Archive of Our Own

The twin suns were low on the horizon line, creating a play of shadows and bright orange lights on the endless desert and along the high red pillars of stone that rose up from the sands, here and there, as if remnants of long lost cities, made of cathedrals and towers - nothing that could have ever belonged to No Man's Land past (as far as the humans could know), nor future.

These “cities” of stone towers scattered throughout the desert weren't such a rare sight up here, in the northern regions of the planet, where humans found it too, too harsh to settle.

But what was unliveable to humans, wasn't necessarily so for other living beings: giant sand worms could be spotted every now and then as they speedran through the dunes, and the night usually brimmed with various types of flying insects, some as bright as little stars, others as dark and dangerous as black holes.

When, from the top of a higher rocky hill, Vash the Stampede finally spotted the shining body of an old spacecraft lodged between giant pillars of stones, he knew his travel was finally leading him somewhere: he wasn’t really familiar with these regions, but he hadn't got lost, following an invisible path only he could feel.

He looked one last time at the desert behind his back, and towards the desert still in front of him from the top of the rocky hill he’d climbed, one of the lowest among the powerful pillars emerging from the desert.

They reminded him of those towers and steeples men made for their castles and cathedrals back on Earth, back in a long lost era; he had never seen them personally, and surely he wasn’t ever going to, but he saw them in those movies and documentaries he used to watch back on the spaceship - that too was a different era.

While those Earth towers had been made by humans for humans, these pillars of hard red stone weren’t suitable for humans at all, and so the region was scarcely populated; but Vash hadn’t been lured there by humans.

He was on a hunt. 

It started weeks back: a strange turmoil in his inner core, like a hunger he couldn’t satiate, no matter how much he ate - no matter how much he fucked, because soon enough that weird hunger turned into a feral lust he couldn’t allow himself to unleash on unknowing, innocent - weak - humans. 

And that’s what prompted Vash to travel into the deep desert, alone again, hoping that feral hunger would fade away under the unrelenting heat, lost among the wild dunes.

A few days after he’d already been deeper into the wilderness, away from any human settlement, things were seemingly improving: Vash could feel his body working on a more familiar manner, the insatiable need much easier to control (travelling under the twin suns by day, mindlessly jerking off under the five moons by night - oh, what his life had come to be!), his mind able to retain the usual sharpness even during the most boiling hours of the day.

That was it, at least until Vash woke up one day, drenched in sweat, his unnatural cunt soaked and his likewise unnatural cock hard and uncomfortably restrained under his leathers; if he was having a wet dream, he couldn’t be really sure, as he woke up jolting, the hair on his neck standing as he began breathing deep, the hot air filling his lungs, taking in the smells brought by the wind. 

Burnt rocks, suffocating heat, thin grains of sand and dust; distant notes of dry wood and gasoline; and going even farther, the hard, heavy skin of a sand worm, king of the wild dunes; a weak trail of ether, cold and light, the essence of every plant’s soul - but this one was almost flowery.

Vash jumped to his feet. 

Throughout his life, he had known one creature with that same smell, and he could have never mistaken it, because it belonged to the one creature he was born with.

KNIVES!

Vash didn’t lose time packing up his few belongings, immediately stalking Knives’ distant scent as if he was possessed by something too strong - that powerful unquenchable hunger was back, and it was growing even stronger fueled by the hateful and ancient thirst for revenge he’d been harboring for his twin, ever since the day Knives had decided to act like a god of death, ruining both of their lives for good.

At least, Vash considered his own life a miserable endless journey ever since the Big Fall, and if Knives had a different opinion about his own, then Vash would make sure to make it as painful as his own. 

And he’d do it with his hands and guns.

Knives would be his.

When the clouds completely hid the moons, embracing the world in endless darkness, Vash finally decided to stop his frenzied hunt, setting down for a few hours of rest - or anything that could come close enough to it.

Laying down on his messy sheets, Vash searched for sleep while staring into the small fire he’d previously made, hoping the dancing flames would lull him to sleep…but they took him elsewhere. His mind couldn’t stop bouncing from one memory to the other, sadness and bitterness and rage and that damned unquenchable hunger again mixing in a confused and unpleasant turmoil that didn’t allow his soul to rest. 

All of his thoughts were revolving around Knives: why did he not kill the village citizens, why was he so far up in the north (but maybe that was actually a positive thing, the farther Knives would go from humans, the lower the chances of mass murder), what did he do for the last forty or so years since they last were together?

Was he alone, did he have allies, underlings, minions blinded by fear or devotion? Was he loved, taken care of? 

The thought agitated Vash in ways he didn’t expect: of course Knives had nobody who loved him, he’d become so unlovable…so cold, so stern, so brutal. So full of pride and rage that Vash was sure even Knives’ heart had turned into a ball of curved blades. No need to be… jealous?!

“I am NOT jealous!” He shouted into the night - to who, he couldn’t tell. Probably himself.

He turned right and left in his miserable blankets, desperate to finally relax enough to close his eyes until the next morning, but to no avail. With a loud, tired sigh, Vash turned again, laying on his back with his limbs as still as possible while he looked at the sky above: the cover of clouds had started to dissipate, like curtains moving up to disclose a previously hidden view from outside a window. Maybe admiring the stars, repeating by heart each of the constellations’ names, counting them all until his body would fail him, would finally make Vash fall asleep. 

And then, the night got brighter, as the cloudy veils gradually faded, rays of moonlight shining through the night: the Fifth Moon, the closest to No Man’s Lands - so close, yet so out of reach and sight, as the cumuli still obscured it. Only its rays dimly shone throughout the remaining cloudy wall.

What a beautiful night. What a lonely night. Just like countless other nights he’d lived ever since he was born.

Loneliness hadn’t weighed on him so much when he was a child, in that first idyllic year spent with Rem and Knives: as long as he’d had them, Vash thought everything would be fine.

But Rem was dead, killed by Knives, who had now been missing for decades from Vash’s life.

Not that it had bothered him excessively: living with Knives had been a long, difficult, tiring journey (even if they’d had some pleasant moments as well, but Vash preferred not to think about that too often, especially when dealing with that weird hunger…).

Vash sighed, defeated: it really seemed as if his own mind wouldn’t give him any rest…let alone if it kept going back to his bloody twin. And so be it: let’s think about the damn bastard, what is he up to, where is he now?, Vash tried to put together a coherent plan, a way to understand and predict Knives’ next move…but it was so hard, his brother had always been so unpredictable, so changing, so…

So much like the clouds. You never know when and where they form, how long they keep covering the sky, if they ever turn into disruptive storms…just like him…

And then clouds dissipated once more, the Fifth Moon shining in all its glory, blessing the night landscape with its rays.

