Will You Join Me?

by Dragons_Hoard

Summary:

Knives has been waiting for over a century, confident that with enough time, each obstacle would fall, and they would fulfill their destiny at last. But even his patience wavers when with each step forward, what he, no, what they need, continues to elude his grasp. Finally at his breaking point, something important shifts…

Knives’ hands dance up and down the piano keys. He’s been playing for hours already, but he doesn’t stop. He lets the song sing out his frustration, his longing. He picks up speed, his playing getting more frantic. Notes spill out like water droplets, starting as a trickle and turning into a waterfall, a furious unstoppable roar. The crescendo builds and builds and then— 

Nothing. 

He stops, fingers resting against the keys that come next but going no further. His entire body is hunched over the piano, poised to bring the music to completion, to let the long awaited finale ring through the room.

Instead, the room is silent, empty. Denied of what should be. The void is deafening, its hideous nothing staining even the notes that came before.

Five months.

It’s been five months since the truce began. Five months since Knives almost scoured this world clean from the last of humanity. Five months since he gave it all up simply because Vash asked for a chance. Five months of giving Vash everything, for just the smallest sliver of hope of a solution that Vash can accept, instead of forcing Vash to grow up and accept reality.

Knives can be patient. He has waited over 100 years, and would wait 100 more if that was what was needed. But that was when there were still obstructions preventing their joining. Waiting was trivial, as the fate of those obstacles was already determined, their destruction assured the moment they dared oppose the force tying him and Vash together. 

Knives could endure, safe in the knowledge that the day would come where Vash would willingly offer up everything he has to Knives. And on that day, Knives would finally be free to take what should have been his all along. Knives would grab hold once again, and this time he would never relinquish his grip. Together, they would create a new world, and that eternity in Paradise would wipe away all those years spent in the interim. 

When Vash had proposed their truce those months ago, Knives had dared to believe that the time had finally come. True Paradise remains just beyond their grasp, Vash insisting upon chasing slower, riskier solutions. But, at last, they are truly pursuing the same goals, breathing the same air. The world must wait, but their own private Paradise can finally begin.

And yet.

One last crucial chasm remains between them, one Vash refuses to allow Knives to breach. He doesn’t, cannot comprehend it. Vash opens his heart without hesitation to far, far too many,  despite getting hurt again and again. Vash opens his mind, all too willing to see the other side of any conflict.

But when Knives asks him to open his legs?

Knives chuckles bitterly. Of course, the only time Vash won’t open himself up is when there is no risk, no pain. No matter how he implores Vash to reconsider, to accept all Knives has to give and to begin building their family, Vash spurns his pleas. 

Dear, stubborn, Vash. The irony would be amusing if it didn’t hurt so much. Fate has left them intertwined as two halves of a whole, and who else but his other half would have the strength to resist destiny for this long?

For all his patience, the lack scorches Knives, his composure crumbling when what he longs for is so tantalizingly close. Every day spent with Vash, his hunger only grows. The moments he is allowed, the sparkle in Vash’s eyes when he laughs, the rumpled look he has when he has just woken up, the warm press of Vash’s arm against his as they play piano together, all of Vash’s joys, and all of his sorrows—none of it is quenching in the least. Instead, each precious moment only whets Knives’ appetite for more.

Knives steps back to the piano. He flexes his fingers, preparing to futilely attempt to express even a fraction of his frustrations once more. He has just placed his fingers on the keys to play yet another unsatisfying song, when the slam of the door against the wall interrupts him.

Knives turns towards the sound, and is met with the sight of the subject of all his frustration, his woe, his love.

“Aha! Should have known you’d be holed up here!”

“Vash,” breathes Knives, the sight of his brother seeking him out without prompting no less magnificent for all that it has become commonplace once more.

Vash grins at him, his beaming face shining upon Knives like an angel’s blessing. “You’ve been gone all afternoon. I was looking for you.” Knives’ chest swells with the force of his adoration, nearly suffocating in its force. Vash continues, “I keep telling you, just because you’re over 100 doesn’t mean you have to act like such an old man! Those of us who are still young at heart benefit from some fresh air once in a while, you know.”

Knives twitches.

Vash barrels onwards. “Honestly, this should have been the first place I looked. You’ve been playing so much piano lately. I swear, you’ve been spending more time with that piano than me. Should I be jealous?”

That does it, the initial joy from Vash’s presence is snuffed out. Knives scowls, dark mood returning. “You know there’s no need. Anything you want from me, you need just ask. I’m not the one holding back.”

At his snapped reply, Vash pauses, exuberance fading as he stares at Knives. His typically expressive face is impassive. Then the moment ends as Vash once again pastes a large grin on his face. “Wow, I was just teasing before, but you really are leaning into the grumpy old man schtick today. You should come with me on a donut run, donuts fix all problems!”

Knives snorts. “You might like those monstrosities, but there’s no way I am eating those artery clogging—”

“—sugar-coated deep fried dough rings that single-handedly lower the appeal of all food,” interrupts Vash. “I know, I know, but I really think you just aren’t giving them a fair chance!”

“Are donuts really what you most want me spending my energy on learning to treat ‘fairly’? I only have so much tolerance, you know.”

“Yes!” exclaims Vash. Then he deflates. “No wait—argh, that’s not fair! You know there’s more important things.”

Smirking, Knives says, “Well, it’s up to you. I can switch priorities anytime.”

Vash puffs out his cheeks. “So mean! How can trying a donut be such a hardship?”

Knives looks down at Vash’s pouting face. “There’s some things you don’t need to try to know that they would be a mistake. I already know what I like. Attempting something doomed to fail takes extra effort.”

“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong!” Springing up from his defeated posture, Vash announces, “The power of donuts is already working its magic on you!”

Bemused, Knives raises an eyebrow. “How so?”

Pointing dramatically at his face, Vash says, “There! You’re smiling!” With a start, Knives notices his lips are quirked up in a half smile. When did that happen? Vash continues, “Just talking about the wonders of a donut has already made you less grumpy—imagine what a real one could do!”

Vash lets his dramatic pose go, a smaller smile than usual on his lips, but all the more genuine for it. “When you get into a funk, you shouldn’t dwell so much, it’s not good for you. I’m here to help now, you know.” He reaches up and brushes his fingers against Knives’ cheek, still rounded from the lingering smile. Knives inhales sharply at the touch. “I’d rather see this face of yours smiling instead of brooding.” Vash’s smile takes on a mischievous edge. The gentle caress of his fingers turn into a pinch as he tugs Knives’ face upwards. “Though it might take more than all the donuts in the world for that, Mr. Grumpy. You need to learn to relax. C’mon, smile, smile!”

Aggravated, Knives bats at Vash’s hand. “You’re the worst.”

“And you’re stuck with it,” replies Vash cheekily.

Knives pinches the bridge of his nose, feeling fondness and irritation in equal measure over the neverending background roar of his love. With Vash around, lingering on any difficult topic is near impossible; Vash’s mesmerizing, quick-moving light chases away the lesser shadows and distracts from the abyss.

“So, will you come get donuts with me?”

“I’d still rather not. One of us should keep their arteries unclogged, and it clearly isn’t going to be you.” says Knives.

“Aw, but—”

“We both know the donuts weren’t what made me feel better.” Knives takes a step closer, close enough to breathe in the scent clinging to Vash—the smell of sand, the oil he uses on his prosthetic, and underneath those, the faintest trace of his true scent, something unnameable and electric. “You are all I need. Skip the donuts and just stay here with me.”

Vash’s eyes widen slightly, something disbelieving and vulnerable lurking in their depths, the way they always do when Knives expresses even a fraction of what Vash means to him. Knives’ newly calmed frustration surges back to the surface in the face of Vash’s doubt.

Vash turns his head slightly, hiding his eyes as he chuckles lightly. “You’ve already been here for hours, I’m sure just me being here isn’t enough to get you out of your funk. Don’t worry, we can go get something other than donuts, no need to try and butter me up.”

Something in Knives finally snaps. He has been allowing Vash to distract him with his antics. He had hoped that with time, Vash would open up to Knives on his own accord. Vash shouldn’t be someone he has to coax—his other half should reach out for Knives just as desperately as Knives reaches out for him. But the scars left by humanity are clearly too deep. Enough is enough.

He grits out, “Stop it.”

Still looking anywhere but Knives, Vash replies, “Stop what?”

“That! You’re pretending not to understand what I mean just because you don’t want to face it.”

“Hey, I already said we don’t have to get donuts, excuse me for wanting you to leave your precious piano for a few hours—”

Growling, Knives cuts Vash off. “I’m not like those witless humans you’re used to stringing along, playing dumb won’t work on me.”

Vash gapes. “What? I do not string them along. And they aren’t witless!”

Knives scoffs. “You say that as if you don’t pretend to be clueless when it suits you? To pretend to be helpless when you could take down every single one of them if you actually tried?”

“You—! It’s—” splutters Vash. “I’m just trying to make sure we all get along and no one gets hurt, that’s all!”

“So you lie and pretend just to coddle them and their squeamish dispositions.” Vash opens his mouth to protest, but Knives cannot be stopped now that he’s started, his words wielded as precisely as his blades. “You can act as you want with the humans, I know by now nothing will ever stop you. But I won’t stand for being coddled as if I am anything less than your equal. I will not be played off like some ignorant human who has no idea who and what you are.”

Vash glares at him furiously, radiating hurt. “You’re wrong. I may not always be able to tell the full truth, but I mean what I say to the people I talk to.” He swallows. “And I know you can’t just be played off. That’s not what I’m trying to do.”

Knives takes another step closer, crowding into Vash’s space. “Are you not? I tell you you’re all I need, and you pretend I just didn’t want to get donuts. ” He hisses the last word. “You pretend as if I don’t know that you understood exactly what I meant the first time.”

“Maybe I just figured it’d be better not to start a fight over nothing. There’s such a thing as reading the room, it doesn’t have to mean I’m trying to trick you, Nai!”

“Nothing?” seethes Knives. “You refusing to believe me when I tell you that you are everything I need is nothing?”

“When you’re like this? Yes!” Vash jabs a finger into Knives’ chest with enough force to push him back a step. “You’re the one who gets so caught up in an idea you can’t see anything else! I know you care, but I’m hardly more important than the rest of the world. You’re lying to yourself if you think that.”

Knives grabs the offending hand, cradling it between his own. “You think I’m lying? That the world could ever hold a candle to you? Vash.” Knives turns the hand in his grasp over and presses a chaste kiss into the palm, feeling the initial twitch of surprise before the hand relaxes, giving in. “I love you. Surely you know that much?”

“Nai, I—,” stutters Vash, face flushed. “I know that, I just—”

“Just nothing,” interrupts Knives, eager to get his point across when Vash seems to be listening, truly listening, for the first time. “Everything I do is for you. We haven’t always agreed on what was best, but I’ve never stopped trying to do what’s best for you. You are my world, Vash. There’s no competition.” He kisses Vash’s palm again, this time lingering. “All I want is for you to let me show you how important you are.”

Vash visibly wavers, his breathing audible as he stares at Knives with blown pupils. Hoping to finally, finally, tip the balance, Knives adds, “Together we are so much more than apart. Give me this, and I can finally give you Paradise. Let the rest of our plans unfold as they will, but here and now, we can have our own private Paradise and start our own family.”

Vash rips his hand out of Knives’.

Hands still outreached, grasping nothing but air, Knives stares at Vash, dumfounded. Gone is the wavering vulnerability. In its place is the same immovable wall that has stopped him time and time again.

“You really want to know what I think? You’ve been so eager to tell me that being considerate of others' feelings is a terrible sin, after all,” says Vash, his voice undercut by a terrible parody of his usual cheer. “Fine. I think you love me, but what you love far more is the idea of what I can do for you. You say you want me, but if anyone else could create new Plants with you, you’d be asking them without a second thought.”

Scrambling to keep up with the sudden change in atmosphere, Knives protests, “But it’s impossible for anyone else!” Frustrated, he adds, “That’s what I’ve been telling you, you’re the only one for me.”

Vash barks a laugh, the sound more like a gasp of pain than of mirth. “Don’t you see? You just want to start a new generation of Independents. It doesn’t matter that I’m me , just that my Gate is bidirectional!”

“What, no! Of course it matters! I love you!”

“Then can you look me in the eye and tell me that if you could get around needing my cooperation to get more Independents, you wouldn’t skip over me entirely?” Vash smiles wryly, face devoid of humour. “After all, I am very stubborn. Needing me must be the worst possible path.”

Knives looks Vash in the eye and opens his mouth to assure him that nothing could ever replace him. And in that crucial second his mind flashes back to the plan, discarded the second Vash suggested even the smallest of compromises. For Vash, he’d thrown away years of preparation without any qualms, but if Vash hadn’t suggested the truce—no, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change that Vash is the most important thing.

