À Pas de Loup (Fic)(Trigun)(WolfwoodxVash, MidvalleyxMilliexWolfwood, Mention of KnivesxVash)
Author’s Notes: For those who have read Joie de Vivre, Douleur de Vivre, Vie Foncée, and Araignée, a very lemon-filled portion of the unofficial Trigun Slashy Saga.
À Pas de Loup
by Sailor Lilith-chan
He’s dead.
He’s dead because he’s fucking Vash the Stampede.
He’s dead anyway, because Knives is going kill him one of these days and as long as his eventual demise hovers on the horizon, he might be getting some on a regular basis.
He also fucking a saxophonist and an insurance agent. It’s always fucking, because Wolfwood’s unsure if you could spread your love across three people. Millie’s probably going to turn out pregnant in the end and he really doesn’t care. He wouldn’t be much of a father and it’s really only about self-vanity.
Someone with his hair and nose. He’s not too picky. He just wants to see something that proves that after all this time he isn’t…
Too late… he’s scum, he’s born scum, he’ll die in the same ditch which birthed him, gasping up scummy blood. That’s the way you die on Gunsmoke.
He doesn’t have standards.
Technically, what he’s doing with the Plant is bestiality.
Technically, what’s he’s doing with Millie is screwing up her life.
Technically, what he’s doing with Midvalley puts him at risk for getting every single venereal disease known to man.
And he’s pretty sure of some of those things are going to get him thrown into the deepest hell.
Technically, it doesn’t matter… he’s damned anyway.
***
He brought alcohol on the night before the Quick Draw tournament. He loved alcohol, but not as much as he loved cigarettes. He could smoke four packs a day, but lord help him if he had more than two drinks.
Vash on the other hand had no favorite kind of alcohol. Wolfwood could spot his type from a mile away. The kind who drank for the point of drinking. The kind who drank for the point of getting drunk.
Those kind of drinkers have loose tongues.
So logically…
Vash + alcohol = information needed but only if V + a is not included in the formula (V + a) + M1 + M2 = information needed.
Also, he had to include himself in the formula. So…
(V + a) + W - (M1 + M2) = information needed which becomes (V + a) + W - (M1 + M2) = i.
He heard that Vash thinks mathematically. Must be interesting. He wouldn’t know if his calculations are correct. He’s bullshitting his way through this anyway.
Knocking the on door, he invited himself in. Within ten minutes, he’s sharing drinks with the Stampede and complimenting him on his smile. He’s treading on ice while dealing with Lucifer himself.
***
Oh, damn… why did they have to come in?
Yeah, he invited them, but…
Back to math.
(V + a) + W = i if an only and only if (M1+M2) are not in the equation. Therefore to get i you must write the formula as (V+a) + W - (M1 + (M2a)) = i for the equation to work.
He’s a quick worker. “Who’s drinking?”
The big girl threw up her hands. “Me,” Millie chirped.
Meryl, over cautious in the way that he suspected that something crawled up her butt and died a decade ago, held out a hand. “Don’t let her drink too much.”
“Ah, lighten up,” he cajoled, pouring Millie’s drink into a mug bogarted from the bathroom.
***
Millie drank like a college student whose choices had been opened up. She didn’t gulp desperately like Vash. She drank like a girl away from home and thrilled to be without her parents.
She also didn’t hold her liquor at all. Her face was flushed and drops of sweat trickled down her face. “Oh, it’s sure hot in here,” her fingers worked clumsily at her overcoat. It was joined by her shirt, suspenders, and pants. “Wee!”
“Millie,” Meryl squawked as Millie’s hands reached up to undo her brassiere.
Vash watched with bemused interest before pulling a tie from his pocket and looping it around his head. He turned his attention back to Millie. Already one of her nipples was visible.
***
Back to math…
(V + a) + W = i if an only and only if (M1+M2) are not in the equation. Therefore to get i you must write the formula as (V+a) + W - (M1 + (M2a)) = i for the equation to work.
