Chapter Text
Vash’s ankles are over Knives’ shoulders. His fingers slip along the sweaty underside of Vash’s thighs as he pushes forward, sliding deeper into his brother. He loses some of his purchase, changing the angle of his thrusts, and Vash all but screams.
Knives smiles sharply and immediately takes abuse of the angle, battering his hips forward with all the strength he can manage.
They’d been fighting an hour ago.
Several of his blades are still healing, aching from the blows of Vash’s bullets. His brother’s shots always lack conviction, though. Vash may not aim to kill, but he doesn’t believe that he could kill Knives even if he wanted to.
Fight done, a city ravaged, plants rescued, they’re left to burn off the remaining steam.
Vash has always been weak for this. It’s been this way ever since they were little and they discovered the minute differences between their bodies. It had upset Vash at first, who had expected that they were identical in every way. To Knives, it had seemed fitting. Like their bodies had found a way for them to merge back together into one being, the way they were supposed to be.
Even now, when they scarcely see each other, when each interaction ends in tears, destruction, and bloodshed, Vash can’t help but find him afterward. Knives, of course, always obliges him, taking what he’s due after being forced to deal with all of Vash’s shenanigans.
They’ve been at this for hours now, and in between Vash’s legs is a sloppy mess. He’s swollen and overstimulated, and Knives has no interest in letting him go.
His fingers work Vash’s clit relentlessly, because even though Vash is crying and insisting that he’s done, Knives knows better. He knows exactly how much his brother’s body can give. Vash’s hands scrabble uselessly over Knives’ back, over the neck of his nape – pulling him closer, pushing him away. His nails leave long scratches, making on asymmetrical pattern along Knives’ back.
“Nai—” Vash hiccups.
“You can do it,” Knives croons. “Show me.”
And because it’s Knives’ command, Vash does. He screams Knives’ childhood name, hips snapping up, cunt clamping down on Knives’ cock. He goes blisteringly tight, and Knives comes again inside of Vash, adding to the liquids overflowing onto Vash’s thighs. He bites down on Vash’s calf for good measure, not letting go until he tastes blood, until he’s sure that Vash will have a bruise to remember this by.
He pulls out, and Vash is still crying, both overpleasured and guilty.
Knives sighs. He never minds Vash’s guilt in the beginning – finds it alluring to overcome his brother’s rigid boundaries and rules. But it grows old fast.
He doesn’t get Vash cleaned up – that’s for him to deal with later – but he does get him dressed and tucked away, a pretense of respectability so that he can send him back to his gang of humans to once more pretend to be their self-sacrificing hero.
He pulls Vash’s red jacket on last, smoothing the lines of the lapels. Vash has grown quiet by now, not meeting his eyes as Knives slides his glasses on and presses a kiss to his cheek.