Azwel can be the one on his back for a while--he likes it there well enough, anyway, and just the thought of bearing down on another person makes him fuzzy-minded and almost afraid of losing himself in a very unpleasant way. So much better to let someone else guide them, to follow their flow, instead. He smiles and slips his hand into Vash's trousers once they're out of the way enough, seeking that heated flesh. Those kisses have him tilting his head back, his breath coming harder, now, skin flushing with pleasure.

His own clothing, with all those buttons, is nevertheless easy to unfasten, to expose his hectic skin. He gives a shaky, breathless moan when Vash's hands reach the band of his trousers and his hips press upward. "Oh, yes," he breathes, "please... yes.... Mmmmmmhhh...." He's gone glassy-eyed with need. He's as responsive as ever, flushed and hot and damp, arching under the other's hands.