He’s going to revise that a bit for Millie’s striptease. So…
(V + a) + W - (M1 + (M2a - c)) = i.
But it can exist along side…
M2a - c = Fun time for Little Wolfwood.
That’s parallel.
He thinks.
***
“You go big girl!”
***
Except M2a - c doesn’t always equal Fun time for Little Wolfwood.
But it will always be a part of (V + a) + W - (M1 +(M2a-c)) = i.
Take away M1 and M2.
You get (V + a) + W = i
Take away a.
You get V + W = Fun time for Little Wolfwood.
He’s not picky and Vash just tied the cherry from his drink into a bow with his tongue.
Whaddya know?
Math is fun.
End lesson. But keep your notes. There'll be a quiz later.
****
Beneath his briefs and pants, his prick rebelled. Plant or not, he was still in the mood. He reached down and discreetly adjusted himself. Millie’s pink nipple, slightly pert in the cool air. God, that had been a beautiful sight.
He smirked and looked over to Vash. He could ask anything and Vash would answer. “Ever had a blowjob?”
Vash, his eyes already clouded with alcohol, man’s necktie already looped around his head, nodded slightly. “Lost count,” he said calmly, before drumming his feet on the floor, “It was nice.” His long legs bounced slightly on the fake wood of the floor, making plasticky thuds every time they fell down. “Very nice.”
Wolfwood ventured to ask a little bit more. “Ever given them?”
The older man’s face hardened and Wolfwood regretted asking the question. “I think you know the answer all too well.”
(Were you on your knees, Vash? Did Knives make you take him in his mouth? Or was it mutual, your hands running over each other, mouths bringing each other to a mutual climax?) Wolfwood found himself jealous as Vash ran a finger around the rim of the shot-glass in his artificial hand.
“So-rry,” he said finally, “Guess you aren’t good at giving head.”
Vash’s eyes narrowed. (Wonder if he knows he’s drunk more than me?) “Is that a challenge?” his voice was slurred, eyes determined.
“What?” he chocked out. His cock on the other hand practically leaped at the opportunity. Rebellious prick of his. Wolfwood splayed his legs, practically advertising the lump in his pants in the world and Vash. But mostly to Vash.
“Sit!” Vash slurred out, patting the table.
He sat. “Now what?”
Vash bent down and puffed air across the groin of his slacks. Okay, he had not been expecting that. The other man began tugging his shirt out with his teeth. And he was certainly not expecting Vash to duck his head slightly and start gumming his briefs. “God, Tongari… stop being such a prick tease.”
And then he woke up from his fantasy. Vash was silently glaring at him with a “what the hell are you thinking?” look on his face. “I don’t like giving blowjobs.”
“Really,” he said, leaning over, “I think with a mouth like that-“
Vash cut him off, “What does my mouth have to do anything?”
“Nothing,” Wolfwood’s grin, if anything, could be described as being very wolflike, “Except,” he leaned in closer, “Those lips beg for my attention. I really mean it.”
He brought his mouth to Vash’s in a rather sloppy and prolonged kiss. “Oh wow,” Vash said, bringing his hands up to his mouth, “You can do that with a tongue?”
Wolfwood worked on opening Vash’s pants on his bodysuit. He was mildly surprised that Vash wore no underwear. He would have figured Vash as a boxers man. “Want more?”
“Yes please.”
Vash was just as aroused as he was.
He flicked his tongue over the head briefly. Hmmm, Vash was uncircumcised. Didn’t see that too often. He looked up to see Vash frown slightly. “Don’t tease.”
“Never planned on it,” Wolfwood drawled, sliding Vash’s foreskin back and forth.
The Plant shuddered and babbled in French, legs instantly wrapping around Wolfwood’s neck. Chuckling, he pushed them off. He could see the headlines. “Priest strangled by Plant’s Legs of Doom!!!”, three exclamation marks needed to carry the point across.
