[Wolfwood isn't wrong. Here Vash is, staring at him like he's hung the stars. Like Wolfwood had been the one laying on the affection, instead of Vash barging straight into his space. In a lot of ways, he had. It would have been one thing if the invitation to stay with him had just been that - the sharing of an empty house. But Nick had looked past his self-destructive isolation and done something to make it a home. It wasn't perfect, it was still pretty pathetic in all honesty, but it was something.
Vash has many reasons to be grateful for the man, but this is just one more. The thought that he doesn't deserve the kindness runs through his head still, but it's a voice that grows smaller and smaller by the day.
Especially when he is now presently distracted by the taste of Wolfwood on his lips, now plying into his mouth. His lips part without complaint, his own tongue dancing over the other in an attempt to steal more of a taste. He shifts his hips only enough to be truly comfortable with their now far more intimate position.
One of the hands draped around those shoulders shifts. It lifts upward, clenching almost desperately at Wolfwood's hair. The strands likely pull for a minute before Vash realizes what he's doing. It's still a tight grip, though, sorry about it.
The other, meanwhile, slides down his chest. He lets himself finally indulge in the desire to feel his skin. His fingers dance over the planes of his pecs, fanning out over the space at first, while his thumb weaves a more soothing circle against it.]
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Vash has many reasons to be grateful for the man, but this is just one more. The thought that he doesn't deserve the kindness runs through his head still, but it's a voice that grows smaller and smaller by the day.
Especially when he is now presently distracted by the taste of Wolfwood on his lips, now plying into his mouth. His lips part without complaint, his own tongue dancing over the other in an attempt to steal more of a taste. He shifts his hips only enough to be truly comfortable with their now far more intimate position.
One of the hands draped around those shoulders shifts. It lifts upward, clenching almost desperately at Wolfwood's hair. The strands likely pull for a minute before Vash realizes what he's doing. It's still a tight grip, though, sorry about it.
The other, meanwhile, slides down his chest. He lets himself finally indulge in the desire to feel his skin. His fingers dance over the planes of his pecs, fanning out over the space at first, while his thumb weaves a more soothing circle against it.]