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It wasn’t the first time he’d been buried inside of Wolfwood, nor was it the first time that Wolfwood was buried inside of him. Sometimes it was gentle, but tonight it was angry, frustration at the coming events. Vash understood more than anything that time would come for them, eventually, but Wolfwood refused to let him speak on it. Anything that would tarnish the reputation between the two men was moot tonight, lost to the sound of skin slapping against skin, slick with sweat.
A grunt left his lips as Vash thrust against the other man’s thighs, lifted into the air by his height. Sweat dripped down his forehead, bottled up feelings pouring over as they fucked relentlessly. Not a word was spoken other than the moans between them, cursing at the sensations brought upon them. They avoided talking about the upcoming days, knowing the fight would leave one or both of them dead, or worse--another mass event created by Vash’s Angel Arm. It was pain, pleasure, grief; better to view each other as living than to think about the cold grip of death.
And in that moment Vash knew, he knew Wolfwood was going to die. He’d seen the vials piled up in the other man’s jacket, knew the arrogant face that was put on display for him as he spilled into him with a stutter of his hips. The universe was telling him that their days were numbered.
A few breaths had barely left his body as Vash slid out of Wolfwood, the cold air rushing against Vash’s cock as he laid down limp next to him. All he could hear were the eternal beats of a clock in his head, the knowledge of time never stopping. Everything he cared about would eventually leave him; that was the price of longevity and caring for humans.
But this time, it pained him worse, with no words left to say between them.