Work Text:
“Vash.”
“Knives?” Vash asks, his voice laced with sleep, disturbed from the process of dozing off. He blinks up at his brother who stands above him, illuminated by the light of the moons. “What do you want?”
“I’m cold, let me get in with you.”
“No way!” Vash is suddenly wide awake, taking hold of his sleeping bag and pulling it closer to his body so there’s no opening. “You have your own.”
“We’d be warmer if we were together.”
It’s true that Vash has been following Knives around like a lost puppy despite all that’s occurred, unsure of where else he could go, but they haven’t been that close in such a long time. Vash hasn’t wanted to be that close to Knives after he took Rem away from him. The very thought makes Vash a little anxious.
“You’ll be fine, just wear extra clothes or something,” Vash says, ignoring the fact that he had also been shivering, goosebumps covering his arms. But if Vash can ignore it—ignore the aching feeling of sleeping alone, too stubborn to give into the urge for now—why can’t Knives?
“Stop being annoying. I’m sure you’re cold too,” Knives says, nudging his sleeping bag with his foot.
He lies. “No, I’m not.”
Knives rolls his eyes before bending over to forcefully grab the fabric out of Vash’s hands. Before Vash can grab it back, Knives is already slithering himself inside, stretching out the already snug sleeping bag.
“Ugh, I don’t want to be near you. What’s so hard to understand?” Vash grumbles, turning over to face the other way yet not bothering to get out, either.
He’s too tired to exert the effort.
“Aw, don’t be like that, Vash. All we have is each other, remember?” Knives’ breath is hot on the back of his neck, and he can’t help how he shudders, a new warmth presenting itself. Knives was right about them being warmer together, and Vash finds that he doesn’t hate it. Of course, he doesn’t hate it. They’ve slept like this their whole lives.
He doesn’t even shy away when Knives touches his arm. He hasn’t been this close to anyone in so long. He missed this, no matter how much he wants to pretend he didn’t.
“I missed you, you know?” Knives whispers, hand caressing the skin of Vash’s arm.
“I’m always with you.” I missed you, too.
“But you’ve been so distant,” he says, now wrapping his arm around Vash’s waist, a move so natural, so practiced.
Vash’s voice is a little strained when he says, “I wonder why.”
Knives pulls Vash flush against him, the two of them so close Vash swears he can hear his brother’s heartbeat. His own heartbeat starts speeding up, overwhelmed by the proximity. Vash doesn’t move, though. Traitorously, he leans further into Knives’ touch, seeking out the comfort and warmth of his body.
It feels wrong to enjoy it. But no matter what, Knives is his twin brother. It’s not wrong to still love him, is it?
He gasps a little when he feels lips on the nape of his neck, Knives’ warm breath fanning over his nape as he says, “I love you, Vash.”
Vash’s heart constricts in his chest, but he doesn’t say anything in response. Do you? Vash wants to ask, but he doesn’t. He knows Knives does, in his own way.
“Say it back.”
“No,” Vash says immediately without thought.
“You don’t love me?” Knives presses, the hurt evident in his voice.
And now Vash feels bad. He wants to say no, but not only would it be a lie, he’d hurt Knives even more. Either answer would result in guilt; it’s unfair. It feels as if loving Knives is a betrayal to Rem, but Rem wouldn’t want Vash’s heart to be overtaken by hatred. He doesn’t know how to feel. It’s agonizing.
When Knives’ hand slips under his shirt, rough fingers caressing the skin of his stomach, he holds his breath. The contact makes him shiver, his abdomen caving in. He grabs Knives’ wrist but doesn’t pull it away. “What are you doing?”
“You love me, Vash. I’m all you have, so let’s stop with this animosity, okay? Say you love me.”
“Don’t forget what you did—”
“For us,” Knives’ words are accentuated with another kiss to his nape, causing him to let out a choked noise of surprise. It’s starting to make Vash feel too warm. Knives continues, “Everything is for the two of us. Don’t ever forget what they did to us.”
Vash wants to cry.
“Can you turn around, Vash?”