But by then, it’s too late. Vash notices his split second of hesitation and takes that as his answer.

“See? I was right. You don’t actually w—”

“Don’t tell me how I feel!” Recovering from his hesitation, Knives wrestles back control of the conversation. “Stop leaping to conclusions. I never said creating more Independents was more important than you. They are important, and maybe I did want to save our race on a faster timeline then I knew you’d ever agree to. But that doesn’t make our joining mean any less!”

Vash narrows his eyes. “And how am I supposed to believe that when the only way you ever talk about it is how we can create a Paradise of Independents together? To you it’s all about our ‘joining’ on the higher plane. Never about having sex because you want me.” Vash’s voice falters. “You never mention desire or pleasure, let alone intimacy.”

Knives blinks, startled. He has never thought of their joining in terms as crude as sex and desire. He and Vash are so much more than mere animals rutting on the ground. Their joining is something that is destined, that has meaning beyond the scope of their physical bodies. But by focusing on the bigger picture, it appears that Vash somehow got the wrong idea.

“Vash, I do want you. Of course I still want our Paradise, what we are capable of together is—” He cuts himself off as Vash’s frown deepens. “But, if,” here Knives struggles, forcing the compromise out of his throat, “if you aren’t ready for that, we can still join together. Let me have you, and I’ll show you it’s about more than just the future Independents.”

Vash snorts derisively. “That won’t prove anything. As long as there’s a chance of getting me pregnant out of this, none of your assurances will mean anything. Maybe if you let me top you , but I bet that possibility never even crossed your mind!” Bitterly he adds, “After all, conception would be impossible like that.”

At these words, Knives’ world tilts.

All of his imaginings of his joining with Vash shift and rearrange. After all, why waste time considering it when his own Gate was barren? No amount of energy from Vash would ever lead to something more. But if that wasn’t a factor—if instead avoiding conception was actually something Vash wanted out of their joining…

Knives swallows. It would no longer be an act with a higher purpose. Instead it would be solely about the physical collision of bodies. Their flesh would meet, pressing as close as possible within the limitations of this dimension. 

He looks at Vash, whose face is still angry and eyes overbright as he struggles to maintain his composure. He expects to feel frustrated that Vash is attempting to limit what they could do together. But looking at Vash now, it is as if a switch has been flipped in his head. A whole slew of thoughts and imaginings come rushing in, as if they had simply been waiting for the chance to be heard. 

What would being pressed together feel like? What differences would there be from the hugs they’ve shared—lingering instead of finishing within seconds, no barrier of clothing to muffle the feel of the other? What expressions would Vash make? What sounds?

Heat pools in Knives’ abdomen as he continues to think. He knows he should try and respond to Vash, but the thoughts coming fast and heavy leave him dazed and breathless. In his previous indistinct imaginings, it had always been Vash opening up to accept everything Knives had to give. What would be different if it was Knives opening up instead? Part of what Knives had been longing for was the satisfaction of knowing Vash was no longer running and instead welcomed Knives’ arms around him. If Knives was the one receiving, it wouldn’t be a moment of finally getting Vash to stay still and accept him. Instead…

Instead it would be Vash pouring his affection into him . Staying still wouldn’t be enough, Vash would have to face Knives directly and be the one to reach out. Knives swallows thickly, suddenly feeling conscious of his entire body, from the cling of his body suit to the cool air brushing over his bare flesh. Would Vash pin him down with that expression he wore when he got serious about something, with his brow furrowed and his eyes ablaze? That unbreakable determination of Vash’s in the rare times he decided to do something and would let nothing get in his way, could that expression for once be leading Vash towards Knives instead of further away?

“—ai? Nai?” Knives sucks in a startled breath, shaken out of his reverie. His gaze refocuses on Vash in front of him. “Was my suggestion so unbearable that I broke you?” Barely hearing the words, Knives lingers on the movements of Vash’s lips, spotting flashes of his tongue as he speaks. What would it feel like? “Oh for—Nai! Pay attention!”

Knives jerks, eyes flying up to meet Vash’s. Vash’s eyes are flashing with annoyance, their focused attention making Knives shiver. Knives licks his lips. “Sorry, what did you just say?”

“You know what, it doesn’t matter. Clearly we’re not going to agree on this topic, so why don’t we just leave it alone. As I thought, talking about it is just going to cause hurt feelings, so there’s no point. I’m just going to go now, okay?” So saying, Vash begins to head towards the exit.

Arm darting out as fast as his knives, Knives grabs hold of Vash’s wrist. “Wait!”

Without turning around, Vash asks, “Why? It’s not like you’ll ever agree to my terms. Given how shocked you were at just an offhand comment, I bet there isn’t a single compromise I could offer that you’d ever accept.”

“I agree,” says Knives, urgently. “I’ll be the receiver in our joining.”

Vash jerks, but stubbornly remains facing the door. “You’re lying. You probably just think it’ll be easier to convince me to switch if we get started. There’s no way you actually want to after all this time you spent trying to convince me for the other way around.”

Knives tightens his grip, each word coming out fast and frantic. “Is it really so hard to believe? I’ve always wanted to give you everything you needed. I’ve always given you what I’ve had to give, I’ve always wanted to. Won’t you for once accept what I’m offering?” Unable to see Vash’s face to gauge his reaction, Knives reaches for a phrase he rarely uses. “Vash, please .”

As the word falls from his lips, Vash finally turns around and faces Knives head on. Whatever he sees on Knives’ face makes him freeze in shock.

“You… you would actually want this? But, you never showed even the slightest interest before. I don’t understand.” Vash licks his lips nervously as he talks, drawing Knives’ gaze as inextricably as a moth to a flame. When Vash notices the direction of Knives’ gaze, his breath hitches.

“I was too always interested,” retorts Knives, rubbing his thumb soothingly over Vash’s wrist to negate any bite in his tone, marveling at the skin’s softness. “But, perhaps I hadn’t truly considered every option in sufficient detail.” He steps closer. “Though perhaps before I wasn’t told enough of what you wanted to focus on other options.”

Face to face, Knives takes a deep breath. He releases Vash’s wrist, leaving everything up to Vash alone. “Now, I’m offering everything I have to give. You already have my heart, my soul. Will you accept my body?”

Vash looks at him, his beautiful face no longer flushed an angry red but painted a delicate pink. His stare is piercing, as if he is trying to peer into Knives’ very being. Knives stares back, unwaveringly, offering up his entire self, the way he always has and always will. Despite his resolve, he can’t suppress his nerves the longer the silence stretches on. Vash has rejected him before—always running to where Knives can’t reach him. Knives had survived then and he can again if need be. He’ll wait forever for the day Vash reaches back. He just hopes—prays—that today is that day.

“Nai,” whispers Vash, tone low, reverent. He continues staring for another beat, before visibly finding his resolve. “I accept.”

Knives barely has a moment to feel a surge of joy and triumph before strong hands grab his shoulders, tugging him closer—finally closer!—and a pair of lips crash into his.

A gasp of surprise just barely has time to escape before his mouth is being hungrily devoured by Vash. Vash’s kiss is frantic, as if Vash has been starving all this time and Knives is his only sustenance. Nimble fingers sink into his hair, tilting his head to allow Vash to slot their faces even closer together, deepening the kiss.

Vash’s lips are warm and chapped, their surface worn from wandering unprotected in the desert. They slide roughly against Knives’ soft untouched lips, their differences only heightening the wonder of their long-awaited connection. The knowledge of what Vash’s mouth feels like against his own clicks into place as if he had been born to know it.

Reaching out, Knives wraps his own arms around Vash’s shoulders, holding on as Vash kisses him insistently. Just as he’s about to lean into the kiss, Vash makes an impatient noise and presses harder. Vash’s tongue slides over the seam of Knives’ lips, once, twice, then breaches the barrier as if it isn’t there.

Immediately, Knives is drowning, all of his senses filled with nothing but Vash. His mouth is flooded with Vash’s taste, his nose with Vash’s scent, his nerves singing from each point of contact of Vash’s body. It’s intoxicating, it’s addicting it’s overwhelming—

Knives’ knees buckle.

It takes a moment for Knives to realize he’s falling, scrambling to tighten his grip on Vash’s shoulders as his legs refuse to support his weight. Vash leans back with a gasped, “Nai!”, and wraps his arm around Knives’ lower back to steady him.

Once they’re steady, they stare at each other, both breathing hard.

“Are you okay? Oh my god, did I misunderstand? You said you wanted this, but I just jumped you without warning!” Eyes getting wider and more panicked the longer he talks, Vash loosens his grip as if planning to give Knives space.

Knives cuts him off before he can keep spiraling. “I’m fine. More than fine. I was just a bit overwhelmed by it all.”

Thankfully, Vash stops trying to move away, but doesn’t seem about to resume kissing him. Instead, he bites his kiss-swollen lip worriedly. “Are you sure? Reacting that strongly to just a kiss makes it seem like I was pushing you further than you wanted to go.” Before Knives can respond, Vash panics. “Oh god, you weren’t even kissing back! I didn’t even notice right away, how selfish can I get?”

Mentally rolling his eyes, Knives resigns himself to reminding Vash many more times that when he says his entire self is on offer, he means it. Nonetheless, the part of Knives that has been rebuffed countless times before is fiercely satisfied that the eternally considerate Vash is capable of acting selfishly when it comes to Knives.

Shifting his grip to hold the back of Vash’s neck, Knives’ cuts off the rest of the panicked blathering with a kiss of his own. Initially, Vash’s lips are stiff under his own, but with some coaxing they relax into the kiss. Uncertain of what to do, Knives mimics the movements Vash had used earlier, but slower, more savoring than devouring. Once Vash has fully relaxed, Knives presses one last lingering kiss on his lips, then pulls back.

“If you just waited a moment, I would have told you that I reacted so strongly because it wasn’t ‘just’ a kiss. Nothing between us is ‘just’ anything.” He stops Vash from trying to interrupt by placing a finger over his mouth, reveling in how the simple touch causes Vash to shiver and subside. “It was our first moment of sexual intimacy, of opening a new type of connection between us. Of course I’d be overcome, with so many new sensations arriving all at once. That doesn’t mean it wasn’t welcomed wholeheartedly.”

As he lets his finger drop, Vash responds, “You mean to say that all I had to do was kiss you and you literally go weak in the knees? You?”

“Apparently so,” answers Knives calmly.

“No, but really. You of all people are that weak to kissing? And you’ll admit it that easily? Are you really sure you’re okay?” questions Vash, tone incredulous and slightly worried.

Knives rolls his eyes. “Vash, why wouldn’t I admit it? I’ve only been trying to tell you that you’re everything for a century now, if you haven’t noticed. I won’t hide the ways you affect me.”

“I guess I just always imagined you’d be more… stoic. Not less intense, just, well, unyielding.” An embarrassed flush begins to bloom on Vash’s cheeks, reigniting the pink that had begun to fade as their conversation stretched on.

Knives laughs. “Oh Vash, stoic is the last thing I am when it comes to you. And since we’re clearing up misconceptions, kissing wasn’t what made me weak in the knees. It’s you , Vash. Only you.”

“Oh,” breathes Vash, eyes going round. It appears he finally understands. “Wow. That’s.” He swallows, throat bobbing with the movement. “Well. Okay. Then, may I kiss you again?”

“You don’t have to ask. We are two halves of a whole; anything I have is yours.”

A gleam of stubbornness appears in Vash’s eyes. “I want to ask. I want you to tell me what you want before I do anything. This isn’t something that should be done one-sidedly. I want to do this right this time.”

Knives still doesn’t understand why asking is necessary, but he knows better than to argue with Vash when he gets that look in his eyes, not when giving him what he wants is trivial. “Yes Vash, you can kiss me.”

He is immediately rewarded with a beaming smile, the one that never fails to make Knives’ heart beat harder in his chest. Then, instead of pulling him in like before, Vash tenderly cups Knives’ cheek, thumb running gently over the cheekbone. Eyes soft, he slowly leans in closer until their noses are brushing and Knives can feel the soft gusts of breath on his face. Vash’s eyes slowly flutter shut, his dark eyelashes contrasting against his cheek. The moment lingers an instant longer, until Vash tilts his head and closes the distance once more.

The touch is soft. Vash’s lips move gently against his own, then pause. Knives answers the unspoken invitation and kisses back. They kiss just like that, slowly, almost chastely. These kisses are less an overwhelming bombardment of sensation and more a gentle give and take. Knives’ clumsy movements slowly gain confidence as they learn each other’s mouths. 

