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Vash has never been sick before. Honestly, he’s not sure Plants can get sick. Even as the humans in their settlements fell ill with sicknesses that had been biding their time in cold storage, Vash never once got the sniffles. Hell, he could count the number of times he’s sneezed on the fingers of one hand — and all of them had to do with sand forcibly rocketing up his nostrils.
When he wakes up weak and feverish, Vash doesn’t really know what to do. Of course, he gets through the day with a smile on his face. A few people clocked onto his weariness, but none of them pushed when he chirped that he was feeling fine. Predictably, they just chalked it up to be some weird Plant thing and dismissed it. For all he knows, they could be right.
After a long, long day of going through his normal tedious routines on Ship 3, Vash barely makes it back to his room before he collapses face-first onto his bed. The smell of stale linens and geraniums fills his nose. It’s heaven compared to the stink permeating the ship today.
Seriously, he’d been dying the entire day! The ripe smell of sweat stuck in his nose like sulfur. Scents that were usually light enough to ignore were obnoxious and intermingled into a horrible mixture that coated the back of his aching throat. Every so often, there was some sweet or rich smell that he’d flutter toward like a Worm to meat, but for the most part? Stinky. Awful. Sneeze-worthy.
With a groan, Vash rolls over onto his back. Sweat dampens his underarms despite the loose white tank he wears, and his shorts do nothing to fend off the heat. When he asked why Ship 3 was running so hot today, Luida had immediately shot him a look that always turns his stomach — like he was an interesting bug under a microscope. Then, she schooled her expression and smiled sweetly, saying that the ship was perfectly room temperature as it always was.
Fever. Sore throat. Fatigue. Enhanced sense of smell. And… And he’s been wet all day. Vash has had to change his underwear four times because he’d start to be audible as he walked around. It was embarrassing. Brad had pointed it out at one point, asking if he stole jello of all things.
Ugh.
Vash places his hands on his sweaty face and breathes the neutral scent of his skin in deeply.
Maybe it is a Plant thing. He’s never known his kind to get sick, but Vash would be the first to admit that he knows basically nothing. Not for the first time, he wishes he could talk to Nai. Just for a little bit. Just to know if he was experiencing the same things too.
Grimacing as his belly pulses with heat and nausea, Vash sits up and glares down between his thighs. He’s soaked through his underwear again. He can feel it.
Shower. A shower would do him good.
Pushing himself up on shivering legs, Vash grabs a towel from his closet and makes his way on silent feet toward the bathroom. Everyone’s asleep already and the ship is eerily quiet. It always amazes him how deeply humans slept. At least, the humans on the ship. People in settlements were much easier to wake up accidentally. Such is the life of prey in a hostile world, Vash supposes.
Patting his sweat-damp face with his towel, he slips into the hallway that leads past Brad and Luida’s rooms. The best shower is right next to Brad’s. It’s big and the water pressure is the best because it’s the closest to the pump. Just imagining it has Vash practically shivering in excitement.
Luida’s room is silent and closed. The smell of dirt and green wafts from her room. At least it isn’t an unpleasant smell, though Vash would argue that too much dirt just smells like shit. Literally.
Sighing, Vash shuffles past Brad’s door—
His mouth fills with saliva. As if pulled by a hook, Vash stumbles towards the man’s door and inhales deeply against the metal. Rich. Sharp. Spicy. Hot. Cinnamon and alcohol — the good kind that comes from the locked cabinets that Brad thinks Vash doesn’t know about.
A heavy ache sits between his hips as Vash inhales again. It’s just getting stronger. It’s all he can smell now. He can taste it on his tongue. When he opens his mouth to eagerly take it in, Vash leans close enough to the door for it to slide open with a near-silent hiss.
Inside, Brad’s room is a mess of tools and machinery. Books are scattered across every surface. The only semi-clear space is his bed where the man himself is sprawled, mouth open in a luxurious snore.