“No.” He doesn’t think he can handle seeing his face so up close. Not right now. His face that’s so similar to his own but incredibly different at the same time.
“Please?” Knives asks, sounding sincere. Foolishly, Vash is turning around before he thinks better of it. The second his body is turned towards his brother, Knives is pulling him all the way against him again. Like this, their mouths are incredibly close and the slightest movement forward could connect them. The weird thought makes Vash blush, fighting the urge to turn back around.
Knives also has the thought, except he gives in to it, quickly pressing a kiss to Vash’s lips. By the time Vash’s head jerks backwards, he’d already pulled away. Vash looks at him incredulously, his mouth agape and his face bright red. His heart beats hard against his rib cage. I’m mad at you seems like a perfectly valid reason to be upset about the kiss. You’re my brother crosses his mind too late.
Knives wears a smug smirk, no doubt satisfied with himself. Vash grits his teeth once he’s finally over the initial shock. “What the hell?”
“Vash,” is all he says, his voice low in a way that makes an unfamiliar heat pool in his abdomen. It makes him feel ashamed. Yet despite easily being able to get up and walk away, he doesn’t. Why doesn’t he? One of Knives’ hands holds onto the small of his back under shirt, his nails tickling the skin. His other hand snakes under Vash’s head, fingers gently scratching his scalp. The fingers in his hair feel nice and he wants to lean into it just as much as he wants to pull away.
“Let’s take care of each other, okay?” Knives says. When Vash says nothing, he repeats, “Okay?”
Vash nods. Knives smiles.
“Good, so kiss me.”
“No,” Vash says, shaking his head.
“Please?”
Vash frowns, frustrated with himself. Why does that always get him? Why is he able to forget everything Knives has ever done when he looks at him like that? Like he’s the only one in this world. Vash sighs, before shyly leaning in, closing the short gap between their mouths again. Both of their lips are a little chapped and their noses bump together awkwardly, but Vash doesn’t dislike it.
He wants to dislike it, but it’s oddly comforting. It’s nice to be this close to Knives again. It’s a sort of safety and security he hasn’t felt since everything went south. Because of Knives. Yet as Knives somehow presses against Vash even harder, their kiss growing a little deeper, he forgets. It’s always just the two of them, but right now, Vash feels that even more.
Their lips separate, the wet sound a little loud within their tiny shared space. Vash’s own red face aside, Knives’ cheeks are also tinged with a little red. Vash thinks it’s cute.
“Nice, huh?” he asks. Vash only nods, afraid of what his voice will sound like if he speaks. Knives smiles, “I knew you’d like it.”
Vash scoffs. He definitely planned this, didn’t he? He grumbles a complaint about it under his breath, turning his body back around. He closes his eyes, trying to will away the unwanted warmth in his face and his abdomen. They need to sleep. He’s sure Knives will have them setting out somewhere early in the morning, anyway.
“Done already?” Knives asks, pout evident in his voice. Vash tenses again when Knives is shoving his hand under his shirt once more, palm flat against his stomach, dragging upward in a way that makes him want to curl in on himself. His touch is burning hot on his skin, making Vash forget that either of them were ever cold. This time, Vash is grabbing his wrist and successfully pulling his hand away from his skin, although it’s still under his shirt.
“Knives, I wanna sleep,” he whines. “Quit it.”
Knives finally backs off without a word, his hand leaving Vash’s shirt. Vash lets out a sigh of relief, then he hears the familiar sound of a zipper being unzipped. The desert chill hits him again once Knives throws the sleeping bag open, exposing both of them.
“What are you—” Vash starts to say, growing increasingly more annoyed with him. Leave it to Knives to bother him all night instead of sleeping. Maybe Vash should’ve been more adamant about him not joining his sleeping bag.
In one quick movement, Knives is on top of him, settling himself between his legs, holding himself up with his elbows near Vash’s head. The flush returns to his face full force now that Knives’ face is so close to his again. His full weight isn’t on top of him but it might as well be. He can feel how his chest moves as he breathes, can feel the warmth radiating off his body. He smells nothing, sees nothing, feels nothing but Knives. It's beyond overwhelming.
