick, Give me your hand-” Wolfwood braced one palm against the bed and did as he was told, his body thrumming with heat, his face open with desire, dark lashes framing blown out pupils. His dark hair fell into his eyes just so. He shook his head slightly to clear his sight as Vash led his hand over the small bump of his lower stomach.
“You feel that?” Vahs whispered against his mouth, sharing his breath. “That’s you, Nick.”
Wolfwood felt his dick twitch inside of him, a long whine tore from his throat.
“Vash, Vash stop, if-if you-” he cut himself off as Vash rolled his hips down against Wolfwood’s, the slick sound of them grinding together part of the filthy song of their bodies filling the room.
“If you don’t stop, I swear I’m gonna-”
That single-minded, unreal focus was all on Nicholas now, Vash’s droopy eyes trained solely on Wolfwood’s face as it scrunched in pleasure, over his nose, over the sweat gathering on his brow from holding back, down to his cupid’s bow and his quivering bottom lip.
Vash took a moment to bite down on Nicholas’s lip hard, just to hear him whimper and shoot a hand out onto the wall above the headboard to steady himself from slamming back into Vash. Vash pet along the side of Wolfwood’s face, brushing their noses together and licking up the side of his cheek just to taste the lust rolling off of him in waves.
“Nick, you can. I-it won’t be your only one.” He promised.
Wolfwood’s hips jerked hard, his stomach pulling in a tight line, pulling back just enough to push back into Vash hard, once, twice and again. Vash keened high when the frantic roll of Nicholas’ hips brought him back to kissing up against that place inside him that made his lower back tingle and set every nerve in his body alight. Vash couldn’t focus on anything else but the fullness, the way Nicholas’ co*ck rubbed up against his insides.
Wolfwood’s little “ah, ah” left Vash wetter than he’d ever been. He felt him collapse against his chest, a warmth spilling into him and Vash’s name across his kiss-bitten lips. Vash whispered small praises at him, holding his face between his hands, thumbs resting in the corners of Wolfwood’s mouth as he came down. He could feel Wolfwood’s whole body start to relax into Vash’s, curving toward him, still hard inside him.
Vash took the opportunity to cross his legs unassumingly behind his back and with a tweak of his core, flip them back over so he was straddling Wolfwood again. Wolfwood huffed, surprise clear in his face as he found himself underneath Vash again.
Vash greedily sank back down on him, tearing an overstimulated whine from Wolfwood’s lips. Wolfwood’s hands flew to Vash’s hips to slow him.
“I-I can’t!-”
“You can, Nick, please just one more-”
With that inhuman strength, he pinned Nicholas down to the bed by his throat, fingers pressing firmly at the sides of his neck. Tears stung the corners of his eyes. It felt like Wolfwood’s whole body was on fire, the red hot feeling of Vash’s wet heat around him lighting every nerve ending. He felt like he would die if he didn’t make Vash cum.
“Ah, you feel so good, its so good-” Vash babbled. “Tell me you want it, Nick. Tell me you need it-”
Nicholas knew exactly what he needed.
“I need- I need, hah, I need to make you come.” He panted.
“Oh, good boy, good boy, you’re doing so good, just a little more-” Vash’s hips moved at a frantic pace. He chased his own pleasure on Wolfwood’s co*ck like he was his favorite toy. It lit Wolfwood’s mind on fire, his mind melting around the image of Vash making such good use of him.
He was like putty, like candle wax to the flame that was Vash the Stampede. A light sheen of sweat fell across Vash’s body like an oil painting, the ecstasy on his face drawn just how Wolfwood imagined angels would receive the word of god. Vash’s light eyes, downturned, fluttered and caught on tears. Each of his fingertips left searing imprints on Wolfwood’s chest. The contrast of them in the low light made everything all the more real.
And then-
And then Vash began to glow. It was subtle at first but then it grew in brightness starting around his lovely eyes, following the comet’s trail of on single tear. Wolfwood felt his heart soar, felt the leftover fear at seeing Vash’s plant nature disappear with the sharp vulnerability Vash showed him, with how much pleasure he felt giving what he wanted.
The bright lines extended down across his cheeks and down his throat, fading out around his chest, his hands lit up more the harder he pressed into Wolfwood. Nicholas hoped he drew blood, hope he had something to show for this beautiful moment. The plant marks along his inner thighs converged where their bodies met. Wolfwood stared at that place, watching Vash take him over and over and over, trying to hold on to a single coherent thought.
Wolfwood remembered the camera, so innocently perched beside them.
Nicholas’ name kept falling from Vash’s lips like a prayer and he ground down hard on him as he brought the viewfinder up to his eyes one more time. He needed this one photo, needed it like he needed Vash to cum and show him how good Wolfwood could make him feel. The soft click could hardly be heard over the symphony of sound, the feast that their bodies made falling into each other.