With its soft golden tinted in pink hues, Vash thought it was the prettiest among the planetary moons: it shone in the colours of early dawn, delicate and beautiful, but its barren surface, its endless craters sent a sensation of loneliness and cold - just like everything else that belonged to space.

Just like Knives.

On the majority of the time spent together, back in their long youth, Knives would be unreachable, a cold and stern mask made of sharp blades, distant eyes and few cruel words. Nothing seemed to get through him, his pretty head always busy brooding dark thoughts: he’d keep walking for hours with no rest, fast-paced in his long strides, and Vash would only manage to stroll after him, always from a distance, but not too far as to lose sight of him - and of his potentially murderous intentions. 

Luckily for Vash, it’d always been quite easy to spot Knives among the dunes: his twin seemed to shine by his own light under the twin suns, his angelic white-gold hair reflecting the sun rays by day and glowing under the moons by night, even more when the Fifth Moon was high in the dark sky.

He had such lovely hair, Vash couldn’t help but think, as a deep sigh left his body, Too bad he’d always kept it short…I liked touching his hair the rare times Knives let it grow a bit longer.

Curly. Soft. Tangled. Wavy. Flower-scented, even if there were no goddamn flowers for miles and miles and miles around them.

Knives would almost always smell softly of fresh flowers, his skin emanating the scent like a sort of incense stick on two legs, and even more when he was fully relaxed (which had been an extremely rare event), or overall happy (that had been quite unique too…), or aroused.

Vash suddenly felt his mouth drooling.

He felt dumb for not realizing earlier: if he’d been able to distinctively catch Knives’ scent, even from a great distance, that would probably mean…

Is Knives feeling this hunger just like I do?!

A sudden stream of memories made its way through Vash’s mind: the first time the twins kissed each other in a deeper, hungrier way than normal siblings do, how it’d felt so wrong yet so right; the first time he’d placed his trembling hand between Knives’ lean legs, scared but excited to feel his fingers covered in something warm and wet and sticky; the first time he’d brought his own mouth down there, for another type of kiss, even hungrier; the first time Knives’ short blades had cut his groin, but not as a way to keep him away - no, the blades wanted (Knives wanted!) to keep Vash right there, his flower set deep inside Knives’ flower, until he’d got filled with hot seed, sweet tears running down his rosy cheeks as he lavished Vash with honeyed moans, adorable names and scratches all over his back while getting pounded. 

Almost a century later, the first time he’d fucked Knives was still the most erotic thing he could think of, even though they’d both been extremely clueless and unexperienced as to what to do, where to touch each other to give and receive the most pleasure…weather or not he’d even knocked up his twin.

The memory still burnt hot in his soul…so hot he felt sweaty, and sticky wet deep inside his cunt. Vash brought a hand down, between his legs, and he could feel an erection under his leather pants.

With utter defeat, Vash had to admit Knives had been the best fuck he ever had in his life - which made him furious, since he (technically?) hated his genocidal brother; but his body, farther fed by that hot hunger, didn’t seem to care about that.

His body only seemed to care about that one other body, its mirror image, made for itself, and for which itself was made. 

Giving in to his lowest needs, alone hidden in the night shadows, wouldn’t hurt anybody, right?

So Vash unbuckled his belts and leathers, slightly opened his legs, trying to get more comfortable as his flesh hand started massaging, up and down, along his flower. After a few seconds, he put two fingers through the shaven feathers, right inside his hole; Vash groaned, maybe he should have been more careful, more patient, but his mind had stopped working, completely subjugated to the boiling, deep sensation of hunger that ruled over his body - heat, a sudden thought, is this fucking plant heat again?!

Of course he was starving for Knives!!

He moved his fingers inside himself, then took them out, and started touching instead his hard cock, spreading up and down his own sticky nectar as he tightened his fist around his length, pretending it was Knives’ warm and sweet cunt, apple-scented and crowned by thin feathers, sharp enough to leave faint scratches and scars on his skin whenever they fucked. 

Vash used to love that type of pain, the one pain Knives didn’t inflict upon him out of mutual resentment and hatred, but rather out of a deep desire, flesh and soul. He instinctively brought his other hand to his lower stomach, touching his scarred skin searching for those little love cuts…only to find deeper, harder scars and badly stitched wounds, much to his disappointment. 

Vash knew the marks had long since healed naturally, but arousal had clouded most of his mind, and what little rationality he still possessed was quickly gone under the force of Vash’s own delirious pleasure, one pump after the other, faster and harder as he saw Knives again and again, as if he was right there with him - young, lovely Knives, sweet and pliable and vulnerable for once, calling his twin among heated pants and melodious moans.

Vash, my Vash, mine, mine, mine, mine, MINE!!

“MINE!”

Vash came, the wave of hot pleasure shaking him as he threw his head back, shooting warm seeds on his own stomach as fluid nectar dripped from his cunt. When his brain cooled down a bit, he noticed a few glowing feathers scattered here and there: he hadn’t expected to have such a strong, physical reaction…and that was all from memories of the past.

How was he even going to react upon meeting Knives again? Seeing him all grown up and tall and handsome?

What would he even look like?

He’s got to look like me, we’re twins for fuck’s sake. The bastard can’t be taller than me! - what a weird sensation, not knowing how the spitting image of yourself would look like, it was almost scary for Vash: as kids, they looked so identical that Rem often got confused, except for a few details like hair and eye colour, or their moles, and the strong resemblance remained throughout their long teen years. Vash looked down at his body and the little skin that he’d undressed earlier: it was rough, covered by ugly scars and hardened muscles. He could have healed all of that with his plant powers, but he despised that part of him - too dangerous, too mysterious, too close to Knives.

I bet his body is perfect, no ugly scars to mar perfect marble.

Absent-minded, Vash started caressing his length again while he fixed his eyes on the Fifth.

 Does he still look like the Fifth Moon? Pink and vermillion, golden and white, light blue and cold?

Vash closed his eyes, realizing only now that he’d got closer to climax again, but when he tried to focus on his own pleasure, the bright image of the Fifth still shone through his closed eyelids, morphing into Knives’ face.

Daybreak found Vash still laying in his blankets, his trousers not completely buckled up again - he'd fallen asleep after one too many exertions. 

And yet, he didn't feel tired at all, and he'd woken up with newfound strength: he could clearly spot the shining tower made of the old spacecraft in which - and now he was sure of that - Knives had taken residence.

