oleaeuropaea | IC INBOX (STICKS)

Were you asking for something specific?

[Vash doesn't mind the drool, it seems. He's grinning delightedly, bouncing Angelina like she's a baby as opposed to a dog. While he waits for Wolfwood to answer, he coos to her a few times, before ultimately opting to set her down. She's been kept at bay long enough, he thinks. Besides, it's cute watching her dance around Nick, even if she is a little hellion.]

She's cute, at least! You could have gotten something worse! Like a worm grub, or something like that.

[That's a horrifying thought, actually. The forest had enough creatures to worry about.

Shoving the thought from his mind, he takes the now whistling kettle off the stove and pours two mugs of coffee. It's just instant stuff, nothing special. But it's warm and it's energizing, and the best he can do considering.]

Uh, well. No...not really-

[So yeah this is kindof his own fault. Something to "take the edge off" and "make him feel less insane" isn't at all clear enough, so what was he expecting? Granted, Vash makes a good point. Pretty sure if Ydalir handed him a worm instead he would have just started screaming.

For now, the husky is too small to get into anything at least, though likely that isn't going to last for very long...Wolfwood better appreciate her smallness while he can. At least for now she can tippy tap on the wooden floor and not cause problems other than getting underfoot at every opportunity.]

She's cute until she makes you stand out in the snow like an asshole for a half hour.

[She would rather play around in it than DO anything. Ugh.

Another thing about puppies is that their attention spans are short, and Angelina eventually tires of trying to get Wolfwood to pet her and instead jumps on one of her toys to throw around for a while. Squeak squeak squeak squeak-

Perfect time for Wolfwood to get some coffee and hope it settles his nerves My Lord.]

That should be everything. 'Least your house isn't a barren wasteland anymore.

Oh, right...

[He's had a feeling that Angelina's presence had something to do with their fight. It was too much of a coincidence, the way she appeared just after he and Vash had stopped talking. He can't really blame Wolfwood for anything something to help him. If anything, Vash just feels guilty for having pushed him to this point.

Even if the end result had been worth it, in more ways than one.

Whatever! Vash takes his coffee over to Wolfwood and... hovers behind him. A hand rests against his shoulder, while he silently contemplates shoving his way onto the other man's lap. When he has a reason to keep to himself, Vash is pretty good at minding his own business. The problem is that he doesn't need to mind his own business with Wolfwood now. And his lap looks like a very nice place to sit.

... But no. He opts to sit on an actual chair, unfortunately. Trader hates us.]

It wasn't so bad before! I think it had charm.

[Vash it had nothing]

[The trader is homophobic and hates me personally. Though it's maybe for the best that Vash chose a better seat for the time being, since Wolfwood is a man-spreader. His knees are just in different zipcodes currently.]

...It had nothing in it, needle-noggin.

[So yeah he noticed.]

Even the Inn rooms we get for free had more shit in them. How much did you even have to pay for all this?

We slept in a truck for weeks, Wolfwood!

[Yes, he's getting a playful elbow to the side. There's no force behind it or anything, just Vash being silly. And if his own legs open just enough to brush his thigh against Wolfwood's, well... sue him! Angelina isn't paying attention right now, at least.]

Honestly, I don't remember. I just shoved whatever was necessary at them and called it good.

[He doesn't elaborate but they both know it's for the same reason someone wound up with a dog. #Cope.]

That's different. That wasn't by choice.

[He was only IN that truck because Meryl ran him over, smh.]

This place is yours, you can do whatever you want with it. [He shrugs one shoulder, just in time to feel the way Vash's leg brushes against his own. Mm...kindof makes him wish they were sitting on the bed beside each other instead, but it's fine-] But I guess you got plenty of time for that now. Ain't like I've got more than what I brought in here to fill it with.

[The Punisher is laying up against the wall constantly in Wolfwood's sight, and it kindof makes for a terrible decoration piece I'll be honest.]

[Vash lifts a brow. He damn well knows it wasn't just because of Meryl and her driving. But bringing up work, especially that particular line, wasn't the most pleasant of conversations, even if it was a hell of a meetcute.]

I don't know what I want to do with it, honestly. I have the flower and a photo of Rem when I was younger. That's... really all I've kept with me anywhere. [And it's not like he can display the photo now that Wolfwood's here. Seeing the picture of his employer/Vash's murder brother would probably be a little awkward.]

And hey! The Piano is a nice touch, right?

