Compromising Positions | Into the Black | Contact

Skin Deep

Notes: It’s all Eleanor K’s fault. She sent me the anime. And then I read mistressrenet’s entry on ship_manifesto on Live Journal, which led me to fic recs, which led me to this… Betaed by Eleanor K. who rounds up my wandering commas and puts them back where they belong.

Setting: Anime-verse, right before Wolfwood leaves the first time.





“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

I know I’ve shocked him – the blue eyes widen just the slightest fraction before the sharp arch of his brows comes down and he frowns at me.

“Are you high?” Vash asks me, making a grab for my cigarette and giving it a long sniff before flicking it out of my hand.

High. Fuck. I wish I were high. No, I’m not high, just fucking bat-shit crazy. Thinking Vash the Stampede is beautiful is one thing – because he is, you’d have to be fucking blind not to see how gorgeous he is – but TELLING him? I am so screwed. My assignment was to track him, not fucking fall in love with him.

Woah. I did not just think that. Shit.

“Wolfwood?” Vash says, waving his hand in front of my face. “You still in there?”

I snatch his hand and use it to pull him closer. His eyes go wide again and his lips pucker to say my name again, but the word never comes because my mouth is on his. Oh God, so soft, so pliant, so fucking perfect. His breath catches in shock, but soon he’s kissing me back and his mouth opens under mine, and oh, fuck, that’s his tongue. Wet and hot and delicious; I suck gently on it.

He’s making these quiet little *needy* sounds that are vibrating right through my body and straight to my dick. I whirl him around and shove him against the brick wall of the back alley we’re walking through and lean into him, pressing my body against his as I kiss him harder. His fingers weave into my hair and tugs on it until I let go of his mouth.

“What?” I demand, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw as I try to recapture his mouth.

“You sure you want to do this out here?” Vash asks, a playful smile on his face.

He has a point. This alley’s kind of disgusting. “Yours or mine?” I ask, peeling myself off him.

“Mine’s next to the girls’, so, I’m thinking yours,” Vash answers, standing up straighter. He smoothes down his coat, checks the spikes on his hair, and starts walking. I follow my dick after him.

I reach into my pocket for a cigarette and suddenly he’s beside me, snatching the packet away. “Hey! Vash, give those back.”

“Nope. It’s a two minute walk. Surely, you can manage without a cigarette.”

“Fuck you, give them back!” I make a grab for them. Vash holds the cigarettes away from me and curls his other hand in my jacket and drags me closer, until we’re face to face. “Not if you have another one of these, you won’t,” he says in a husky voice. I look into his eyes. Fuck. He’s serious. “All right,” I say. “You win.”

He smiles at me.

Bastard. I haven’t seen that smile in what feels like forever. It’s the real one, the one that makes his whole face light up, the one that makes me weak in the knees. And Jesus Christ when did I turn into such a fucking woman? I shake myself loose, he hands me my smokes, I tuck them back into my pocket, and we finish the trip to my room in silence.

You would think after all that, our momentum would be broken, but the second the door shuts behind me, we’re kissing again. Lips open, tongues wrestling, hands grabbing and tugging at clothes as we try and pull ourselves closer together. I lean back against the door and slide my leg between his and press upward. He makes more of those beautiful needy sounds and arches against me, rubbing himself against my thigh like a big cat.

I’m really starting to hate his fucking coat and I reach for the fastening at his throat. He evades my hands so subtly the first time that I don’t really notice until I try again and he grabs my hands and presses them flat against his shoulders. I pull out of the kiss.

“Vash?”

He looks away from me, his teeth worrying his kiss-swollen lower lip. “It’s not…I’m not…” he fumbles for words. He finally settles on, “It’s bad.”

“I don’t care,” I say. And I don’t. I’ve been briefed. I know he’s got some scars. Big deal. Most of mine are on the inside, but I’ve got a few on the outside, too.

He lets me pull my hands out from under his and I start at all the damn buttons. I get them undone and I push the coat onto the floor. He still won’t look at me, which is probably a good thing, because I’m sure I’m gaping like a fool. I finally get that fucking coat off him and what’s under it? A goddamn leather body suit.

He’s a fetishist’s walking wet dream. I start with the gloves, peeling one off and throwing it over my shoulder. I reach for the other one and Vash closes his hand into a fist.

“Not that one.” I can tell by the tone of voice I won’t win that argument, so I move on. I swallow hard, and raise trembling fingers to the first set of buckles. They take forever. They’re small and tight and there are bunch of them. I tug and pull and, at last, I reach skin, and I freeze.