Vash’s breath catches in his throat as the scent hits him like a wall. Weak feet stumble forward, slipping over books and nearly catching on a discarded drill. The door slides shut behind him the further he walks inside. Only the low glow of the floor lights that are always on illuminate the room.
Warm light traces Brad’s spread body. It highlights the swell of his bicep and the mess his hair became in his sleep. Vash can see it reflected on his teeth. It traces every crease in his clothing. It runs along the proud bulge in his boxers.
It smells so good in here. Vash sucks in a deep breath through his nose and mouth, savoring the scent and taste of Brad. The towel falls to the ground as he gets to the foot of the bed. It barely moves as he crawls on top. He’s so light even now with his gangly limbs and growing muscle.
In the back of his mind, Vash knows this is wrong. Crawling all over his caregiver in his sleep because he happens to smell good. It’s inappropriate at the very least and despicable at the worst.
But when Vash leans forward and breathes in as his nose just brushes the tent in Brad’s boxers, he can’t bring himself to care.
He’s leaked through his shorts. Sticky wet streaks down his thighs as he presses them together and lowers himself onto his belly between Brad’s legs. They’re thick, tanned, and hairy. The tips of Vash’s fingers play along the curling hair that coats Brad’s skin.
The man doesn’t move. Vash knows from the many times they’ve traveled together that it would take nothing less than an explosion right beside him to wake Brad up. He sleeps deeper than anyone else Vash knows. Normally, it annoys him — having to shake his companion awake because bloodthirsty humans are coming to get them is always a struggle.
Right now? Vash is grateful.
His heart pounds as he tucks his fingertips beneath the waistband of Brad’s boxers. They come down slow and easy. The elastic catches on the end of his penis before it pops free and the wet head smacks against his hairy belly.
Vash whimpers as the smell blossoms further. His eyes flutter. Above him, Brad softly grunts as Vash tucks his boxers beneath heavy, round balls.
Oh. Here. Here’s where the smell is.
Slightly sweaty skin presses against his face as Vash buries his nose between hard cock and weighty sac. He inhales and a harsh shiver rolls down his body as spice cinnamon whiskey heat encompasses his brain.
Taste. He needs to taste.
Blown pupils dart up toward Brad’s face as Vash opens his mouth and licks gingerly at the base of his cock. He doesn’t even twitch. Vash bites his bottom lip, thighs squeezing.
He has no idea what he’s doing. He’s never felt like this before. He’s never wanted to bury his face in anyone’s privates. But he wants. Oh, does Vash want.
Light licks trace up the silky length of Brad’s shaft. Salt bursts across his tongue. Salt and something that Vash can’t place but he wants more of. He’s ravenous. He’s hungry.
Drool begins to drip down Brad’s twitching cock as Vash licks him. It pools against the vein that lines the bottom of the shaft and drips down to the seam of his balls. Waste not, Vash’s brain slurs. He leans down and drags his tongue from the soft skin of Brad’s sac all the way up to the hot, bulbous tip.
Brad huffs quietly in his sleep, hips flexing upward in response. Vash watches him closely as he continues to lap at his skin. The textures are interesting beneath his tongue. Every nook and cranny has some new taste that makes Vash roll his hips against the bed a little harder.
There’s extra skin at the top. It’s loose and a bit thick, hugging the crown of Brad’s cockhead like a sweater. Vash purses his lips against it and blinks in surprise as it pulls away from the glans. He figured it was like the covering on his own stamen, but — this is much better.
Vash’s eyelashes flutter as he suckles on Brad’s foreskin. Every suck has Brad’s thighs twitching and another bloom of scent leaking off of him. Thick saliva drips from Vash’s lips. His tongue delves between foreskin and glans and dark brows pull together as he tastes pure Brad.
He wants every bit. His tongue sloppily swirls around the fat tip of Brad’s dick, tucking beneath his foreskin. The fit is getting tighter as Brad gets steadily harder. Vash whines softly, lips sucking at the extra skin again. It’s still there, just pulled taut over the thick girth of Brad’s shaft.
