Trigun Fan Fiction ❯ Balance ❯ Chapter 1

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Inspiration on this occasion provided by andmydog.

Thanks to Renet and Ms Anon for invaluable beta help as ever.

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Balance


The lamp glowed and guttered in the twilight, harsh dry wind catching at the flames even behind sheltering glass. Vash sat opposite, legs bent and sprawled, elbows on his knees, familiar. Less familiar stare, too dark, nothing in his eyes except the dancing fire.

It had been a real Vash the Stampede day, for sure – one of those days that got bad early and then got worse.

Sometimes it got to Vash.

Sometimes it got to both of them.

Wolfwood pulled out a cigarette, leaned forward to light it from the lamp, a momentary burn of focused heat on his skin before he drew back. He pulled the smoke into his body, warm and rough, one small thing that was actually good to have. Vash stared into the moving flame and rubbed softly at the back of his neck with one hand. Wolfwood dropped his own eyes to the glow, half-hoping to find the same fascination in there.

They'd talked some earlier, while they ate. Talked about where they were going and the best way to get there, practicalities like supplies, whether they could afford a bike to fix up. That had been a no, like most times. They hadn't talked about today. Not about vicious, terrified mobs, or the girls, or Knives slicing up most of a town. Wolfwood didn't see the point.

He couldn't fix it. At best, he could distract for a while.

"Hey, Tongari."

Vash looked up at him then, and the rest of his words were lost, irrelevant and flawed. Vash's eyes weren't empty any more, a flash of almost anger and something else, the grip of his fingers tightening on the side of his neck. His lips parted, and he seemed to hover on the edge of saying something – and then he was on his feet, one of those moments when he went from sitting to standing in a single, effortless second, sand crunching beneath his boots as he strode away between the dunes.

Wolfwood smoked his cigarette slowly and watched the last streaks of red on the horizon edge towards purple. There were three moons over half lit. It wouldn't get real dark.

The wind tugged at his skin, already cooling with the loss of the suns.

He waited almost twenty minutes before he followed him. More than enough time for Vash to take a piss or whatever and come back.

Sometimes it was good to have some time alone to think. And sometimes there could be way too much of that shit.

The moonlight made tracking Vash easy enough. He'd stuck mainly to the lee side of the dunes, and the wind hadn't been able to obliterate his footprints. Wolfwood only had to cast around the once where he'd crossed an open area, and he'd just kept right on in a straight line anyway.

He found Vash sitting low on the slope of one of the taller ridges, moon-bleached to silver spikes and an untidy straggle of dull brown coat-tails. Wolfwood dropped to the sand beside him, resting his hands on his thighs, just the lightest of contacts between them at his elbow.

"Hey," Vash said, sideways flicker of his eyes and an apologetic twist to his lips.

Vash sure had his moments, and more of them of late. "You just keep on getting weirder, Tongari," he said casually.

It could have been completely the wrong thing to say, and somehow it wasn't. Vash was almost smiling when he looked back at him. "That all you've got to say?"

Wolfwood shrugged. "Pretty much."

Vash didn't look sure if he liked that answer or not. "You're not gonna ask about any of it?"

"Why ask what I already know."

His eyes were searching now, wider in the moonlight. "You think you know it all? Who I am, what I am? Even I don't know that for sure, Wolfwood." That edge to his voice, that push that invited an argument.

Vash could be annoying when he got like this, but that intent look of his was kind of hot too. Perfect face, overwhelming depth of interest and complexity all focussed right on Wolfwood. "Screw all of that." Wolfwood slid his hand over Vash's hip, tilted his head and sought his lips.

Vash turned his face away. "No. Don't."

Wolfwood drew back a little, watching him carefully.

Vash wasn't giving anything away, face expressionless, switched right back to where he'd been earlier, watching the fire.

There'd been more than enough shit going on lately to justify a weird mood. Or several. Vash was flicking through them so fast, it was damn hard to keep track.

"Come on," he said, grabbing Vash by the arm and tugging him to his feet. "I know you've got some booze in that bag of yours. Time to 'fess up and share, Tongari." He grinned widely at Vash over his shoulder, kept his grip on the coat as he edged into a run, dragging Vash after him, the sand shifting and sliding beneath his feet.

One God-given cure for a weird mood on the way.

~o0X0o~

There hadn't been enough booze to even get half drunk on, nothing like enough for a hangover. They were up and moving not long after dawn, hoping to reach the next town that morning. Another day travelling through the stretching afternoon heat would be fucking unbearable.

They walked steadily, mostly in silence. Vash was less wound-up unpredictable than he'd been last night, but he wasn't chatty.

The suns arced upwards, the air shimmering, obscuring detail much beyond half an ile. Shadows from even the taller dune peaks shrivelled back and abandoned them to the rays. The desert shrank down to the patch of sand at his feet and the line directly ahead into more flickering emptiness. And the heat. Always the heat.

They stopped once, briefly, drinking careful amounts of water from the half-empty flask. Even if they'd had more booze last night, they would have had to ration. They couldn't risk dehydrating.

They circled around Dexter at a careful distance till they hit the road on the other side of town, away from Colnago. So good to be out of the sand that dragged at his feet with every step and onto compacted dirt, better still within another ile to have buildings in sight. A relief that dissolved as they rounded a curve where the road followed the ridge of bedrock beneath the sand, and got a look at where they were headed.

There was a make-shift blockade in place across the width of the street, stretching between the first two houses. People had grabbed anything they could get their hands on – mainly tables and chairs, all pushed together in an untidy tangle, a few wardrobes and chests making it more solid.

Vash was still walking behind him, but his footsteps had slowed. "Looks like they're waiting for us."

Something about his tone was... off. Wolfwood cast a look back, took in the tight line of his jaw, the narrowed angle of his eyes.

Yeah.

Bullets Vash was used to. People wanting to kill him for money he was used to. Whole crowds attacking him as a mob out of sheer terror – that was something else. Wolfwood wouldn't have been in any hurry to invite round two either.

It made him so fucking angry. He couldn't afford to be angry right now.

"It's not like we got a choice. If it turns nasty, we've just gotta grab the water and run."

Vash stared past him at the town, his smile small, tired. "I know."

Fifty yarz further down the road and Wolfwood could make out the man standing to one edge of the blockade in the shade of a building, long outline of a gun stretched between his hand and the ground. "Just the one guy. Could be a lot worse."

No answer from Vash.