This slower experience is heady and overwhelming in its own way as every minute detail can be felt and savored. He can feel the way Vash leans deeper into the kiss when Knives tilts his head just so, the way Vash’s hand cupping his cheek clenches ever so slightly in time with the hitches of Vash’s breath, the way the muscles of Vash’s shoulders shift minisculely under his palms as they move together.

And as he is learning Vash, Vash is learning him, each movement Vash makes causing a sweet syrup-like heat to spread slowly throughout Knives’ body. With each motion, Knives tries to press his adoration into Vash’s skin, and for each one, Vash presses back, as if he is equally awed that they can finally be together like this.

Knives slips his fingers into Vash’s hair, running his fingers though the soft blond locks, earning a pleased sigh from Vash. Knives smiles slightly at the sound, knowing Vash can feel it against his mouth. 

Never one to let a victory of Knives’ go unchallenged, Vash slides his prosthetic hand to Knives’ lower back, and pulls him forward until they are pressed chest to chest. At Knives’ resulting gasp, he chuckles slightly. This close, his chuckle is something Knives can feel vibrating through his chest. Knives’ hands involuntarily clench, pulling slightly on Vash’s hair. The sound Vash makes as a result hits a deeper register than anything he’s made before.

They pull back for air, chests expanding in sync where they are pressed together. Vash’s face is flushed and his eyes are dark. He looks at Knives as if, for once, Knives is the only thing he can see. Knives knows his own face mirrors that expression.

“God, Nai. You don’t know what you do to me.” Not waiting for a response, Vash captures his mouth once again. Gripping the back of Knives’ neck and his lower back, Vash kisses him with his entire upper body, a solid line of heat rubbing against Knives from head to hip. Knives moans unashamedly and feels Vash shudder against him at the sound.

Like before, Vash’s tongue traces over the seam of Knives’ mouth. But this time he waits until Knives parts his lips and deepens the kiss himself. They groan in unison at the slick slide of tongues. The slowly building heat ignites and their kissing gains an edge of desperation.

Hands still in Vash’s hair, Knives experimentally tugs, earning a whimper. He’s about to repeat the action when Vash sucks gently on his tongue and Knives goes molten. Vash continues his ministrations until Knives can’t think, until he’s nothing but a set of nerve endings for Vash to manipulate as he pleases.

With one last playful nip, Vash pulls back until they are forehead to forehead. Knives is helpless to do anything except pant as he drinks in Vash’s expression. If he wasn’t already so far gone, the sight of Vash alone, with every bit of that weighty attention concentrated solely on Knives, so appreciative and possessively smug about what he can do to Knives, would be enough to tip him over the edge.

“Why’d you stop?” The question slips out breathlessly before Knives can stop it, sounding whinier than he’d like.

Vash smiles. “I thought it might be a good idea to give you a chance to breathe before you collapsed again,” says Vash, his own voice breathy. “Besides, I wanted to see your face.”

Wrecked as he is, Knives still manages a smirk. “And does my face live up to your expectations?”

“Now I almost wish it didn’t so I could tell you ‘no’, you’re arrogant enough already.” Knives tilts his head back and laughs, joy bubbling up at Vash’s pout. 

After his laughter peters out, he turns back to Vash to see him staring at Knives in astonishment.

“What are you looking at me like that for?”

“You’re beautiful,” Vash murmurs, all traces of his joking tone gone. “You’re always amazing, but now it’s like you’re really here . Usually you’re always so far away, like you’re living for the future and weighted down by the past. But right now, you’re just Nai, my big brother who can be infuriating but who I can tease and laugh with.”

Vash’s voice deepens, his tone as if he is confiding a secret. “And best of all, you’re touchable. Like this, I can melt your aloof attitude right off your face with a touch.” He runs his hand through Knives’ hair. “I can mess up your perfect hair.” He begins peppering kisses all over Knives’ face, punctuating each point he makes with another kiss. “I can make your face flush this perfect pretty pink, make your pupils swell, make your lips red and swollen.” Vash moves to mouth over Knives’ earlobe. “Like this, you’re…” He trails off.

“I’m what?” asks Knives, voice hoarse.

“Mine.”

At the possessive growl whispered directly into his ear, Knives snaps. He yanks Vash towards him, heedless of the initial clacking of teeth, ravenously devouring Vash’s mouth. He intends to prove to Vash, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Knives is thoroughly and truly his . He’ll paint his devotion across Vash’s skin, until all he can taste is Knives, until all he can feel is Knives, until he is just as lost as Knives.

Vash responds immediately, kissing back with fervor, his hands roaming over Knives’ back as if unable to leave any part untouched for more than a moment. Each possessive pass of his hands burns with a molten heat, sparking when they run over the sensitive spot on the small of his back, as they greedily try to claim what Knives offers up freely.

When Knives pulls back for breath, Vash doesn’t stop, trailing wet kisses down his face, then noses at Knives’ chin. Uncertain of Vash’s purpose, Knives nonetheless obliges his unspoken demand and tilts his head up.

Lips fasten over his newly exposed throat and suck . Knives cries out, heat shooting down his spine at the hot suction. He’d had no idea that necks could be so sensitive. He feels his heavy breaths reshape into long drawn out moans as Vash continues to toy with the sensitive skin of his throat. 

Vash releases his throat with a lewd, wet sounding pop. Licking over the newly tender spot, he tugs at Knives’ bodysuit to access more of his neck. When the tight fit of the suit thwarts Vash’s attempts, Vash makes a wordless sound of frustration. His questing fingers reach around to the back of the suit, groping for the hidden clasp to unzip the suit. As his fingers land on it, he stops.

“Oh, um,” pants Vash, muffled by the way his lips are still pressed to Knives’ neck, “I should probably ask before stripping you naked on the spot.” His fingers linger over the clasp for another second before reluctantly retreating. “Even before I get to that, we should probably move this out of the piano room.”

Blood still pounding furiously in his ears, Knives takes a moment to gather his wits. A slow smile spreads across his face. “After all this time, are you finally asking me to take you to bed?”

Vash looks almost bashful, as if he hadn’t just had Knives pinned and squirming in his arms, as if Knives hadn’t been loving every second of it. “I guess I am.” He hesitates, shadows reappearing in his eyes. “Though even if you ‘take me to bed’, you remember that I still can’t let you be the one to ‘take me’, right? This has already been amazing, but I can’t—more Independents is just—it’s just not on the table right now.”

Knives impatiently brushes aside Vash’s nonsensical worries with a careless flick of his hand. “Of course I remember. I already told you, I offer up my body to you freely.” He narrows his eyes. “Don’t you dare back off now and claim it’s for my sake.”

“No!” blurts Vash, practically shouting. “I’m not backing off! I just wanted to check in again. We’ve been moving pretty quickly, so I wanted to make sure.”

The speed and the volume of Vash’s response allows Knives to release the tension beginning to creep into his body. Vash is simply too tentative, too concerned with the needs of others to act decisively on his own desires. No matter how hotly Vash’s passions may burn, the bulwark he traps himself behind keeps them at bay so long as he believes it necessary. All Knives needs to do is to remove any excuse Vash has to hold back and the twin flames of their desires shall burn brighter than the stars.

“Then as we are in full agreement, shall we proceed to your bed?”

Vash blinks. “My bed? I mean, that’s fine, but why mine?”

Mimicking what Vash had done to him earlier, Knives leans in to whisper his attack against Vash’s doubts directly into his ear. “Because you called me ‘yours’ before, and I want to feel it. I want you to take me to your space, filled with the few things you’ve refused to part with, and for you to claim me as one of them. I want you to take and be unable to ever bear letting go once you’ve had me in your grasp.”

“Nai,” gasps Vash, voice strangled. This is the first time Knives has heard his name called in such a tone, heated and desperate. Now that he’s heard it once, he will stop at nothing to ensure that call falls from Vash’s lips again and again. “That’s… you don’t play fair.”

Knives smirks, allowing the curve of his lips to brush against Vash’s ear as he does. “When it comes to having you, anything is fair game.”

Abruptly, Vash disentangles himself from Knives, ears bright red. Knives’ breath hitches at the sight of his eyes, aglow with a heated passion. He grabs hold of Knives’ hand, threading their fingers together. “My bedroom then. Now .”

Led by Vash, they speed walk through the halls, the rapid thumps of their feet mirroring the way Knives’ heart is thundering in his ears. It’s finally going to happen. Their Paradise of Independents is as far away as ever, but that frustration is remote and abstract in the face of the reality of Vash, of his warm hand clasped firmly around Knives’ own.

Knives has never doubted, not truly, that Vash loved him, and wanted him just as badly. No matter what Vash claimed, and what pretensions of ignorance he played at, they are a matching set, identical in all the ways that truly matter. But seeing that truth finally laid bare is a balm. Even if Knives were to stop right here in the hall, the firm grip Vash has on his hand would keep him moving forwards, the drive to close the final gaps between them no longer reliant on Knives alone. The final barrier would be breached, and they would do it together .

“Okay, here we are!” announces Vash, throwing open his bedroom door. Vash jumps as it slams into the wall with a too loud bang, the force leaving a dent in the wall. Shaken out of his focused stride, Vash throws a guilty look at Knives. “Oh shoot, I, um—”

“Ignore it. It will take more than the destruction of a few inconsequential things to stop us now. Finish taking me to your room, Vash.”

Vash visibly gulps. His fingers flex, repositioning their grip around Knives’ hand, shaky with eager nerves. “I mean, I’m sure you’ve seen it before, it was yours before I got here. Not that it isn’t still yours exactly, I just—well. Anyways, you haven’t been here since I got settled, so. Here it is?”

He pulls Knives into the room. At first glance, it’s much the same as many of the other rooms in the facility. Four metal walls, a door, and a simple set of furniture, unmoved from their initial layout. Vash had chosen one of the rooms with a window, which welcomes in the light of the twin suns.

As Vash turns to fuss with the door, cursing softly as he fumbles with the dented lock mechanism, Knives takes in the ways that this room is special, marked as it is by Vash’s presence. Vash still wears his jacket and gun wherever he goes, but the permanence of his stay is marked by what he entrusts to this room. His orange glasses lie on the bedside table, his maintenance gear lies scattered across the desk, and beside it stands a lone photograph of days long gone, carefully persevered over the decades.

With a final click, Vash locks the door. No one would dare intrude on this space that Knives has gifted to Vash, but Knives feels a shiver of satisfaction at Vash so earnestly locking out the outside world, sealing them both in Vash’s space with nothing to concentrate on but each other.

Vash turns to stare at Knives, nerves visibly fading as he drinks Knives in. In response, Knives turns and widens his stance to give Vash a better view. Knives has never seen his body as anything more than a vessel that he maintained to accomplish his goals, but pinned under Vash’s heated gaze he takes pleasure in the clear appreciation he sees. 

“You can look your fill just like this if you want, but I believe you said something about stripping me naked?” says Knives, spreading his arms in clear invitation.

Vash licks his lips, pink tongue darting out to wet his lower lip. Knives wants to feel that lip between his teeth, but he waits. Allows Vash to take that first step forward and entangle them inextricably together.

Knives breathes in sharply when Vash’s hand brushes his chest as Vash reaches around to search for the clasp of the suit, but stays still. Permits Vash’s fingers to fumble for a moment at his back until they once again find the clasp. A simple twist and the barrier between them peels away as if it was never there, pooling at his feet.

Fully bared before Vash for the first time in over a century, he finds the patience to allow Vash a moment of silence as he stares. Vash lifts a hand and lets it hover over Knives’ side, not quite touching but close enough for his heat to be felt. 

“Nai,” chokes Vash, “Can I?”

Too caught up in the wonder in Vash’s gaze to feel irritation at his insistence on repeatedly asking permission, Knives simply nods.

Then he gasps as Vash’s hand settles against his naked torso, each finger a band of heat felt that much more clearly without a barrier. The hand strokes up and down, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

A far cooler hand brushes over the slope of Knives’ shoulder. Vash mutters, “Nothing in the way this time,” and puts his mouth on the newly exposed juncture between Knives’ neck and shoulders. At first he licks, the flicker of wet heat against the vulnerable spot on his neck making Knives shudder. Vash drags his teeth tauntingly over skin, before once again sealing his mouth over Knives’s neck and starting to suck.

Knives whimpers Vash’s name as he shakes and clutches Vash’s shoulder. Vash continues to lavish his neck with attention, nipping and sucking everything within reach. When Vash raises his head, his lips are swollen and slick with spit. 

“Your skin is so pale and smooth, I can see everything so clearly,” marvels Vash. He trails a finger down Knives’ chest. “You’re flushed pink almost all the way down to your navel.” He continues, half to himself, “I wonder, does it reach this low when you’re angry or embarrassed, or is it only when you’re turned on?” Knives has no idea but is willing to walk around naked if Vash asks it of him in order to find out. “And my marks on your neck, they’re already so dark! It’s like anything I do to you is shown on your skin.”