The fact the strong wind coming towards Vash's direction carried the delicate, barely perceivable flowery smell further confirmed Vash’s suspicions, as he walked steadily towards his destination.

As he began his journey once more, Vash took in more details from the desert: the sand grains moving faster in small spirals moved by the wind, a strong, colder wind; the dunes being harder and harder to walk on, the sky far off towards the north - towards Knives’ den - turning a dark shade of brown and red.

A sandstorm was approaching, and faster than expected. Nothing that Vash didn’t expect: he was in the northern hemisphere, and harsher, more changing weather was typical here, compared to the southern hemisphere, with its endless weeks of scorching heat and lighter winds, calmer…but not less deadly.

The north truly suits Knives. It’s almost as if each of us accidentally picked one half of the planet, and indeed, Vash hadn’t crossed paths with Knives for a good forty years.

Before the day was done, Vash had decided he'd end that cursed hunt, one way or another: Knives was his enemy, the one person who ruined his entire life…but he was still his brother…wasn't he?

Vash halted in his steps, breathing deep. The question had haunted him for more than a century, and it came back haunting him even more pressing last night.

What was Knives to him? 

Could he still consider him a brother, his family, his blood? His first lover? After almost one hundred and twenty years, what was left for them?

What was left of them?

The two happy and innocent kids, who cared for each other so so much, had long since gone, disappeared among the burning ships on that cursed night more than a century ago, along with the closest thing to a mom they could have ever had, the remains of a sister they never met, and millions of innocent humans, their blank tickets brutally torn off in a matter of instants.

It had been almost forty years since the last time Vash saw Knives, and he instinctively brought his flash hand to touch the point where his metal prosthetic was attached to the rest of his body.

A parting gift from his twin brother.

Improve your aim, you inept fool!

And Vash did make sure to follow, word by word, Knives’ advice: the next time, he wouldn’t miss his target.

He understood what Knives was. 

He’s mine. Mine for revenge. Mine for death.

“He’s my prey”.

With one last glance to the upcoming sandstorm, Vash hurried his steps.

In the late afternoon, Vash finally reached Knives' tower. He hadn't stopped walking since that morning, except for sitting down and drinking some water, but Vash felt he didn't lack energy: he was ready to face Knives. 

His own body was on fire, every single nerve was tingling and burning hot and cold the deeper he'd got into Knives' lair. 

It was truly like a dark tower, and showed no sign of being functioning, but Vash noticed some particular elements: robotic pieces scattered here and there; piles of Earth records, probably movies and documentaries, tons of books and scrolls in languages Vash couldn't recognize; drapes and curtains obscuring the tall windows, broken by the Fall and never repaired, the strong desert winds filtering through the broken fissures, howling and echoing throughout the empty halls and rooms; columns and weird statues made out of something that looked like lunar marble - nothing that humans could have ever made with their skills.

Had Knives become some sort of niche artist, or were those remains of a past civilization, before humans and plants crushed on this planet…before even insects and worms ruled over the dunes? 

Truly a fascinating, weird place, busting with such a mess of ideas and ancient dreams and nightmares from a long lost future: so befitting of someone as Knives, whose curiosity and intellect had sentenced them all to their hell; himself one of the oldest living beings on the whole planet, no matter his youthful appearance - and the same could be applied to Vash as well. 

If only I hadn't helped him that day…If only we had paid more attention to him…

The huge halls were completely silent, except for Vash’s steps echoing through the empty endless chambers. No signs of life…except for the ever-present pull that moved Vash right towards the object of his ire and desire.

Possessed by that manic hunger again, Vash began to run through old stairs, stone steps and decaying walls and doors, right to the core of the ship, where the main plant would reside during the interstellar travels…and where now Knives was.

Only a wall was now between them, and Knives' scent had become almost overwhelming, making Vash’s body react on his own: he could feel small feathers and wings sprouting from his skin.

Vash loaded his gun, six bullets ready to shoot, and prepared his gun-prothesis too for good measure: he wouldn't take down Knives with the power of plants, no, that would be too merciful. 

He would use man-made weapons, the ones Knives despised so much.

He took a deep breath, inhaling once again that nostalgic smell of apples and flowers; of memories and futures gone forever, and so he kicked the door open.

The sight in front of him left Vash breathless.

Behind some veils hanging from the ceiling, there was Knives, sleeping on a big, low bed, unbothered and at peace, in a nest of long sheets, glowing softly in light shades of cerulean and white and silver - Knives' colours.

His feathers were everywhere on his bed and sprouted from under the sheets along his skin too, slowly and softly rising up and down as he breathed peacefully in his sleep.

Vash didn't lower his gun but couldn't help but stare at the sleeping form of his twin. 

The first time he'd laid his eyes on Knives after almost forty years…and he far exceeded all expectations.

He still looks like the Fifth Moon…pink and vermillion, golden and white, light blue and cold.

Knives had let his hair grow again, and his long curls were forming a bright halo of molten white-gold hair around his head. His face showed no sign of unrest, a mask of perfect marble except for few, faint furrowed lines under his eyes; no detectable expression or feeling at all and Vash couldn't tell if Knives' sleep had brought him pleasant dreams, or if his brother was even dreaming at all. 

From under the sheets and the feathers, Vash could catch a glimpse of long, slim but strong limbs, the same as his - and with satisfaction, he noticed Knives hadn't grown taller or bigger than him.

They were still the same, after all. 

Vash lost count of time, but when he sensed his arm going numb he realised he must have been staring for too long…too long not to do something else…too long not to get closer and touch.

He lowered - but not unloaded! - his gun, and cautiously walked towards Knives' nest. He was breathing deep and calm, just like his brother now, his flower scent had fully overtaken his lungs and maybe his mind too…for all Vash now desired was to lift those sheets and get his hands on Knives, the frenzied hunger coming back like an explosive storm shaking his soul.

And so, with a trembling hand, Vash lifted the sheets to finally, finally, take a full look at his brother's body…and Vash felt his mouth drooling.

Knives was as pristine as he remembered him, a statue of eternal youth and strength made in the finest rosy alabaster, no marks, no scars, no stitches, no burns to ruin the closest thing to a god Vash had seen - a picture of an alternate version of himself.

Except for one point.

One small, faded old scar on Knives' left shoulder. 

A bullet scar.

Vash gasped: it was the one bullet he'd desperately shot at Knives that one day, the last time they saw each other, as one final attempt to make him stay with him.

Why hasn't he healed it?! Why did he keep it?!?!

But the more he stared, the more he could only feel his stomach burning in hunger, his cunt sticking with wet slick his feathers and his dick from under his tight leathers, his skin burning so hot he had to take off his red coat, unbuckling the first straps of leather that kept his black top closed around his throat.