A moment later there was no sound of boots on grit, and Wolfwood turned.

Vash was standing slightly hunched, his shoulder rigid and his hand clutching tight at his neck above his collar. And creeping between his fingers, tendrils of white, the beginnings of feathers, of something else reaching outwards, working loose.

*Oh, Christ, not again, not now, shit.* And no trigger for it this time, no life-threatening bullet, just Vash being... Vash.

Vash caught his stare and flashed a tight, totally humourless smile, curved lips without a hint of teeth. "I'll have it in a minute."

"Okay," Wolfwood said. He hoped to hell he was right. Stopping for a chat a certain distance from a guard looked damn suspicious. He patted around his pockets obviously, and pulled out a cigarette. Stalled some more, until Vash's taut posture relaxed, before he dug out the matches and lit it. "You good?"

"Yeah." Vash's hand fell away from his neck and he straightened, striding off fast now towards the buildings. "You still not gonna ask?" he said as Wolfwood fell into step beside him.

Wolfwood dragged hard on his cigarette. "Wouldn't change anything," he said, "even if you had a real answer."

Vash said nothing more, just shot him a look he couldn't entirely read. Part relief, yeah, almost thankful, but more to it than that.

The road crunched steadily beneath their feet, the desert otherwise silent in the midday heat.

The guard stepped out of the building's shadow as they approached, gun raised, so Wolfwood got a good look at the Carcano-copy bolt-action rifle. A gun like that was a range weapon, useless up close with anyone who knew how to fight. The guy didn't even carry a back-up pistol. Fucking amateur.

He stopped when he reached the barrier, smile already in place. "What's with the gun, friend? The town wasn't like this last time I stopped by."

The guard looked them both over thoroughly before he answered. "We gotta be careful. Vash the Stampede's in the area."

Wolfwood watched from the corner of his eye as Vash seemed to shrink down into himself. "What?! He is? Really?" Vash peered nervously around the iles of empty desert behind them like he expected someone to rise up out of the sand. Vash the Humanoid Worm. Right. Wolfwood only just managed not to snort.

He dropped his cigarette and toed it into the dirt. "What makes you think he's here? If you believe everything that goes around, he's in five different places at once."

The man's gaze flicked between Vash and Wolfwood. The gun didn't move. "He was in Colnago yesterday morning. Sounds like a definite sighting."

Vash's voice rose high and sharp. "Then you have to let us in! You can't leave us out here with *him!*"

The guard just glared. "We don't *have* to do anything we ain't happy with."

Wolfwood sent what he hoped was his best reassuring grin towards Vash. It was getting harder to find of late. "Don't worry. I'm sure the Lord will protect us."

"Easy enough for you to say," Vash pouted unhappily, before turning back to the guard with a hopeful smile. "Do you have any more information that might be helpful? Please? It'd help if we know him if we run into him, at least."

The man rolled his eyes at them. "Yeah, I got info. He's a demon guy who throws fire or feathers or somethin' from his arm and catches bullets out the air."

Wolfwood rubbed one hand through his gritty hair, let disbelief show on his face. "That all you've got to go on?"

"Most of it. With the satellites out, we're goin' by the folks who rolled through town yesterday, waving guns around and babbling like crazies." He looked back at Vash again. "Though you might wanna change your threads. They was all agreed he wears a red jacket."

Wolfwood had never figured out how Vash got his eyes to go that big and round, but that was just one thing on one hell of a long list. "He does?" Vash grabbed at Wolfwood's sleeve. "Maybe we *should* get away from here. If we go into town, they might start shooting at me!"

The guard snorted. "Nah, I kinda doubt that, pal." He gave Wolfwood another long look over. "You some kind of minister, huh?"

Wolfwood kept his smile and tone open, friendly. "Some kind, yeah."

There, finally – the muzzle of the rifle lowered, just enough. A win this time, then. "If Vash shows up, we could probably use one. Guess you two can come in." He swung the gun down, one-handed, and tugged aside an up-ended table to leave a gap.

Vash gave a shaky kind of smile. "You are *sure* they won't shoot me, right?"

The guy actually laughed that time. "I reckon you should be safe enough."

Vash's smile got bigger, brighter, the one that got to even Wolfwood, and he knew it for what it was. "Thank you! Thank you! It's great of you to let us in!" For an instant Wolfwood almost thought Vash was gonna hug the guy, but he settled for grabbing the hand that wasn't holding the rifle and shaking it enthusiastically.

"Yeah, sure." The guard tugged his hand back out of Vash's grip, and pointed over his shoulder. "There's a couple hotels along the main street if you need a place to stay."

"Thanks," Wolfwood said, "I know the town."

"That's right, you've been here before. How long you plan on staying anyway?"

"We were thinking just a day or two," Vash said. "But maybe we should stay till we're sure Vash has gone." He gave Wolfwood his most imploring look, and the guard laughed.

"Maybe you should. I might see you around, town this size."

"Yeah. We'll get on to the hotel anyway," Wolfwood said. He didn't have to fake the weariness. "I want out of the suns."

And they were walking, they were through, the scrape of wood on dirt behind them as the man pushed the table back into the barrier. Wolfwood listened for the footsteps as the guard headed back for the shade of the building - relaxed pace, light steps that told of no obvious tension in the leg muscles. No double-cross this time, no trap with the gun at his back, not unless the man was really good, and he wasn't, the rifle told him that, and Wolfwood could let the edge seep from his muscles, ease back to the normal level of alertness.

Almost.

He flicked his eyes over Vash beside him, his skin normal from what he could see of it. No tension in Vash now either, just the give-away slouch and empty expression of a guy who was tired, the guileless idiot from the gate gone again already.

He dropped into that personality as effortlessly as he always had, but it just didn't hold any more. It was like Vash's soul had been greased, and anything he tried to patch on the surface just slid right off again. Like he couldn't keep making the effort to get it to stick.

The street was pretty quiet, even for the noon heat. Talk of Vash tended to keep a lot of folk indoors, and that was fine by Wolfwood. The fewer people got a good look at Vash right now the better, just in case any of those trouble-making bastards from Colnago gave a better description than the one passed along to the guy at the blockade.

The first hotel was only a couple of hundred yarz along the street and looked tatty enough to be cheap. Wolfwood headed through the doors into the bar and bought cigarettes while Vash dealt with the room. He came back to find Vash waiting by the stairs with a key.