Knives imagines his skin being coloured with the evidence of Vash’s desire and moans audibly. “Then leave your marks everywhere. Let my flesh be your canvas, and desire your paint. Let me carry the evidence of our joining for days to come.”

Vash’s eyes visibly darken. “Nai, you can’t keep saying things like that. It’s our first time, and it’s pretty obvious you haven’t—well, I’m trying to take my time with you, but you keep making it difficult.”

Knives scoffs, “No one asked you to be slow, Vash. I can take everything you have to give.”

“Fine.” Knives is abruptly pushed backwards until the back of his knees hit the bed. “I’ll just do what I want then.” Another shove and Knives falls onto the bed, Vash looming over him. Vash’s scent, which has been growing steadily stronger, washes over him as he is laid out on his back, Vash kneeling over him. He has barely registered the change in position before possessive hands seize his pecs and squeeze .

Knives gasps and squirms as Vash continues to grope his chest, the differing temperatures of each hand lending an extra layer to the sensation. “Ahh, these feel just as good as I imagined. You fill my hand so nicely,” confides Vash faux casually, as if Knives isn’t shaking underneath him. “I’ve been trying so hard to resist, you know? But you don’t make it easy.” He kneads the muscle under his palms. 

Knives opens his mouth to retort but all that comes out is a moan as Vash pinches his nipple.

“Of course I knew you’d let me. Well, maybe I didn’t realize you’d allow anything quite like this ,” Vash punctuates the statement by pulling gently on both nipples, making Knives jerk with a groan. “But of course I knew we could touch. That’s what made this so hard, really. You being right in front of me but so focused on your ‘Paradise’ that any touching you allowed beyond the basic requirements would be nothing but a one-sided indulgence you granted me out of pity.”

Knives makes a noise of protest, scrambling to find his words as his overheated body continues to shake under Vash’s clever fingers, nipples now fully hardened under his touch.

Ignoring him, Vash continues, “That would be worse than having nothing at all, so I held back. Took what I could get.”

Finally finding his voice, Knives pants, “You can have it all! Vash, I—ah! Not pity. Never pity.”

“I think I see that now.” Vash rolls his nipples between his fingers as he continues to massage his chest, the area now feeling hot and sensitive. “There’s no way anyone would react like this, already panting so sweetly after just this much, if they didn’t really want it. Your body is just begging to be touched, isn’t it?”

“Only—” Knives chokes out.

“Hm? Only what?” asks Vash, the firm circles he is rubbing into Knives’ nipples spreading pleasure throughout his entire body.

“I’m only like this…” he says, struggling to catch his breath. “…For you, Vash.”

Vash smiles at Knives, the softness of the expression at odds with the way his fingers are unrelenting. “I think I’m starting to understand that now. You really are mine, aren’t you?” 

“Yes! Vash, I’m—ah!” Knives arches off the bed as Vash takes his nipple into his mouth, tongue running over the already oversensitized bud. Vash is merciless in a way Knives would be surprised he is capable of if Knives had any room to process anything more than the weight pinning him to the bed and the wet warmth flicking over his nipple. 

Time begins to lose all meaning as he writhes under the attention, its passage marked only by Vash trailing his hot mouth from his right nipple to his left, nimble fingers continuing the attention on the right. Teeth, previously only scraping teasingly over the flesh, hold his nipple in their grasp. They bite down around their prize and Knives’ world goes white.

When Knives slowly opens his eyes and unclenches his fingers, he’s greeted to the sight of Vash above him, pupils blown and hair in disarray. Knives’ hands lose their grip on Vash’s head—when did he grab on?—and drop limply to his sides.

“Did you—did you just come?” asks Vash, a low rumble to his voice that sends shivers through Knives’ oversensitized body.

“Come? Oh, you mean orgasm?” Knives struggles to put together a coherent thought. “Well, you only touched… but that feeling… it probably was a kind of orgasm? It matched some of the descriptions in my research.”

“Descriptions?” Vash groans, long and drawn out. “Oh my god, Nai. I just made you have your first ever orgasm with your nipples. You really don’t play fair. How am I supposed to concentrate on anything else ever again knowing that?” despairs Vash, hiding his flushed face on Knives’ chest.

Even dazed, Knives’ smile still manages to have teeth as he replies, “Good.”

The smile is kissed off his face as Vash pins him down once again, letting more of his weight rest on top of Knives. This works until he shifts on top of Knives and the zipper of his jacket digs painfully into Knives’ freshly ravaged chest.

Knives makes a protesting noise and tugs at the offending fabric. “Get this off already.”

Vash rises to his knees and takes off the jacket. He folds it and carefully places it on top of the dresser. Knives would be jealous of the care Vash shows that blasted gift from the humans, but today, all he can see in the care with which Vash treats the jacket is the echo of the reverential way he touched Knives. The way he treasures what he has been given no matter how long it’s been.

Vash then fingers the hem of his shirt, and hesitates. “My shirt is soft enough that it won’t hurt. It doesn’t need to come off for us to have sex. I’m not… you probably don’t want to have to look at my torso the entire time. It’s no pretty untouched canvas.”

“There’s no way you’ll be anything but perfect, Vash,” assures Knives, raising himself on his elbows to better look at Vash.

“You say that now, but the reality won’t be like your imaginings. I can’t compete with all… that,” says Vash, waving a hand vaguely over Knives’ torso.

Knives frowns at the way Vash is shying away. “I don’t want myself. I want you . Together we are complete, two halves of a whole; that doesn’t mean we need to be identical. The only value in the shape of my body is that you find pleasure in its form. The shape of yours will be a perfect counterpoint to my own.”

When Vash still hesitates, Knives huffs, “I’ve offered myself to you and you’ve accepted. When you take me for yourself there can be no barriers between us. When I receive your body with my own, our joining will not be complete unless you are fully bared so I can take everything you have to give.”

Vash chuckles faintly, nowhere near his usual level of exuberance, but his grip on his shirt hem strengthens. “Should have known you’d still be bossy even underneath me and covered in lovebites. Alright.” He pulls his shirt up slowly, exposing his torso inch by inch.

As forewarned, Vash is not ‘untouched’. For every new section of skin he exposes, a new set of scars is revealed. Knives could wipe out all of humanity for even a single one of those scars, but this moment is about him and Vash alone. Here and now, each of those marks is proof of Vash’s survival, of the tenacity of Vash’s body, of its ability to carry him forward even through the harshest of circumstances, until he reached Knives at last.

When Vash pulls the shirt over his head and tosses it to the side, strong, hard-earned muscles rippling on his torso as he does, Knives breathes out, “Beautiful,” without hesitation.

Vash lowers his eyes, uncharacteristically shy. “There’s no accounting for taste, I suppose.”

One day, Knives is going to worship Vash’s entire body until Vash understands how beautiful he truly is, but today he lets it go. Right now, their first joining awaits.

Knives tugs at Vash’s pants. “Now these,” he demands.

Vash laughs, the sound light once again. “So impatient!”

“Says the one who nearly stripped me naked in the piano room,” retorts Knives on autopilot, eyes glued to where Vash’s thumbs are hooked into his waistband.

“True! I guess I’ll take mercy on you then.” With a firm yank, Vash pulls down his pants and underwear in one swift movement, awkwardly setting a foot back on the floor and hopping as he pulls off the last of his clothing.

The muscles in his long slender legs, equally scar-covered, flex as Vash resettles back on the bed, one on either side of Knives as he kneels over Knives’ legs. Nestled between Vash’s legs lie his flower, only the petals visible as they lay folded neatly over the apex of his thighs, flushed a deep pink from arousal.

At the sight of Vash’s petals, Knives is suddenly conscious of his own sex. Not yet bloomed, his petals are nonetheless beginning to lift up from their closed position, pink and swollen. He can already feel nectar beginning to leak.

He squirms, lifting his gaze to Vash’s face, seeing Vash had also been preoccupied with staring at the body laid bare before him. Vash’s eyes flicker up to meet his. The playful mood from before dissipates as the room seems to heat up.

Abruptly, Knives needs Vash against him, needs Vash to press him into the bed with his whole self laid bare and show Knives how much Vash wants him. 

Knives pleads, “Kiss me, Vash.”

The last syllable of the plea has barely left his lips before Vash grants his requests. His lips are captured roughly, Vash wasting no time before licking into his mouth. Their tongues slide together slickly, the sound of it filling the room alongside Knives’ muffled gasps of pleasure. 

It still isn’t enough, Vash’s body is hovering just out of reach, Vash braced on his forearms as he leans down to plunder his mouth. Knives arches while wrapping an arm around Vash’s bare back and pulling. Without interrupting the kiss, their naked chests meet in the middle, both of them groaning in synchrony. 

Taking his cue from Knives, Vash sneaks an arm between Knives and the bed, propping him up as he presses down harder. Pressed together like this, Knives can feel Vash’s heart pounding in his chest as their mouths move frantically against each others’.

He rocks slightly up into Vash, letting their chests slide together. The movement causes the rough scar tissue to rub over the sensitive marks Vash left behind, and he moans. In response, Vash presses him harder into the bed, grinding their nipples together.

As Vash lets out his own pleasured gasp, Knives captures his bottom lip between his teeth, tugging gently, then harder as it makes Vash shudder above him. The bed shifts as Vash’s hips twitch forward, but the way he’s kneeling over Knives makes contact impossible. His own flower feels hot, ready to bloom at even the slightest touch.

Breaking the kiss, Vash sits up on his heels, cutting off Knives’ whine of protest by sliding a hand from Knives’ chest to just above his petals, the muscles in Knives’ abdomen jumping at the contact. 

Eyes full of heat, Vash looks at Knives and rasps, “Nai.”

Knives is nodding frantically before Vash has a chance to turn his statement into a question. “Please, I want it, touch me, I—oh!”

A finger tracing the outer edge of his topmost petal has Knives cutting himself off, unable to keep talking. Vash reaching out even a single finger is all Knives needs to bloom open fully, his petals spreading wide under Vash’s touch, offering up all of his innermost parts. 

Being spread so open feels foreign, something Knives has only ever induced as part of his study of Plants and their function. But under Vash’s intense scrutiny, eyes rapt and wondrous at how easily Knives blooms for him, it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

Vash’s finger returns to his petal, gently tracing the rim. Knives sighs at the touch, the soft caress sending pleasurable tingles up his spine. When Vash reaches the end of the first petal, he starts on the next and then the next, mapping out each and every petal. By the time he returns to the topmost petal, every nerve in Knives’ flower has awakened, sparking with the gentle pleasure left behind by the delicate trails of Vash’s finger.

Eyes narrowed in concentration, Vash flicks his gaze up to Knives’ face as he changes tact. Fingers brush his inner thighs as they cup the outside of a petal, allowing Vash’s thumb to firmly stroke up the exposed inner surface. 

“Vash!” gasps Knives, hips instinctively bucking into the touch, dislodging the hand.

Vash smirks at him, smugness undermined by the red resting high on his cheeks. A cool touch against the overheated skin of his hip has Knives jerking again, until the prosthetic hand tightens its grip and pins him to the bed. “Stay still , Nai.”

Breath hitching, Knives stills obediently. Something in Vash’s eyes shifts as he does, darkening with lust and something Knives can’t quite identify. Never looking away from Knives’ face, Vash grips his petal once more and gives it another firm stroke. Knives cries out once again, struggling to keep his hips still. Not pausing at the end of stroke, Vash drags his thumb back down, leaving a trail of electricity in its wake. 

Vash repeats the motion, stroking the petal again and again, letting his thumb dip closer to his center with every pass. Until, at the bottom of his stroke, Vash brushes against the base of Knives’ stamen where it sits right above his opening, the stalk just beginning to swell now that it’s been released from the protective confines of his petals. The next stroke upwards is slick, smearing the nectar spilling out of him up the petal.

“You’re so wet for me,” breathes Vash, eyes bright. “Look at this, you’re already dripping.” Vash swipes his thumb over the slick that’s welling up from Knives’ center, spreading it to his other petals, the firm strokes now a wet glide.

Already panting, this makes Knives grab the sheets, trembling under the grip keeping him pinned down as he tries to stop himself from bucking.

“And so obedient too, even though you’re trembling. Doing just as I asked.” Vash pauses his movements, never once looking away from Knives. “Do you think you can keep that up if I let go of your hip? Can I trust you with what I need from you now?”

Knives bites his lip. Agreeing should be the easiest thing in the world, and yet he’s already shaking from the onslaught of these novel sensations, his self control already ready to snap. 