Nicholas’ eyes met Vash’s as he took one final photo and he felt himself shake apart, throwing the camera, and pulling Vash down by waist as his hips stuttered down. Vash’s panting hitched into a high whine, squeezing Wolfwood into his body like he could keep him there forever.
Wolfwood would let him.
***
In the deepest part of the night, Vash watched Wolfwood sleep.
This close, the Wolfwood’s lax features made him look like an angel in the moonlight. His shirt was buttoned up wrong, dark hair tousled and shiny in the low light. The exposed part of his chest showed dark bruises where Vash got a little too excited in his touches.
Vash bit his lip against the hot stirring in his stomach at the thought. He licked his lips once, pressing a small kiss to Nicholas’s soft, plush mouth. Vash rubbed his cheek against Wolfwood’s a few times, overcome with the need to prolong the night a little longer. He loved the feeling of his stubble prickling against his face and the combined smell of them on his throat.
He picked up the old camera, and made sure the flash was off. He swayed a bit, perched on his knees to get a good angle before he took the shot. The sound of the polaroid didn’t rouse him. Vash made sure to tuck his most prized possession into the inner pocket of his jacket.
He settled back down to watch Nicholas sleep, hoping that when the suns rose, he could watch Nicholas wake.
Whatever awaited them at the end of it all, Nicholas was safe in his arms tonight.
***
A few weeks later, Meryl took a small detour to a Bernardelli outpost. Roberto stood outside the car for a smoke, Wolfwood tried his best to hide the fact that he was falling asleep against Vash’s shoulder. Vash smiled fondly at him, the only reprieve for the heat stifling them, even in the shade.
The front door opened once and slammed. Wolfwood jerked awake like shots were fired, Vash placing a soothing hand on his back. Meryl was silent as she stared down at something in her lap. Roberto slid back into the passenger seat, leaning far over to see what Meryl was gawking at.
His laugh started as a trickle before it became a full grown belly laugh, only cut short by a chain-smoking cough.
“What’s got the old-timer hacking up a lung?” Wolfwood’s mumble came from the backseat, hand on Vash’s knee.
“... Take a look for yourself.” Meryl tossed the magazine back toward them.
Vash snatched it out of the air, opening it dramatically like the morning paper.
“O– Oh!” Vash gasped out.
“Oh my.” Wolfwood rumbled beside him, intrigued and no small amount of smugness dripping from his voice. "'Brilliant, Beautiful, and worth six million double dollars?'" He leaned in, a hot breath on Vash’s cheek, pressing a sweet kiss there. "I'd say so."
Vash brushes the knuckles of his prosthetic against his scarlet face, the temperature difference helping to cool him. "Look! Look! You even got a photographer credit on the front page!!" Vash gushed, eyes wide and glued to the bottom of the page.
"Holy sh*t," Wolfwood responds.
"I'm on a cover!" Meryl bounces around in her seat, shaking the car with her enthusiasm. "My name’s on the front page of a magazine!"
"Yeah, but...look at whose face is on the cover," Wolfwood laughs.
"Not just your face, stampede," Roberto coughs. "You coupla deviants. I knew you couldn't be trusted with a camera."
"Hey! He was willing," Wolfwood replied. "I even paid him in great se---ff!"
Vash clamps his hands over Wolfwood's mouth--magazine and all. He laughs nervously as Roberto eyes first Vash, then Wolfwood, unimpressed.
"I don't want to know." Blessedly, he turns back to Meryl. "Good job, Kid."
Wolfwood pushes Vash off and plucks the magazine up. As he starts to flip through the various pages, full of gratuitous images of Vash in morning light, his eyes drift over to the humanoid typhoon. "You're right, this was a good idea."
Vash chuckled nervously. "It was fun..."
"'Fraid your infamy's only gonna grow from here, though."
After all, the cover was a bunch of big, bold words surrounding Vash sitting in just his coat, with nothing but his giant gun covering up his modesty.
His smile, however, could light up a room, glittering as it looked at the viewer--at Wolfwood.
"Wouldn't mind doing this again sometime. You’re a real poster child." Wolfwood complimented with a wink.
Vash just smiled, worrying his earring--another image Wolfwood wanted to immortalize in a photograph. "Yeah," he whispered. "Yeah."
![Poster Child - SaintAeon - Trigun Stampede (Anime 2023) [Archive of Our Own] (2024)](data:image/png;base64,iVBORw0KGgoAAAANSUhEUgAAAAEAAAABCAQAAAC1HAwCAAAAC0lEQVR42mP8/h8AAvMB+NzmkbcAAAAASUVORK5CYII=)