They had a place to hole up and rest for now, at least. Maybe for a couple of days. No more than that before they had to pick up and head after Knives.

The stairs were narrow with no windows, and badly lit. Not his favourite kind of place to risk being trapped, but better than outside. The fake wood creaked like hell underfoot, though, so nobody was gonna be sneaking up on them too easy.

He followed Vash up two flights, watching the shadows move over the coat as they passed each dully glowing bulb. Times like this he resented the damn thing more than usual, because without it Vash's ass would look just fine, leathers stretched tight as he climbed.

Sex with Vash was good and he'd missed it the last week, with the girls around and Vash still kind of oddly distant since the big blow-out with the remaining Guns. He wanted it.

Vash led him to one of the identical doors, unlocked it, waited to follow him in. So many years on this godawful planet with a shitty existence, and sometimes still those flashes of ingrained behaviour showed in him; manners like those people on the ship had, like Aunt Melanie had tried to get into him as a kid.

The room was as hot and airless as the desert outside. Wolfwood took in the two beds with vague annoyance. He knew the economics of these cheap dives – if they didn't stay close to full, they went under, and that meant you took whatever room was free. It still grated on him to pay for a bed they weren't gonna use.

He slid the Punisher to the ground, stretching out his shoulders and shrugging off his jacket in relief. He lost the holster and the pistols too – damn thing rubbed across his ribs where his shirt stuck to him, wrinkled and damp, and he sure as hell wasn't gonna be leaving this room for a while. Wasn't gonna be doing anything till sunset when it cooled.

His eyes went to Vash, naturally drawn to his movement in the room. Okay, maybe he could think of something worth doing.

Vash sagged back onto the nearest bed with a soft sigh, the frame creaking as his weight settled. He reached up to take off his glasses; a bead of sweat trickled down the side of his nose from where it had rested behind the frame.

Wolfwood opened the water flask, took several deep swallows, warm and unsatisfying. God, he could do with a real drink, but no way was he gonna put that jacket back on to hit the bar. He held the flask out to Vash. "Here."

"Thanks." Vash took the flask with a brush of fingers and a brief flare of warmth in his eyes before they sank back into distant, distracted. He put the neck to his mouth, tilted his head to drain the last of the liquid, throat extended above that high collar and working slow and smooth. Pale skin stretched tight and inviting beneath the layer of stubble that glowed down one side of his face, caught in the shaft of sunlight angling in from the window.

Even like this, suns-blasted and desert-worn, he still managed to look so damn good.

Vash recapped the flask, peeled off his gloves. "I need to clean up."

"Good idea," Wolfwood grinned. "I'll help."

He stepped forward, leaning and reaching for Vash, for his mouth. Froze when Vash's hand met his chest forcefully, voice harsh and totally uncompromising. "Don't!"

High, muted laughter of kids in the street outside, and a long stretching moment before Vash spoke again, calmer.

"I can't control it."

He knew that. They both knew that.

But now Vash was saying it. Sitting there with his face utterly blank, and his arm still at Wolfwood's chest. The left arm, the one that didn't change so much, that couldn't hurt any more than any other 7.62 auto.

Vash didn't look away until Wolfwood backed off, to slouch against the wall and just watch. The relief of distance obvious in the fall of Vash's shoulders, the curve of his spine, the slow blink that ended in eyes shifting to the door.

That was the bitterest thing of all.

He was in this right through till Knives was dead. In this with Vash now, all his choices made and alternatives kicked aside, bullet-riddled. If any of it had ever been a choice, because mostly it hadn't felt like one.

It was a fucking lousy time for Vash to decide he couldn't deal with Wolfwood.

It wasn't about the sex, though that was one hell of a good thing to have. It was about the way things worked between them, the trade-offs that let them fight together and trust the other, and Vash was screwing with it.

He made his own damn choices and took his own damn risks. Vash didn't get to over-ride that when the stakes were upped.

The Punisher stood against the wall alongside him. Vash sat on the bed a few feet away, elbows resting on his thighs, silent sprawl of limbs and coat.

It might not be the greatest idea he ever had, but it was the only one he had right now.

He wanted Vash. He wanted *Vash*. The man, the friend, the crazy crusader, and whatever the hell it was inside him that gave them the chance to win this.

He didn't know if he was about to fix things or make them worse.

He never did.

Wolfwood opened a small panel in the Punisher, drew out the handcuffs and threw them onto the bed.

~o0X0o~

Vash looked at the handcuffs glinting harshly in the sunlight beside him, then over at Wolfwood.

"Will those help?" Wolfwood asked.

Vash almost felt like laughing as he turned back to stare at his hands, resting between his knees. Almost. "They can't hold me." He couldn't just break them, he could *vaporise* them.

"I know that." Wolfwood's voice so casual, and Vash looked up again, curious. "But you'd have to change a whole lot to get free, and they'd buy time. That's what you're worried about, right?"

Wolfwood was talking about this like it was normal, and there was something so obviously wrong about that. Talking about what he was with no fear, knowing everything and still wanting to touch him.

Sometimes he wondered just how weird Wolfwood's life had been.

"Why do you have those anyway?" he asked.

Wolfwood paused, unlit match in his hand, cigarette at his mouth. "I didn't get them for this, if that's what you're asking. Thought they might come in handy for some of those people you don't want me to shoot."

And it was all out in the open right there, wasn't it? Wolfwood knew what he was, he knew what Wolfwood was, and it didn't stop either of them wanting.

Maybe they were both completely fucked up.

Vash was obviously fucked up, because he was actually considering it. Reaching out to touch the shining metal of the links, and wondering if they could make enough of a difference.

The match hissed; the stench of burning flared at his nostrils a moment later.

The cuffs were the real deal, not party pieces. Plated carbon steel, double locks, just three iches of chain with thick, apparently seamless links. Ratchet teeth smooth but unworn, part of the main body of the cuff, not welded. He knew the design. As himself, he could get out of them, but it took time and the right opportunity.

With that inner potential – with a lot, it could be fast. But he could fight that.

He could. He'd done it.

The cuffs on their own weren't enough. They'd need....

He turned his head, a sharp click in his neck, the shift of something held taut too long. Ran his eyes over the headboard – standard Plant-produced synthetic with two steel supports anchoring it to the bed-frame. He stretched his hand to the nearest one, slid his fingers down the metal. The bolts were seated solid, no hint of rust on his fingertips when he drew them away.