[Awkward is an understatement, but if Vash really wanted it up, Wolfwood would learn to deal with it. He knows that Rem is the main reason he keeps that photo anyway, even if there's part of him still that wishes to bring Nai back into the fold, regardless of how impossible Wolfwood knows it would be.

He lets his gaze shift briefly around the room as they talk, taking slow sips of the coffee as it works to warm up his extremities and chase the rest of the cold from the snow away. When Vash mentions the piano, though, Wolfwood's gaze settles back on him, sidelong.]

I guesso. I didn't know you played.

[He has never been exactly present for any of Nai's sessions of absolutely shredding the piano either, so the significance is a bit lost on him.]

I hadn't. Not for a long time at least.

[You'd think after over a century, he would have forgotten. But the melody had never left him, in spite of his best efforts to forget at times. Now he thinks he might be grateful for that. Being able to play had gotten some of the ugliest of feelings out, even if his fingers are still a little bruised.]

Maybe after I practice some more, I'll play for you.

[He allows some of his weight to droop onto Wolfwood's shoulder. Once he's properly settled, he lifts his mug and takes a sip for himself.]

[Wolfwood had only briefly turned his attention back to his own mug before he feels Vash slide over to rest against his shoulder, and...he's got to say, he thinks he prefers it like this. Why sit ten feet apart because they're not gay when they both know that's not what they want to be doing, thanks.

Huffing a low laugh of sorts, he taps a dull staccato with his fingers on the outside of the warm ceramic.]

Play for me, huh?

[And then, just because he can: Wolfwood turns his head towards Vash, and with Vash leaning right against him, it should mean he's close enough to press his lips to his ear and murmur there, his voice a low buzz against the skin.]

I'll look forward to it, then.

[Here's the thing. Vash has always been attracted to the grit and timbre of Wolfwood's voice. That doesn't get any less true when it's right up against his ear. In fact, one could say it's ten times more obvious given how breathy it sounds.

Needless to say, the shudder that rockets through Vash is a bodily one. Heat from a source entirely separate from the coffee surges through him, to the point that he can't help but wonder if a trip to the snowbank might soon be necessary.]

Mm - Mhm? [It comes out as little more than a feeble squeak. Kill him now.] Well, I'll - I'll be sure to make sure my fingers are nice and ready!

[Who knows! Depends on what kind of constitution ol Vash here has, because on the outside, Wolfwood seems as cool as a cucumber. They've made their feelings for each other known, after all, which gives Wolfwood free reign to get close like this however and whenever he pleases. And right now, that's in the form of brushing his lips against Vash's ear, sort of mumble-whispering into it.

You know, like a normal person would.]

...your fingers?

[There's an amused lilt to his tone, and his breath puffs against Vash's ear as he laughs against it. He is being a shit on purpose.]

For the piano, right?

[And like butter, Vash melts. His weight practically evaporates, leaving him boneless against Wolfwood. Another small noise leaves him, close to a whimper but not quite. He notices his fingers beginning to clench, and quickly moves to set the coffee down. He knows the ceramic won't survive the force of his cybernetic limb, when it comes down to it.]

The piano - [He nods at first, only to stop short. His head angles, but doesn't lift. There's no way Wolfwood would be able to see the brow he's quirking but... he does it anyway.] Wait, what about the piano?

[...and again, Wolfwood laughs. Vash has a funny way of making him do that, turns out. He's so genuinely...himself that he can't help but find himself thinking "god, you're a dumbass" in the most affectionate way possible. He clicks his tongue- again in Vash's fucking ear- before finally breaking the tension by actually pressing a kiss to Vash's temple instead of just teasing him with a barely-there touch.]

Yeah, that's what I thought.

[What's that supposed to mean-

Well, it's said as Wolfwood sits back just a fraction so he can take another nonchalant sip of coffee, siiip.

He wants to see what Vash might do.]

Hey - hey wait! Where are you going?!

[Vash immediately shoots up, straight as an arrow. he stares at Wolfwood with wild eyes, having the audacity to somehow look betrayed by his movements. For a long moment, he holds the man's gaze, trying to read his intentions, before giving up. Whatever it is doesn't matter.

What does is the fact that Vash is now clambering onto his damn lap, for real this time. The coffee is ignored, and hopefully the dog is thoroughly distracted. They have a few minutes, and Vash is absolutely not going to let this go with a simple tease.

Once he's settled, though, he... Seems to lose sight of his plan. Beyond crossing his arms tight over his chest and jutting out his lower lip he doesn't really do anything?