Knives kisses him. Vash kisses him back.
“I wanna keep kissing you,” Knives says. “We can sleep in tomorrow.”
Deep down, Vash wants to keep kissing him too, but he’s scared. He’s scared of crossing a weird boundary. He’s scared of showing affection to someone who has killed and will probably continue to kill. He’s scared of how far Knives might take this.
“Knives—”
He kisses him again.
“Knives,” Vash tries again. “This is—”
“Wrong?” Knives asks. He lowers his head down, whispering in Vash’s ear, “You think I care about what you think is wrong?” Despite himself, Vash shudders when he feels his tongue lick the shell of his ear. He squeezes his eyes shut, unable to stop his arms wrapping around Knives’ shoulders. His brother shuffles down the slightest bit, his soft hair tickling Vash’s chin as he kisses under his jaw. The action makes his body tense, but he still makes no move to push Knives away. The thought doesn’t even cross his mind.
He subconsciously tilts his head, making room for Knives to continue softly kissing his neck. He squirms under him, the kisses tickling, only to gasp when he feels the wet drag of a tongue. His soft kisses turn into open-mouthed kisses, tongue and teeth dragging across Vash’s sensitive skin, making him hold onto Knives even tighter. He’s panting now, heat coursing through his body and shamefully reaching lower, hyper aware of the boy on top of him.
He's aroused, feeling himself grow wetter and hotter with each touch of Knives’ mouth, but he’s afraid of it. It’s Knives. They can’t do this.
But he doesn’t want to lose this, either. He wants to keep this touch and this warmth. He wants to keep this safety. He wants to keep his brother. So, he lets it continue, one of his hands finding Knives’ hair, fingers carding through soft locks as each kiss, each lick, each suck has him burning up. He lets out an embarrassing noise when Knives bites him, before sucking hard on the spot, no doubt leaving a bruise on his fair skin.
“Knives,” he whines, his breathless voice lost on what else to say. He whines again in disappointment when Knives raises his head, eliciting a chuckle from his brother.
“Weren’t you just complaining a moment ago? Now look at you,” Knives teases.
“Shut up,” Vash eloquently replies, wanting to avert his gaze but finding himself unable to look away from Knives. His own face is flushed, his plump lips are slick, and his pupils are blown wide, overtaking the blue. Vash suddenly feels nothing but want. A want so strong that the rational thoughts are thrown out, replaced with nothing but his brother.
“You’re gorgeous like this, you know,” Knives says, kissing the beauty mark under Vash’s eye. The words paired with the action has Vash melting, ready to give in to whatever Knives wants to do with him. Knives continues, accentuating his words with pecks on Vash’s cheek, “So pretty. We should’ve done this sooner. I’ll take good care of you.”
“Promise?”
Knives grins at him. “Of course, I do.”
Vash smiles up at him, a genuine smile, before raising his head to kiss him again. Their mouths are open this time, meeting in a feverish kiss that’s sloppy with the eagerness and inexperience of the both of them. Yet even as their noses bump together and their teeth knock together, everything Knives does to him has his arousal growing. He feels his cunt pulse when Knives moans into his mouth, the sound playing in his head over and over again after that. He wants to hear more.
Knives moves his hips against his, pressing his bulge against his cunt, sending a sudden jolt of pleasure up Vash’s spine that has him breaking the kiss on a gasp. “Knives.”
“Yeah, just like that, Vash,” Knives says, low and breathy, “Keep saying my name like that.”
“Knives, please,” he begs, not sure what he’s asking for, just knowing that he wants it more than anything. His cunt throbs with need, probably wetter than he’s ever been, and Knives’ erection pressing into it incessantly isn’t helping in the slightest. He wriggles his own hips, trying to find that friction again for some relief, and his brother gladly helps him.
Knives presses his tongue into Vash’s mouth as he starts grinding against him in earnest, that addicting pleasure building in his groin at a steady pace. Their kiss is slower, finally reaching a rhythm that’s not a sloppy mess, their tongues sliding together languidly, making Vash shiver despite how he burns. They swallow each other’s sighs, their pleasure one under the moons’ light.
