[As Wolfwood continues, startled, desperate sounds begin to evolve. Steadily, they take on something almost whiny. Each lave of that tongue over his skin feels good, but he wants more. He wants those teeth sinking down, leaving his path clear and traceable over the next day to come.
He doesn't get a chance to vocalize this, given that he's stunned silent by that mouth popping off of his skin. It gives Wolfwood a chance to let his hands wander, and for Vash to fall quiet as he indulges in a different touch.
Even without his marks being lit up, Vash still knows where they are. There's a faint electrical current that runs across his skin when they come to life, and over the years he's memorized the patterns that they weave. It's why he's slightly surprised that Wolfwood follows them so expertly.
At least until he explains it. And oh how he could cry at those words. He's so used to being alien to people, and in that vein being feared. So far, Wolfwood has taken every little difference in stride. He's never felt as comfortable, as adored as he has now.
How could he ever get more of it.]
Like you - even have to ask. [Vash tries to roll his eyes, to at least play some of this cool. He's certain he'll be ribbed repeatedly for his display in the future if he doesn't manage some amount of decorum.
no subject
He doesn't get a chance to vocalize this, given that he's stunned silent by that mouth popping off of his skin. It gives Wolfwood a chance to let his hands wander, and for Vash to fall quiet as he indulges in a different touch.
Even without his marks being lit up, Vash still knows where they are. There's a faint electrical current that runs across his skin when they come to life, and over the years he's memorized the patterns that they weave. It's why he's slightly surprised that Wolfwood follows them so expertly.
At least until he explains it. And oh how he could cry at those words. He's so used to being alien to people, and in that vein being feared. So far, Wolfwood has taken every little difference in stride. He's never felt as comfortable, as adored as he has now.
How could he ever get more of it.]
Like you - even have to ask. [Vash tries to roll his eyes, to at least play some of this cool. He's certain he'll be ribbed repeatedly for his display in the future if he doesn't manage some amount of decorum.
Not that it does much when he follows up with:]
Please, touch me. Please.