Tempest Wind (Vash x F!Reader)

Perfect Morning

You wake up nearly completely on your back, with a heavy weight on top of you and soft hair tickling your cheek. As your head clears, you realize Vash's head is resting on your chest, close to your shoulder, with your arms around his neck. His arms are around you, and one of your legs is thrown over his hip as he sleeps on the other. His breathing is calm and slow, and his face is turned away from you. Leaving one of your arms resting on his back, the other hand gently strokes up, fingers finding his hair. He doesn't wake up to that, and you close your eyes again, cheek against his head, fingers playing with the blond locks.

Warmth fills your chest as you stay like this for quite a while longer. The sunlight finds its way into the room despite the curtains, and you hear people talking in the streets. It seems like some of them haven't stopped celebrating yet, and the good news spreads from mouth to mouth that the town is saved. Some people are wondering who they have to thank; nobody actually has Vash's name.

The voices in your head are as insistent as ever, but focusing on Vash's breathing as he lays on you offers enough distraction. You notice the change in it, but keep running your fingers through his hair, your nails dragging over his skin where the hair is shortest. Your other hand still rests on his back as you keep going. The snoring is gone, occasionally replaced by barely audible low moans.

"How long are you going to pretend to be asleep for?" you ask with a smile on your lips.

"Guess you found me out, huh?" A mumble reaches your ears. "But can I pretend a while longer?"

He nuzzles his face further into you, giving you access to more of the side of his head closest to you. He rolls more onto you, his knee pushing your leg that is over his hip. His hands move down to either side of your waist, touching your skin where the shirt has been pushed up. His face and chest dig into you as his weight shifts.

Both of your hands move onto the back of his neck, your thumbs feeling for the knots in his muscles and gently starting to rub them out. He lets out a relieved sigh; you can feel his breath through the fabric covering you. He is not wearing a turtleneck, just a high neckline shirt, so your fingers travel slightly underneath the collar to massage away more tight spots before moving up again, nails trailing over his skin into his hair, rubbing the sides of his head, pinching his ears lightly, and playing with his earlobes, especially the one with the earring. You hear and feel him breathe heavily as he enjoys your touch.

His hands grab you tighter and trail upwards, fingers pushing under your shirt, over your smooth skin. His head turns more, and his face moves closer until his lips touch your neck and start to leave burning kisses. His body shifts further, so he lays between both your legs, his flesh hand moving down your side again, over to your butt, pulling your leg up to be over his hip, your feet locking on his ass as you enjoy his lips and touch, quiet and breathy moans escaping your throat, his heavy breathing pressing his chest into yours. Vash's kisses move down and brush over your collarbone; his prostetic hand has pushed your shirt as far up as it will go without exposing your chest. His lips skip over the fabric and land on your ribs. You feel his body brushing over yours. The hands that have been gripping his hair move to his back, grasping his shirt as the kisses move over your stomach to the other side.

Your hands start to bunch up the cloth of his shirt to pull it up and over his head when the weight of his body is suddenly gone. Both his hands move over your sides to your arms, making you let go, and in a lightning fast move, he has your arms pinned to the bed over your head, his fingers intertwined with yours. His body has moved up again, and he gently presses his forehead against yours, supporting his body with his hands on either side of you, still holding tight.

Your wide eyes look up at him. For a moment, Vash avoids your gaze by having his shut and mumbles, "Sorry." But his eyes find yours regardless, your mouth still slightly open as you stare back. It's like you can almost see the markings in them—the way they glowed, how ethereal he had seemed—but he is flesh and bones, here, in bed with you.