But. Pinned beneath Vash’s stare he can feel how much Vash wants this, for Knives to do as he asks while he indulges himself in Knives’ body. It is frustratingly rare for Vash to express his wants, and even fewer of the ones he does express are ones that Knives, for all his power and dedication, can satisfy. This much is trivial in the face of what he will do in Vash’s name.

Steeling himself, Knives replies, “You can trust me. I’ll stay still for you, Vash.”

Vash looks him over slowly, lingering on his bloomed flower, the marks littering his neck and chest, his already strained grip on the sheets. Then, he smiles slowly. “Good boy.”

Knives whimpers, redoubling his grip on sheets, self control already challenged before Vash has even let go of his hip. Vash’s praise is heady, leaving him dizzy and panting without a single touch.

Vash releases his hip, leaving nothing but his trust in Knives to keep him pinned to the bed. With both hands, he sweeps his palms outwards over Knives’ petals, fingers splayed wide to get all six of his petals under his touch. Knives lets out a surprised shout at the contact, shocked by the pleasure coming from so much of his flower after so much pinpointed stimulation. There’s a ripping sound as the sheets tear in his grip, but his body stays obediently still.

“So sensitive,” murmurs Vash. “And all just for me.”

Vash continues petting Knives’ petals, the firm strokes causing waves of pleasure throughout his body. After the initial shocking jolt, maintaining his composure becomes easier, to ride the ebb and flow of the sensations.

Just as he’s starting to catch his breath, Vash varies up the pressure, grinding his palms into the sensitive base of his petals and Knives whimpers helplessly. Vash’s hands quickly get coated in the nectar Knives can feel welling out of his center with every roll of his palms.

“Oh, you’re doing so well. You’re trembling this much from just your petals, but you haven’t moved an inch,” says Vash, entranced. He runs the pads of his fingers up and down, gently awakening the nerves, before firmly running his hands down the entire petal, provoking another shudder.

“I said I wouldn’t,” gasps Knives, chest heaving. “You asked, so I’ll keep still.”

Vash hums, eyes darkened with a mixture of lust and challenge. “I did, but will that be enough when it gets hard? I haven’t even touched your cock yet and you’re already struggling.” He lets his fingers brush up against the base of Knives’ stamen, now fully erect and leaking, pollen just beginning to spill out of the head. “Or put my fingers inside you.” His thumb presses down on Knives’ swollen slit, just hard enough to tease but without the required force to breach the entrance and slip inside. “Are you sure you can handle it?”

“Anything,” chokes Knives, “You can do anything, it’s all for you, if you want it, it’s yours, just do it—!”

A hand wraps firmly around his stamen and Knives throws his head back with a howl. Tears are beginning to prick at the corners of his eyes and his body is taut with tension, but his hips stay obediently still.

Vash shows him mercy, waiting patiently for Knives to catch his breath, hand unmoving. When Knives recovers enough to meet his eyes, his breath catches once more. In contrast to his steady hand, Vash looks wild and primal, looming over Knives while Knives struggles to obey as Vash takes him apart.

“I want to believe you, Nai. I want to see you do this for me. But if I made it too easy, then it means less that I’m trusting you to give me what I want, you see?” Vash licks his lips. “And you keep telling me, over and over, that you’ll give it to me.” He adjusts his grip on Knives, making Knives keen. “So here’s what I’m going to do, okay? I’ll make it easy since it’s our first time. I’m going to stroke you here five times—I’ll even keep count for you. But the entire time, you’re going to keep your hips pinned to this bed without any help. Do you understand?”

Knives takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. Even unmoving, the warmth of Vash’s hand against his stamen makes him want to shudder, the idea of more near incomprehensible. But he will do it, anything that has Vash looking at him like that , the full weight of his attention making Knives’ insides feel hot. 

Bracing himself, he nods at Vash who is waiting expectantly for a response. The smile he receives in return is full of obscene promise.

“One.”

Knives chokes on a cry as Vash’s hand begins to slide upwards. Burning pleasure sparks as every ridge of his stamen is firmly squeezed. If the strokes to his petals were waves that threatened to drown him, this feels like a burst of fire, his nerves alight with a smoldering flame that greedily hungers for more. 

“Two.”

The next stroke is even more overwhelming, the nectar squeezed out from the ridges of his stamen slicking him within Vash’s grip. His hands and feet clench and unclench frantically as he tries to redirect the energy burning within every cell telling him to move , to wildly rut into Vash’s hand, to become nothing more than a set of primal instincts.

“Three.”

At the top of this stroke, Vash’s thumb swipes over the head, mixing the pooling pollen with the freely flowing nectar, the thick mixture hot against his already burning flesh as Vash pulls his hand back down his stalk.

“Four.”

He’s getting lightheaded, breathing rapid and shallow. Each movement of Vash’s hand feels as if it is in slow motion, leaving an agonizing trail of pleasure in its wake. His world narrows down to the calloused hand around him and the shaking muscles in his core keeping him still.

“Five.”

He has to move. It's so much. It's too much. 

His body is on fire, he can’t keep everything contained within the bounds of his skin, he needs to shake and buck until his exterior matches the way his insides are writhing. Why is he holding back again? He can’t remember. 

He feels more pollen being spread by the fingers that are now rubbing over the head and nearly breaks, but the part of him that has never let go, that is incapable of it, holds him steady. The details he can’t remember don’t matter, this is about Vash, and for Vash he will do anything.

The fingers slide back down, a maddeningly exquisite burn. They continue until they hit the base once more, rubbing against the base of his petals. 

Then, he is released. 

Knives heaves a gasping breath, the world coming back into focus as the vice of pleasure loosens its grip. His entire body is tingling with pent up energy that has had nowhere to go. Before he can do more than blink up at Vash, Vash is upon him.

“Nai, Nai, you were so good, you did such a good job.” Vash kisses away the tears that had streaked down his cheeks. “So beautiful, unraveling just for me.” He caresses Knives’ cheek, his chest, anywhere he can reach, soothing the tense muscles. “I probably shouldn’t have pushed so hard, this is all new to you, but oh, seeing you like this, I couldn’t resist. Reacting so strongly but holding back just for me, you were amazing.”

Knives basks in Vash’s stream of babbled praise as his body slowly relaxes. Satisfaction sits warmly in his abdomen. Vash had finally reached out, allowed himself to greedily ask of Knives, and as promised, Knives gave. One day, Vash will never again feel like he should hide his need for Knives, never again doubting that he is wanted in return and that Knives will provide what he needs.

“Vash,” rasps Knives, hoarse from the cries that never made it past his lips. “My Vash. Just ask and I will provide, what I have is yours.”

Vash kisses him in response, lips hungry and reverent as he clutches at Knives’ face. Vash grinds against Knives’ leg, making Knives conscious of the nectar already staining his thigh where Vash must have been rubbing himself as he pleasured Knives. Finally free to respond, Knives bucks his hips, pushing his thigh more firmly into Vash.

With a low moan, Vash breaks the kiss. “Wait, let me do something for you now. You held back so well for me, it’s your turn to get what you want.”

This has already been such a gluttonous feast after a long drought of receiving only pieces of Vash, that it takes Knives a second to realize what is being offered. He, of course, wants Vash in all ways. That want is such an all-consuming truth to his existence that physical specifics had never crossed his mind until prompted by Vash this very day. Suddenly, countless possibilities are being presented before him, even ones that he has yet to conceive.

At Knives’ hesitation, Vash sits back. “I don’t mind offering some suggestions, if that would help.” He smiles temptingly. “If you don’t have to hold back, I have plenty of ideas of what would make you feel good.” Not breaking eye contact, Vash raises a finger to his lips, still gleaming with Knives’ nectar, and runs his tongue slowly up the digit until not a drop of nectar remains.

The sight sparks something in Knives and he pushes himself up abruptly. “I want to taste you. Let my reward be to sup your sweet nectar directly from your flower.”

Vash’s eyes widen and he starts protesting even as his hips noticeably jerk at Knives’ statement. “Me? But this is supposed to be about you now. Really, I want to do something for you, especially after I pushed you so hard…”

Looking around, Knives determines what the best position for this is. Coming to a conclusion, he distractedly replies, “This is for me,” while beginning to shuffle them both to the edge of the bed.

Vash splutters, “Just feels like I’m doing something wrong, I’m trying to reward you but instead you’re going to go down on me,” but allows himself to be dragged along.

Knives drops down to the foot of the bed, getting on his knees between Vash’s legs. Kneeling between Vash’s thighs he looks up at Vash. “Are you complaining?”

Vash’s pupils dilate and his petals, already halfway bloomed from his earlier rutting against Knives’ thigh, unfurl another centimeter. “Um, no, not complaining. Just… wanted to be sure this is really your first choice.”

“Is it really such a surprise?” Knives places his hands on Vash’s inner thighs, feeling the muscles jump under his palms. He spreads them gently, Vash’s compliance so easy and sweet that it sends a frisson of delight up his spine. “Your indulgence had me coming apart under your hand. Is it not to be expected that my desires are a mirror to yours?” Knives inhales deeply, the natural scent of Vash now rolling off of him in waves accompanied by the sweet aroma of the nectar beginning to drip from Vash. “Can I not crave to have your innermost essence on my tongue and to have you react to me and my touch without reservation?”

Vash swallows. “Well, if you put it like that…”

Satisfied that Vash will no longer protest his choice of reward, Knives encourages the soft blossoms in front of him to fully unfurl and yield their bountiful harvest to his careful hands. Vash gasps softly above him as Knives coaxes open his prize, running firm fingers down the delicate underside of each petal until each and every one is spread out across Vash’s pelvis. 

He nuzzles a petal, feeling its silky warmth against cheek. Vash’s innermost parts are soft, untouched by the violence marking the rest of his body. Knives is the only one who is worthy to be entrusted with access to this sacred place. He runs his fingers softly across the petals, reveling in how open and welcoming they are.

“Ah, Nai? Not to rush you if this is what you want to do. But you did say you wanted a taste, so I was just wondering…” Vash trails off, squirming. 

Knives smiles, pleased with Vash’s blatant impatience. Vash will one day learn to ask directly for what he wants, but in the meantime, Knives will not deny him what he so obviously desires.

He turns his head, planting a chaste kiss to the base of the petal he was nuzzling. Then he opens his mouth and finally indulges them both by having a taste.

He licks up the petal, letting the taste of Vash settle onto his tongue. He tastes as he smells, alive and electric, with the faintest hint of nectar. He tastes each petal in turn, lavishing each with his attention as Vash squirms and gasps.

“You… ah!... you’re such a tease, Nai. My petals aren’t my ‘innermost essence’, as you put it,” groans Vash.

“I also said I wanted every single part of you. I’m not going to rush to the main course when I have such a feast presented before me.” Knives smirks. “Besides, I’m just going in the same order you did, so surely that’s not a problem?”

Vash curses under his breath and doesn’t reply. Still, Knives also wants to taste him more directly, so he takes pity on him. He pulls Vash’s pelvis even closer and licks over his center.

Sweetness bursts over his tongue as he tastes nectar directly from the source. Knives groans low in his throat, pressing in closer until he’s hardly able to breathe, licking up each new pulse of nectar spilling from Vash’s slit. Vash is moaning, pushing his hips into Knives’ face.

Gasping, Knives comes back up for air, feeling nectar all over his face. Vash’s flower is flushed redder than before, stamen standing tall and shining with nectar waiting to be released. His own stalk throbs in sympathy at the sight.

Knives wraps a firm hand around Vash, imitating the way Vash had held him and squeezes up and down the sensitive ridges. Nectar pools out around his fingers and Knives laps up the precious liquid. Wanting a more direct taste, he cups Vash’s stalk in his hand and licks a stripe directly up the side. It’s warmer and rougher under his tongue than the petals, but sweeter as well, nectar continuing to flow freely.

Vash rocks his hips, sliding his stamen over Knives’ tongue as he moans, “Nai, that feels so good, keep going, please, please, please.”

Encouraged, Knives keeps going, licking up from the base of the stamen to the head. The head is beginning to leak pollen. Curious, Knives swirls his tongue over the powdery substance. The taste is almost bitter, contrasting the sweet smoothness of the nectar. But Knives knows that it’s only by mixing the two together that they can truly fulfill their purpose.

He replaces his tongue with nectar sticky fingers, rubbing over the head, periodically stroking the shaft to gather more nectar to mix in with the slowly leaking pollen. Gradually the mixture thickens until the slick coating Vash’s stamen is tinted gold with pollen, warm and sticky to the touch. Then he leans in and swirls his tongue over Vash’s head once more, groaning as the new taste touches his tongue. It’s the sweetness of the nectar but with more depth, a richness that is beyond anything else he’s ever experienced. 