It's sinful, but Vash is incredibly drawn to it, not wanting to part ways with it yet. It’s so good. Everything about this feels so good, and Vash is worried he’ll become addicted. He briefly wonders if that was Knives’ goal. At this moment, though, he’s okay with it. He’s okay with following his brother.
Knives breaks their kiss to raise onto his knees, holding onto Vash’s hips as he presses into him harder, his legs raised on Knives’ thighs. In a position like this, Vash can easily imagine Knives’ cock sliding inside of him, carving his own space within him, and he wants it. He wants it so bad. He wants to be free of the layers between them, able to feel all of Knives.
Knives tightens his grip on Vash before rolling his hips faster with a desperate groan. Vash watches Knives as he moves, utterly enamored by the sight. He thinks watching him is more pleasurable than the ministrations themselves. He’s absolutely swooning, hot all over, as he stares up at Knives’ bright red face, pink lips parted on sweet sounding moans and an even sweeter “Vash.” Strands of his sweat-slick hair stick to his forehead and Vash can’t help but reach out, cupping his overheated face.
He's so beautiful. Vash's throat tightens when he considers voicing that out loud.
Soon enough, Knives’ movements are growing quicker and messier, enticing sounds escaping his mouth freely. Suddenly, Vash is worried it’s going to end soon. This isn’t enough for him. He needs more, he’s desperate for it. His arousal is so strong it’s suffocating. He needs proper relief.
Vash doesn’t want it to end. Not yet. Not like this.
He grabs his shoulders, trying to make him stop, but his brother is insistent. “Knives, Knives, Knives, stop,” he calls out, gripping his shoulders harder. He’s a little surprised when Knives actually does stop, although he’s glaring down at him.
“Why?” he asks petulantly, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. Vash can’t blame his irritation; even he misses the pleasure he robbed himself of, his body vibrating with desperation and anticipation.
Sheepishly, Vash averts his gaze, saying under his breath, “I wanna see.”
I want to see everything. I want to feel you directly.
Knives considers him for a second, eyes half-lidded as if he can’t comprehend him through the pleasurable haze, then he’s smirking. He starts pulling at Vash’s clothes first, saying, “Why didn’t you say so before?” Knives makes quick work of both their clothes, then he’s flipping their naked bodies before Vash has the chance to bask in his embarrassment at being exposed.
Now that he’s straddling Knives, Vash has a nice view of the bare body under him. Knives’ pink nipples hardening against the cool air, his tan skin smooth yet shiny with sweat. When he catches a glimpse of his cock, flushed, hard and leaking, he immediately averts his gaze, face absolutely on fire. “This is embarrassing,” Vash mutters.
Instead of teasing him about how he asked for this, Knives caresses his thighs, saying, “It doesn’t have to be. It’s just the two of us. We have nothing to hide from each other.”
For some reason, that’s enough to give him the confidence to reach out for what he wants, happy to lay it all bare for Knives. He leans down to kiss him, pecking his mouth affectionately, before sitting back up, hands dragging down his chest. He touches Knives’ nipples, fingers lightly circling them, and the sight of Knives shivering with a sudden intake of breath makes his desire surge stronger.
When he drags his fingers down his stomach, Knives whines, “Vash,” desperation evident in his voice. Tentatively, Vash takes hold of his brother’s cock and Knives gasps immediately, his hips bucking. He can’t take his eyes away, drawn in by the leaking tip flushed red, his cock hot and heavy in his grasp. He gives it an experimental stroke, feeling it twitch in his hand as Knives’ fingers dig into his thighs.
He starts twisting his hand around his cock, covering the tip before dragging his hand down, making the slide a little slicker. He watches as Knives throws his head back, eyes falling shut as his lips part, his moans filling the quiet air, his blush bleeding into his chest from his face. Vash feels oddly proud of himself, knowing he’s able to make his brother come undone like this.
Knives’ hips roll into his hand, quick movements with no real rhythm. “Vash, Vash, oh fuck, Vash,” he whines, face crumpled in alluring pleasure, his nails leaving marks in Vash’s thighs with how hard he grips.