Pulling back, blue eyes watch from above red cheeks as Vash wraps his hand around the base of Brad’s dick. It’s thick. His index and thumb just barely circle it and Rem always said he had big hands.
Slowly, he strokes upward. He remembers seeing Nai one time do this to himself. It had been embarrassing, walking in on his brother like that — Vash would never admit out loud that his curiosity had been piqued, though.
Foreskin squishes around the head of Brad’s cock as Vash strokes upward. Just the very tip of his dick is visible, a bead of clear fluid building at the slit. Leaning forward, Vash swipes his tongue across it to taste.
Every nerve in his body alights. He can see the faint blue reflection of his markings against the length of Brad’s cock. It casts it in an almost eerie glow. Vash bites his bottom lip as he strokes down and then up again just to get more of that yummy slick.
It bubbles from the slit again and Vash breathes in excitement. Gluttonous and needy, he laves his tongue over the head and slurps up every drop of the stuff dripping from Brad. Beneath his mouth, Vash’s fist is tugging at his cock in regular, firm pulls. With a huff, Vash shifts until his other hand can join too, thumbs folding over each other as he strokes Brad from base to tip.
Brad is making more noise. Short gasps and guttural groans. His handsome freckled face is screwed up in something almost like pain. Almost.
Vash watches that expression twist tighter the more he strokes him. Blonde eyebrows tug together above fluttering eyes, knotting in the center as Brad lets out a rolling, “Nnnh…”
Licking isn’t enough. Vash sighs out through his nose before inhaling Brad’s addictive smell again. He wraps his lips around the wide head of Brad’s cock and shudders as it rests heavy on his tongue.
The wide, flat muscle cups around Brad’s cockhead as Vash suckles, encouraging more of that sticky fluid to drip onto his tongue and spill down his throat. Drool drips from the corners of his mouth, unable to be swallowed down as Vash makes a mess around the intrusion in his mouth.
“Fuh…” Brad groans, head tossing as he circles his hips and pushes deeper into Vash’s mouth.
Instinctively, Vash’s throat closes as he has to pull back when he gags. Ugh. He almost threw up.
Vash braces the back of his hand against his lips as he tries not to cough. Little choking sounds escape him and a line of thick mucus falls to the bedsheets between Brad’s legs. He doesn’t throw up, though. Thankfully. He’ll stick to licking.
Brad is rocking into his fist now. Strong hips roll in languid pushes, dragging Vash’s immobile fist up and down at his own pace. Vash sniffles, swallowing down thick saliva again before holding out his tongue and letting it mold against the bottom of Brad’s cockhead.
It ruts against his taste buds, that flavor from before coating every inch of Vash’s tongue. Hazy blue eyes narrow in pleasure as he bobs his head with every sleepy thrust of Brad’s hips. Soon, the head is popping between his lips — though it never goes further than that.
“Fuck, babe…” Almost words. Slurred together syllables that sound enough like English that Vash’s belly comes alight. Babe.
“Oh shit—” These words are more solid, though Brad’s eyes are still firmly closed. Vash rolls his tongue and he gets a wonderful growl from between shimmering teeth. “Fuck.”
Both hands are back around Brad’s cock, tugging it as he slurps noisily at the tip. More and more delicious fluid pours out of him. Vash hums happily, his feet kicking in the air as he swallows down every drop.
Pain shoots across Vash’s scalp as fingers cruelly grab his messy blonde hair and yank him up from the mouth-watering source. He whines, tears springing to his eyes as he looks up and sees — Brad.
Brad staring at him, baffled and aroused. Blushing. Snarling with those teeth. His freckles are dark even in the dim light of his room.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he growls, shaking Vash by his hair. “Answer me, Vash.”
A choked out sob automatically rises to Vash’s throat.
“Don’t fucking cry, just tell me what you’re doing.” Brad’s eyes dart down to the tears beginning to bubble forth from Vash’s eyes.
(He doesn’t like seeing Vash cry. The first few times were unintentional. Now? Vash knows well what makes the man fold like a deck of well-used cards.)
