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Wolfwood will not settle. Vash chuffs and ruffles his feathers again, hoping the action will soothe his mate. They settled in for the night when the moons were still rising, and now they're directly overhead. Very little light reaches them where they’re tucked into his cave, but Vash doesn’t need them to see. He can feel Wolfwood wriggling within his feathers, tucked just beneath his upper wing. It’s like he's trying to burrow into him, which tickles, but he’s shaky and shivering.
Oh.
Vash whines sadly. His mate is cold.
Vash is always acclimated to the weather, day or night, because of his plumage. In this form temperatures don't affect him the same. Whereas wolfwood will be sweaty by noon and freezing by nightfall, Vash is always pleasantly cool or warm. It must be especially cold for Wolfwood to be this squirmy. Vash hums, thinking of what he could possibly do to help. They're sheltered in the deepest crevice of his cave, and Wolfwood is already burrowed in his feathers…
Oh! He knows just what to do.
Vash chirrups and gently raises his upper wing, slowly, so the influx of cold air does not chill Wolfwood further. His dark suit is easy to spot half-buried in gold feathers, his own eyes cast a faint blue glow over the area. Wolfwood looks up at him questioningly. Vash only blinks. He wishes he could talk like this, or that Wolfwood understood the song of sisters so his humming would make sense. Alas, they have little to rely on but Vash's gestures, inhuman sounds and Wolfwood's best guesses.
“Ah, am I keeping ya up, birdie?" Wolfwood nervously chuckles.
Vash points at him, then at a wing behind his ear. He ruffles it and looks back at Wolfwood. ‘You're shaking.’
Wolfwood grins sheepishly. “I probably feel like a flea on ya huh?"
Vash smiles—it tends to be more toothy and threatening in this form—and nods. He croons and shoves his face even closer to Wolfwood. His mate pets along the larger feathers just under his eyes, drawing a rumble from him.
"I'm alright Spikey, go back to sleep.”
Vash lightly growls. The issue isn't if /he/ can fall asleep or not. He can't allow his mate to shiver and shake while he's comfortably warm! Vash doesn't bother trying to explain what he's about to do. He nudges Wolfwood’s body with his nose, and pecks him lightly. It’s the only warning he’ll get.
Vash sees shock cross Wolfwood’s face as he opens his mouth, his tongue hangs out and he wraps the tip around Wolfwood’s midsection.
“Uhm…Blondie?”
Vash opens his maw further, wider and wider until Wolfwood’s upper body has disappeared into his mouth. He plucks Wolfwood from his plumage entirely and clamps his mouth shut. Wolfwood shouts, scrabbling at his tongue and grazing a hand against a tooth. Vash swallows a bit, moving Wolfwood towards the back of his tongue. Vash doesn't want him hurting himself on his sharp teeth. Wolfwood’s muffled yells echo from inside and he stomps on Vash’s tongue. Vash grunts in displeasure. ‘Rude, but fair.’
He hums and purrs as he withdraws from under his wing. Hopefully Wolfwood can hear, or feel, the pleasant sounds and realize he isn't doing this maliciously. Vash relaxes his tongue and swallows, rumbling as Wolfwood’s weight slides down his throat. He sighs and resettles, laying on his side and tucking his wings in close.
Vash feels Wolfwood writhe as he slips further, shoving up against his gullet. He swallows again and clears his throat once Wolfwood eventually slides in his belly. Warm, snug, and safe–both him and Wolfwood. The weight of his partner in his belly is oddly pleasant, even if Wolfwood is still rowdy. He shouts again and jabs Vash from inside. His muffled voice asks about what’s going on.
Vash wishes he could reply in a way his mate understands. He can only rub his belly right where Wolfwood is. He gently pokes the fluff of his tummy and receives a sharper poke in return. He kneads his belly and eventually, Wolfwood stills. Either he ran out of steam or has accepted where the night has gone. Come morning, Vash will spit him out and they'll go about business as usual. For now, he rumbles in contentment. His mate is warm now, and they can get some rest.
The following morning, Wolfwood bites the tip of Vash’s nose and noogies his face, demanding an explanation for last night. Vash laughs, which in this form is an airy trill, at the flustered look on Wolfwood’s face. His hair is matted and sticks up wildly, and his suit will need a good washing. But were he truly mad, he’d have left to sulk (which he always denies doing) and chainsmoke for a while. Vash playfully whines and goes lax under Wolfwood’s attack. He gazes up at his mate, cooing at the dark blush dusting his cheeks, only to chirp in shock as Wolfwood noogies him harder.