The handcuffs lay across his lap, resting chill against his other hand. Wolfwood stood by the cross-gun, head tipped back against the wall as he drew in smoke, the cigarette glowing brighter between his lips. His mouth was still wet from the water he'd been drinking, sweat-damp shirt spread against his chest, cloth tight at his crotch.

"Okay."

Wolfwood stayed right where he was, an arm's length away, only his eyes moving to meet Vash. "How do you want to do this?"

"I..." He hadn't thought that far ahead, hadn't thought of it as anything beyond sex. But when he considered it, there were practical issues. For starters, once he was tied, they wouldn't be able to get most of his clothes off. "I guess I should strip first." He'd done half-dressed sex too often. It was hell on the clothes, and he didn't have many.

"Want me to help?" Wolfwood stood watching him carefully, not approaching, and that was just too weird. Normally sex just was, it happened fast and easy and without discussion, and suddenly this time, with one minor addition that hadn't even happened yet, there was wariness from Wolfwood.

"You damn well better," he grinned, reaching across to grab Wolfwood's sleeve and tugging hard.

Wolfwood dropped his cigarette, treading it into the floor as he stepped forward.

"Careful, I've no money for a new shirt," Wolfwood muttered, but he was there and leaning down into Vash, and then there was the heat and slide of Wolfwood's mouth over his own. He liked that, always wanted it, the pressure and the joyful slickness of it as his teeth parted, but it was different this time, better, because he'd told himself he wouldn't have this again. Told himself he wouldn't be stroking his hand up under Wolfwood's shirt to rub across his skin, wouldn't be tugging at his belt to touch him.

Wolfwood's hands were low on his body, opening the coat. "I thought we were undressing you." His tone was amused, and somewhere underneath, that low, breathy quality it got when he was up close with Vash. And he was close now, stubble scraping lightly over stubble at Vash's cheek, and it was all so good because Wolfwood was good, and close was good, the contact and the physicality, the warmth of breath against his lips.

"I like to plan ahead," Vash muttered, but he shifted his attention to his own clothing, working on the clasps below his collar. Head tipped up into Wolfwood's mouth, hands touching by his chest, his position was like some bizarre parody of prayer. In a way, it was prayer – praying for this to work, praying that he could still have Wolfwood in spite of the uncontrolled power that had been triggered in his body. The coat and its fastenings smooth beneath his fingers, Wolfwood's tongue soft against his, quick slide along his teeth and sudden deep push that hit his gut almost like a burn. Salt sweat and cigarettes tasted from his lips, the touch of hands on his skin as Vash squirmed out of his coat and Wolfwood immediately sought the gaps in his leathers, and god, how could he ever give this up?

It was always like this with Wolfwood, every time – the want, the craving between them so fast, lust feeding from even a single contact, a slow sexual look. The stir of his cock swelling and hardening, the need to touch and hold and *take* rising with it, and this, this was what he feared, because if he couldn't hold back that thing inside while he was sane and sober, what the hell was going to happen when his body was screaming for power, power to *own*?

*Back off, back off.*

He took his mouth from Wolfwood's, drew away just enough. "Give me a minute, okay?"

"Tongari?" Wolfwood's eyes searching his, his hands still on his body but holding motionless, steadying, not arousing.

"It's fine. I've got it." His fingers were tight on Wolfwood's hips through the cloth. "I'll feel better about it when the cuffs are on." He took his hands from what he wanted, bent his head to remove his boots.

"Okay." Wolfwood's voice was level, balanced, his touch there at the fastenings to the bodysuit, his fingers efficient, the contact light and asexual. As asexual as it could be when it was Wolfwood, and Vash was hard for him, hearing his breathing loud in the room. Vash with heightened awareness, surrounded by the smell of smoke and sweat that was all sex as they deliberately stripped him naked.

He lay back on the bed below the pillows, stretching himself diagonally across the full expanse of it, cloth cool against his skin after the heat of the air.

The mattress gave and shifted beneath him as Wolfwood knelt on the bed alongside, taking the handcuffs in one hand. His other hand went to Vash's wrist, raising it above his head to rest on the pillow near the support.

"Hope you've got the keys," Vash said lightly.

"Hope you're not nickel allergic." Wolfwood closed the first cuff around his wrist, cold against his skin, the rasp of the teeth loud in the silence. Wolfwood's fingers slid the ring down to his hand, probing softly around it, a single click as he tightened the ratchet further.

"Okay?" Wolfwood's eyes dark and intent on his own.

He wriggled his arm around inside the metal loop, feeling it catch on the bones of his hand. Squeezed his fingers together, pulling, testing. Wolfwood had left the cuff fairly loose, closing it just enough to hold him. "It's good."

That calloused touch back at his wrist again, faint metallic snick as Wolfwood worked the push-pin of the double-lock so the cuff couldn't tighten any further. Vash raised his other arm above his head, offering it to Wolfwood alongside the first.

Scrape of metal on metal and a gentle pull of the cuff at his hand as Wolfwood worked out of sight above his head. Wolfwood leaning over him, meeting his eyes. "It's not gonna reach from here."

Vash raised his knees up, planted his soles against the bed and pushed, shifting himself higher up the mattress, the blanket slightly scratchy beneath him as he slid across the weave. "Better?" The support of the headboard chill against his fingers now, another tug at his wrist and the second cuff locked into place with metallic finality.

"That work?"

Vash pulled hard on the cuff, bracing the chain against the support, felt the slide of metal along the smooth surface of his hand. Wolfwood was watching his face, not the cuff. "It needs to be tighter." No pain sensors in the arm, no nerves to be damaged by pressure.

More touches, two more clicks, and he tested it again, twisting and tugging within the confining loop. Pressure sensors maxed out and no give. "Yeah, that'll hold."

"Okay." Wolfwood's eyes left his just long enough to work the second lock. "You comfortable enough?"

"I'm fine." His arms were bent, relaxed, not pulled tight, and a sagging mattress was still one up on lying on sand. Comfortable was a secondary consideration anyway, with Wolfwood stretched alongside him, sunlit darkness in a dishevelled white shirt. He grinned up into Wolfwood's serious stare. "I wouldn't want to stay here too long, though, so maybe you'd better get on with it."