“B-Brad,” Vash whimpers. “You’re—you’re hurting me.”
Releasing his hair, Brad instead grabs Vash’s cheeks and yanks him up his body. Vash can feel the heat of his wet cock against his shirt — against the swell of his chest.
“Coming in here and sucking my cock while I slept. You’re disgusting, Vash.” There’s real anger there. Real anger and something else.
The sob Vash lets out is a little more genuine than he means it to be.
“Why?” Brad grinds out.
“S-Smell—” Vash gasps. It’s hard to speak when his face is grabbed his firmly. “Smell good. Wanted… Need…”
Anger turns to bewilderment. “I smell good?”
Nodding as much as he can, Vash’s wet eyes flutter closed as he inhales. Every inch of his body shivers, including where Brad’s cock is pressed against his belly.
“You’re horny. You got up in the middle of the night and tried to suck me off because you’re horny and I smell good,” Brad scoffs. He releases Vash’s face and the blonde falls against his chest. “What is wrong with you Plants?”
It smells good here, too. Vash inhales again, nose buried against Brad’s chest. His hips wiggle in excitement. He can feel how hairy Brad is beneath his shirt. He wants to shove his face in there and only breathe oxygen as it passes through the rug on Brad’s pecs.
“Stop fucking moving,” Brad growls and knocks against Vash’s hip with his leg. “Get off.”
Tears pool in Vash’s eyes again. “No… Nooo!”
Brad freezes, staring down at Vash’s whimpering face. “What do you want?”
“I-I don’t know,” Vash honestly answers, his eyes wide. “I want to t-taste and smell and f-feel—”
In less time than it takes to breathe, the room spins around Vash. He’s pinned. Brad’s hand is around his throat, his knees between his legs. Messy dirty blonde hair slumps from its normal style, tickling Vash’s forehead.
“You want me to fuck you.”
He knows what that means. Vaguely. Sex. Sex between two beings. Rem never talked about it much and Vash had never gotten the chance to talk about it with Luida. The only things he knows are the quiet secrets exchanged between him and Nai late at night under their blankets. Nai would admit that he’s been reading adult books and would describe everything within. Stroking. Sucking. Fucking.
Fire burns in Vash’s gut and flows through his veins. He gasps, tears and drool leaking from him.
“Yes,” he hisses. “T-Touch—Touch me. Please!”
Brad stares at him. Then, he bares his teeth. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re asking for.”
Immediately, Vash shakes his head. He doesn’t. The place between his thighs is aching, though, and he’s so, so wet.
“Fuck.” Brad’s eyes dart from Vash’s face to the swell of his chest beneath his shirt to his soaked shorts. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
Vash doesn’t understand why he’s so angry. Everything is fuzzy. Keening softly, Vash parts his legs around Brad’s knees, showing more of the sopping fabric clinging to his skin.
“Please,” Vash chokes out. His tears are real. He doesn’t understand why he’s so hot, but he knows Brad’s touch will help. Just like his own fingers feel good — right? “Please, Brad.”
A primal growl rips from Brad’s throat and he grabs the front of Vash’s shirt with his fist. “You wanna get fucked?”
Vash nods, back arching.
“Fine. I’ll fuck you, you stupid—” Fabric tears and seams pop. With one furious yank, Vash is bare from the waist up, small breasts heaving as he pants. “I’ll show you what these tits are for.”
Big hands grip his chest and a warbling cry flutters out of Vash’s throat. The puffy peaks of his nipples are grabbed meanly between thick, cracked knuckles. They tug and twist and Vash whines loud and desperate. Vash’s hands grip Brad’s shirt at his belly, shoulders lifting to his ears as lightning shoots directly between his legs from his nipples being so thoroughly abused.
“Always wearing those stupid fucking shirts,” Brad pants, yanking his knuckles off of one nipple to viciously bite around it until Vash is keening. His lips noisily pop free. “Every time you leaned forward I could see these things.”
Tears flow freely from Vash’s eyes. That ache between his hips is so much right now. His thighs shake as they spread wide, toes curling against the bedsheets as Brad bites and sucks at his hard nipple.