And so, Vash acted on impulse, like a starving man placed in front of a divine feast, only for him to consume.

He bent down on Knives' body, and started licking that scar, with such intensity it soon turned into an open mouthed kiss and then -

Then Vash bit into Knives' flesh, taking pleasure in the sensation of feeling his teeth breaking him until he could taste delicious, sweet blood - nectar for his hunger. He drank on it, like he didn't even drink water after days spent walking in the desert, completely losing himself in the sensation…

Until a strong hand pushed him away with a cry.

Knives had awoken.

His pale blue eyes were wide shot, full of shock, confusion - even scared?

That made Vash’s dick grow even harder.

“Hello, big brother”, he said as he started crawling towards Knives, his twin’s blood still on his lips and chin, only to be stopped by a wall of sharp blades, just as light as deadly. For once, his judgement got the better of him, and Vash promptly raised his gun again.

“What the hell are you doing here Vash?! You’ve finally grown tired of your stupid humans, of your own foolishness?!”

Knives’ first words in half a century, and they were full of contempt towards the human kind and Vash himself, yet he couldn’t help but stare and admire enthralled…Knives’ voice felt like a thunderous command, like God itself was speaking, his words metallic but at the same time light and pleasant to his ears - the twins hadn’t grown to be so different in appearance, but Knives’ voice indeed possessed something inhuman, and Vash, for once, didn’t really mind it. 

He could get his voice to sound like that too when he really wanted to, but it just came naturally to Knives…maybe the most angelic out of the twins, Vash admitted, the longer he stared at his twin body, half covered in sheets and long, soft white-blond curls. 

“You’ve grown to be a real beauty, you know brother?” Vash dared, fully loaded, and not just with his guns.

With extreme delight, Vash admired how Knives’ cold and contemptuous face morphed into an expression of embarrassed confusion, even to the point of blushing. 

He still gets that adorable shade of pink when blushing…

“I CAN READ YOUR THOUGHTS, IDIOT!”

Now it was Vash’s turn to get embarrassed. Of course Knives would be able to read his fucking mind. Less than a couple of meters was between them…and their souls - and bodies - were getting quite heated too.

Knives loudly scoffed, still wielding his shield of feathers and blades, as he tried to cover his body as much as possible from Vash’s hungry gaze. 

“Why are you here, Vash? What do you want from me? Have you changed your damned mind, and finally admitted the superiority of our kin?”, Knives never passed up a chance to be a complete asshole, but Vash didn’t miss the way his twin was panting as he spoke - did he finally start to feel that same tension, that same hunger that had left Vash restless for weeks?

Well, there was only one way to know.

“I’ve been following you Knives…your scent. Apples and flowers. It drove me mad, nothing and nobody was enough so I went through the desert…walking until up here, in the north, in this weird castle of yours, for weeks. Do you feel the same as me?” Vash let it all out, a confession that left him breathless and lighter - but not less hungry.

Knives was staring at him from behind his sharp shield, his eyes glowing intensely from under the feather-blades. He was panting hard too, and when he tried speaking only a muffled sound came back.

“I-I felt it. In my sleep. I’ve been sleeping for months…I was bored and alone-”

“Well, no need to be bored anymore now, brother dear” Vash dared to interrupt, crawling again into Knives’ direction, but his twin unsheathed the blades of his shield, and when Knives spoke again, the faint words had turned into an accusation.

“Don’t you forget you’ve left me! Always preferring your disgusting humans to me, your twin, your blood!”

Knives was hurt, Vash felt it in their connected soul, now so close and so strong. He did feel guilty for leaving Knives, and not all of that guilt came from leaving unsupervised a walking calamity - part of that came from leaving the one being that was truly like him, the one family he still had. The one person he couldn’t stop loving, no matter how much Knives would hurt him.

“I’m here Knives…and I want…I want…”

“Beg for my mercy, and I’ll let you join me” - this time, Knives didn’t let Vash finish his speaking, and he fully rose on the bed, the sheets graciously falling down his naked body - the sight had Vash salivating, and now he finally caught a full sight of the gorgeous bouquet of fair feathers that gently hid Knives’ flaccid dick and his cunt - the forbidden fruit. 

And that scent.

“Yes…Yes…I’ll join you Knives…” Vash moaned, as he gradually lowered his guns.

Knives smiled, sharply and mocking, with that all-knowing attitude that screamed “See? I’m always right”, which Vash promptly wiped off his face the moment he swiftly shot at Knives again, this time on his creamy right thigh, which sent Knives screaming curses and insults, bending in half as he sent his blades flying on automatic defence. Vash dodged most of them, some still getting to cut his clothes and skin - but he couldn’t care less.

He jumped on Knives’ bent body, grabbing both of his twin’s wrists in his prosthetic hand and pinning them above his lovely curls as they fell laying on the bed, one on top of each other.

Knives kicked and screamed and unsheathed even more blades, but Vash smugly noticed how, for all the magnificent plant powers Knives loved to boast, his physical strength was still inferior to his brother’s, albeit not by much, as Vash effectively struggled to keep Knives pinned down on the sheets, the blades still flying all around him, smearing the sheets with his blood as it mixed with Knives’.

But Vash didn’t feel any of that: his senses were fully overwhelmed by Knives’ delicious, alluring, sweet apple scent, so warm, so saccharine it clouded the few remains of judgement Vash still possessed; it set his soul ablaze, a scorching ball trying to meet and clash and mix with his mirror one, which was getting hotter and hotter too - Knives felt exactly like Vash, their emotions and senses synching as if they were one (and, in some way, they really were, made for each other).

“Wanna see what I want from you, Knives?” Vash asked, lowering his mouth near Knives’ ear, his voice hoarse and low from anticipation and arousal, as he used his other free hand to loose his belts and leathers, forcefully moving Knives’ legs apart with his own body set between his pearly legs - Knives still kicked and yelled, insults full of venom and rage that Vash couldn’t bring himself to actually hear.

Then, Vash finally unbuckled his trousers, grabbed his cock - wet and slicked - and pushed it against Knives’ cunt, only to be stopped by many tiny sharp feathers: Knives’ last defence, or the worst of his offences to his own twin.

“I know you want this, Knives…just as I do”, Vash felt his words so rough and barely audible as he kept pushing, Knives’ cunt feathers scratching his groin even more until they made his hardened skin bleed - Vash yelped in pain, and Knives used that moment to partially free his left hand, enough to touch Vash and to send an electric shock through him.

It wasn’t strong enough to K.O. his twin, but it did help Knives switching positions, with him now laying on top of Vash, caging him with his thighs.

