VashWood Oneshots

smut - "first aid"

cover: https://pin.it/7rcwekpEe

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SMUT
blowjob

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Vash the Stampede, the legendary gunslinger with a penchant for dramatic entrances and an even more dramatic hair style, ambled into the dusty saloon. His duster billowed out behind him, and his spurs jingled with each step, the sound echoing through the dimly lit room. The patrons, a motley crew of roughnecks and bounty hunters, watched him with a mix of awe and wariness. They knew the name, they knew the reputation, but none had ever seen the real McCoy in the flesh.

He took a seat at the bar, his long coat sweeping the floor, and ordered a whiskey straight up. The bartender, a grizzled man with a mustache that looked like a greasy squirrel had taken residence on his upper lip, slid the glass over with a nod. Vash threw back the amber liquid with a practiced ease, his Adam's apple bobbing with the effort.

But there was something off about him tonight. He usually had a spring in his step, a twinkle in his eye, and a grin that could charm the birds from the trees. Tonight, however, there was a slight limp in his gait, a hint of pain etched on his usually carefree face. He had been shot in the leg during a scuffle earlier that day, a graze that barely registered on his pain scale but had slowed him down enough to warrant a brief respite.

Wolfwood, his partner in both crime and redemption, walked in with a medical kit slung over his shoulder. The priest with a penchant for firearms and a heart of gold had insisted on patching up Vash's wound despite the latter's protests that it was nothing more than a flesh wound. Wolfwood's eyes scanned the room, looking for any signs of trouble, before they settled on Vash with a look that was a blend of concern and amusement.

He approached the bar, his own duster flapping in his wake, and set the kit down on the counter with a thud. "Let's get you fixed up," he said, his voice a smooth blend of authority and warmth.

Vash rolled his eyes and took another sip of whiskey. "It's fine, Wolfie. It's just a scratch."

Wolfwood ignored him and began to unroll the medical supplies after he pushed him into the room he just rented for the night. "You know the drill, Vash," he said, his tone brooking no argument. "Off with the pants."

Vash sighed but complied, his gun still holstered low on his hip. He unbuckled his belt and let his pants fall to the ground, revealing a pair of tighty-whities that left little to the imagination. Wolfwood's eyes remained on the wound, but there was a flicker of something else in his gaze as he took in the sight of Vash's bare skin.

The air in the room felt charged, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Wolfwood gently probed the wound, his touch surprisingly tender despite his rough exterior. Vash hissed through gritted teeth as he felt the sting of alcohol being applied to the injury.

But as Wolfwood worked, his eyes strayed from the crimson mess on Vash's leg to the taut muscles of his stomach, and then up to his chest. He couldn't help but notice the way Vash's breath hitched as he worked, the way his heart hammered against his ribs. The atmosphere between them shifted, the friendship and camaraderie giving way to something more primal, something that had been simmering just beneath the surface for longer than either of them cared to admit.

Wolfwood's hand hovered over the wound, his thumb brushing against Vash's skin. Without thinking, he traced a line upwards, across the flat plane of his stomach, and over one of his defined pecks. Vash's breath caught in his throat, his eyes going wide. He hadn't expected this, hadn't seen it coming. But as the priest's thumb circled lazily over his sensitive flesh, he found himself leaning into the touch, his body responding despite his surprise.

Wolfwood's eyes met Vash's, a smoldering look in them that was unmistakable. He leaned in closer, his breath hot against Vash's skin as he whispered, "You know, I've always wondered what you tasted like." Before Vash could react, Wolfwood's mouth was on him, licking a slow, tantalizing path up his chest, across his collarbone, and finally coming to rest on his neck.

Vash's heart raced, his body responding to the sensual onslaught. He felt the pressure building in his cock, straining against the fabric of his underwear. Wolfwood's hands were now roaming freely over his body, teasing and exploring every inch of him. Vash's breaths grew shallower, his eyes closing as he gave in to the sensation.

The priest's tongue flicked out, tracing the line of Vash's jaw before moving down to lick across his pecks again. Each pass was met with a shiver from Vash, his nipples pebbling under the wet heat. Wolfwood's teeth grazed one of the sensitive nubs, biting down just enough to make him gasp. Vash's hand found its way to the back of Wolfwood's head, holding him in place as he arched his back, silently begging for more.

Wolfwood's mouth moved down, his teeth scraping along the skin of Vash's stomach. He could feel the pulse of Vash's cock through the fabric, demanding attention. With a smirk, he reached down and hooked his thumbs into the waistband of the underwear, pulling it down just enough to free the erect member. He looked up, meeting Vash's eyes, and then took the head into his mouth, sucking gently.

Vash's eyes rolled back in his head, a moan escaping his lips. The pleasure was intense, a stark contrast to the pain of his leg wound. Wolfwood's tongue swirled around his cock, teasing and probing, until he was on the brink of orgasm. The priest's hand stroked the length of him, matching the rhythm of his mouth, driving him closer and closer to the edge.

With a final, deep suck, Vash's body tensed, and he came with a shout, his cum spurting into Wolfwood's mouth. The priest swallowed it down, his eyes never leaving Vash's face, watching the ecstasy play out across his features. When the last tremor passed, Wolfwood released him with a wet pop, a satisfied smirk on his face.

Vash lay there, panting, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He had never been so vulnerable in front of Wolfwood before, never allowed himself to be taken like this. But as he looked into the priest's eyes, he saw something new there—desire, yes, but also tenderness and care.

Wolfwood leaned over, pressing a gentle kiss to Vash's forehead. "I've got you," he murmured, his voice low and reassuring. "Always."

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with meaning. Vash knew that this moment had changed things between them, that there was no going back. But as he looked into the depths of Wolfwood's eyes, he realized that maybe that was exactly what he wanted.