Chasing after the flavour, Knives is startled when hands sink into his hair. “Nai, just put me in your mouth already, please .”

He blinks up at Vash, whose face is flushed and bottom lip swollen from when he had bitten down in an effort to hold back his noises. He’s confused for a split second until Vash’s hands tug him insistently forward to the head of his stamen. He obligingly opens his mouth and allows Vash to guide his stamen inside.

Vash moans loudly as Knives’ mouth is filled, Vash’s intoxicating flavour now accompanied by a solid weight on his tongue. Clumsily, Knives attempts to continue licking, his movements limited by the stamen stretching his mouth wide.

Vash’s hands tilt Knives’ head up as best he can without dislodging the stamen in his mouth. Knives looks up into Vash’s eyes, feeling drool leaking from the corners of his mouth as he keeps his lips sealed around Vash. 

When their eyes meet, Vash moans again, as if the sound had been punched out of him. “Nai,” he pants. “You look so good like that, I can’t believe I get to see you like this, on your knees, sucking my cock.”

Ah yes, sucking would probably work better with his mouth so full. Experimentally, Knives tries sucking on the stamen in his mouth. Vash reacts immediately, crying out as his fingers tighten pleasantly in Knives’ hair.

Pleased with the result, Knives immediately redoubles his efforts, his cheeks hollowing as he sucks. Pollen and nectar mix together in his mouth as he coaxes more from Vash, and he eagerly swallows down the rich blend.

As Knives lavishes his stamen with attention, Vash keeps up a steady stream of words. “Oh, just like that, that’s so good. You’re so good at this, so eager, like you can’t get enough. It’s so hot. This is even better than what I had imagined. Ah—right there, yes, yes. You’re perfect , Nai.”

The steady stream of praise is enough for Knives to feel hot and lightheaded, but as Vash pants out the last sentence, Knives moans around his mouthful. Vash’s hips jerk in response, sliding his stamen deeper into Knives’ mouth. 

Knives almost chokes at the intrusion, the nectar he’s been swallowing down already more than he has permitted to pass through his throat in decades. Vash immediately starts babbling apologies, making as if to pull back. Knives grips his hips and stops him.

Breathing in deeply, Knives consciously relaxes his throat. This is Vash. His body should have no resistance in accepting any part of him. 

Vash had continued to squirm under him and now grabs his shoulders, pushing. “Oh my god, Nai, slow down! You don’t have to push yourself like this.”

Knives ignores him, wanting to take in all of Vash and certain he can give them both what they want if he keeps pushing.

“Nai! Just let me—ah!” 

Knives swallows down Vash’s stamen in one smooth motion, pushing until his nose is brushing Vash’s petals and his chin Vash’s center.

Vash keens. His hands fly up from pushing weakly against Knives’ shoulder to clutch at his hair, keeping him close. “You’re insane, I know you’re a fast learner but this is—Oh god, your throat is so tight, I can’t—”

Vash’s hips rock, finally taking the pleasure Knives is so freely offering. Knives moans in encouragement and soon Vash is pushing his stamen deep into Knives again and again as he coats the inside of his throat with his nectar and pollen

“Gorgeous,” chokes out Vash. “So beautiful on your knees, taking me so well.”

The grip in his hair tightens, the near painful pressure keeping him grounded as Vash’s pace increases, getting increasingly erratic. As Vash heats up, more and more of his natural scent fills the air. Everything narrows down to this—the taste of Vash’s rich essence, the electric smell of Vash, the gasps and moans that slip out of Vash, the feeling of Vash’s hands in his hair and his thighs flexing as Knives clings to them.

Knives is lost in the push and pull, only able to remain open and accept what Vash has to give him, when he is pulled off with a wet pop and yanked up onto Vash’s lap. His lungs only manage one breath, gulping down cool air into his newly freed airway, before Vash reclaims control of his mouth.

Vash’s tongue traces over everything, his tongue, his teeth, his palate, seeking out the lingering traces of his own essence, moaning as he finds it. His hands grab the back of Knives’ thighs, kneading at the flesh while keeping him firmly anchored on his lap.

Knives kisses back even as his lungs burn in protest, sliding his still sticky hands over Vash’s back. 

When Vash finally releases him, Knives’ chest heaves as he pulls in desperately needed oxygen. As he gasps, Vash plants open mouth kisses on him, licking up the remnants of nectar smeared across his face.

As soon as he can find the breath, ignoring his sore throat, Knives rasps, “Why… did you… stop me?”

Knives can feel Vash shudder through the lips still pressed to his cheek. His own voice sounding wrecked, Vash replies, “I was going to come right down your throat if I hadn’t.”

Knives feels his flower pulse at the thought, his hips jerking in Vash’s lap. “Why didn’t you?”

Vash glances down at the movement, and his gaze stays glued to where Knives is beginning to overflow onto his lap. “I would have. I really really would have. But I thought that maybe you’d rather I finish inside of you.”

Knives clenches down at the thought, his center feeling aching and empty in a way it never has before. Still, he complains breathily, “You can’t do both?”

Vash’s breath hitches, and he replies, voice strained, “Usually I can come multiple times in a row, but this has been so intense that I’m not sure I’ll be able to move again after I come with you. Maybe for our first time we can keep things simple?”

His own body alight with a barely banked fire that flares with everything that Vash does, Knives concedes the point. Unlike when Vash was teasing his chest, it does not feel like the building heat will leave anything behind once it finally overtakes him. When that moment comes, he wants to be fully connected with Vash, intertwined so that the flames engulf them together and from the ashes they will emerge forever carrying a part of the other.

“As long as you still want that, of course. No one has to be penetrated to have a good time, I’d be more than happy to suck you off—mmph!”

Knives hauls Vash back into a searing kiss, hooking his leg around Vash’s waist to pull himself closer. “Yes, that’s what I want.” He pulls back for a moment and hesitates. He should let it go, not question Vash offering up yet another opportunity to stop, as if for him, the need to join isn’t all-consuming. Knives can reject it and Vash will continue.

But everything Vash has just given him, the way he delighted in making Knives shake under his hand, the way he took his pleasure from Knives’ mouth, has made Knives greedy. He wants Vash’s desires to burn just as purely as his own, without hiding behind doubts or self denial. He wants Vash to be able to clearly state what he so obviously wants, even outside of the heat of passion. His desire overwhelms him for a split second and then it’s too late, his mouth has already blurted out, “Is that what you want?”

Vash looks at him, want painted clearly across his face. Knives allows himself a moment of hope, but then Vash blinks, and when his eyes open, he has once again put shackles on his desire. “It’s not about me right now. I know we started this saying I would be on top, but I want you to know that even if neither of us are on top it can be good. Sex isn’t all or nothing, we don’t have to stop entirely if you change your mind.”

Knives’ jaw tightens at the non-answer. “That doesn’t answer my question. I asked what you want.”

“It doesn’t matter as long as you’re comfortable—”

“Stop! Just stop.” Knives cuts him off before Vash can continue dancing around the topic. 

He’s a fool. He already has ample proof of Vash’s want for him, why did he have to try to insist that Vash acknowledge it directly? Pressing Vash directly only ever leads to ruin; he must be given time and coaxed along. He shouldn’t have hoped that this would be any different. 

“It’s fine, it doesn’t matter.” Knives voice cracks partway through. It’s fine, Vash’s body is already more than he expected to get today, he can be a patient a while longer. “Let’s just—”

“Yes!” interrupts Vash.

Knives startles. Vash looks at him, ears red and eyes blazing. “Yes, okay? I want to be inside you. I want to pin you down on this bed and fuck you until you’re seeing stars. I want to ruin you until you’re a flushed panting mess still begging for more. I want to feel the way you’ll squeeze down on my cock as I make you come.”

Knives gapes at Vash, shocked by the desires spilling out of Vash’s mouth, each obscene fantasy more than he ever dared hope Vash would admit to wanting aloud. After a moment, sudden passion cools and Vash drops his eyes, cheeks pink. “But I’ll only want to actually do any of it if you’re comfortable with it, so it doesn’t matter,” he mumbles.

Knives warms, a soft feeling lighting up his insides, even as his flower burns hot at the images Vash’s words have painted. It seems like Vash’s fire hasn’t been twisted up and restrained in the way he feared, his true desires only rarely slipping through. It had merely been tempered by Vash’s caring nature and his unwillingness to impose on those he cared for, something that is far easier to fix.

A smile grows on his face. “I keep telling you I want everything, Vash. The only thing I don’t want is you holding yourself back when I offer up all that I am.”

Vash buries his face in the crook of Knives’ neck, grumbling, “You say that, but you barely even know the extent of what I want. Once you decide you want something, you don’t even notice when it starts to overwhelm you, so I was trying to be careful. Jerk.”

“Well, I was trying to get you to say what you actually did want so we would be in this together. But if you keep hiding it, I can only keep pushing and make my best guess. Just tell me and I’ll tell you that it’s okay. Moron.”

Vash laughs. “I guess we still have a lot to learn.” He sits up and leans his forehead against Knives’. “I’ll start here.” Vash locks their gazes, gentle puffs of air moving between them as they breathe together. “Hey, Nai?”

“Yes, Vash?”

“I want to be inside you, is that okay with you?”

“More than okay. I want that very much.”

Vash grins, kiss-swollen lips stretching over his face as he beams. Knives’ heart flutters at the sight, before he is yanked forward and yelps, “Vash!”

Vash falls back on the bed, pulling Knives along with him. “Then that’s what we’ll do. But first, I want to feel you against me.” He kisses Knives, full of intent as his hands pull Knives fully on top of him.

Knives groans at the feeling he’s quickly getting addicted to, Vash’s tongue in his mouth, their bare chests pressed tightly together. The familiar feeling then changes as Vash’s hands slide smoothly down his naked back before settling on his rear.

His hips are pulled down until his stamen grazes against Vash’s. At the feeling of one of his most sensitive parts touching its mirror on Vash, Knives’ bucks, abruptly turning the gentle brush into a deep grind, their innermost parts pressed tightly together.

They moan in unison, Vash gasping, “That’s it Nai, you feel so good.” Knives all but collapses into Vash at the feeling, no longer able to support his own weight. It quickly ceases to matter as Vash digs his fingers into the thick muscle of his buttocks, pulling Knives down to grind against him as he begins to roll his hips upwards.

Knives does little more than pant against Vash’s mouth, no longer able to concentrate on anything beyond the slick friction of their flowers. Their stamens are cradled between their bodies, each motion rubbing them against each other or grinding them into their petals. Knives moans unabashedly, the double feeling of the friction from the rough ridges of Vashh’s stamen and the silky smooth glide of his petals so exquisite Knives would believe that this alone is enough to enter the higher dimension.

Still rolling his hips, Vash presses his lips to Knives’ ear and orders, “Spread your legs more, Nai.”

Shuddering, Knives obeys mindlessly. 

Vash exhales shakily against his ear. “Good boy.”

Vash shifts under Knives, moving in the newly freed up space until he seems satisfied. He ruts up once again, the new angle grinding into the base of Knives’ stamen. Vash adjusts Knives to suit him, tilting his pelvis just so, Knives pliant under his guiding hands. When Knives is where Vash wants him, Vash surges up to meet him.

At the moment of contact, Knives keens, the centers of their flowers now pressed tightly together, so close that he can feel the warmth of the nectar flowing from Vash’s innermost depths just as Vash can surely feel his. Their flowers are perfectly aligned petal to petal, stamen to stamen. Another layer to the ache of want begins to build inside of him as Vash rubs against the swollen slit of his entrance and the sensitive base of his petals.

The burning desire for more finally overcomes the standstill the shock of pleasure had put upon his muscles and Knives grinds down to meet Vash. He can feel his buttocks flexing under Vash’s hands, as Vash steers him true. They align together, again and again and again. The constant friction against his center, the slick slide which leaves Knives gasping, has more want growing inside of him.

“You really like this angle, don’t you?” gasps Vash, his own enjoyment clear from the flush on his cheeks and the wetness of his bloom.

“I—oh! I like it!” Knives attempts to pull words together to communicate even a fraction of his pleasure while still meeting every incandescent movement of Vash’s hips. “I can feel every part of your bloom. I—ngh, I can feel our flowers align, how we are so perfectly matched, equally open, hot, and wet!” 

Vash bucks up harder into Knives, only his firm grip keeping Knives in place. “How is it you have such a filthy mouth? You react so innocently, then you say stuff like that!”

“I—mmn! I’m only saying what I mean,” pants Knives.

“You—” Vash cuts himself off, dragging Knives back into a kiss and rolling them both over on the bed until Knives is pinned under his weight. He kisses Knives as if he is devouring him, as if he has finally bitten into the forbidden fruit, and now that he’s started he cannot stop.