Knives’ face was a mask of fury.

“How DARE you!!! You insolent idiot, this is how you treat me for the first time after forty years?!?! You haven’t changed at all, stupid brother of mine!”

And, as so to make sure his words cut even deeper into Vash’s soul, Knives grew two long blades, planting one in each of Vash’s shoulders. This time, it was his turn to scream and curse the other twin, trying to kick Knives off him, but his attempts were futile: Knives’ blades had basically stitched Vash to the bed, the more he moved, the worse his injuries would get - the more pain he would experience…and yet, that didn’t bring Vash to a quiet surrender, no: it only farther spurned him to fight Knives, to see his twin defeated, naked, defenceless. Subjugated.

Dominated.

“You think you can hurt me Knives? After killing OUR MOTHER and all those people and cutting my arm?! You think a pair of stupid little knives will stop me from getting my hands on you?!?” - Vash was panting (from the pain and the pleasure) but, oh, he was touching the right, or wrong, nerve, because Knives tightened his thighs’ grip around Vash’s waist, strong enough to the point his clothes began to stick uncomfortably to his skin (but Vash was sure that wasn’t the only reason), his muscles tightening; he didn’t think twice before loading again.

“You’re USELESS without all your big, precious, plant powers!! Is this everything you are, big brother?? A killing machine with a handsome face and a pristine body?? All alone in your tower- ARGH!!”

Knives had started twisting his blades inside Vash’s flesh: so sadistic, as expected of him.

“IF YOU HADN’T LEFT ME FOR HUMANS I WOULDN’T BE SO ALONE!!”, Knives screamed breathless, right into Vash’s face: he’d lowered his torso and their bodies were almost attached to each other as Vash felt the blades sending cold electric waves throughout his flesh, more feathers sprouting all over their limbs: what the fuck was Knives trying to do?!

“You left me for the very same PARASITES that killed Tesla, and so many of our sisters in the bulbs!! Our enslavers!!” and his thighs felt even tighter around Vash’s waist - deliriously pleasant, magnificently dangerous…especially when Vash started thrusting up, up to where Knives’ cunt was, still hidden behind sharp feathers, but Vash could smell his brother’s arousal…

“You always like to act so perfect, Knives, so righteous in your crazy revenge, in your endless fury” and he punctuated his words by giving another particularly strong thrust up, between Knives’ thighs, and this time Knives finally stopped screaming, loudly gasping in surprise, “you hide behind your shield of lonely, cold blades to isolate yourself from any feeling of remorse, from the slightest possibility that you may actually be so fucking wrong”, other thrusts, harder and faster, until Knives started bouncing on Vash, whining and whimpering as his face turned a bright, ashamed deep pink, but still not willing to give up his (apparent) control over his twin - he didn’t even realize that by keeping Vash caged under his blades, he’d sentenced himself to defeat, as his apple-scented slick began to drip and wet Vash’s strained leathers.

That was basically a sign of victory for Vash, who continued riling up Knives, even if his own voice was getting more strained and hoarse as he practically panted and moaned the words out of his mouth.

“You act like a god, and maybe you truly are, but you forget I’m the same as you, that I alone am like you, and that we’ll always clash onto each other…until I make another pretty hole in your pretty body”

“Is this the best you can do, brother?”, Knives groaned, his voice still coated by his stubborn arrogance but that couldn’t conceal anymore how much he was enjoying their little fight. When he grabbed onto his own blades and started humping Vash’s crotch, throwing his beautiful hair back, it was clear Knives had (for once!) let go of his façade of disdain and superiority.

He was so wet that Vash finally felt his nectar passing through his clothes, sticking to his own skin, and as Knives struggled to find venom to shoot back at his brother between needy angry moans and whispered curses, Vash managed to get his prosthetic hand (his stronger hand) on Knives’ right thigh, the freshly injured one, gripping the flesh so hard until he left marks and scratches, a new stream of blood leaking from the bullet wound, which only made Knives angrier in his pain - and hornier, judging by the pool of scented slick that was dripping down from his feathers, still sharp, but finally, finally, receding to fully expose his wet cunt.

Vash moaned at the sight, and when he noticed Knives’ cock was as hard as his own, he pressed his metallic fingers even deeper into Knives’ thigh, the both of them moaning as if they were one same wild beast.

They were rutting onto each other, their bodies rubbing in sync as their groans got louder and louder, until a sudden strong gust of wind - the sandstorm had arrived! - broke one of the tall windows in Knives’ room, the noise distracting Knives for half a second, as he turned to the source of the shattering glasses.

And that was more than enough for Vash.

He placed his right hand on Knives’ other thigh and he accidentally - or not - sent another electric wave throughout their bodies, similar to what Knives did, but smaller: Vash was scared of his own full potential, after all; using the increased grip on Knives’ thighs, he thrusted up with all the strength he possessed, finally pushing Knives off him, and the blades in his shoulders along with him. They exited his body roughly and quickly, leaving his skin burning in pain and pleasure, but not enough to send him over the edge; no, that would come soon, very soon.

Not giving Knives the chances to form blades again, Vash pounced on him, once more caging his twin’s wrist with his prosthetic as he bit down on Knives’ neck and shoulders, spreading his legs wide open again, and with so much more intensity than the first time: Vash was so close to heaven, he wouldn’t allow anyone or anything to make him fall from such glorious heights. Knives seemed to be slightly more willing, as he fought back with much less force than before, but he was still tossing and shaking his body as if to escape Vash’s cage - not one made of sharp, metal-like feathers, but one made of hardened skin, rough scars and the strong smell of leather and arousal. 

Vash was too busy tasting Knives’ blood and skin again to even remotely care about his brother’s protests, growing weaker and weaker as their bodies kept moving together, sinuously yet so animal-like; and, to be honest, Knives’ “no” sounded more like lewd moans than distressed pleas.

When Vash felt himself getting close to release, he moved Knives’ legs a bit wider, his flower finally bare for reaping, and he didn’t lose time grabbing his cock with his flesh hand, guiding it inside Knives with one smooth and harsh push of his hips.

All in, at once.

Knives might have yelled, but when Vash started thrusting his hips, slapping his skin against Knives’, their nectars mixing and staining together the sheets and their bodies and their feathers, his useless screams turned once more into breathless moans, his legs relaxing and opening even more, just like the feathers that crowned his pussy: he had finally welcomed Vash in.

You’ve surrendered, Vash thought, sure that Knives would hear him: no need to speak when they were fucking like animals for the first time in almost half a century.