"You only had to ask, Tongari." Wolfwood's reply was breathed soft and warm over his skin, and then he had his mouth again and the soft touch of tongues, and Wolfwood's hand moving fast and light down his ribs. Cloth slid against his leg, buttons pressed against his chest as Wolfwood rolled closer into him, mattress shifting and creaking as Wolfwood moved over him, changing and deepening the kiss. Lips meeting harder, and so much of what he wanted was right there, Wolfwood's desire for him sharp and clear in the push of his tongue, the short huff of his breath over Vash's cheek as Vash pushed back and curved his body up into him. The rest of what he wanted was Wolfwood tighter against him, Wolfwood's body taut and hard beneath his hands....

His wrists were stopped short by the chain, metallic scrape against the post.

The air was cool against his lips as Wolfwood drew back at the sound.

There was something there in Wolfwood's eyes that threw him just a little, something almost predatory in the way they stared down at him. Was it there because of the handcuffs? Was it so easy to bring out something like that in a man, just by being chained?

He thought maybe it had always been there and he hadn't really looked. Hadn't needed to look, because it hadn't mattered before. Because his own eyes had almost certainly matched it whenever he ran them over Wolfwood's bare and willing body.

But now he didn't feel like that at all.

He tugged a little at the handcuffs, metal sliding along his wrists to stop short at his hands. Slightly painful as he continued to pull, and holding him like he'd asked for.

He could get out of them. If he really needed to, he could get out. They were just symbols in the end, nothing that was actually going to hold him down, not for long. He told himself that, and he knew it was true.

Red coats. Geraniums. That was the thing about symbols. They might not be real, but they could be incredibly strong.

Wolfwood was still watching him, but whatever it had been was gone. For now. "You okay with this?"

"Yeah." He would be. "You gonna take your clothes off sometime?" He wouldn't be able to touch Wolfwood, but he damn well wanted to look.

"This was just an excuse for the full strip show, huh?"

He smiled, the brief surge of tension shattered by Wolfwood's easy, natural tone, the normality of the tease. "Hey, it worked, didn't it?"

Wolfwood's eyebrows twitched. "Not gonna happen, Tongari."

"No?" He tried his sweetest, most imploring expression, but it likely lost some of its innocent impact when he was naked and chained to the bed.

"That won't get you anywhere." Wolfwood was already up on his knees, working on buttons, the shirt drifting open across his chest. Not exactly a strip show, but not bad all the same, skin glowing golden with sweat and sunlight as the shadows fell away. He shrugged the shirt from his shoulders, Vash's eyes following the cloth as it slid over the curves of muscle down to his wrist. Wolfwood looked so good, and he needed to touch, and there was no way that it couldn't be sexual like this, when he watched and wanted, but that wasn't the way Wolfwood was doing it.

Wolfwood was on his feet now, stripping off the rest of his clothes, and it was neither a hurried, lust-driven rush for nudity and sex, nor slow, deliberate tease. He was just undressing, fingers smoothly pushing cloth past his hips and letting it drop to his ankles. Right now, his cock, hard against his stomach, spoke far more of why he was doing this than his actions. His cock and his eyes, because they were always there on Vash, every time he lifted his own gaze from Wolfwood's tightly muscled body to meet them.

Wolfwood bent to remove his socks last of all, light shafting down the length of his spine. Vash followed its path from the curve of his ass, upward over the ridges of bone to the dark hair straggling at the nape of his neck, drawn on along the beam to the window and the suns.

The air outside shimmered with heat, the sky somehow unreal. Like looking in through the dense, treated glass of a Plant bulb.

Or more like looking out.

His eyes were pulled back into the room by movement, by Wolfwood straightening, utterly naked and undeniably sexual. Springs gave, creaking, as he lowered himself alongside Vash, and there again, finally, was that open, intent desire, the look he was used to from Wolfwood when they were together and the sex was coming, instead of the careful reining back.

Lust. Inevitable sharp flare and burn of it between them, and so good, the press of lips, tongues, teeth, skin. Everything honed down to Wolfwood and the places their bodies met, touch and heat and the need for more of it. Wolfwood giving him more as he moved to stretch over him, the feel of cock against cock and their legs sliding together with trapped sweat. Wolfwood running his hand the length of Vash's arm, stroking lightly along the sensitive underside to his wrist and over the metal to his hand, twining their fingers together and gripping tight, kissing him all the while deep and hot and hungry, pushing down into him with his body and...

He was being held down, that's how it felt, that's how it *was*, and he didn't want it. Didn't want it, not like this, constricted, confining like glass, with the air pressing cold and clammy against his exposed skin and the breath tightening in his throat and....

Wolfwood drew back onto his knees, fingers untangled from his, only the light contact now of legs alongside his thighs. "This is a bad idea."

Wolfwood wasn't looking at him, staring above his head at his hands. His expression was carefully neutral.

The support of the headboard pressed hard against Vash's palm, curled tight within the grip of his gun-hand. Wolfwood's gaze slid across the room to the cross-gun.

Vash inhaled, long, slow, measured. Steadying.

It was ridiculous, because Wolfwood *had* pinned him down a couple of times and he'd liked it, enjoyed the game, the struggle that led up to it and the tight, fast way it ended.

It was different, though, when the knowledge was there that he allowed it, he could get away whenever he wanted. This time – this time he could still get away, Wolfwood couldn't stop him, *nobody could, nobody at all,* but he'd have to hurt Wolfwood to do it. And that wasn't the same thing at all.

The mattress tilted beneath him as Wolfwood's weight shifted away.

*Keys.*

He didn't even have to think. "Wait."

Wolfwood stopped instantly, met his eyes, every muscle perfectly defined tension. Absolutely still except for the rise and fall of his chest, the stretch of his skin tight across his ribs with each breath.

Vash uncoiled his fingers, relaxed his shoulders into the mattress, felt the pull at his wrists subside.

It wasn't a bad idea. Wolfwood was the only thing he had right now he was sure of.

This wasn't about the cuffs. This was about his body and Wolfwood's body, and the driving pleasure they took from one another, the shuddering joy of being with him. He was hard, still, despite the flash of disquiet, and so was Wolfwood, and he *wanted*, god, wanted everything from this man, and the details of how he took it didn't matter.

He wanted sex, and Wolfwood, and he was going to have both. Now.

He could almost have smiled, except Wolfwood was taut, immobile above him. "It's okay. I want to do this."

Wolfwood made no move to touch him, still watching. "It stops any time you say."

He had to smile then. "I know that."