“I—” Vash tries to speak, but nothing comes out except high-pitched gasping moans. His hips begin to tremble. Brad bites across his pale chest, sucking nasty bruises as he goes. Then, he gets to Vash’s other nipple and latches on so firmly that Vash screams.
The pillow Vash lies on catches his skull as he throws his head back. Wet pools between his thighs. His insides squirm, contracting wildly, and aching. His fingers tighten impossibly in Brad’s shirt.
Yet, the man doesn’t stop. He keeps tugging at his nipples with his teeth and lips and knuckles. Flicking the peaks as Vash sobs with his entire chest. Sucking bruises and digging his teeth into the plump flesh of his breasts.
“Fuck, did you cum?” Brad hisses. “Did you just cum from me playing with your tits?”
Vash is shaking. Every bit of him is shaking. His insides can’t stop twitching and spasming. No words can come out.
“Fuuuck.”
Cooler air blows against the mess between Vash’s legs as Brad leans back and yanks his shorts down his thighs. Vash’s legs are limp as Brad pulls the fabric down and throws it to the side. Both of his knees hit the bed as Brad shoves them apart.
Vash’s flower blossoms eagerly under his gaze. The velveteen petals spread wide and show of juicy, twitching, pink insides. The sticky jut of his stamen peeks from beneath its hood, twitching with every clench of his hole. He’s swollen, leaking, needy.
“Jesus Christ,” Brad spits as he pulls his hand up to his mouth and licks his two middle fingers. “You got a pretty pussy, kid.”
Pussy. Another word he heard from Nai, though he never attributed it to himself. Not when Rem called it a flower. Vash likes it, though. My pussy.
Two fingers shove inside of his aching hole and Vash’s eyes roll back into his head. A squeaky, chopped up moan stammers from his throat. He can feel them moving inside of him. Pushing at his walls, massaging the sticky sides. Scooping slick from his gushing hole every time they pull free and slam back in.
“So fucking wet,” Brad gasps, eyes glued to where his fingers slam inside of Vash’s little body. His palm slaps against Vash’s stamen, drawing tight gasps from him every time. “Wanna see if you squirt.”
Pleasure like wildfire shoots up Vash’s spine. His fingers spasm and his hands slap against the pillow on either side of his head. The hand speeds up. Noisy, wet slaps fill the room. Vash’s mouth can’t close, it hangs open and trembles as another peak begins to grow. Just like when Brad was sucking and biting his nipples. Just like those nights spent alone, rubbing at his stamen with guilty chagrin.
But more.
The pillow rips. As Vash arches his back and wet sprays against Brad’s palm, his fingers rip the pillow to shreds.
“Goddamn,” Brad groans, slamming his fingers in deep and just shoving them against the upper wall of Vash’s pistil — his pussy. It makes his callused palm drag against his stamen and the burning, explosive pleasure only continues as Vash thrashes and digs trenches in the pillow with his fingers.
When Brad’s fingers finally, finally release him from their glorious hell, Vash’s body turns to the side, curling up automatically as his muscles spasm and he shakes through the blinding lights and sloppy tears.
“Vash—” Brad huffs. “Whatever, I can work with this.”
Even when Vash whines for no more, please, no more, Brad lifts his leg onto his shoulder and shoves his cockhead against his—his pussy. For a second, it meets resistance. Like something is holding tight to keep him out. Vash sobs as a sharp pinch turns good ache into bad pain.
“St-Stop—” Vash whines. “Please!”
Brad pulls back. Then, he holds his cock steady as he shoves against that resistance again.
Tears and spit blend as the head of Brad’s dick pops past whatever resistance was there and he slides entirely into Vash in one fell swoop. Vash’s lungs collapse. He’s stuffed full. Pulled to the max. His p-pussy—His pistil hurts.
“Fucking take it.”
The first thrust is agony.
The second is hell.
The third is breathtaking.