Vash was waiting for some mean comeback, even more insults, nothing mattered anymore as he kept slamming his cock hard and fast into Knives’ welcoming cunt, his own cunt squeezing and dripping nectar from the repeated deep contact of their bodies while he kept grabbing every inch of skin and hair he could get his hand on; but Knives - the eternal surprise - bit down on Vash’s neck, just with the same brutal hunger as Vash had previously did with him, and he was sucking his twin’s blood with a fervor that made Vash almost come…and he would have had, if Knives’ hadn’t started circling his waist again, his legs kicking Vash’s lower back and legs harder and harder.

Do better, brother.

For once, Vash obeyed his big brother with immense pleasure, slamming his hips harder and deeper, with such intensity the mattress was loudly shaking under the weight of their heat, hurting each other even more as neither of them took their teeth out from the other’s skin, until they finally came, together, each other's name on their lips, overwhelmed by a hot wave of pleasure, spasms all throughout their bodies and souls as Vash emptied himself into Knives’ cunt, warm and overflooding with their nectars and Vash’s seed, while Knives stained both of their torsos, glowing softly in blue-white hues - the sign of his pleasure, their pleasure.

The twins stayed like that, locked together by teeth, intertwined limbs, sticky blood and bodily fluids, breathing slowly, from time to time still sucking or biting or grabbing each other, but more gently than before: their hunger had been satisfied, at least for the moment.

The biting gradually morphed into sloppy, delicate lapping, while their grip on each other relaxed, but still held. Vash did eventually let go of Knives’ wrists, noticing with pride and newfound lust that he’d left dark imprints on Knives’ fair and beautiful skin, just as he had on the rest of his twin’s body: the neck and shoulders, the bitemarks blooming like geraniums dripping blood; a new bloody hole on his right thigh; his sides, waist and legs, ruined too by purple handprints.

Vash was busy admiring his own artwork, when Knives suddenly grabbed his jaw, making their eyes lock again for the first time in…what? Minutes? Hours? 

They both had lost any sense of time.

Knives didn’t say anything, but simply stared at him: cold pale blue into bright vivid turquoise, and even if Vash was still mostly clothed, he felt so naked, so seen under those eyes.

Are you mad at me?, he dared to question: he wasn’t sure if he’d feel guilt over whatever had possessed him (and would probably possess him soon again), but admittedly, that hadn’t been a normal way to catch up with his brother after decades…yet again, they had never been normal - not in the sense humans think.

Of course I’m mad at you, Knives’ voice felt so calm, so peaceful inside his soul, no matter the words, no matter his frowning expression, We’ve just fucked like animals in heat and you think of your stupid humans again, and then he pouted.

Knives pouted. Like a baby who’s not given enough attention.

You’ve made a mess of me. Clean it up. Now.

You’re always so fucking fussy, you know that Knives?

Just go grab a towel or something, make yourself useful.

Only Knives could still sound so mighty and dignified after getting fucked like that. It annoyed Vash, but at the same time also made him feel nostalgic: some things really don’t change, even more so when Knives moved his gaze to Vash’s undressed parts, his eyes squinting as if he was…

And what are all those scars?!

Worried?!

Knives exhaled, and Vash was ready for more scolding, but then he noticed Knives’ eyes and mind had gone distant again; Vash followed his brother’s eyes and they led him to the broken window and the raging sandstorm outside of it.

You’ve always liked the desert, didn’t you Knives?

It’s fascinating. And this deep in the dunes, you don’t find humans so easily. Worms are much better. They don’t ruin you like that.

Mh, that’s right, Vash mindlessly agreed, his attention already moving back to Knives’ body rather than any philosophical consideration about worms, humans, scars - whatever was clouding Knives’ pretty head again.

Then something sparked inside of him, low and hot in his guts.

An idea. A need.

Alright Knives, I’m going to clean you alllll up.

Knives gave no mental response, and Vash started moving, slowly getting his half-hard cock out of Knives’ dripping flower, earning small and soft gasps from both of them that only made Vash want more and more and more and more…so he crawled back, lower on the bed, following Knives’ breasts, waist, and those long, athletic, perfect legs until he was laying on his stomach and elbows, his mouth aligning with Knives’ flower.

Vash was so focused on getting his face between Knives’ thighs, he hadn’t realised his twin was watching him with burning attention, his pale blue eyes wide in anticipation as he faintly bit his own lips. Vash looked back up at him, slowly nodding his head as he breathed deep; when Knives nodded back, Vash finally started lapping and licking Knives’ flower with complete disregard for anything and anyone that wasn’t them, their pleasure, their frenzied heat, Knives’ satisfied moans.

He moved his tongue up and down, faster and lewder as minutes passed, pressing open-mouthed kisses to Knives’ hole, his feathers, the swollen base of his cock, before getting his tongue inside his twin’s cunt as well - when he started properly eating him out, Knives sent a loud, guttural moan that had Vash shiver from their shared pleasure.

He had Knives coming again on his mouth in the span of some minutes, but Vash didn’t allow his brother to rest as he promptly moved up sucking his length too. When Vash fully nestled Knives’ cock inside his mouth, Knives emitted some type of whine, half an invitation, half a complaint, but Vash knew exactly what to do: they were past needing to read each other’s mind, by that point they just felt each other’s desire.

And so, while bobbling his head up and down Knives’ cock, Vash sticked two flesh fingers inside Knives’ cunt, thrusting them in and out, curling upwards his fingers when he reached deep enough, the right point to make Knives moan loudly; once he’d found that spot, Vash repeated the motion again and again and again until Knives came again, screaming with no shame, hot sweet seed (fuck, how can he be so sweet and lethal at the same damn time?!) inside his mouth, and warm nectar squirting like a small river, all over Vash’s neck and fingers.

And he made sure not to waste a single drop of it, as he kept licking and fucking Knives with his tongue and fingers until he was shaking in overstimulation, his hands strongly grabbing Vash’s shoulders: a gesture to push him away, or to keep right there between his creamy legs? 

Vash couln’t tell, couldn’t care.

Aw, what a shame, you’re even wetter than before, brother! We’ve only just begun, and Vash made sure to make his words sound as mocking as possible, because sometimes he really thought he had all the rights to be mean, especially with Knives.

Knives was breathing hard and fast, clearly overwhelmed as Vash didn’t stop devouring his flower, comfortably settled between his shaking legs, his twin’s tongue leaving all of his nerves burning ablaze in a mix of pain and pleasure, that felt in both parts like ecstasy and torture to his body, completely unused to any kind of sexual activity, except for quick, not too frequent, jerking off sessions.