The push of Wolfwood's legs and the slight brush of hair as his weight settled over his hips again, and it was all okay, he had him back, and this was going to work. He was going to make damn sure it worked, because he wasn't prepared to lose this, the touch of Wolfwood's skin on his. Sure as hell wasn't going to lose it because of some inbuilt fear-scar in his head.

He grinned up at Wolfwood. "Hey, c'mere." And then Wolfwood was with him again, right on board with the contact, with his hands and lips on Vash, so wonderfully good. Everything a little slower this time, though, not so urgent; less demanding press of tongue in Vash's mouth, less grip of fingers on his flesh. Still wanting, obviously and unquestionably, contact along the length of their bodies and Wolfwood's cock shifting deliberately against his hip as they kissed, but more controlled.

Slower could be good. Most often after a dry spell it was fast and hard the first time, yeah, both of them wanting it like that. But their sex had moods, and it could build sometimes too, drawn out with the tease, the challenge of making the other want more, of holding off the lust until someone caved. The things Wolfwood did to him now, the not-so-casual sprawl of Wolfwood's legs over his and the play of breath warm across his chest, those things made him want to give it back. The provocative slide of his hand down close to his groin, close but never quite, that made him want to grab hold of Wolfwood and –

Metallic rasp, cuffs cold and hard against him, holding him, binding him. "Shit!"

Swirl of air, hot even over the sweat on his skin, and Wolfwood gone from his body so fast. *Damn, not again!* Creak from the floor and shift of the mattress as Wolfwood slid away, and he wanted to reach out, grab him, keep him, and he couldn't because of the *fucking cuffs* and... "Stop!"

And Wolfwood did. Stood frozen with sunlight slanting across his back, muscles defined by skin and slight shadow. Vash had known he would stop, never doubted that his words were as good as his hands, because Wolfwood always did, always answered to Vash's voice.

Okay, so that was a lie. Most of the time, Wolfwood would bitch and argue and make every last decision descend into an hour-long drama of yelling and sulking.

But that was most of the time. Not when it mattered. When it actually *mattered*, Wolfwood would follow Vash's cues without thought, without question. And he always knew when those times were.

That was why everything worked, why they could do this, why the sex was both important and not, could be so very good and not change anything.

Except it was changing things now, with both of them tensing and jumping like cats at gunfire.

Wolfwood jumped a little faster and a little further each time.

"Wolfwood, get back over here." He kept his voice deliberately light, teasing note of exasperation. Couldn't think now how unnatural it was to have Wolfwood misreading, misunderstanding.

Wolfwood turned, a slight shake of his head. "Don't. It's not worth it."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Vash heard the rising whine in his voice, thankful it was second nature, because anything that looked like uncertainty now would kill this. "I forgot the damn things were there, that's all!"

Wolfwood's hair shadowed his eyes, everything unreadable except the tension.

"Dammit, Wolfwood, if you don't get your ass back here and get me off, I swear the second you untie me I'm gonna jack off right in your face!"

Slight change in Wolfwood's posture, a shift in the pattern of sunlight on his neck and torso. "You'd never even get close."

Vash narrowed his eyes and grinned. "Do it and you'll find out the hard way."

He wondered for a second if he might have overplayed it, because it would be just too much like Wolfwood to forget the sex and run with the challenge. But then Wolfwood was moving, heading towards him, dropping down into his old position kneeling over him with complete disregard for the shaking, creaking bed. He looked down at Vash with slanting eyes. "I'll prove you wrong on that one another time." He trailed a single finger up the underside of Vash's cock, teasing.

Vash shivered, his cock twitching upwards automatically, which made Wolfwood look way too pleased and do it again. Wolfwood's other hand slid along his thigh, fingers curling and stroking up beneath his balls.

Vash felt the muscles in his shoulders tighten.

He had to get a grip.

He'd thought of it just as sex, hadn't considered it would be so different. Hadn't known it would be so damn *frustrating*. He wanted to touch, to stroke, to steer the reactions of Wolfwood's body, and have him need more. He wanted to....

He wanted to roll them both over and *fuck* Wolfwood, push him past control and arrogance and lecherous grins and have him shudder beneath him.

He always wanted that, even when he craved Wolfwood inside him. When Wolfwood moved over him with sweat-slick body and driving hips and he lifted himself higher into it, it was still there, the desire to twist it around and give Wolfwood payback. Easy to hold it in check when he knew that he could, to decide that he'd get him later and enjoy it more for the waiting. Harder to swallow back the desire when the choice wasn't there, the old perverse urge to have *more* that which was denied.

He had to hold it, couldn't fight the cuffs. The next time Wolfwood jumped, he might not get him back.

He let his eyes drift shut.

Okay, relaxing. Trying to distance himself from the effects of Wolfwood's hands baiting his body. Breathing slow, in through the nose, out through the mouth. Like meditating. Only he'd never actually been much good at that, dammit.

He concentrated on his muscles, working along from his wrist, deliberately feeling for the tension on each joint and unlocking it. Loosening the constriction in his shoulders and neck, focussing on the increasing pressure of the mattress as his body stopped straining upwards. His head tilting backwards, his spine easing out and down....

He almost jumped at the new touch of a hand on his arm, his eyes flicking open to find Wolfwood leaning close. Rough, calloused fingertips, and their path over his skin so incredibly light. Wolfwood's warmth on his neck, first his breath then his lips, gentle, slow, not pushing. And yeah, that helped too, untangling him further, his muscles settling, the contact distinctly sexual but far from combative.

Wolfwood eased away from him then, reaching for the bottle by the lamp, where he'd put it when he undressed. Vash felt his body tighten again automatically as the bed shifted, only some of it the natural adjustment to an unsteady surface.

Wolfwood sat back to a kneeling position as he flicked open the cap and dripped lube onto his fingers, rubbing them together, coating them thoroughly, watching Vash all the while with that oh-so-careful expression. Vash staring back, immobile, tense with wanting, tense with....

Wolfwood reached down, his hand glistening in the sunlight, down to his own groin and then further, and pushed fingers deep inside himself. The barest shiver ran through the muscles of his calves where they rested against Vash's thighs.

Wolfwood wasn't going to fuck him.

Vash released the air in his lungs, long and slow, drew in more; the air flowed smooth in his throat, and warm through his chest.

Wolfwood *wouldn't* fuck him, because he was chained.