Vash tapped the top of his head. “Pardon,” he asked, “Where’s the blowing?”
***
He fell asleep. The smug little fool fell asleep. He came in his mouth and he just conked out on the table, limp dick hanging out of his jeans. Wolfwood wiped his mouth. “Been awhile, Tongari?” he asked coolly before tucking Vash back in and zipping him up.
Wolfwood might be a freeloader, but he did have some niceness in his blood. Or the nicotine-gunk that seemed to be its successor. “You owe me,” he muttered, lighting a cigarette and waiting for dawn.
***
Pop quiz time.
If (V + 5thM) - V = H + 5thM than what does W + M2 + Mid equal?
***
“How do you say threesome in French?” Millie asked as she slipped her hand down Wolfwood’s pants.
“Ménage à trois,” Midvalley purred, as he licked a path up the priest’s back and slipped lubricated fingers where it felt good, good, better than good. “You want to see what he can do with his nose?”
“Do I get a say in this?” he asked jokingly.
Midvalley pinched one of his butt cheeks. “Control to a man who can’t keep his teeth brushed? Dream on.”
She giggled. “So that’s how it is,” he said almost mockingly, “I’m hurt.”
As Midvalley took him from behind with deep assured strokes, Millie wiggled up the bed and Wolfwood leaned forward and buried his tongue in the soft folds of skin between her legs. His nose bumped her clitoris with every lick. Eventually she cried out briefly, tensed, and relaxed.
A minute later and a hoarse cry later, Midvalley relaxed against him, withdrawing. “So,” Wolfwood grumbled, staring down at his erection, “The priest gets no love.”
Midvalley grinned and took Millie’s hand, entwining it with his own. And then they stroked.
Long strokes… fast strokes….
And it’s wonderful.
***
If W + M2 + Mid equals 3, what does W + M2 + Mid + V equal?
***
“Wouldn’t it be nice to have a fourth person involved?”
Millie snored peacefully, as Midvalley slowly licked the semen off Wolfwood’s belly. There were plenty of towels, it’s just that Midvalley found towels to dull. “Alright,” he said, lifting his head up, “That’s what I wanted to hear. Who did you have in mind?”
Wolfwood looked at him with confidence. “Vash the Stampede,” he said proudly.
Midvalley sputtered.
***
V + W = P
W + M2 = P
W + Mid = P
W + M2 + Mid = 3p
W + M2 + Mid + V = ERROR
***
“You heard me,” Wolfwood drawled, “You should what he can do with his tongue.”
Midvalley looked offended. His brow winkled and his lips pulled back exposing very white teeth, “That’s like fucking a Tomas. A Tomas, Nick.”
“I really…”
“And I don’t care. If I ever am with him,” he shuddered, “It will be a cold day in hell.”
***
For extra credit and a gold star.
V + Mid = ?
***
Two weeks later, Midvalley met a man in a bar. The man called himself Alex and seemed to be a music lover. He split drinks with the man and took him to his room, tongues entwining, hands trying to strip clothes off long before they reached his bed.
***
V = A (Alex. Alcohol is a lowercase a.)
Mid + A = P
Explain how these two formulas could co-exist.
***
How cold is hell now?
***
Vash kissed him desperately in their hotel room. They’re two hundred iles from Kasted City and Vash obviously missed his borrowed life. “I’m lonely,” he said as Wolfwood unbuttoned his jeans and left Vash’s shirt on.
It hurt to look at the scars.
“I know,” Wolfwood whispered into the ear that’s pierced. He nibbled around the hoop and listened to the way Vash groaned, “Anything you want, I can…”
Vash smiled sweetly. It had been a long time since he had done so. “Make love to me.”
“Sure,” he said, not getting the gist of it, “I’ll fuck you into the headboard.”
The Plant tensed. “Not fuck,” he shuddered when he said the word, “I said for you to make love to me.”
Oh damn.