“I told you it was bad,” he says quietly, still staring at the far wall.

And it is. It’s worse than bad. There’s barely a square inch of skin that doesn’t have puckered, reddened scar tissue on it. The remaining flesh is pale and smooth. The prosthetic is dull black, the bolts shining in the moonlight that’s coming in through the window. The grate over his heart stands out – hard, metal, and jarring.

I thought I knew what to expect. I didn’t. It nearly breaks me right there. I almost tell him what I am, what I’m up to, but I don’t. Instead, I reach out and run my fingers lightly over a scar. Vash trembles under my touch.

I kiss him then; soft and slow and as sweetly as I can as my fingers continue to undress him. I back him towards the bed and lay him down on it before tracing every single mark on his body with my tongue.

Vash arches under me and scrabbles at my shoulders. “Nicholas,” he gasps. The sound of my Christian name so wrong, but so perfect as it spills from his lips. I look up at him through my hair and tongue his navel hard. “Hmmm?” I inquire.

His fingers dig into me and his hips arch up, his erection barely missing my cheek. “You have too many clothes on.”

I sit up and look down at myself. “Why so I do. Huh.” Before I get a chance to say anything more, he’s on me, and faster than I thought possible, my clothes are a pile on the floor. Suddenly, I’m under him and he’s straddling my hips. He runs his hands lightly down my skin and every single hair stands on end. It’s like there’s some bizarre electric charge – I can actually feel a low vibration coming through his hands, but I have absolutely no time to think about it because his fingers are wrapping around my dick and…oh my fucking GOD!

I bite my lip to keep myself from crying out and writhe under him as those tiny vibrations jolt through my body.

“V…V…Vash,” I stutter, almost unable to form words from the sheer pleasure zinging through me. I need to tell him to stop or I’m going to come all over myself. He must hear the desperation in my voice because he slides his hands off my cock and onto my hips. I take in a deep shuddering breath, and he smiles at me. I reach up and pull him towards me – he resists just enough that I have to meet him halfway – and I kiss those smiling lips.

He brushes his fingers along my jaw and says against my lips, “Do you have anything we can use?”

I nod and then say, “Hand cream, in the drawer.”

He lets me go, and I flop back onto the bed. He stays straddling me and leans over to the bedside table and opens the drawer. While he’s rooting around, I slide my hand up his chest to his remaining nipple and start playing with it. He slaps my hand away gently. “Stop distracting me. I’m having a hard enough time finding the cream as it is. Are you sure it’s in here? I don’t think it’s in here…ah! Here it is!” He grins down at me, and I just have to reach up and pull him down for another kiss, which turns into a long, slow devouring, broken only when I need air. His hands must have been busy while we were kissing, because the next thing I know his hands are on my cock, slicking me up, and nearly setting me off again just from that brief contact. Vash looks down at me, our eyes locking as he shifts forward and then back, guiding me into his body.

Slowly, inch by agonizingly pleasant inch, I push into him. He’s so tight, so fucking tight, and hot, and fuck, I think I may have stopped breathing because the vibration is stronger now, throbbing right through my cock and into my balls.

“Fuck, Vash, I’m not going to last,” I groan, grabbing at his hips and grinding upwards into him.

He grins at me and places his hands over mine and starts to move his hips. Gasping and grunting, panting and moaning, as his body undulates around my cock, it takes me about two minutes to come so hard I see stars. Vash starts to make these incredible little sounds of pleasure and when I recover enough, I open my eyes and my jaw falls open.

Vash’s head is thrown back, his mouth open to let the sounds escape, his skin flushed a pink so deep it almost matches his scars, his cock jutting from his body, streaming pre-come, and he’s glowing.

And I mean he’s fucking glowing. There’s this pale gold light pouring off him in ever brightening waves. He’s the most fucking beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

His fingers tighten on mine, and I realize that I’m not doing my job here and I reach for his cock. He moans my name and his whole body starts to jerk and suddenly the light gets even brighter and he’s coming, spurt after spurt of hot semen hits my stomach, my chest, and narrowly misses my face, to hit the pillow beside me. His body clamps hard around my cock and, oh my God, I’m coming again.

When I come round, Vash is asleep, head resting on my chest, his warm breath tickling my skin, the real arm thrown across my body. He’s stopped glowing.

I can’t do this again.

I can’t.

But I will, if I stay. I’ll tell him everything and then my kids will suffer the consequences.

When he wakes up, I’ll be gone. I hope he forgives me.