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It's early in the morning when Vash feels his hand twitch. It's early, far earlier than Vash would prefer to be woken up, but he pushes down the urge to fight to gain control back. He knows it's just Knives, but the sensation of his hand moving on its own accord still unsettles him. But it's the least he can do, now that they share a body, mostly.
The hand — his right of course, Knives never has gotten the hang of the prosthetic — slowly moves from its spot cradled by Vash's side to his stomach, then to his hips, then to the band of his shorts. It creeps its way underneath, aiming for its prize. Vash can feel himself getting hard just thinking about what's to come.
But he can't help but mumble to no one, “This early? I was getting my beauty sleep, you know.”
“You don't need it,” Knives responds in his mind, and Vash chooses to interpret that as a compliment. Knives’s hand slips under the band and grabs hold of Vash’s cock. Not too tightly, but not without some pressure. He’s done it plenty of times before, albeit with his own hand in his own body, but Knives has adjusted well to sharing with Vash. If anything, it’s taken more time for Vash to adjust to Knives.
He tries to relax as Knives slowly pumps Vash’s cock, pulling it out from his underwear. It’s been awhile since Vash touched himself and he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t entirely because of their new living situation.
“Don’t be shy on my account,” Knives whispers, “I’ve seen you like this quite often, in our youth, coming undone by my hand.”
“It’s different.” Is all Vash responds with, because it is. It’s one thing when you’re only seventy-five and gallivanting across a desert planet with your brother, hoping he won’t massacre the next human camp you run across. When it’s just the two of you in the middle of the awfully chilly night, and you tell yourself you’re touching him so you can keep warm, that you’re letting him touch you so he’ll be pleasant the next day. But it’s different when another seventy-five years have flown by, only this time apart, and you’ve spent those years exhausted, hurt, angry, and painfully missing him. Vash knows Knives feels the same.
Vash closes his eyes, trying his best to relax into Knives’s touch. His hand (their hand) lazily strokes up and down his length. It feels good, but Vash finds it hard to just let himself enjoy it. The anxiety that lives in the back of his mind rears its ugly head. He knows Knives can feel it, and he swears he hears his brother let out an exasperated sigh.
“Relax, I’m doing this so you’ll feel good, not to stress you out.”
“Yeah,” Vash grunts, “You’ve done that enough.”
“Shut up.”
Knives almost sounds ashamed. Almost. Knives thumbs the head of his cock, swirling his thumb in the precum. Vash lets out an exhale through his nose, trying to sink into the worn out mattress they slept on the night before. Doing odd jobs, some more sketchy than others, in exchange for a safe place to sleep hadn’t been too bad for Vash, but avoiding the Earth fleet that was hot on their trail added another level of stress that neither twin appreciated. An intimate moment alone like this should be just what the doctor ordered, yet Vash couldn’t let himself enjoy it. He’d been in more precarious situations in the heat of the moment and managed to come multiple times, yet a quiet moment with the man who knew him inside and out was apparently too much for him.
His hand pauses, “Do you want me to stop?” Knives asks.
Vash shakes his head, and then speaks, forgetting that Knives can’t see it, “No. Keep going, I’m sorry. It feels good, really.” It does. Vash’s body was always good at responding even if his mind wasn’t available.
Knives picks up the pace once more, stroking a little faster and harder than before, “I can see your memories. I can do it differently if you’d like, I can do it like that priest did.”
His index finger and thumb squeezes around the base of his cock while the remaining digits fondle his balls. It’s a simple move that never felt quite right when Vash would replicate it on his own, perhaps missing the smell of tobacco and the sensation of hirsute hands, yet the feeling of his hand possessed is enough to make Vash long in a way he hasn’t for awhile, in a way he wasn’t let himself.
“Don’t –” Vash chokes out, “Don’t talk about him. You, you of all people.” The sudden sorrow rushing through his veins is enough to make Vash go a little soft. Even now, it still hurts to think about.
Knives scoffs, but retracts his hand from that position and goes back to casually stroking his cock. “You act like I’m the one who killed him.”