So he made his promises, he was gentle, but everything was telling him to let go. Vash surprised him when he pushed Wolfwood on his back and rode him hard. God, his cock had never felt this good in all his years of life. His hand brushed against Vash’s crotch, coarse curls rasping against his fingers.
Vash tilted his head back and howled out a name. If Wolfwood hadn’t had his orgasm at the time it would have caused him to go limp.
“Knives, Knives, anyway you can, please, my brother, my lover…”
Vash was seriously fucked up.
***
He’s forgotten to put in K in the V equations.
He’s forgotten.
K + V + U = K + V Always.
Always K + V.
And K + V abhors V + W, V + Mid, and all other V equations.
He’s dead.
He’s dead because he’s fucking Vash the Stampede.
But it’s not like he’s pretending to be an expert in Math.
***
The next morning, he casually smoked a cigarette and watched Vash slip on pj bottoms. Immediately he wondered how fast he could get them off Vash.
***
V + K + U = K + V Always.
***
“Come back to bed,” he cajoled Vash lightly. Sighing, Vash turned the mirror to face the wall. “You do this at every inn? Or am I just lucky?” He laughed slightly.
“I don’t nag at you for enjoying a cigarette every time after coitus,” Vash around, a true smile on his face. “Do I, Wolfwood?”
Wolfwood’s arms reached out and went around Vash’s waist. “Less talking, more humping,” his hand went down between Vash’s pajama bottoms and skin, roughened fingers brushing the curls they found there. “Not much for body hair, are we?”
Vash bit back a moan. He smiled again. “Blame my genes.”
***
He’s dead because he’s fucking Vash.
***
“What jeans?” His hand withdrew and he lightly spanked Vash. “And there you go with that smile, Tongari,” a laugh, “I’m really going to have to get me a camera.”
“Eh? Why is that?”
***
But V + W = P
***
“Ya’ fruitcake,” he pulled him back into the bed, “What did I say about thinking?” And with that he showed Vash a thousand and one reasons why thinking was overrated anyway.
“Uh-huh,” Vash said blankly.
***
He’d like to see Knives make anyone moan like that.
***
K + V + U = K + V
V + W = P
***
He’s dead because he’s fucking Vash the Stampede.
But not yet.
The End.
À Pas de Loup
by Sailor Lilith-chan
He’s dead.
He’s dead because he’s fucking Vash the Stampede.
He’s dead anyway, because Knives is going kill him one of these days and as long as his eventual demise hovers on the horizon, he might be getting some on a regular basis.
He also fucking a saxophonist and an insurance agent. It’s always fucking, because Wolfwood’s unsure if you could spread your love across three people. Millie’s probably going to turn out pregnant in the end and he really doesn’t care. He wouldn’t be much of a father and it’s really only about self-vanity.
Someone with his hair and nose. He’s not too picky. He just wants to see something that proves that after all this time he isn’t…
Too late… he’s scum, he’s born scum, he’ll die in the same ditch which birthed him, gasping up scummy blood. That’s the way you die on Gunsmoke.
He doesn’t have standards.
Technically, what he’s doing with the Plant is bestiality.
Technically, what’s he’s doing with Millie is screwing up her life.
Technically, what he’s doing with Midvalley puts him at risk for getting every single venereal disease known to man.
And he’s pretty sure of some of those things are going to get him thrown into the deepest hell.
Technically, it doesn’t matter… he’s damned anyway.
***
He brought alcohol on the night before the Quick Draw tournament. He loved alcohol, but not as much as he loved cigarettes. He could smoke four packs a day, but lord help him if he had more than two drinks.
Vash on the other hand had no favorite kind of alcohol. Wolfwood could spot his type from a mile away. The kind who drank for the point of drinking. The kind who drank for the point of getting drunk.
Those kind of drinkers have loose tongues.
So logically…
Vash + alcohol = information needed but only if V + a is not included in the formula (V + a) + M1 + M2 = information needed.
Also, he had to include himself in the formula. So…
(V + a) + W - (M1 + M2) = information needed which becomes (V + a) + W - (M1 + M2) = i.