Whadda hell?]

Got anything to say for yourself?

[They are both lucky that Wolfwood’s reflexes are such that he’s able to get his coffee onto a flat surface before Vash literally clambers into his lap, hello. Angelina isn’t paying them any mind currently as she’s found her little dog bed and is chewing her toy in it, oblivious to the way her owner looks back at Vash slightly aghast because of all the things he expected to do, straddling his lap was NOT one of them.

And, well. Now he’s here, and he’s making it Wolfwood’s problem, as his smirk turns from easy going to shit eating.]

Could ask you the same thing.

[He leans his shoulders back a bit so he’s at a slightly lower angle than Vash, looking a bit up at him instead of directly on. He’s long since shed his coat since they’re inside the warm house, so it shirt is just. Open, while they do this.

His grin broadens, showing teeth now as he finally reaches out both hands and lays them, finger by finger in a teasingly slow manner until his hands lay flat, against Vash’s hips. An absolutely snatched waist this man has, for men to hold.]

Why? Didja’ want more?

[This may have been a problem. He can't say what Wolfwood expected but he's certainly handling the change in position in stride. Even through the fabric of his thermal — his own jacket also discarded — each digit feels like a brand against his skin. A low noise is barely choked back and warped into a tight laugh before he can make too much of a scene.

And that, of course, is to say nothing of the angle this vantage point provides. Wolfwood's shirt, or lack thereof, provides little to the imagination. It's a difficult battle, resisting the urge to scrape his nails down that span of muscle and warm brown skin. He settles, instead, for draping both arms over his shoulders, settling in such a way that he can push his shirt all the more open.]

What makes you say that?

[He leans down, so that their foreheads are just barely brushing. He angles his nose to just glance over the tip of Wolfwood's, before shifting so that they share the same breath.]

Am I givin' you the wrong idea or somethin'?

Mmm...no. Not exactly.

[Ugh, he's cute. It makes Wolfwood wonders if Vash has ever had difficulties leaving towns he visits back home, not because of any of the normal reasons, but because the young adults there want a piece of him. Surely it's happened in the 150 years he's been on the planet, yet he wonders just how many of them got to see Vash like this. Looking at them with enough adoration in his eyes it would make anyone feel undeserving. Instead of dwelling on that, though, Wolfwood wants to focus on making up for how shitty he's been over the past few weeks. Sure, Vash has made some missteps too, but it takes two to tango, and Wolfwood is nothing if not painfully aware of his shortcomings.

He wants Vash to feel wanted. Loved. Like he's worth something, being in this world. That his existence isn't the blight he's convinced himself it is, but instead a series of events far beyond his control. There's a difference between taking responsibility for your actions, and embracing them.

Given how close Vash is now, it's easy for Wolfwood to use his grip on his hips to tug him even closer, shifting his torso towards him so that they meet comfortably in the middle. It might be smarter to be on the bed if they're going to do this, but let it be known that there's something to be said about having somebody sit on your lap backwards in a chair. He's not even sure Vash realizes what he's doing to him, Jesus-

They are almost flush, but not quite. There's still a gap ~~room for Jesus~~ between them for now as Wolfwood chases Vash for a kiss, his lips tasting of a uniquely bitter mixture of coffee and cigarettes. It's chaste, at first, until Wolfwood decides that "kissing" is being upgraded to "making out", as is evident by the way his tongue slips past his lips for a taste of Vash's own. Coaxing, inviting.]

[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.]

[Sorry? He could almost laugh. There's nothing at all to be sorry about here, especially not as Vash gets a little braver with reciprocating. Now it's Wolfwood's turn to feel that sudden rush of heat through his body at Vash's touch, racing underneath the skin all the way to his extremities and back. He exhales against Vash's lips a breathy moan, low and reverent, his thumbs pressing in against Vash's hipbones.

Of course, he can't just kiss Vash and keep quiet about it. They have to breathe eventually, and when they break just long enough to inhale, Wolfwood smirks against the corner of Vash's mouth.]

It's okay. You can pull harder, I won't bite.

[Vash could probably near rip his hair out and he'd thank him for it, let's be honest here. In the meantime, Wolfwood is indulging too in a different sort of way, one of his hands on Vash's hip wandering around towards his back. His fingers catch along his beltloops, tugging on them playfully, until he finds the bottom edge of his thermal and slips his fingertips underneath it, pressing them directly to the bare slip of skin just at the small of his back.]