“You’re so beautiful, Knives,” tumbles out of Vash’s lips. Knives’ eyes open, wide as if he can’t believe what Vash is saying. It makes Vash feel a little guilty, so to make up for it, he truthfully says, “I love you. Never stopped.”
And much to Vash’s surprise, Knives is groaning out, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Vash,” as his back arches, cock pulsing hard in Vash’s hand, spilling over his fingers. It has Vash’s mouth going dry, leaking his slick onto Knives’ thighs. He doesn’t know where to look; Knives’ cock as his seed comes out or Knives’ handsome face. Regardless, Vash is obsessed with it all, feeling incredibly satisfied with himself.
As Knives calms down, his chest heaving with the effort of catching his breath, he pulls Vash down for a kiss, wrapping his arms around his waist. Vash shudders, moaning against his brother’s lips when Knives rolls his hips up again, pressing his softening cock against his wet cunt, still pulsing with need. “Knives,” Vash whines.
“I got you, Vash,” he says before he flips them over again. He leaves him with one more heated kiss before shuffling down his body, kissing down the length of Vash’s torso until he reaches between his thighs.
Vash’s eyes widen, gasping out, “What are you doing?” This new position makes Vash blush even more, feeling incredibly exposed. He fights the urge to close his thighs, unable to with Knives’ head between them anyway. He settles for looking away, even as his heartbeat steadily raises up again as anticipation sits hot in his stomach.
“Taking care of you like I promised. Don’t worry, you’ll feel good,” Knives says, then he’s dragging his tongue through Vash’s soaked slit, making the muscles in his thighs clench. Vash squeezes his eyes shut as he pants, feeling overwhelmed by absolutely everything, the heat coursing through his body almost becoming too much. Knives’ tongue works him open and it’s a weird feeling for Vash, but his hips press closer into Knives’ face, chasing it.
Knives’ tongue moves from his entrance upward, beginning to lap at his pulsing clit, and the feeling has Vash gasping, his back arching as his clean fingers find soft blond hair. He pays no mind to how hard he grips as Knives tastes his clit, mouth moving maddeningly fast. Vash can’t help how much he cries out, the pleasure building the best way it has the whole night. He’s never felt this good in his life and he knows he’ll always want this.
And he knows Knives will always give it to him.
Knives slightly raises to head to call out, “Vash.”
“Don’t stop,” Vash cries out, trying to push Knives’ head to get his mouth back on his cunt.
“Look at me, Vash.”
Vash peels his eyes open to look into darkened eyes that watch him intently and it’s then when Knives resumes, this time suctioning his lips on Vash’s clit, sucking hard. It’s hard to keep his eyes open as that good, addicting feeling starts up again, but he doesn’t want to look away, either. Knives looks so good like this.
Knives alternates between sucking and licking his clit and it quickly becomes too much for Vash. He’s being too loud, gripping his brother’s hair too hard, writhing too much, but he can’t stop. He can’t do anything but bask in this pleasure as it builds and builds with nothing on his mind but Knives.
“Knives,” he cries out, something inside him feeling like it’s about to break. “Knives, please.”
And Knives takes care of him like he promised. He keeps doing what he’s doing, hands caressing Vash’s taut thighs as he mouths Vash’s cunt. And when it’s finally too much for Vash, his back is arching deep with a cry of Knives’ name, pulsing as that addicting sensation takes over his entire body, reaching his head. Knives keeps licking him throughout it, only stopping when Vash is lying flat on his back, trying to catch his breath.
Knives crawls on top of him, smothering him with his entire body weight but Vash welcomes it. He tastes himself on Knives’ lips as they kiss, his body buzzing pleasantly with the after effects. Even as the cloud of arousal over his brain fades, rational thought attempting to come back to him, Vash doesn’t care. He needed this. Both of them did.
Knives pulls away, looking into Vash’s eyes as he says, “Vash, keep following me. Don’t leave me, okay?”
He took Rem away.
And yet the thought of no longer having Knives hurts his chest worse than the memory of losing Rem does.
“I won’t leave you, Knives.”