He heard that Vash thinks mathematically. Must be interesting. He wouldn’t know if his calculations are correct. He’s bullshitting his way through this anyway.
Knocking the on door, he invited himself in. Within ten minutes, he’s sharing drinks with the Stampede and complimenting him on his smile. He’s treading on ice while dealing with Lucifer himself.
***
Oh, damn… why did they have to come in?
Yeah, he invited them, but…
Back to math.
(V + a) + W = i if an only and only if (M1+M2) are not in the equation. Therefore to get i you must write the formula as (V+a) + W - (M1 + (M2a)) = i for the equation to work.
He’s a quick worker. “Who’s drinking?”
The big girl threw up her hands. “Me,” Millie chirped.
Meryl, over cautious in the way that he suspected that something crawled up her butt and died a decade ago, held out a hand. “Don’t let her drink too much.”
“Ah, lighten up,” he cajoled, pouring Millie’s drink into a mug bogarted from the bathroom.
***
Millie drank like a college student whose choices had been opened up. She didn’t gulp desperately like Vash. She drank like a girl away from home and thrilled to be without her parents.
She also didn’t hold her liquor at all. Her face was flushed and drops of sweat trickled down her face. “Oh, it’s sure hot in here,” her fingers worked clumsily at her overcoat. It was joined by her shirt, suspenders, and pants. “Wee!”
“Millie,” Meryl squawked as Millie’s hands reached up to undo her brassiere.
Vash watched with bemused interest before pulling a tie from his pocket and looping it around his head. He turned his attention back to Millie. Already one of her nipples was visible.
***
Back to math…
(V + a) + W = i if an only and only if (M1+M2) are not in the equation. Therefore to get i you must write the formula as (V+a) + W - (M1 + (M2a)) = i for the equation to work.
He’s going to revise that a bit for Millie’s striptease. So…
(V + a) + W - (M1 + (M2a - c)) = i.
But it can exist along side…
M2a - c = Fun time for Little Wolfwood.
That’s parallel.
He thinks.
***
“You go big girl!”
***
Except M2a - c doesn’t always equal Fun time for Little Wolfwood.
But it will always be a part of (V + a) + W - (M1 +(M2a-c)) = i.
Take away M1 and M2.
You get (V + a) + W = i
Take away a.
You get V + W = Fun time for Little Wolfwood.
He’s not picky and Vash just tied the cherry from his drink into a bow with his tongue.
Whaddya know?
Math is fun.
End lesson. But keep your notes. There'll be a quiz later.
****
Beneath his briefs and pants, his prick rebelled. Plant or not, he was still in the mood. He reached down and discreetly adjusted himself. Millie’s pink nipple, slightly pert in the cool air. God, that had been a beautiful sight.
He smirked and looked over to Vash. He could ask anything and Vash would answer. “Ever had a blowjob?”
Vash, his eyes already clouded with alcohol, man’s necktie already looped around his head, nodded slightly. “Lost count,” he said calmly, before drumming his feet on the floor, “It was nice.” His long legs bounced slightly on the fake wood of the floor, making plasticky thuds every time they fell down. “Very nice.”
Wolfwood ventured to ask a little bit more. “Ever given them?”
The older man’s face hardened and Wolfwood regretted asking the question. “I think you know the answer all too well.”
(Were you on your knees, Vash? Did Knives make you take him in his mouth? Or was it mutual, your hands running over each other, mouths bringing each other to a mutual climax?) Wolfwood found himself jealous as Vash ran a finger around the rim of the shot-glass in his artificial hand.
“So-rry,” he said finally, “Guess you aren’t good at giving head.”
Vash’s eyes narrowed. (Wonder if he knows he’s drunk more than me?) “Is that a challenge?” his voice was slurred, eyes determined.
“What?” he chocked out. His cock on the other hand practically leaped at the opportunity. Rebellious prick of his. Wolfwood splayed his legs, practically advertising the lump in his pants in the world and Vash. But mostly to Vash.
