Chapter Text
Laundry— One of the greatest tasks of mundane life, right up there next to coming up with a grocery list and taking out the trash on Sunday nights. What a loathsome existence being a parent was, to not only have to care for one’s self, but another little brat that didn’t know how to follow directions. How hard was it to clean up after yourself, to get your stupid little projects done in a timely manner? Knives was never that helpless when he was younger.
But Vash— oh, darling Vash — who’s innocent charm went hand in hand with his carefree nature, he simply had Knives’ heart in a vice. Everything he loathed about their life together he loved , only if it meant doing it for him , if it meant giving him the life he deserved. Just to see that smile, just to hear his lilted giggles.
Vash would know one day just how deeply Knives felt about him. Maybe not tomorrow, or the day after… Knives promised himself he would wait until Vash was at least seventeen. A year and some days, now. Just a year until he could throw his faux held morals to the wind and plow the ever-loving shit out of his little brother. And he would, whether Vash met him with a kiss or not— Vash would love him. Vash was going to be his wife. He was made for it, placed right in the trajectory of the awful comet named Knives , all for him to smother in ruin. This was the life he deserved. This is the life Knives would give him.
Alas, this was no such time to thrust himself on the boy, much as he so desired it. He at least wanted Vash to finish high school, though he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off for another four or more years to finish college. Vash wouldn’t need higher education anyway.
His head buzzed with a headache much the same as his heart ached with that terrible yearning. Patience was pain, necessary as it was. He’d quell his ache another day by drowning himself in housework. Grocery shopping, meal prep, laundry .
Between the two of them their dirty laundry had piled up quite impressively. It was mostly Vash’s stuff— daily wear, gym clothes, track uniforms— a colorful heap of sweat-stained garments tossed haphazardly into the basket. Perhaps strange, but Knives had become accustomed to the boy’s ever changing odors, even began to find them comforting. He’d use this bit of information to further reinforce his idea that they were perfect for each other, something to do with pheromones and matching chemical signatures, something like that.
Atop the washer he’d sort out the lights from the darks. Vash had enough red and pink in his wardrobe to make an entire load out of, and as such he began tossing those inside the washer piece by piece. He stopped when he felt an unfamiliar texture, strange enough to pull him from his deadened trance.
Lace. Pink lace underwear.
Knives held them up to examine them, stretching the waistband between each of his forefingers, pulling tight. He’d never seen anything like them in with their clothes before, and the outcomes puzzled him. He could only think of one way of verifying their owner.
He took a breath and bunched the fabric up in his hand, slowly raising them closer to his face.
As he took in the scent he felt his blood rush faster than he’d ever experienced. Stars momentarily flashed in the corners of his vision and he felt his legs go weak beneath him, bracing himself against the wall with his other arm.
Though it was far more pungent and sharp, there was no denying who the scent belonged to. Only the fragrance of his precious brother could get him that hard, that fast. He was thankful that the pants he was wearing were plenty loose, as he was now pitching an impressive tent in them. Even as he tried to tear away from the scent he found himself craving it, this time burying his nose in the fabric to pick up every detail. The muffled growl he made into that bubblegum pink lace only served to further the sick thrill he felt.
Maybe it wasn’t completely wrong to be so interested in the scent of your lover, unless of course said lover was your fifteen year old brother, and then it was… admittedly a little weird. He’d had similar conversations with himself in the past— arguing against his feelings and desires, reminding himself that even though his attraction was surely rooted in instinct that it was still morally reprehensible— but in the end he always came to the same conclusion. This strange little revelation only served to deepen his dark need, as now all he could think about was how badly he wanted to taste that perfect cunt.
He lowered the panties again, seemingly satisfied with his sampling. The scent still danced across his palate, lingering in the air. Lowering his hand in preparation to toss them into the wash, he brushed up against the tent in his pants, marveling at the wet spot that had spread across the front. Frustrated, he tore down the pants and kicked them off into the laundry pile.
Damn it, now what? Those were the last of his clean sweatpants, and his erection wasn’t going away unless he decided to do something about it. Thankfully Vash wasn’t going to be home for at least another hour, which was plenty of time for him to get off.
Possessed with sudden determination he went digging through the clothes pile once again, fetching another pair of Vash’s underwear. This pair was a light blue, soft to the touch, and— upon further examination— even more aromatic than the last pair, most likely due to the absorbent nature of the cotton. With the lacy pair in his right hand he carefully wrapped it around his cock, smearing the crotch with his own pre-cum.
Throughout all of his disgusting obsessions, he would have never guessed he’d be jacking himself off into his brother’s panties. The lace felt a little rough when he closed his fist tighter, but it only made the sensations all the more complex and interesting. Taking a whiff of the other pair he imagined himself ramming his fat cock into Vash’s virgin hole, hands on his shapely hips, those perfectly pink lips parted with such sweet song. One day , he vowed, one day I’ll show you just how much I love you.
It wasn’t long before he was muttering curses as he spilled his load between the folds of lace, the sticky mess dripping through his fingers in excess. He threw his head back and rode out the orgasm, slowing his strokes until he was fully satisfied with the awful mess he’d just made. He exhaled and glanced down at the globs of white slung all over the pile of unsorted laundry, frowning slightly as he tossed the soiled panties atop it all.
Carefully he lifted the entire pile and abruptly shoved it into the washer. Whatever . It’d all come out in the wash, anyway.