Warnings: Yaoi. OOC. It's not a lemon, but it's darn suggestive in places.
Very bad language.
Summary: Just in time for Halloween! Candy, candy, candy! Wolfwood has some self control issues when it comes to Vash and chocolate. His thoughts keep sliding into the gutter and he just might pull Vash along for the ride!
*****
Chocolate
*****
"What's that?" Funny how my curious tone is darkened by tobacco and accent. Maybe even flavored with something twisted. Wicked.
"Chocolate."
Blonde silly smile and trusting eyes. That smile is such a lie. And his voice is artificially flavored with sunshine and goodness and it's so saccharine and fake that I can barely stand it. Can't stand it because I know that, through some cosmic joke, he's just like me--which means he should really taste like lingering sin.
Which tastes pretty good, actually.
But this chocolate sounds true enough. The way he gorges on it, feasting with too-white teeth and his tongue obscenely ghosting out to pick up crumbs. Only it's not obscene on purpose; my mind just makes it that way, linking sex to everything he does.
"Is it good?" Casual, not-thinking-about-sex, tone of voice.
Liar.
He looks so surprised. Probably is, his mind screaming out, "You've never had chocolate? Where have you been all this time?"
Fighting for my life, toting a gun, killing.
"You wanna try?" he asks instead and I'm grateful, I think, that his question stays shoved in that pouty mouth with the creamy-looking chocolate. Lucky chocolate to slide against his tongue like that. Wet, slippery sex coated in something dark and sweet.
"Yeah."
Hell yeah I wanna try.
I reach out a hand for a piece, but in my mind see myself instead grabbing him by that collar, wrenching him close--no space allowed after so much waiting. No space between our bodies, just hardness and wanting and fabric sliding off slowly. And in this delinquent scenario, I taste the chocolate from him, bruising his lips by licking every corner clean and making us both dirty and breathless in the process. No God here in the messy, graceless sex of my imagining, but it sure seems like heaven.
My hand closes around the tiny bar of chocolate, plucking it from his fingers without even touching them. Good boy to be so careful. I have to congratulate myself for the small triumphs. The bar is perfectly smooth with a tiny name stamped across the top. It looks safe enough.
And when the chocolate slides against my tongue and begins to melt with unimagined speed, I decide that Vash should taste like this all the time. Whether he's had chocolate or not, his mouth should always drip milk chocolate syrup, like sinful nectar. My taste buds have a lot to work with, deciphering the heavy texture and light-as-air taste. It's too sweet, like all the sugar and forbidden pleasures in the world were swirled together to create it. And somehow the taste is all wrapped up with Vash; his skin smooth like the chocolate bar, his lips just as honeyed.
"You like it?"
I take the final swallow, the sweetness sliding down my throat mimicking all the wicked things in my mind. And I know my tongue is wrong, has a mind of its own really, lapping up the excess and lingering too long. Suggestive, I hope.
I step close, invading personal space. Would rather be invading other parts. Lean in, my breath sending hot ghosts of candy-scent across that clean, smooth skin.
"I like it." Whisper light. I hope it sent a shiver up his spine because he deserves a taste of his own medicine.
He looks a bit shocked, perhaps confused. Can't tell the joke from the earnest--and God that makes him hotter.
I've got to stop thinking about God; He's got nothing to do with this.
Time for my own surprise when Vash licks his lips as if I just suggested something delicious and irresistible when all I did was stand so close he couldn't ignore me. Will wonders never cease? Vash licking his lips like he wants me right here, now, on the table, why are you still clothed? can we do it again? and tomorrow, too.
But now he's talking and I have to pay attention to his words and not what I'd prefer his mouth to be doing.
"Would you like some..."
Sex? All night and into the morning, forget your name, toe-curling, inside- jarring, deeper till I feel you everywhere, damning, sinfully sweet, hot, messy, panting, screaming, pounding so hard bedsprings rattle, harder, harder, right THERE, you are a God sex?
"....more?" he asks.
So generous. We both ignore the tremble in his voice. I wonder if he even knows what he's offering. Wonder what he'd do if I accepted what's hidden behind such an innocent-sounding invitation. Ah, sweet debauchery, how I know thee well.
"No thanks." Was that my voice? Must have been.
Shit.
I stand, giving him room to be nervous without me looming over to see even his eyelids tense. If I feel bereft, he looks it. Puppy-dog, innocent eyes silently asking for the fuck of his life. Only he could pull that off.
Suddenly the reason for my instant refusal makes itself clear to me.
I've waited this long to taste chocolate, I can wait a bit longer to taste Vash.
He doesn't have anything to say after I decline, and I leave anyway so it doesn't matter. I consider this a major triumph of willpower and spend the rest of the day patting myself on the back.
And it's only when the aftertaste of chocolate on my tongue, and in some secret place at the back of my throat, starts to drive me slowly mad that I wonder if I should have taken the offer.
And I know now that the exchange should have been different.
"Would you like some more?"
"Yes. In fact, I want LOTS more."
Feeding the chocolate to him slowly like some offering to a saint only to steal it back with my tongue. Temple thief desecrating the holy. That seems so appropriate.
Damn. Why didn't I think of doing that then?
I'm never getting to sleep tonight; will have chocolate dreams of Vash naked and trussed up for the licking and slurping.
Damn chocolate and damn Vash. And damn me too while we're at it.
