[The longer Vash dwells in Wolfwood's company, the more his chest begins to ache. It isn't a negative sensation on its own, but a fullness and warmth that seems to bloom so radiantly that it threatens to crack through his ribs. Like his companion, Vash, too, could weep. He's always felt his emotions so vividly that it's hard not to wear them on his sleeve. It makes a heady cocktail when paired with the fact that it's been so damn long since he's felt something joyous.
Both of his hands shift, sliding across whatever bare skin and rumpled clothing they must to reach the planes of Wolfwood's face. He traces just the tips of his fingers, metal and flesh alike, over his cheekbones, then down over his jaw. Fascinated, he even thumbs over Wolfwood's lip with the hand of flesh, before shifting aside to steal yet another kiss for himself.
This is his somehow. Some precious thing wrapped in a bristling, growling package. What had he, a blasphemy from the very beginning, have done to deserve this.]
You act like I'm gonna complain, Nick. [Those fingers slide back into his hair once more, then down to loop over his shoulders. He uses that anchor point to lift himself just enough, burying his face against Wolfwood's neck. The smell of tobacco, alcohol, and syrupy sugar all should have been too much on their own, but on this man? They're the perfect combination.]
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Both of his hands shift, sliding across whatever bare skin and rumpled clothing they must to reach the planes of Wolfwood's face. He traces just the tips of his fingers, metal and flesh alike, over his cheekbones, then down over his jaw. Fascinated, he even thumbs over Wolfwood's lip with the hand of flesh, before shifting aside to steal yet another kiss for himself.
This is his somehow. Some precious thing wrapped in a bristling, growling package. What had he, a blasphemy from the very beginning, have done to deserve this.]
You act like I'm gonna complain, Nick. [Those fingers slide back into his hair once more, then down to loop over his shoulders. He uses that anchor point to lift himself just enough, burying his face against Wolfwood's neck. The smell of tobacco, alcohol, and syrupy sugar all should have been too much on their own, but on this man? They're the perfect combination.]