“Sit!” Vash slurred out, patting the table.
He sat. “Now what?”
Vash bent down and puffed air across the groin of his slacks. Okay, he had not been expecting that. The other man began tugging his shirt out with his teeth. And he was certainly not expecting Vash to duck his head slightly and start gumming his briefs. “God, Tongari… stop being such a prick tease.”
And then he woke up from his fantasy. Vash was silently glaring at him with a “what the hell are you thinking?” look on his face. “I don’t like giving blowjobs.”
“Really,” he said, leaning over, “I think with a mouth like that-“
Vash cut him off, “What does my mouth have to do anything?”
“Nothing,” Wolfwood’s grin, if anything, could be described as being very wolflike, “Except,” he leaned in closer, “Those lips beg for my attention. I really mean it.”
He brought his mouth to Vash’s in a rather sloppy and prolonged kiss. “Oh wow,” Vash said, bringing his hands up to his mouth, “You can do that with a tongue?”
Wolfwood worked on opening Vash’s pants on his bodysuit. He was mildly surprised that Vash wore no underwear. He would have figured Vash as a boxers man. “Want more?”
“Yes please.”
Vash was just as aroused as he was.
He flicked his tongue over the head briefly. Hmmm, Vash was uncircumcised. Didn’t see that too often. He looked up to see Vash frown slightly. “Don’t tease.”
“Never planned on it,” Wolfwood drawled, sliding Vash’s foreskin back and forth.
The Plant shuddered and babbled in French, legs instantly wrapping around Wolfwood’s neck. Chuckling, he pushed them off. He could see the headlines. “Priest strangled by Plant’s Legs of Doom!!!”, three exclamation marks needed to carry the point across.
Vash tapped the top of his head. “Pardon,” he asked, “Where’s the blowing?”
***
He fell asleep. The smug little fool fell asleep. He came in his mouth and he just conked out on the table, limp dick hanging out of his jeans. Wolfwood wiped his mouth. “Been awhile, Tongari?” he asked coolly before tucking Vash back in and zipping him up.
Wolfwood might be a freeloader, but he did have some niceness in his blood. Or the nicotine-gunk that seemed to be its successor. “You owe me,” he muttered, lighting a cigarette and waiting for dawn.
***
Pop quiz time.
If (V + 5thM) - V = H + 5thM than what does W + M2 + Mid equal?
***
“How do you say threesome in French?” Millie asked as she slipped her hand down Wolfwood’s pants.
“Ménage à trois,” Midvalley purred, as he licked a path up the priest’s back and slipped lubricated fingers where it felt good, good, better than good. “You want to see what he can do with his nose?”
“Do I get a say in this?” he asked jokingly.
Midvalley pinched one of his butt cheeks. “Control to a man who can’t keep his teeth brushed? Dream on.”
She giggled. “So that’s how it is,” he said almost mockingly, “I’m hurt.”
As Midvalley took him from behind with deep assured strokes, Millie wiggled up the bed and Wolfwood leaned forward and buried his tongue in the soft folds of skin between her legs. His nose bumped her clitoris with every lick. Eventually she cried out briefly, tensed, and relaxed.
A minute later and a hoarse cry later, Midvalley relaxed against him, withdrawing. “So,” Wolfwood grumbled, staring down at his erection, “The priest gets no love.”
Midvalley grinned and took Millie’s hand, entwining it with his own. And then they stroked.
Long strokes… fast strokes….
And it’s wonderful.
***
If W + M2 + Mid equals 3, what does W + M2 + Mid + V equal?
***
“Wouldn’t it be nice to have a fourth person involved?”
Millie snored peacefully, as Midvalley slowly licked the semen off Wolfwood’s belly. There were plenty of towels, it’s just that Midvalley found towels to dull. “Alright,” he said, lifting his head up, “That’s what I wanted to hear. Who did you have in mind?”
