Notes: This was supposed to be a quick and dirty little snippet about how arguing makes Vash horny. Then Wolfwood angsted all over it.

With thanks to Mistress Renet and Kanzeyori for beta and encouragement.

 

 

Vash wakes up and feels delicious for all of thirty seconds before he identifies the source of heat pressed against his lower back. And if it were anyone else, waking up with a morning erection hot against him might be weird but it would be soon forgotten because he's a guy and he understands that these things happen. The problem is that it's Wolfwood and he can't control himself around Wolfwood and the second he realizes that it's him plastered across his back and hello! that's his cock he is instantly, painfully hard himself. He throttles a moan and peels his traitorous right hand off his groin, fisting it in the sheet. He still hasn't forgiven Wolfwood for earlier and he'd be damned if he was going to jerk off to the thought of a man who pissed him off so much. In the same bed with him. Even if he was pressing his throbbing hard-on against Vash's ass.

 

Fuck.

 

This was all that damn priest's fault. He was the one that spent the last of his money on cigs. Of course Vash was the one that let him talk his way into his room even though there was only one bed. He must have been drunk again, though he couldn't have been that drunk since he's not hung over and the double layer of their underwear the only barrier between him and that cock... But it was still Wolfwood's fault because if he hadn't grabbed his waist so abruptly and yanked him hard up against his warm, solid, tanned torso he would still be sleeping instead of lying awake trying will his erection away.

 

Being angry at him isn't working because sure, the man's a con-artist and half the time they're arguing about some stupid mundane thing or other but somehow the constant friction between them makes the want that much worse. The past few weeks have been hellishly frustrating. Vash still isn't quite sure what Wolfwood's game is, whether he actually wants him or not, but either way he's a fucking tease. Lately Vash has been catching himself bating the younger man, trying to get him worked up so he can watch his nostrils flair and eyes shoot sparks. Anything to wipe that irritatingly sexy smirk off his face. Sometimes if he gets him really good they even end up fighting, trying to pin each other in the dust, hands slipping over sweat-damp flesh seeking purchase. That only happened rarely, though, and always in public where there was the added bonus of amusing Millie and making Meryl pitch a fit. Maybe he just likes jerking reactions out of people. He'd sure like to jerk one out of Wolfwood about now. It would be so easy to just reach back and slip his hand into those thin cotton boxers. Or maybe if he just woke him, he'd be embarrassed enough that a well-placed barb could get them wrestling right here, locked alone in his room but at this point Vash can't give in until he's come up with a way to make sure the priest learns his lesson.

 

Wolfwood's cock twitches against him as he whimpers very quietly right into the skin behind his ear and that does it. Vash is out of bed and stomping into the bathroom and doesn't care anymore if he does wake preacher man. It would serve him right for putting Vash through the past five minutes on top of every other argument, annoyance and deliberate tease this week. God, he thinks, biting his lip and fumbling with his waist band, that man is even infuriating in his sleep.

 

 

 

 

Wolfwood is jolted from his dream by Vash's violent exit from the bed and startled wide awake by an abrupt slam. He rolls onto his back and glares blearily at the closed bathroom door, fingers straying down to curl absently over his cock before he is really conscious of its ache. He's not sure how he managed it, but he must have gotten Vash angry again. This time it wasn't even on purpose, not like yesterday when he'd started the argument over the last of their money. He remembers Vash yelling, his fair face flushed with whisky and irritation, and hating that no emotion made it into those green-blue eyes. Remembers one of Vash's more pointed barbs, and needing a smoke so badly and then he remembers that somehow it had ended with them pressed against each other in this tiny bed, lying back to back in stony silence. Wolfwood tightens his grip a little. His palm is hot and harsh.

 

From behind the door, Vash gasps an angry bitten-off syllable and makes a small choked sound. Wolfwood imagines him, his face drawn into a grimace as he shudders, imagines the coolness of his skin. He grits his teeth and comes hard, then the bathroom door is opening and he has barely enough time to roll over and pretend he's still sleeping. Vash staggers across the room, muttering to himself, and practically passes out the second he's horizontal. Wolfwood gives him a few minutes, just to be sure, then gets up and paws one-handed through his clothes for his cigarettes.

 

The tiny bathroom smells of Vash and sex, bitter and waxy. His dick is a little interested in that but thankfully it settles right back down. He washes up, then smokes as he stares out the tiny window at the gathering grey of dawn.

 

He's not sure how long he can keep this up. The snarled up mass of emotions he's been spinning around Vash is fragile at best; he has to dwell on it constantly just to keep it intact. He can't keep Legato out of his head and by now he can't camouflage just how attracted he is to the gunman. He hopes that if he muddles it enough with hate and anger and other emotions that that slimy fucker actually understands, the psychic will overlook his growing attachment. And if Legato probed too deeply, he'd see right through all of it, but he's such an arrogant bastard he probably doesn't think Wolfwood capable of this kind of deceit.

 

It's a good thing Vash pisses him off so often or this would be a lot harder. Which isn't to say he doesn't enjoy this little game he's running between them; sometimes, when Vash plays too, it's even fun. He thinks the plant must, on some level, understand he's being toyed with. Wolfwood loves to see how far he can push the Stampede but when he goes a little too far the blond gets this look in his eye like he's going to call him out or punch him or maybe just pin him to the nearest flat surface and ravage him. Christ, he fucking loves that look.

 

The scary thing is that some part of him- probably his dick- is just waiting for it, gleefully anticipating the day that one of them can't take it anymore. Having sex with the target is a bad idea, in fact, it's an awful, stupid, suicidal idea. But he can't think of Vash as the target anymore and his elaborate mental game might be all that's keeping him and his kids alive. It's driving him crazy, but he has to keep Vash pissed at him, keep their sexual chemistry redirected into animosity so they won't act on the attraction between them.

 

Sometimes, though, Vash still manages to slip right underneath all his defenses and make him genuinely happy. When the two of them are just sitting quietly together watching the sun set, or townspeople walking around or any of those every-day things that Vash loves, sometimes he looks over at the blond and survival be dammed, he just wants to grab him and kiss him like he's a woman or something. Christ, but he was in deep shit.

 

Wolfwood concentrates on smoking. Thinking like this is dangerous, because fucking Bluesummers could be listening and he's spent the last several minutes without his masks up. After a moment, he gets himself back under control and he stubs out his smoke and wanders back to the bed. Looking down at Vash in the dim light makes him catch his breath, so he lies down quickly, turns his back to the blonde and resolutely squeezes his eyes shut.