Eyes alight with hunger, Vash pants out, “You’ve got to know that makes it so much worse.”

Dazed, Knives replies, “If it has you reacting like that, I must be doing something right.”

Vash makes a noise that is half incredulous and half lustful, his heated gaze keeping Knives just as pinned to the bed as the weight of his body. Vash is beautiful like this, his body fully bared and flushed with heat, hair even more disheveled than usual, but his eyes are sharp and focused entirely on Knives.

Lost in his gaze, Knives is taken by surprise as the solid weight keeping him pinned suddenly lightens. Before he can think, Knives has hooked his legs around Vash’s waist, keeping him anchored between his thighs. 

“Where are you going?” asks Knives, heartbeat slowing as Vash makes no attempts to escape his grasp.

“I’m not going anywhere,” answers Vash carefully. “I was thinking I’d try to finger you next, and needed a different angle.”

“Oh. Right.” Knives allows his thighs to relax, no longer trapping Vash in place. Suddenly impatient, he says, “Enough with the touching. I don’t want your fingers, I want you . Come inside me, Vash.”

Vash stills. “Nai… I don’t want to hurt you. I should loosen you up first. I mean, have you even put your own fingers inside before?”

“No, but that’s irrelevant. I’ve fully bloomed for you.” He rolls his hips, pointedly sliding their flowers together, the motion sounding wet and obscene. “I’m wet and open, you just need to come inside.”

Vash shudders, and Knives rolls his hips again, trying to transfer his sudden urgency to Vash. This time he’s stopped as Vash pushes his weight down on him, pinning Knives’ hips so he can barely move. “That’s not how our flowers work, Nai. Even if you’re turned on, you still need to be stretched. You’re probably,” Vash swallows audibly, “very tight right now.”

“That doesn’t matter—”

“It does to me!”

Knives blinks, shaken out of his urgency at the passion in Vash’s voice.

Vash leans up, letting go of the weight keeping Knives pinned down. When they are face to face, he continues. “It matters to me. This is our first time. Maybe I’m a bit old fashioned, but I want it to be special, okay? If we rush, you might get hurt. I’ve told you how much I want this, so please, trust me that this is necessary. Let me take the time to make sure both of us feel good.”

Looking into Vash’s earnest gaze, Knives relents. If Vash can state his desires aloud after all this time, he will allow Vash to be the one to set the pace, trusting that this isn’t a meaningless delay.

“Alright,” agrees Knives.

Vash steals a kiss the moment the syllables leave his lips, quick and deep. When he pulls back he’s smiling. “Thank you. I know it can be hard for you to admit I might have a point.” Before Knives can retort, he’s being kissed once again and he loses his train of thought.

Vash murmurs against his mouth, “I’m going to sit up in a second to get into a better position, alright?” He waits for Knives to make a noise of assent, then settles on his knees between Knives’ splayed legs.

He rubs his finger over Knives’ center, reigniting the ache that has been building deep inside of him. Despite himself, Knives feels himself tense, Vash so close to finally breaching his body, even with just a finger.

“Hey, try to relax, okay?” Vash rubs his other hand soothing over his hip. “I’m putting a finger in now.”

Vash’s fingers stop rubbing, and his index finger begins to press down gently. With a wet squelch, the finger slides in easily, Knives’ body offering little resistance to the intrusion. Vash doesn’t move right away, allowing Knives to adjust to the foreign feeling of his innermost parts being touched.

He can feel the solid warmth of Vash’s finger, rubbing slightly over his walls as he breathes around it. He clenches reflexively, squeezing around the finger inside of him. Heat pools deep in his navel. It may be just his finger, but this is still Vash , breaching the most intimate place in Knives’ body.

“This okay?” asks Vash huskily.

“More than okay,” pants Knives. “Keep going, I still want—ah!”

Vash begins thrusting his finger in and out of his body, the wet sound of it filling the room. It feels good, the slow pressure that had been slowly building inside him growing rapidly as his body finally gets what it has been craving.

He spreads his legs wider and begs, “Vash, give me more!”

Immediately, a second finger is breaching his entrance, sliding in alongside the first. This time the intrusion is uncomfortable, his walls stretching wider to accommodate Vash. The discomfort is promptly forgotten as Vash curls his fingers inside of Knives, pressing up against something that makes him arch up off the bed.

“There we go. You’re tight but opening up so well for me.” 

Knives pants, feeling the drag of the fingers inside of him. “Surely this is enough preparation, you can feel how ready I am!”

Vash scissors his fingers, the stretch of his walls making Knives cry out. “Not yet, I want you taking three fingers easily first.”

Knives whimpers, hips rocking as Vash continues to stretch him. Only the sight of Vash, lip caught between his teeth to hold back sounds as if it is his insides being stroked, looking with immense concentration at where his fingers are disappearing into Knives, forestalls more complaints.

The heat in his navel continues to grow, spiking every time Vash grazes that sensitive spot inside of him. His entire body grows even hotter, releasing more of his scent to mix with Vash’s. Their combined scent hangs heavy in the air, a smell with a tang of metal and an electric spark, underpinned by something sweet, something greater than the sum of its parts.

Vash is breathing hard as he asks, “Nothing’s sore anymore, right? I can put in a third?”

“Yes, yes, do it, make space for you inside of me, hurry!”

A third finger presses in, and Knives chokes as his rim stretches wider than before, straining around Vash. A little more pressure and it slides to the knuckle alongside the rest. There is so much inside him that he can’t feel anything else.

“Relax, you’re doing so well. Just a little more, you’re almost there.” Vash peppers comforting kisses against his quivering thigh, slowly starting to rock his fingers in and out.

Knives reaches out blindly, groping around until finds Vash’s free hand. He clutches it, feeling the long steady fingers of the prosthetic, their mirror carefully stroking his insides. How he adores these fingers—not because of what they are, but for the sole fact that they are part of Vash. How could he do anything but embrace what these fingers give him? He kisses the knuckles in his grasp, his flower relaxing as it fully accepts the fingers inside of him.

“Nai,” whispers Vash, reverent. “You’ve opened right up, I’m sliding in easily now.”

“As I always will for you, my Vash.”

“Nai!” Vash surges up to kiss him, fingers still carefully buried in his flower. He kisses Knives fiercely even as his fingers remain gentle, pumping in and out of Knives’ flower in time with his hips as Vash rocks against his leg.

Knives kisses back just as fiercely, matching Vash step for step, perfectly in sync as Vash leads this dance of their bodies. Vash deftly spins Knives out, crooking his fingers just so to make Knives break the kiss with a gasp.

“Ah, Vash!” cries Knives. “I’m ready now, aren’t I? Please, say that it’s enough, I can’t wait any longer!”

Vash stills his fingers and stares at Knives’ face as Knives looks back desperately. “I… I think you are,” says Vash, voice filled with disbelieving awe. “We’re both here, both want this, and you… you’ve bloomed open for me so beautifully.”

Knives squeezes around the fingers still inside him and gasps, “Then it’s okay, right? We can join?”

The prosthetic hand he still holds in his spasms in his grip. “I—” Vash’s voice catches. “Yes. After all this time, yes. I want to connect with you like this so badly, Nai.”

Knives shivers at Vash’s tone of voice. In the wake of Vash’s confession, whispered like he’s admitting to a great secret he’s been carrying, the true weight of what they are about to do settles over them. The heated anticipation doesn’t leave, but blossoms into something greater, profound and world-changing.

“I’m ready,” says Knives firmly, squeezing Vash’s hand. “ We’re ready. At last, there’s nothing left to stop us. Come, Vash. Let us join together the way we were meant to.”

Vash squeezes back, interlacing their fingers. “Yeah. Let’s do this.”

Vash carefully withdraws from Knives’ flower, leaving behind a feeling of emptiness. Now that Vash has made room for himself, that space inside of Knives can only be satisfied by having Vash. The pang of loss is only assuaged by the promise that it will soon be followed by more.

He settles back between Knives’ legs, Knives planting his feet on the bed and spreading his knees wide to fully present himself to Vash. Their gazes lock and hold. This is it.

Vash takes himself in hand, a movement more heard through Vash’s sharp intake of breath than seen, as neither avert their gaze. It quickly becomes forgotten as Vash guides himself forward until his head is pressed against Knives’ entrance.

Their breath hitches in unison, the promise of what’s to come heavy in the air. For once, no words are needed between them, their minds and souls perfectly aligned as they were meant to be. A simple push, a simple give and take, and the last element slides into place. They’re home.

They stay like that, fully joined, foreheads touching, shaking. Their breath mingles as their chests heave in synchrony, their bodies awakened far beyond what mere physical exertion could cause.

Knives feels full, feeling Vash’s warmth deeper inside him than even his fingers could reach. As he breathes, he can feel Vash’s stamen pulse, leaking nectar that joins Knives’ own, coating his insides with their shared slick. With it brings the desire to not only hold Vash inside of him, but to have Vash move, to press himself deep into Knives again and again as he takes him.

Even as he feels the desire blooming in his gut, he can see it in the darkening of Vash’s eyes, everything shared between them.

“Nai–” Vash starts, Knives’ answer coming before he can finish.

“Yes!” 

At his answer, Vash immediately moves, letting loose the desire that they have both been shaking with. He pulls back, the rough ridges of his stamen dragging at Knives’ sensitive walls, and then thrusts right back in, sliding home.

Their pleasured cries ring out in harmony as Vash continues to move in a steady rhythm. With each thrust, Vash sinks deeper inside of him, Knives’ body yielding to his wordless demands, taking everything Vash has to give. 

“Vash!” gasps Knives. “I can feel you! You’re so, so deep!”

“Ah, Nai!” groans Vash. “I can’t help it, you’re sucking me in so greedily, that I just—” He cuts off, pushing harder into Knives. 

Knives begins rocking his hips up to meet Vash, his moan echoing Vash’s as it makes Vash slide in just that much deeper. Vash presses Knives down harder onto the bed, his pounding never slowing. The angle shifts, and when Knives rocks up to meet Vash once more, Vash hits the sensitive spot within Knives dead on.

A noise Knives has never heard before tears its way out of his throat, his muscles spasming from the shock of pleasure. If each movement of Vash inside of him has felt as if it caused the very land beneath them to shake, this is as if the world itself has split open, reshaped by Vash’s hands.

The next thrust misses the spot, the angle changed as Knives shook from pleasure. He scrambles to find it again, but his efforts are futile, his shaking muscles unable to recapture that perfect angle. He whines in frustration, each thrust bringing its own pleasure, but the euphoria of their bodies colliding just right eludes him. He cannot go back to that time.

Vash’s hips slow, and Knives nearly sobs, unable to bear the thought of losing what he already has on top of everything else.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” soothes Vash. He doesn’t stop thrusting, merely slowed as he braces himself over Knives with one hand. The other, he runs up Knives’ calf, hooking under the knee. “Pull these beautiful legs of yours up for me,” says Vash huskily.

Knives complies, pulling up his legs until his knees are on either side of Vash’s torso and he’s lost the last of the leverage he had, completely at Vash’s mercy.

“Good. Now, hook them over my waist, yes, just like that. There you go.” Vash shifts forwards on the bed, Knives’ back curling up to follow as he stays anchored to his waist. “Now, let’s try that again.”

Vash thrusts and Knives falls apart. Euphoria hits, sparks fly beneath his eyelids, his entire body shuddering as Vash drives into him. 

“Haa, I was right. This is—ah—your sweet spot. I can feel you squeezing around me when I hit it.”

Knives moans some syllables roughly approximating Vash’s name in response, utterly lost. What he could not reach, Vash has so simply brought into his grasp. He tightens his legs around Vash’s waist, clinging tightly as Vash guides them both to ecstasy.

The pleasure continues to build, coming in waves that continue to grow, threatening to sweep Knives under. Through it all, even as he takes Knives apart, Vash is his anchor, holding Knives so tightly it is impossible to imagine that they were ever separate.

Through the haze of desire, only Vash’s face is clear, brow furrowed in concentration even as his jaw is slack with pleasure. 

Vash pushes forwards again, until Knives is nearly bent in two. His pace increases even more, hips snapping as he plunges into Knives. Completely pinned under Vash’s weight, Knives can do nothing but take what Vash is giving him. He can only moan as Vash pours his passion into him, voraciously devouring everything he is given.

“Nai, Nai, you feel so good. You’re so tight, wrapping around me like you were made for it,” groans Vash.

“Ah, yes, yes! For you Vash, I was made for you! I’ll take it all in, so keep giving it to me!”