“Enough, Vash, enough!! I-I can’t anymore!”, Knives cried, his voice desperate and thin, as if he was on the brink of tears.

“What?! Are you crying? Never got anyone fucking you as good as me, uhm?” Vash didn’t set back, not even an inch, not when it was finally his turn to torture Knives; besides, his brother may have said one thing, but his lovely cunt said another, still wet and warm and welcoming around Vash’s mouth and fingers, his feathers completely receded to grant his brother fully access to his flower.

Vash was mindlessly and happily ignoring his whimpers, as he started humping the sheets too, initially moving his hips in lazy, slow motions, only to quickly get to deeper pushes the hungrier he’d turn, no matter how much nectar and flesh, how much of Knives, he would stuff himself full of.

Knives dared to look down to Vash again, his sight barely clouded by tears, and was amazed by the hunger, the unashamed neediness in which Vash kept licking and sucking and fingering his abused cunt, even twisting his head right and left to get a better access to his hole.

Somehow, it gradually stopped Knives’ panic, or rather turned it into curiosity, hunger, need: how longer could they continue? 

Maybe days, several days; this sort of heat had lasted a bunch of days the last time, and they were younger. Smaller. Weaker. Way less beautiful, Knives thought, surprisingly even to himself: he wasn’t vain, even if he knew he (they) looked much better than most humans, but something about his twin, his Vash, the sight of his body humping needily the sheets, half of his clothes torn apart by his blades, the other half still sticking to his skin, while meticulously eating him out, the sight his tongue and fingers going in and out of his own body, had Knives going delirious with exaltation, his mind and mouth fully loosening up - as much as his own body.

“Never got anyone”, he whispered, his pale eyes locked on the incredible sight Vash provided, as he slowly but steadily brought a hand between his twin’s messy, straw-gold hair, his fingers halfway between caressing and grabbing it.

Vash immediately stopped, his head bolting up as his eyes opened wide and surprised.

“Wh-what? What do you mean??” his voice was strained, almost as if he’d forgotten how to use it.

“You’re the only lover I’ve ever had, Vash. Did you really think I would let anyone but you touch me like this?” and, finally, Knives let himself fully go, and he allowed tears to fall down his cheeks.

No matter how lonely he could get on top of the world he’d created, Knives didn’t want to, nor couldn’t, take any other lover that wasn’t Vash. It just wouldn’t feel right!

Vash didn’t say a single thing, too stunned to reply with another snarky comeback, and all he could do was simply stay there where he felt the best, between Knives’ thighs, his mouth slick with nectar as he admired the marvellous sight of his brother crying. He was so lost in his brother, that Vash didn’t even realise he’d got close to climax again until he felt his dick and cunt wetting the sheets again with release - somehow, it was almost more intense than his first orgasm, right inside Knives.

“Now, you’re exaggerating, Vash” Knives said softly between his quiet sobs - clearly, he’d felt Vash’s thoughts.

“No, trust me, if there’s one thing better than fucking you, it’s making you cry like that. And I missed it” and he slowly rose from his laying position, climbing up Knives’ body with his hands, touching and caressing and leaving more kisses everywhere with fervent reverence.

Up until they were face to face again.

Vash almost went for a kiss, their first kiss in almost forty years, and by the way Knives stared at his half-closed mouth, he was sure he was going to meet his lips too…until Knives suddenly grabbed Vash by his neck, his fingers digging into the deep bitemarks from earlier making Vash hiss.

“Stay with me”, an order.

“Just let me give you a damn kiss, idiot”

Knives tightened his grip on Vash’s neck.

“Stay with me, and I’ll let you kiss me every time you desire to. Fuck me every time you desire to. Stay here with me, Vash”, half a seduction, “and forget about your damned humans”, half a complaint.

Of course Knives had to ruin it. It annoyed Vash so much he gave up on the kiss, trying to get free from Knives’ iron grip as he felt oxygen running low in his lungs – he didn’t want to lose consciousness, to let Knives win so easily; sadly for Knives, Vash had quickly lost all the tender enthusiasm from just a bit earlier, and didn’t think twice before groping harshly Knives’ injured thigh, successfully making his twin scream in pain again.

“That serves you right, asshole!”

Yet, Vash’s victory was short-lived, as Knives violently hit with his fists the injuries, still leaking, that his blades had cut on Vash’s shoulders, sending him sitting back on his knees as he too cried loudly in pain.

“Just heal yourself, fool! You’re better than those parasites! Come on” and Knives, once again full of his rageous contempt, kept punching Vash’s injuries, a sadistic smile twisting his furious face, “Heal yourself! Use your powers, stop pretending to be as low, as pathetic as humans!”

The more Knives hurt him, the more Vash felt bile rising up to his mouth: how foolish of him to forget so easily that, first of all, Knives was his prey.

And hunters show no pity to their preys.

Vash jerked forward so fast he didn’t give Knives enough time to react, pinning his twin on the bed once more, crushing him with the weight of a micro black hole – Vash felt heavier than usual, and he couldn’t tell if it was just red rage, lust again or something else. He could only tell he did enjoy seeing Knives squirming in pain under him, judging by the way his dick grew hard again.

Ah, how similar they truly were, sadistic assholes to their core.

But Vash reserved that special treatment to his dear brother only.

“Who’s so low and pathetic now, big brother? Uh?” and Vash squeezed Knives’ arms in a ferocious grip that had Knives throw back his pretty head as he sent a guttural, pained scream, his white-gold curls now messy and tangled on the sheets under them.

“You have such beautiful hair”, and Vash lifted one hand, the other still on Knives’ wounded arm, to grab a fist of long curls, pulling it so hard he thought Knives’ neck was going to break – the image only made Vash more delirious with violent lust... and Knives seemed to share his tastes.

“You’re fucking hard too!! Oh, you filthy hypocrite…”, another hard pull to Knives’ hair, as Vash unceremoniously kicked Knives’ knees wide open again, ignoring his insults and futile squirming. He felt confident enough to let go completely of Knives’ arm, as he used his free hand to grab his cock, eager to dive back into Knives’ sloppy cunt.

“STOP! Enough! Not there!!”

“Aw, does your pretty little cunt hurt?” Vash was straight-up taunting Knives, knowing full well there were still risks: had Knives decided to suddenly unsheathe some dozens of blades, he’d hardly see the next day.

For a moment, Vash considered a reasonable retreat, almost feeling an inch of pity for his terrible brother; but then again, if Knives was going to send him to hell, Vash was ready to bring his twin down with him.

And when Knives started nodding furiously, his reddened face a stream of tears and sweat, Vash felt that pity evaporate into thin air, leaving only the ugliest part of himself – the part he could allow to show to Knives only.

