Gift
folder
+S to Z › Trigun
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,556
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
+S to Z › Trigun
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,556
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Trigun, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Gifting
Disclaimer: I hereby disclaim all ownership of these characters. I just like to play with them. No harm, no foul.
*-*-*
Vash shucked out of the heavy coat and rested against the cool stone railing, enjoying the slight breeze. For all his years on the planet, it still seemed wrong for December to be this hot. Something on the horizon flickered brightly in the moonslight. Duststorm. At least it looked to be a white Christmas this year, he thought wryly.
A whiff of tobacco brought him out of his musing, and he turned just in time to see Wolfwood flick the butt end of his cigarette over the edge. The tiny sparks seemed to hover in the darkness before winking out.
\"Hey.\" Wolfwood tossed his jacket onto Vash\'s, and ran a hand through sweat-damp hair.
\"Hey.\"
\"You do this every year?\"
\"Mass? Yeah. Part of the Christmas tradition, I guess.\" He leaned back against the rail, gazing up at the stars through half-lidded eyes. \"Remind folks that there\'s someone watching out for them. That things\'ll get better one day.\" Far below, the penitent crowds drifted homeward.
\"Ah. What\'s the rest?\"
\"Hmm?\" A gust of wind seized Wolfwood\'s shirt and blew it back, revealing a distracting expanse of skin. Vash swallowed hard and willed himself not to twitch.
\"The rest. Of the tradition?\"
Wolfwood glanced over at the blond from the corner of his eye and smirked. \"Presents, of course.\"
Vash twitched.
\"Traditionally, you\'re supposed to wait until morning, but no kid wants to go to sleep knowing they have to wait for hours until they can open their new toy. So we let\'em have one, the night before.\"
Even though it was dark out, it hard to be noon, Vash decided. There was no way this rooftop could be this hot in the middle of the night.
Maybe it was all this leather? Yes. Definitely. Too much clothing.
\"Tongari…?\" And the way Wolfwood could touch him with a word was just unfair.
\"If you\'re too tired, I guess you can open your present in the morning…\"
Oh, fuck that.
Vash reached out and seized Wolfwood\'s collar, dragging him down into a rough kiss. Teeth knocked together and tongues entwined and god, he hadn\'t been this hard in years. Decades. Wolfwood\'s mouth was hot and welcoming and his hands were everywhere, teasing. One hand tangled in the priest\'s hair, and the other fumbled at the buttons on his shirt but kept getting distracted by hard muscles and harder nipples and
…
the clothes were gone, scattered across the rooftop, and Wolfwood\'s very hot and very welcoming mouth was
ohgod
not where he thought it was. Wolfwood\'s hands on his hips and his mouth on his dick and
…
it was his hands on Wolfwood\'s chest, as the darker man arched and strained beneath him, tight and slick and dawn was breaking and Wolfwood was writhing and just a little more, just a…
\"Vash.\"
…bit more and…
\"...orget m…\"
…Wolfwood Wolfwood Jesus…
\"…ove…\"
Vash came, blind, fists knotting the sheets, head thrown back in a silent scream. Across the room, Knives still slept like the dead.
Breathing hard, he stared at the ceiling, ignoring the sticky mess drying into the blanket, the creaks and moans from next door, the distant bells tolling the hour.
He licked dry lips, registering the slightest tinge of tobacco.
Happy Christmas, Wolfwood.
*-*-*
*-*-*
Vash shucked out of the heavy coat and rested against the cool stone railing, enjoying the slight breeze. For all his years on the planet, it still seemed wrong for December to be this hot. Something on the horizon flickered brightly in the moonslight. Duststorm. At least it looked to be a white Christmas this year, he thought wryly.
A whiff of tobacco brought him out of his musing, and he turned just in time to see Wolfwood flick the butt end of his cigarette over the edge. The tiny sparks seemed to hover in the darkness before winking out.
\"Hey.\" Wolfwood tossed his jacket onto Vash\'s, and ran a hand through sweat-damp hair.
\"Hey.\"
\"You do this every year?\"
\"Mass? Yeah. Part of the Christmas tradition, I guess.\" He leaned back against the rail, gazing up at the stars through half-lidded eyes. \"Remind folks that there\'s someone watching out for them. That things\'ll get better one day.\" Far below, the penitent crowds drifted homeward.
\"Ah. What\'s the rest?\"
\"Hmm?\" A gust of wind seized Wolfwood\'s shirt and blew it back, revealing a distracting expanse of skin. Vash swallowed hard and willed himself not to twitch.
\"The rest. Of the tradition?\"
Wolfwood glanced over at the blond from the corner of his eye and smirked. \"Presents, of course.\"
Vash twitched.
\"Traditionally, you\'re supposed to wait until morning, but no kid wants to go to sleep knowing they have to wait for hours until they can open their new toy. So we let\'em have one, the night before.\"
Even though it was dark out, it hard to be noon, Vash decided. There was no way this rooftop could be this hot in the middle of the night.
Maybe it was all this leather? Yes. Definitely. Too much clothing.
\"Tongari…?\" And the way Wolfwood could touch him with a word was just unfair.
\"If you\'re too tired, I guess you can open your present in the morning…\"
Oh, fuck that.
Vash reached out and seized Wolfwood\'s collar, dragging him down into a rough kiss. Teeth knocked together and tongues entwined and god, he hadn\'t been this hard in years. Decades. Wolfwood\'s mouth was hot and welcoming and his hands were everywhere, teasing. One hand tangled in the priest\'s hair, and the other fumbled at the buttons on his shirt but kept getting distracted by hard muscles and harder nipples and
…
the clothes were gone, scattered across the rooftop, and Wolfwood\'s very hot and very welcoming mouth was
ohgod
not where he thought it was. Wolfwood\'s hands on his hips and his mouth on his dick and
…
it was his hands on Wolfwood\'s chest, as the darker man arched and strained beneath him, tight and slick and dawn was breaking and Wolfwood was writhing and just a little more, just a…
\"Vash.\"
…bit more and…
\"...orget m…\"
…Wolfwood Wolfwood Jesus…
\"…ove…\"
Vash came, blind, fists knotting the sheets, head thrown back in a silent scream. Across the room, Knives still slept like the dead.
Breathing hard, he stared at the ceiling, ignoring the sticky mess drying into the blanket, the creaks and moans from next door, the distant bells tolling the hour.
He licked dry lips, registering the slightest tinge of tobacco.
Happy Christmas, Wolfwood.
*-*-*