The mattress moved softly beneath him with the shifting of Wolfwood's weight, Vash's shoulders sinking further into the waves of motion. The pillow was damp with his own sweat; he wriggled a little higher up the bed, flexed his arms further, finding new cloth cool and dry against his skin. The cuffs lay loose against his wrists. And Wolfwood knelt over him, his lips parted and his eyes locked to Vash's as he rocked his body back onto his own hand.

Wolfwood wouldn't fuck him because he was chained.

He knew Wolfwood. Could predict how he would move, how he would fight, could leave his own back exposed and never have to check because he knew that Wolfwood would see, and cover. He knew the ways Wolfwood held a cigarette; taking it from the packet with thumb and forefinger, push of the middle finger to roll it around the index before he raised it to his lips, always just to the right of centre. He knew that rare look of Wolfwood's when he watched kids in the street and thought of *his* kids, flickering somewhere between joy and sadness and fear.

He knew so much, and still sometimes Wolfwood could surprise him.

He let his eyes drift over Wolfwood - the dark hair, sweat-damp, that hung down across his eyes, the press of ribs against his skin as he took in air, the cock that shifted against his stomach as he moved. He wondered how many times now he'd sucked on that cock, felt it press between his lips and tremble against his tongue as he swallowed, the sand crushed beneath his knees. He knew Wolfwood's body, the sheen of sunlight on skin, the touch of him in the darkness, the changing taste of him as his tongue swept from mouth to throat to cock, and knowing didn't take the edge off. Knowing only made him want more, like he wanted now, watching Wolfwood stretch himself with his own fingers because...

Wolfwood wouldn't fuck him, because he was chained.

That was the one thing that made it okay.

"You can fuck me if you want."

Wolfwood's eyes shocked fully open from half-lidded lust. "I don't want." Too fast and too much denial.

Vash smiled, knowing, teasing. "Like hell you don't." *You always do.*

No need to say it, because Wolfwood's eyes hardened and he'd already got him. He'd take the challenge rather than take the conversation further and get into *why.*

But Wolfwood stayed kneeling over him, muscles in his thighs tight as they held his weight. "You want me to?"

Vash just grinned. Braced his hands around the metal support, tightened his stomach and pulled his knees up to his chest, before spreading himself wide around Wolfwood.

He wanted it. Wanted it because it always felt so damn good. Wanted it because Wolfwood had to know that it was okay, that *this* was okay.

He widened his eyes, mock-innocent. "What do you think?"

Wolfwood didn't say what he thought, just reached for the lube again. Squeezed out more over both hands, his right hand going to coat his own cock, the fingers of the left pressing down behind Vash's balls, cold and slick. Welcome. Vash curled his spine to make it better, Wolfwood's fingers slipping deep, his body used to this, opening and relaxing easily at the touch.

Yeah, he wanted this. Wanted it just as much as he ever wanted to fuck Wolfwood, the way Wolfwood's fingers slid and angled inside him to make him shiver and need, falling fast into the glow of sex and the demands of his body. Right now it could only get better if Wolfwood sucked him too, like he often did, but he wasn't expecting that. Wolfwood was too intent on watching him, his reactions, eyes dark on his face the whole time. So Vash gave him his reactions, untempered, let himself push and wriggle and pant as Wolfwood's fingers moved within him, so incredibly good.

And something else moved too, something part of him, but not. Something hot and coiled and waiting.

It stirred and stilled, stirred again, very much there but not yet feeling threatening. He mentally separated off a piece of himself to monitor it, to watch it the way Wolfwood watched him, careful steadying of breathing and muscles once again. Let the rest of his mind flow with the feel of Wolfwood and the spiralling impulses that fired along his nerves, and just why the hell wasn't Wolfwood fucking him already, dammit?

His eyes came open (when had they closed?) and maybe Wolfwood read something there because then the fingers were gone and his cock was there as Wolfwood pushed his legs higher, cock pressing deeper than fingers could ever get. Deeper and better, resting within him as Wolfwood's hips met his ass, Wolfwood's eyes on his still so intent, so serious.

And then the gaze was broken as Wolfwood's head bent, his mouth going to Vash's chest, his tongue licking at him gently, leaving cool, delightful dampness instead of heated air and sweat. Wolfwood's thumb rubbing lightly over the skin at his ribs, a circling caress not explicitly sexual, more about the touch. Fingers creeping round his cock, soft adjustment before they gripped tighter and then stroked him, slow and smooth. The shift of Wolfwood's hips at last, equally slow, waves of movement and sensation from the cock inside him, no great depth, just sureness and symmetry.

Sex between them was laughing tease and driving lust, and this was different, so very different from either. Different, and still good.

There was no contact with his prostate from this angle, but he didn't need it. The slow, steady glide of Wolfwood inside him was good without it, Wolfwood's hand on his cock giving him the physical pleasure, Wolfwood's lips moving over his collarbone, speaking words against his flesh, barely audible, "Tongari, Tongari,", that vibration and sound giving him something else entirely.

He couldn't recall ever wanting quite so badly to touch, to hold. Yet his arms stayed motionless, resting deep in the pillow, the cuffs loose against his wrists. He wanted, but at the same time it wasn't urgent, with Wolfwood already pressed up against so much of his skin, their bodies sliding together with sweat with each push of Wolfwood's cock into him.

The energy was there inside him too, shifting and building as he'd known it would, and he was so, so aware of it. But it expanded outwards without direction, lazy and diffuse, like his urge to come, something general and later instead of sharp, focussed, now. It was there, but part of him, not pushing him, and he could simply lie here and feel it. Feel how his body moved naturally with Wolfwood's, feel the heat of his mouth on his skin and his hand on his cock. Feel those other heats curled inside him, one all about the sex and the sensations, the tightness in his groin, the other about who and what he was, and letting that part of himself flow without fearing it was shatteringly good. Almost as good as Wolfwood's voice, low and constant, and Wolfwood's fingers feeding him the perfect pace and rhythm, picking up just when he needed it, pushing harder when he did, everything outside and inside coiling into one moment of perfect alignment as his body took what it needed and shuddered into physical release, while his mind pulsed with sheer joy in himself, in the shifting glow that flooded through his entire existence. No fighting, no controlling, just *being* for one glorious second that dragged the air from him in a short, choked cry and left him shivering and empty as it ebbed, the energy inside him curling down into nothingness.

Only not empty, not even close, because he had Wolfwood, right here, and he'd done it; he got to keep this, got to keep Wolfwood. Keep Wolfwood how he wanted him, like he was now, with wet lips and desiring eyes and a hand that stroked slow along his ribs.