A devious idea formed inside Vash’s mind.

A glorious idea.

“You said I’ve been your only lover, but I don’t think we ever tried this…” and Vash moved his wet fingers under Knives’ leaking cunt, barely caressing his other hole.

“Don’t you dare treat me like your human whores!” Knives boomed, his hand going for Vash’s shoulders, as he scratched his twin’s ruined skin like a mad animal, deep and raw; even if defeated, Knives would never pass an opportunity to be as mean, as poisonous, as fucking annoying as possible.

Yet, that only riled up Vash even more, as he tightened his grip on Knives while he finally pushed two fingers inside Knives’ (so far) untouched asshole, earning a pained, choked groan from him, his eyes wide open and his head thrown back right into Vash’s closed fist – almost as if all of Knives’ muscles had frozen, no matter the thin layer of warm blood and sweat shining along his body.

“I know you want this, you like it rough…you like me rough” Vash barely recognized his own voice, so breathy and low, as he kept teasing Knives with his words and fingers, - in and out, in and out - “and for someone who hates humans so much, you never shut up about them”

Knives suddenly moved, his hands going to Vash’s jaw and neck, his legs caging Vash’s waist as he brought them even closer to each other somehow; his eyes seemed to glow, wide and wild, and his voice was dripping of delirious arousal as Knives spoke, breathed right into Vash’s open mouth.

“Then make me”

For once, Vash promptly obeyed Knives.

Without uttering a single word, Vash removed his fingers from Knives’ hole and grabbed him, manhandling him roughly and fast to make him lay on his stomach; not needing words to understand, Knives spread his legs again as he lifted his waist, granting Vash a full access to his ass, well-toned and sticky with their fluids. Neither of them felt the need to speak, nor did they want to: the room was filled with short, needy pants, the twins feeling each other’s body as one again.

The heated silence was broken only when Vash finally thrust his cock inside Knives’ ass, one strong, deep push that made both moan loudly, a slight hint of pleased surprise in their strained voice as Vash began fucking Knives fast, placing his hands on a vice grip around his twin’s waist to keep him there – and Vash still didn’t fully believe how unashamedly eager Knives was being.

Even more so when Knives planted his hands on the bed and fully pushed himself back to meet Vash’s rough thrusts, throwing his head back as he moaned, lewd and full.

And Vash made sure not to disappoint him.

He grabbed Knives by the hair again (that beautiful, messy, soft crown of white-gold), earning another satisfied cry when he lifted his brother off the sheets almost entirely, reaching even deeper inside him as he made Knives – or Knives himself did – frantically bounce on his cock, faster and faster, as Vash felt himself get loose and mad with lust, like a white-blue flame enveloping him in a wet embrace: it was no fire, but rather Knives, his twin body, feeling so warm, so tight, so perfect around his cock.

They were almost glued together, Vash’s chest to Knives’ back, but Vash needed to get more and more of Knives, so he let go of his hair and placed his hand between Knives’ legs, frantically groping and caressing every inch of wet feathers and soft skin he could get his fingers on, as he mindlessly switched from pumping Knives’ cock to finger his plant pussy again and again, rubbing apple-scented nectar all over and the heavy flowery smell simply made him delirious as he delved into Knives’ mane, drooling all over his neck; his other hand roaming freely along Knives’ chest, grabbing and pinching his rosy nipples and the marble-like flesh.

He must have got too lost in the aphrodisiac scent, because Knives started whining among his pants and moans, as if Vash wasn’t paying him enough attention, as if Vash wasn’t fucking enough – not enough to satiate Knives’ greed, as endless, as devouring as Vash’s.

Aw, you want more?, Vash teased him with a sultry smirk, sure that Knives had now been made harmless, thrust after thrust. But when Knives grabbed Vash’s thighs, so hard to leave another set of bloody cuts, and so strong to push Vash even deeper inside as he kept spearing himself on his twin’s cock, Vash gave up every attempt of teasing and followed Knives’ desire, silently except for the loud moans and short, harsh breaths that kept leaving his mouth (or was it Knives’ strained voice? It didn’t matter anymore, where one ended and the other started, they were too mixed in their delirious pleasure)

Completely overwhelmed by their heat, it only took them a few more deep rough thrusts to climax together, moaning in unison, their bodies shaking under long waves of intense, white-hot pleasure that left them panting and trembling.

They couldn’t tell for how long they remained like that, locked together by skin and sweat, nectar and seed, blood and feathers – it felt so weird, but at the same time so natural, so right: feeling at peace with each other for the first time in more than a century.

Only when their muscles started to give up under their weight, Vash slowly, carefully let go of Knives, gently making him lay down on the messy bed again as he admired his handiwork. Knives’ pristine skin was a map of bites, marks, hand imprint, shining in a lewd veil of sweat, blood and bodily fluids, all over his body and inside too: his own seed kept oozing lazily from both of Knives’ holes, gaping and spasming around nothing.

The sight made Vash drool again, as he slowly rose his fingers again, too tempted to fill that void…

Come to sleep, Knives’ voice came into his head, muffled, tired, but calm.

Knives had clearly other plans, but Vash, for once, decided to discard any attempt of assaulting his brother again: he too felt completely spent and, above all, satiated, the hunger that haunted him for weeks finally gone.

And so Vash laid down next to Knives, where the other had made room for him: with a hint of sour irony, Vash noticed Knives was close enough to feel his calm breathe, but not enough to fall asleep into each other’s arms.

After all of this you don’t even want to…

Sleep, Vash, and when Knives turned in the bed, giving his back to his twin, Vash knew that was probably enough for the rest of the day – no, probably for the rest of the century.

He had almost fallen asleep when Knives brought him back to reality, muttering a few words in a thin, quiet voice, with the slightest tinge of curiosity to adorn his question (and Vash thought, with unexpected fondness, that Knives still sounded the same as when he was an adorable, starry-eyed kid).

“Why didn’t you heal your wounds…and your…your…”

“It just didn’t feel right” Vash interrupted him, catching the quivering tone in Knives’ words as he tried to spell out loud the fact Vash was still bearing the mark of his rage, “Rather, why didn’t you heal that bullet wound? Kinda clashes with…well…your whole aesthetic?”

Static silence.

Vash sighed, and closed his eyes again, accepting defeat: he bit more than he could chew.

Then Knives spoke again, merely above a malicious whisper.

“Fuck me again and I may tell you”

Vash felt his whole body on fire again, his mouth grinning from side to side as his breath got quickly laboured.

“Challenge accepted”