Wolfwood looked at him with confidence. “Vash the Stampede,” he said proudly.
Midvalley sputtered.
***
V + W = P
W + M2 = P
W + Mid = P
W + M2 + Mid = 3p
W + M2 + Mid + V = ERROR
***
“You heard me,” Wolfwood drawled, “You should what he can do with his tongue.”
Midvalley looked offended. His brow winkled and his lips pulled back exposing very white teeth, “That’s like fucking a Tomas. A Tomas, Nick.”
“I really…”
“And I don’t care. If I ever am with him,” he shuddered, “It will be a cold day in hell.”
***
For extra credit and a gold star.
V + Mid = ?
***
Two weeks later, Midvalley met a man in a bar. The man called himself Alex and seemed to be a music lover. He split drinks with the man and took him to his room, tongues entwining, hands trying to strip clothes off long before they reached his bed.
***
V = A (Alex. Alcohol is a lowercase a.)
Mid + A = P
Explain how these two formulas could co-exist.
***
How cold is hell now?
***
Vash kissed him desperately in their hotel room. They’re two hundred iles from Kasted City and Vash obviously missed his borrowed life. “I’m lonely,” he said as Wolfwood unbuttoned his jeans and left Vash’s shirt on.
It hurt to look at the scars.
“I know,” Wolfwood whispered into the ear that’s pierced. He nibbled around the hoop and listened to the way Vash groaned, “Anything you want, I can…”
Vash smiled sweetly. It had been a long time since he had done so. “Make love to me.”
“Sure,” he said, not getting the gist of it, “I’ll fuck you into the headboard.”
The Plant tensed. “Not fuck,” he shuddered when he said the word, “I said for you to make love to me.”
Oh damn.
So he made his promises, he was gentle, but everything was telling him to let go. Vash surprised him when he pushed Wolfwood on his back and rode him hard. God, his cock had never felt this good in all his years of life. His hand brushed against Vash’s crotch, coarse curls rasping against his fingers.
Vash tilted his head back and howled out a name. If Wolfwood hadn’t had his orgasm at the time it would have caused him to go limp.
“Knives, Knives, anyway you can, please, my brother, my lover…”
Vash was seriously fucked up.
***
He’s forgotten to put in K in the V equations.
He’s forgotten.
K + V + U = K + V Always.
Always K + V.
And K + V abhors V + W, V + Mid, and all other V equations.
He’s dead.
He’s dead because he’s fucking Vash the Stampede.
But it’s not like he’s pretending to be an expert in Math.
***
The next morning, he casually smoked a cigarette and watched Vash slip on pj bottoms. Immediately he wondered how fast he could get them off Vash.
***
V + K + U = K + V Always.
***
“Come back to bed,” he cajoled Vash lightly. Sighing, Vash turned the mirror to face the wall. “You do this at every inn? Or am I just lucky?” He laughed slightly.
“I don’t nag at you for enjoying a cigarette every time after coitus,” Vash around, a true smile on his face. “Do I, Wolfwood?”
Wolfwood’s arms reached out and went around Vash’s waist. “Less talking, more humping,” his hand went down between Vash’s pajama bottoms and skin, roughened fingers brushing the curls they found there. “Not much for body hair, are we?”
Vash bit back a moan. He smiled again. “Blame my genes.”
***
He’s dead because he’s fucking Vash.
***
“What jeans?” His hand withdrew and he lightly spanked Vash. “And there you go with that smile, Tongari,” a laugh, “I’m really going to have to get me a camera.”
“Eh? Why is that?”
***
But V + W = P
***
“Ya’ fruitcake,” he pulled him back into the bed, “What did I say about thinking?” And with that he showed Vash a thousand and one reasons why thinking was overrated anyway.
“Uh-huh,” Vash said blankly.
***
He’d like to see Knives make anyone moan like that.
***
K + V + U = K + V
V + W = P
***
He’s dead because he’s fucking Vash the Stampede.
But not yet.
The End.