This was so good, and it was *his*. He rocked his body up into Wolfwood's as Wolfwood moved inside him again, wanting to feel him when he couldn't reach for him. Wolfwood driving harder now, fingers gripping him tighter, Wolfwood needing him as much as he needed to have it, and it was beautiful to watch him, see his breathing change and his body tense, feel the tremors that shook through him as Wolfwood found his own release from Vash.

He loved that he could do this, let Wolfwood have something good, something they both needed.

Wolfwood's head dropped forwards, down to rest against his chest as his cock eased out of him, his hair rough from the desert and sweat-damp. Vash wanted to touch it. Just a moment of it, the rightness and the mild frustration tangled tight, and then that head was lifted again, Wolfwood's eyes on his, the words quiet. "Shit. Tongari...."

And then he was up and gone, across the room, fast as he ever was in a fight, and back with the keys. He rested his hip on the edge of the bed as he moved to release him, the fingers at Vash's wrist still damp with lube or come and fumbling slightly with the metal. A snick and a harsh rasp, and one arm was freed, but he didn't move until Wolfwood had unchained him completely.

He sat upright, circled his shoulders and shook out his wrist, loosening muscles and joints that had been restricted, the mattress trembling beneath him with his movement. He wiped himself off quickly with the tissue Wolfwood passed him, threw it casually into the waste bin in the corner of the room.

Wolfwood remained on the edge of the bed, cuffs in his hand, chain trailing across one knee.

Vash leaned forward until his forehead rested against that hair he'd been wanting to touch, coarse and dry against his skin. Breathed slow and deep the smell of the man, the desert and sweat and smoke that clung to Wolfwood mingled with the scent of sex rich in the air.

He hadn't felt this steady in weeks.

He stroked his hands over Wolfwood's hips and along his thighs, damp skin and slightly curling hair beneath his fingers.

Wolfwood's head was slightly bowed as he stared down into his lap, words spoken low, almost regret. "I couldn't have done it."

He knew. Wolfwood had been so wary, so uncharacteristically reluctant in the *doing*; the man would never have tolerated it being done to him.

Vash wondered if he could have done it with anyone else. For anyone who wasn't Wolfwood.

Maybe with a woman. Maybe. Someone like Meryl, who he trusted, who had the practical, direct attitude he liked. Maybe.

Except Meryl was scared of him, wouldn't touch him now, even if she might have once.

Comparing Meryl and Wolfwood was just.... There were things he wanted from Wolfwood that Meryl would thankfully never have, an intensity that sprang from aggression and violence. Things that nobody should have, and Vash needed Wolfwood to have, because otherwise he couldn't let him stay.

He tightened his fingers on Wolfwood's thighs. "It's different with you."

Wolfwood turned towards him, eyes searching and apparently finding. "Okay." Vash leaned in and kissed him then, the angle awkward but it didn't matter because he had Wolfwood's lips and tongue, warm and offering. Because he could let himself have this now, just this, the exploring and the soft reassurance of it. Could trail his fingers over Wolfwood's chest, feel his body move as he breathed. Could touch what he wanted while it wasn't enough about lust to feed the potential stored within him.

Wolfwood shifted round on the bed, making it better, hands tracing his own flesh in return. Everything light and slow except the gradual deepening of the kiss, a little more pressure, a little more push, the first hint of teeth before Wolfwood eased back. "We were going to take a shower," Wolfwood reminded him.

"Yeah." Vash sat back further, met his eyes. "You go first."

Wolfwood stared at him hard, metallic rattle of chain as his fingers tightened round the cuffs, lifting them from the bed. "I don't need these, Tongari."

He knew. And it felt so good, so vital that Wolfwood trusted him, but he still didn't know if he could trust himself.

It had been different this time. Maybe it was the cuffs, the curled apprehension at confinement; maybe it was just the way the sex had been, the way Wolfwood had been. Something had damped the driving, frantic way it was often was, and with it the power inside him, a slow pulse and glow instead of the flaring need to take and possess.

It had been easy, not fighting for control.

"I need them." Wolfwood's look sharpened at the words. "Just till I'm sure. I... it's getting better." He'd reeled it back faster today, outside the town, knew more now of how it fed off him, and how it felt to have it there, but not dangerous. He could work with that, focus with it, figure out how to use that energy maybe....

Wolfwood turned away, his face tight, closed.

Vash followed his movement, dropped his head forward onto Wolfwood's shoulder. "Sorry." His lips moved against Wolfwood's skin. "We can leave it if you want, but I can't...."

Chink of metal as the cuffs were dropped, and Wolfwood's hands settled on his hips. "Ah, shit, Tongari," he muttered, his tone so much softer than the words.

The kiss was firmer this time, that much more demanding. Wolfwood's tongue pushed between his lips, and Vash opened instantly to accept it, leaning a little more of his weight into Wolfwood to counteract the pressure on his own body. Good, yeah, so good; better if he shifted closer, angled it more so he could go deeper, make it his, his hands on Wolfwood, holding him *right there*, the flash of something hot and strong inside him –

He drew his hands deliberately away, back down to his own thighs, broke it off. But only so far.

Dammit, that steady stare Wolfwood used, no pretence, all lust. It always had Vash reaching for him, pushing him down, wanting to take from him....

"Wolfwood...."

Wolfwood pulled away with a small smile. "Yeah, I get it." His gaze slid beyond Vash to the other bed, then back to meet his eyes. "I'm still sleeping with you."

That wasn't....

With the sex part controlled, it would be okay, his power fully sheathed while he slept. Sometimes - sometimes it felt good just having him there. "Yeah."

"Good." Wolfwood slid to his feet, sunlight stroking across his flesh as he moved. "I'm gonna have that shower." He scrubbed a hand through his hair, leaving it almost messier than before, grabbed a towel from by the bed and wrapped it around him. Vash watched him, the lines of him, the shadow that slid across his back as he stepped from the room. The door closed after him, slow creak and soft click.

He reached down beside the bed, retrieved the handcuffs from the floor where Wolfwood had dropped them. They glinted in his hand as he lifted them from the shade.

It would be easier next time.

He wanted to touch him and fuck him, but he'd take what he could get.

He laid them on the table along with the keys and the lube. Stretched himself out across the blankets, arms spread wide, relaxed in the heat, and waited for Wolfwood to return.