Vash hisses through his teeth, his pleasure-filled face contorting. “Nai, you keep— I want—”

Letting out a breath that may have been intended as a frustrated sigh, but so drenched with lust it comes out as a moan, Vash snaps. He bends Knives over even more, Knives’ knees by his ears, and captures his mouth in a near vicious kiss. He ravages Knives mouth, taking what he wants just as thoroughly as he ravages the innermost depths of Knives’ flower down below.

Time dilates as Knives is swept away by Vash, the pleasure building higher and higher as every part of him is filled with Vash. Before the pleasure can reach its peak, Vash stills with a strained groan and pulls back, a strand of saliva keeping them connected for a moment longer before it too breaks.

Knives is undone, the weight of Vash’s body on him all that keeps him in place, his legs having given out. He can only pant, gazing up at the lust and self-satisfaction on Vash’s face, and watch his tongue flicker out to lick his reddened lips.

“I’m not letting this end just yet, so hold on a little longer.” Vash cups Knives’ cheek, thumb swiping at the overwhelmed tears, the gentle movement at odds with the ravenous look in his eyes. 

“Oh Nai, you’re a mess, aren’t you?” drawls Vash, voice rough with his own arousal. He brings his hand up to his face, licking the tears off of his thumb. “But you were right, you can take me. Look at you, you can barely even move, but you’d still take more, wouldn’t you?” He caresses Knives’ face again. “Like this, you’d accept anything I would do to you.”

Knives presses his heated face into Vash’s hand, babbling, “Yes Vash, please, anything.”

“You look so gorgeous like this, on your back, trembling under my touch. I almost want to keep you like this forever.”

Knives whimpers, and feels himself clamp down on where Vash is buried deep inside him as if to keep him there, to make Vash turn that vision into reality.

“Ah! I see you like that idea, huh? Well, too bad. Today, I get to choose and I have an even better idea.” Vash slides a hand down his thigh.  “Now, legs up again, around my back.” Legs still shaking, Knives compiles. “There, you’re so good for me, Nai. That’s perfect. Now—”

Knives’ world suddenly shifts, everything changing as Vash hauls him into place, arms lifting all of his weight before setting him back down where Vash wants him to be. He’s now straddling Vash’s lap, their flowers still joined, Vash’s arms around his back.

“There. Now, as a reward for cooperating so nicely, I’ll show you the benefits of my way. Look down.”

Knives does, dropping his gaze from Vash’s flushed face, following the trail of pink down to his chest. His nipples stand out, peaked and hardened, moving with Vash’s breaths. They look to be begging for touch, and so as he has everything else Vash has asked of him, Knives obeys.

“Mmm, that’s nice, but not what I meant,” huffs Vash, amusement and desire laced through his voice in equal measure. “Look lower.”

His gaze drops again, following the muscles of Vash’s abdomen until he sees what Vash meant.

“Oh,” breathes Knives, awed. 

Before his eyes, the site of their joining is laid bare. Their petals are brushing, splayed wide as they hold nothing back from each other. His stamen protrudes above, smearing their petals and their bellies with nectar as it leaks heavily. And most devastating of all, he can see the base of Vash’s stamen and where Knives’ is wrapped around him, swallowing him up deep inside.

“You’re inside of me,” says Knives reverentially. Trembling, he runs a finger over where they are connected, feeling his stretched rim and the ridges of Vash’s stamen. “Here is where we’ve become one, I can see it!”

Vash shudders, and Knives can feel how it shifts the stamen inside of him. “I knew you’d like it. Let’s make it even better. How about you try and ride me, see how you look taking me?”

Knives hesitates, wanting to comply but uncertain about what precisely Vash wants him to do. Before he can ask, Vash guides him, planting his knees on the bed and putting his hands on his shoulders. 

“Now lift your hips,” instructs Vash. “See how you slide up my cock? Keep the head inside, then come back down. Look, you take me back in so easily.”

Knives exhales shakily, gaze glued to where they are joined. He moves up and down, up and down, watching as Vash disappears inside of him again and again.

Moving by himself, the pace slows. He carefully rises up then drops back home, taking in as much of Vash as he can. Like this, he can feel every drag against his walls, feel the nectar he’s squeezing out of Vash everytime he moves, further soaking his insides.

Nothing is hidden, every part of their joining is laid open before him. It’s intoxicating, and Knives grows lightheaded as he partakes.

“Ah, ah, Vash!” moans Knives as his faltering thighs drop him down hard, Vash slamming roughly against his walls.

He looks up from their flowers, wanting to see Vash’s face, and sees Vash already staring at him, breathing hard as he watches Knives bounce. Suddenly, this isn’t enough. He needs more from Vash.

Knives lurches forward, yanking Vash artlessly into a kiss. Pressed against Vash’s chest, he can barely move his hips, instead rocking desperately in Vash’s lap as they kiss. His stamen rubs between their bellies making him writhe even harder.

“Vash, Vash! I need—!”

“I know. You did so well, I’ve got you. I’ll give you what you need.”

Strong hands grab his hips, lifting him up and down as Vash drives into him from below. Knives wails, hands clawing desperately at Vash’s strong back as he’s taken.

Like this he is engulfed, both inside and out, by Vash. Pressed tightly together, the arms holding him tight keep him steady so Vash can push himself inside as deep as he can go.

The long-building tension coils through him. This time, there will be no stopping it, every nerve aflame with pleasure that has been denied too long. Vash is equally affected, frantic movements growing erratic as his last bit of restraint snaps.

Clinging onto Vash, Knives reaches once again, wanting, needing , to be closer still. He feels his energy sparking under his skin as he calls for Vash. Vash’s pathways flare to life as Vash answers his call, the air around them sparking as they resonate.

At last, they are joined, body, mind, and soul. The last illusion of separation between them falls as his pleasure becomes Vash’s and Vash’s becomes his.

As one, they chase their pleasure, bodies as deeply intertwined as their souls. In each other’s arms, they find rapture at last, tumbling over the edge together. The world dissolves into pleasure, and all that’s left is them.

---

Knives comes back to himself slowly. He’s lying on Vash’s bed, wrapped up in Vash’s arms. He can feel the echoes of Vash inside of him, already slipping away as the buzz of energy throughout the room dissipates.

A deep sense of contentment permeates his entire being. He cannot recall if he ever felt so at peace, even in those idyllic days of his ignorant youth. 

He presses his lips to the closest part of Vash he can reach, right below his collarbone, and just stays. Vash sighs softly, holding Knives even closer. 

They lie together, Vash’s skin a mosaic of rough and smooth against the unblemished planes of Knives’, Vash’s lithe limbs tangled with Knives’ bulk, fitting perfectly. As they rest, Knives’ heart returns to its slow steady beat, feeling its twin do the same in Vash’s chest.

The peaceful silence breaks when Vash clears his throat. “That was…”

“Wondrous?” suggests Knives, propping his head on Vash’ chest to meet his eyes. “Like we’ve further entangled the threads of ourselves together and the formation of every new knot was incandescent?”

Vash pauses for one slow blink. “I was going to say ‘really really good’. But, well.” He looks at Knives, and in his gaze there are finally no traces of the lurking doubts that would appear when Knives declared his affection. He looks at Knives with stunned awe, amazed that Knives is here and in his arms. “For once I can’t really argue with your description.”

Knives smiles softly, his bone-deep calm making the expression pull differently on his utterly relaxed face. Vash’s eyes widen briefly at the sight.

“I love you, Vash.” The words slip out as easily as breathing.

“I love you, too,” replies Vash, voice warm. “So much it’s almost scary.”

Knives’ smile grows. “No need to worry, I can take it all.”

Vash smiles back. “You can, can’t you? I think you proved that very well.”

Knives preens, “I told you so.”

Vash laughs softly. “So smug for someone who looks like they’ve been run over by a Toma.” He cards his fingers through Knives’ hair, pushing at the strands that had fallen over his face. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you looking like such a mess.”

“Well, I’m not about to let just anything affect my composure; it has to be worth it.”

“And this was?”

Knives looks into Vash’s eyes and swears, “Always.”

Vash’s smile turns lopsided. “And what about that time you were a mess because you got covered in mud from trying to sneak through the Biodome during the watering cycle?” 

“Vash!” squawks Knives. “Can’t you be serious for five seconds? It’s been over a century, when are you going to let that go?”

“Not while you make such a cute face when I do! It’s my job to make you lose that vaunted composure of yours, afterall.”

Knives groans, but can’t stop the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He feels light, basking in the banter that for once isn’t weighed down by hidden hurts.

“How about next time you feel the urge, you just give me a kiss instead of dredging up embarrassing memories? I’m sure you can make me lose it much more easily that way.”

Vash beams, practically vibrating with happiness. “I’ll do both! You can’t expect to hand me such powerful weapons and have me not take advantage.”

Happiness swells inside his chest until it’s ready to burst. Once Vash is given something, he never, ever, lets go. “I guess that’s my warning to prepare myself for surprise attacks in the future—oof!”

Vash abruptly flips them over, planting loud kisses all over his face, kissing his cheek, his forehead, his chin, his nose, everything fair game.

Knives blinks up at him, eyes wide and startled, cheeks warm with flustered pleasure.

“That’s another great face! You shouldn’t have relaxed so quickly. I’m not exactly one for longterm schemes, that’s more your territory!”

“You—!” Knives shoves playfully at Vash, intending to flip them once more, when there’s a loud squelch and a gush of liquid runs down his already wet thighs.

They both pause, looking down at Knives where copious amounts of nectar, streaked gold with Vash’s pollen, is leaking from his flower.

“Oh,” chokes Vash. “That’s a lot.”

Knives sits up, humming thoughtfully. He spreads his legs wide and feels around his swollen rim. Even the gentle probe of his finger is enough to release another outpouring of spend from his center.

He brings his hand to his face, rubbing his fingers together, then watching how strings of the thick substance form as he spreads his fingers.

“Nai!” yelps Vash, sounding somehow scandalized after everything they have done.

“What?”

Vash whimpers, “How does that not embarrass you?”

“You were staring yourself earlier, aren’t I allowed to be curious?”

“That’s different!”

Knives rolls his eyes. “I don’t see how. So dramatic, Vash.” He licks a finger thoughtfully, ignoring the choked noise Vash makes to focus on the flavour. It’s sweet and rich, similar to how Vash tasted earlier, but with almost smoky undertones. He wonders if it is because there’s so much more pollen mixed in, or because it is blended with his own nectar. A question for another day.

When he opens his eyes, Vash is staring at him.

“...How’s it taste?”

Knives smirks. Beyond his self-imposed restrictions and learned self-consciousness, Vash is just as interested in their shared essence.

In response, Knives runs his fingers over his flower once more, scooping up more of the sweet substance and placing it on his tongue. He then kisses the wide-eyed expression off of Vash’s face, tongue sliding its prize into Vash’s mouth.

He pulls back when he feels Vash swallow, taking in their shared spend. 

“...Sweet,” mutters Vash at last, looking dazed, tongue darting out to chase after the rest of the flavour.

“You’re not the only one who can launch surprise attacks.”

Vash’s eyes refocus on his face. “Nai,” intones Vash, expression serious. “If you hadn’t already wrung me completely dry, that little stunt of yours would have me licking your entire flower completely clean before I took you again and filled you right back up.”

Knives shudders, heat sparking sluggishly through his exhausted nerves. Now that Vash has let go of his restraint, it appears that teasing him isn’t something to take lightly. A stab of excitement pierces him at the thought of a Vash so easily provoked.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Knives replies breathlessly.

Vash blinks and the tension shatters. “Ahh, we’re going to get into so much trouble in the next little while, aren’t we!”

“For once, I’ll have to admit I’m looking forward to it.”

Vash smiles, sliding his hand into Knives’, intertwining their fingers. “I’ll corrupt you yet! My dear brother, brought down to my level, getting into trouble all the time! Next thing you know, I’ll finally have you actually eating donuts!”

“Hey now, I’m not that easy!”

“What if I told you that the closest thing I’ve ever tasted to my nectar was a good glazed donut?”

“...I’ll consider it.”

Notes:

This idea actually started as what was going to be a nice short and cracky 5k pwp with Knives bugging Vash to let him put it in, getting the tables flipped on him, and then realizing how desperately into the idea of Vash railing him he is. It uhhh… got away from me a bit. Next thing I knew I was taking it 100% seriously and it turned into a 20k monstrosity that mixes smut into a character study. Oops?

Still, I’m quite happy with how it turned out in the end. Got to play with a bunch of dynamics and headcanons while messing around with POVs. Knives is so extreme and cringe and I love it so much ahaha.

I hope you guys like what fell out of my brain! Let me know what you think while I try to decide how to feel about the longest thing I’ve ever written being a giant pile of smut…