Gay Oneshots and Lemons (Male Character x Male Reader)

Wolfwood x Male Reader {Spicy Fluff}

-- This character was suggested by a friend of mine. --

Nickolas D. Wolfwood, also known as a mercenary or a traveling priest, from Trigun.

• First Person •
~ Reader's p.o.v. ~

I walked into town, looking down as I walked. It's been a while since I've been home and I'm damn tired of traveling. Without realizing it, I've become dehydrated as all hell. I realize just how much I'm stumbling, thankfully it's getting late so it's not quite so hot out. People probably think I'm drunk. I really am exhausted. Suddenly, I slammed into someone. Good job dumbass, I need to watch where I'm going.

"Hey are yo-"

I accidentally cut him off while trying to apologize, "Sorry, I- SHIT!" A fucking hunk of metal smacked me dead in the center of my face when I looked up to apologize.

"Oh I'm so sorry. I dropped my cross when you ran into me," he said with his hand on the back of his neck and a chuckle. That is not a normal cross.

I leaned over, holding my whole face in both of my hands. "Why the fuck are you carrying a cross made out of solid meta- you know what? It's not my business. Let me buy you a drink as an apology for knocking into you," I said, trying to use 'let me buy you a drink' as an excuse for him to show me where the saloon is because I've honestly forgotten. Fuck my head hurts. I wipe my face and find blood on my hand. Fuck. I'm so lightheaded. If I stand up straight I'll just fall over. I don't think I can move without passing out.

"Hey, are you okay?" I feel a hand on my back, "Yeah we can get a drink, hell you look like you need on- are you bleeding??" He said, I guess he just now noticed the small pool of blood on the ground.

Fuck I can't even speak, I can barely think, that shit hit me hard as fuck but at least my nose isn't broken. My forehead took most of the hit.

"Fuck," is all I can manage to say, I take one of my hands off of my face and show it to him, palm up with blood all over it.

"Oh shit," is all he says for a minute, then I feel a cloth being pressed onto my face. (It's chloroform, go to sleeeeep.) "This might help stop the bleeding," he says as he holds my nose with his handkerchief, "breathe through your mouth."

I did as he said, wheezing as I tried to keep from hyperventilating. I feel so lightheaded and start to fall, but he drops his cross on the ground and wraps his arm around me, stabilizing me. I'm still doubled over, bleeding all over his handkerchief. Turns out blood is coming from my busted eyebrow too. (Having a busted eyebrow sucks ass. Don't ask why I know that. [Someone high-speed collision course kissed my eyebrow.])

"Sorrryyy," I manage to say, sluring and dragging out the word unintentionally.

"No, no it's okay. I really need to keep a better hold on my cross. Sit down," he says, guiding me to sit down on top of his cross that now lays flat on the ground.

I do as he says, sitting down on top of the cross. I lean over, getting blood all over my pants to avoid getting it on the cloth covering his cross. Finally my nose stops bleeding and I lean back some, pulling my shirt up over my face and pressing it to my eyebrow. I did this both to block out the lights to help with the splitting headache that I have and to hopefully stop the blood that is pouring from my eyebrow.

He sits down next to me on the cross, placing his hand on my back again and holding the handkerchief in his other hand, now soaked with blood. "You sure do bleed a lot," he said with a light chuckle, then he asked, "How are you even still conscious?"

"Barely," I responded, thinking he asked whether or not I was conscious rather than how.

He chuckled lightly, "You're kinda funny, y'know."