I'm never eating the stuff again.
~owari~
Summary: Just in time for Halloween! Candy, candy, candy! Wolfwood has some self control issues when it comes to Vash and chocolate. His thoughts keep sliding into the gutter and he just might pull Vash along for the ride!
*****
Chocolate
*****
"What's that?" Funny how my curious tone is darkened by tobacco and accent. Maybe even flavored with something twisted. Wicked.
"Chocolate."
Blonde silly smile and trusting eyes. That smile is such a lie. And his voice is artificially flavored with sunshine and goodness and it's so saccharine and fake that I can barely stand it. Can't stand it because I know that, through some cosmic joke, he's just like me--which means he should really taste like lingering sin.
Which tastes pretty good, actually.
But this chocolate sounds true enough. The way he gorges on it, feasting with too-white teeth and his tongue obscenely ghosting out to pick up crumbs. Only it's not obscene on purpose; my mind just makes it that way, linking sex to everything he does.
"Is it good?" Casual, not-thinking-about-sex, tone of voice.
Liar.
He looks so surprised. Probably is, his mind screaming out, "You've never had chocolate? Where have you been all this time?"
Fighting for my life, toting a gun, killing.
"You wanna try?" he asks instead and I'm grateful, I think, that his question stays shoved in that pouty mouth with the creamy-looking chocolate. Lucky chocolate to slide against his tongue like that. Wet, slippery sex coated in something dark and sweet.
"Yeah."
Hell yeah I wanna try.
I reach out a hand for a piece, but in my mind see myself instead grabbing him by that collar, wrenching him close--no space allowed after so much waiting. No space between our bodies, just hardness and wanting and fabric sliding off slowly. And in this delinquent scenario, I taste the chocolate from him, bruising his lips by licking every corner clean and making us both dirty and breathless in the process. No God here in the messy, graceless sex of my imagining, but it sure seems like heaven.
My hand closes around the tiny bar of chocolate, plucking it from his fingers without even touching them. Good boy to be so careful. I have to congratulate myself for the small triumphs. The bar is perfectly smooth with a tiny name stamped across the top. It looks safe enough.
And when the chocolate slides against my tongue and begins to melt with unimagined speed, I decide that Vash should taste like this all the time. Whether he's had chocolate or not, his mouth should always drip milk chocolate syrup, like sinful nectar. My taste buds have a lot to work with, deciphering the heavy texture and light-as-air taste. It's too sweet, like all the sugar and forbidden pleasures in the world were swirled together to create it. And somehow the taste is all wrapped up with Vash; his skin smooth like the chocolate bar, his lips just as honeyed.
"You like it?"
I take the final swallow, the sweetness sliding down my throat mimicking all the wicked things in my mind. And I know my tongue is wrong, has a mind of its own really, lapping up the excess and lingering too long. Suggestive, I hope.
I step close, invading personal space. Would rather be invading other parts. Lean in, my breath sending hot ghosts of candy-scent across that clean, smooth skin.
"I like it." Whisper light. I hope it sent a shiver up his spine because he deserves a taste of his own medicine.
He looks a bit shocked, perhaps confused. Can't tell the joke from the earnest--and God that makes him hotter.
I've got to stop thinking about God; He's got nothing to do with this.
Time for my own surprise when Vash licks his lips as if I just suggested something delicious and irresistible when all I did was stand so close he couldn't ignore me. Will wonders never cease? Vash licking his lips like he wants me right here, now, on the table, why are you still clothed? can we do it again? and tomorrow, too.
But now he's talking and I have to pay attention to his words and not what I'd prefer his mouth to be doing.
"Would you like some..."
Sex? All night and into the morning, forget your name, toe-curling, inside- jarring, deeper till I feel you everywhere, damning, sinfully sweet, hot, messy, panting, screaming, pounding so hard bedsprings rattle, harder, harder, right THERE, you are a God sex?
"....more?" he asks.
So generous. We both ignore the tremble in his voice. I wonder if he even knows what he's offering. Wonder what he'd do if I accepted what's hidden behind such an innocent-sounding invitation. Ah, sweet debauchery, how I know thee well.
"No thanks." Was that my voice? Must have been.
Shit.
I stand, giving him room to be nervous without me looming over to see even his eyelids tense. If I feel bereft, he looks it. Puppy-dog, innocent eyes silently asking for the fuck of his life. Only he could pull that off.
Suddenly the reason for my instant refusal makes itself clear to me.
I've waited this long to taste chocolate, I can wait a bit longer to taste Vash.
He doesn't have anything to say after I decline, and I leave anyway so it doesn't matter. I consider this a major triumph of willpower and spend the rest of the day patting myself on the back.
And it's only when the aftertaste of chocolate on my tongue, and in some secret place at the back of my throat, starts to drive me slowly mad that I wonder if I should have taken the offer.
And I know now that the exchange should have been different.
"Would you like some more?"
"Yes. In fact, I want LOTS more."
Feeding the chocolate to him slowly like some offering to a saint only to steal it back with my tongue. Temple thief desecrating the holy. That seems so appropriate.
Damn. Why didn't I think of doing that then?
I'm never getting to sleep tonight; will have chocolate dreams of Vash naked and trussed up for the licking and slurping.
Damn chocolate and damn Vash. And damn me too while we're at it.
I'm never eating the stuff again.
~owari~