Vash squeezes his eyes shut, mouth curled into a snarl of pleasure-pain as Brad holds his leg and slams into his body. His insides squish and slurp at Brad, sucking him in and resisting as he pulls back. Pain is morphing into aching pleasure with every snap of his hips.
“Yeah, that’s it,” Brad gasps, his hips unrelenting. Heavy balls drag against Vash’s thigh. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”
It does. It does. Once the pain was gone, Vash melts into the pulsing heat. His eyes become unfocused, staring into nothing as his mouth hangs open and lets his whining moans free. All that exists is the cock splitting him apart. Pushing deep. Knocking against something firm inside of him that has Vash’s body jolting.
“You’re fuckin’ made for this,” Brad grunts, grabbing Vash’s other leg and pulling it up too. Now on his back, Vash stares at the ceiling as his thighs are squeezed together by Brad’s strong arms and he’s slammed into. He can feel his thighs ripple with each thrust. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—”
Yes… Vash’s arms stretch above his head, elongating his body. His mouth hangs in a mindless O, noises falling from him happily. Brad’s cock is dragging against something sweet inside of him that has his belly twitching and his heart stumbling in his chest.
“Ha!” Brad breathlessly laughs as he slows his thrusts down to cruel grinds that have Vash sneering into the feeling. “Are you smiling on my cock?”
Is he? Vash lowers his hands to his face and feels a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Even as he snarls into the aching push-pull of Brad’s girth tugging at his walls, he’s grinning.
“F-Feels—” Vash gasps, a giggle escaping him. His fingertips rub against his neck, his collarbone. “Feels good.”
“Shit.”
It’s the only warning Vash gets before his legs are forced apart and his hips tilted up. Blue eyes pop open, eyebrows pulling together as Brad’s cock shoves even deeper. The man fucks down into him, balls slapping against his ass and dick coming out gooey and white.
“You wanna get bred that bad?” Brad growls as he pumps faster into Vash’s sloppy flower. “You want my fucking cum?”
Vash doesn’t know. He just. It just. He sobs, mouth shivering between slack pleasure and his trembling smile.
“I-I—” Again, Vash tries to speak. It doesn’t work. Not when Brad’s dick is shoving against his walls and making his brain light up.
Big hands shove at the back of his knees. Vash’s feet are on either side of his head. His spine is screaming. Yet, all he can feel is the thick width of Brad inside of him.
Vash watches through glassy eyes as Brad throws his head back and his stomach squeezes. Pretty muscles show themselves, tensing as he slams hard inside of Vash and—
“Mmm…” Vash’s eyelashes flutter and that smile spread across his face again.
It’s so warm.
Heavy balls twitch against his ass, pulling tight as they empty inside of him. Brad’s hips tremble, pressing closer, closer, as close as they can go. As deep. Right to where Vash’s pistil ends. One more sloppy thrust has Vash keening sweetly. Then, he’s slipping out of Vash’s gaping entrance and flopping to the side.
Vash unfurls, one hand pressing against his swollen pussy. Goo — white and thick — seeps out of him. Semen.
There’s nothing but heavy breaths for several long moments.
The heat is gone. The fever that had been bothering Vash all day has broken. His throat is sore, but not in the same way. There’s a gentle throb between his hips, but it’s a painful ache rather than unrelenting arousal.
Brad… smells normal. Still spicy, still rich. But normal.
Gingerly, Vash rolls over. His cheek lands against Brad’s chest. He nuzzles up onto his shoulder. His shirt is soaked through with sweat and it’s not a very pleasant smell, but Vash doesn’t care. It’s almost a relief to smell something not good.
Brad’s fingers bury themselves in his hair. An apology. A comfort. A you can stay here as long as you need to.
Vash has gotten very good at understanding what Brad leaves unsaid.
He’s so tired.
Hazy blue eyes — pupils returned to their proper size — flutter. In his half-asleep state, Vash looks around. One last examination. One last reassurance that he’s safe.
Brad is looking at his tablet. A message is on the screen. Luida.
Hey, Lu. Do Plants have heats?