[Only a huff makes it out of Vash in response. A huff and, of course, a quirked brow. Wolfwood may want it, but it's a hell of an ask for one Vash the Stampede to deliberately do harm, even if it is being asked for. The cognitive dissonance makes his already spinning head start to ache.

It's swallowed down, at least, in favor of pulling just a little tighter. He's sure it's nowhere near what Wolfwood could tolerate, but. Look. He's trying, see. Even if those attempts are seriously defanged by the fingers that first press hard against the jut of his hips, then trace upward over the vulnerable skin of his now exposed back. The air might be warmer inside, but there's still a chill within the air.]

Nick - [The sound he makes is both more and less embarrassing than it could have been, when he thinks about it. He wasn't the first one to let out such a deeply affected noise. However, Wolfwood wasn't the one crooning his name over a simple damn touch.]

Y'feel... Y'feel good, y'know that?

[God help him, he's going to ramble.]

[Wolfwood isn't out here to make Vash do something he'd rather not, of course...but he is, maybe, just a tiny little bit masochistic sooooo, if Vash DID want to yank on his hair, or claw bloody lines into the backs of his shoulders, he sure as hell wouldn't be upset about that. And while Wolfwood hasn't yet gone further with his hands than teasing along the outside, they're definitely still there. More than mere suggestion.

The way Vash sighs his name like a prayer is addictive. So much so that he's inclined to tug Vash a little closer to him again, just enough so that their foreheads rest together.]

Yeah? Tell me more.

[He's not going to pass up the opportunity to hear what's on Vash's mind, especially when he knows there has to be a lot tumbling around in that big head of his. He'll continue to rub slow circles against the small of his back in the meantime, occasionally pressing a kiss to his face here...there...being overtly distracting.]

[If you thought Vash was struggling to speak before, then what comes out next is absolute nonsense. It's little more than a squeak, half of a mumble that might have been "Wolfwood," all culminating in him burying his face in Nick's hair. That is his attempt at saying more.

Verbally at least.

He does to his best to reciprocate, however. His thighs tighten around either side of Wolfwood's, keeping his balance as he rocks his hips against the other man's. It's something of a struggle, seeing as how his whole body is arching forward beneath the touch on his back.

It's been years since anyone's touched him. It's been years since he's let himself be touched. And now it shows in the faint way he trembles over something so innocuous.]

[Oh? Oh.

The lack of verbal response tells Wolfwood everything he needs to know, as well as the way Vash hauls off and just rocks his hips into him with how sharply his back is arching at merely being touched there. He's almost a bit worried that Vash might just fall backwards off his lap if he isn't careful, but with Wolfwood holding his hips and Vash clamping down on his hips with his thighs...he's pretty sure he'll be fine.

Well. Relatively speaking, depending on your definition of fine-]

Oh? You like that, huh?

[Wolfwood purrs between them, suddenly stopping with three fingers flat against the very base of Vash's spine, just above his waistband. Then, from there, he slowly drags his fingertips upward, each one bumping along each individual vertebrae on its way up underneath that thermal of his.

Now...Wolfwood, of course, doesn't know what the extent of Vash's experience with other people intimately is, if there's any at all. It could genuinely go either way, he thinks. Obviously it never came up, before. The question of that may come up later, depending on how much he can get Vash to unravel here.

He's curious.]

[What happens next is curious indeed. At first, that tremble turns to outright shaking as Vash lets out a gasp. In that first moment, it's a whole bout of sensitivity. It takes a turn, however, as Wolfwood's fingers drag across a rougher patch of skin, or perhaps even a strip of metal. In that second, the fingers still twined in his hair tighten once more — impulse and instinct, rather than anything.

It takes him little more than a second to recover, but then Vash is reeling back. The fluster on his face, the near rapture, has been replaced with something a little more shadowed and guarded. He holds his arms in front of his chest, not defiant but almost defensive.]

W-wait. Hang on, Nick.

[He forces himself to take a deep breath. When he's managed to get a grip on himself, he lowers his hands. They fall to the hem of his thermal, gripping it but not yet pulling up.]

We should - get this out of the way before we go any further. [He glances away, not quite willing to meet Wolfwood's gaze. He doesn't want to see the revulsion there.]

It ain't pretty under there, is all I'm saying. We're... probably better keeping it on, honestly. Not that the legs are much better but...

[He heaves a shrug.]

This is Vash's. Uh. Journal thing? Is everyone seeing this? Hello -
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