The sadness starts to vanish and an anger that Vash doesn’t want to feel bubbles up, “Just shut up and keep touching me.” He buries that anger, which is something Vash has become an expert in during the last century.
He hears Knives grumble something, but Vash can’t make out what it is, surprisingly. He didn’t think this whole body-mind-sharing-thing worked like that, assuming that every thought was intimately shared with the other, but it’s not like either had experience with this before. Well, not him at least.
“It was loud, but I learned to tune out the noise. Our sisters didn’t mean anything by it when they’d speak. Although that other Independent was harder to ignore at first, not until she fully assimilated.”
Vash’s entire body freezes for a second when he hears Knives say that. He doesn’t want to think about the implications of what it means for Knives’s fate. But before he can bring himself to ask, Knives withdraws his hand from Vash’s cock and Vash lets out a disappointed noise. Knives brings his hand to Vash’s mouth, “Open.”
Vash obeys, and Knives pushes a few fingers inside. Vash is thankful that Knives has pulled him away from the topic for now, even if he suspects that Knives just didn't want to hear his remarks on stealing plants and killing an innocent person. Fortunately for Knives, Vash doesn't care about chastising him about that, at least at this very moment. Maybe later.
Knives plays with his tongue, pulling and tugging, while Vash sucks on his fingers. It feels more lewd than when Knives was touching his dick and the sounds are more obscene. His dick twitches.
“Imagine it's my cock,” Knives demands and Vash closes his eyes. He remembers decades ago, behind a rocky outcropping, as he sucked Knives's member while Knives held his head with a surprising tenderness. It was early in the morning, just not as early as this, and they were running low on supplies. Knives had succinctly told Vash he would pick up more at a human caravan, and Vash should stay behind. Knowing that it likely meant death for those people, Vash got on his knees for his brother as a distraction.
Vash also remembered being inside of Knives moments later, Knives bent over in front of him. Vash had to clamp his hand over Knives mouth, the dumbass making enough noise that Vash feared they'd drawn the caravan’s attention. As concerned as he was for the human’s safety, their shiny, metal guns held by the guards was a reminder that humanity wasn't entirely helpless against Knives.
A laughable thought in retrospect, he thinks as his prosthetic twitches and Vash inches it towards his cock.
Knives removes his hand from where he has been fucking Vash's mouth, and swats Vash's other arm away, but doesn't pay mind to Vash's leaky cock. Instead, he rubs Vash's hole and pushes the tip of his middle finger inside. It burns, just a little, but Vash won’t complain.
“I should have taken you here when I had the chance,” Knives sounds nostalgic as he thinks about their past trysts.
Vash lets out a creaky laugh, “You liked the feeling of me fucking you too much. Remember how you'd beg for it?”
Knives says nothing but Vash swears he can feel Knives burning red, despite his lack of a body, and so takes it as his cue to keep egging him on. “God, yeah, I’d fuck you so slow that you’d practically be kicking me to go faster and harder.” Knives slips his finger in a little further inside Vash’s hole. If Vash listens carefully, he can hear Knives’s breath low and heavy.
“It took every inch of willpower not to fuck you hard.” He’s only half lying. While Knives was hot and tight, there was always a little bit of anxiety at the back of Vash’s mind about what would happen after they came that kept Vash from coming too soon. If they were too quick, Knives could have set his sights on humans again, eager and energized to take them out.
Knives pumps his finger in and out of Vash, leaving Vash’s cock leaking and needy, yet Vash has no qualms with it. He’s enjoying it, as much as he can.
“Tell me more,” Knives's echo of a voice sounds hoarse in Vash's mind, brimming with lust, “About how you liked to fuck me.”
Vash inhales sharply. He can feel his own pleasure mixing with Knives's and it's a strange feeling, but definitely not a bad one. It’s a little overwhelming, but Vash isn't ready to come just yet. Thankfully, he’s good at holding himself back with his brother.
“I know you hated it when we didn't have lube, but God you'd get so tight, Knives, fuck. I loved the way you'd clamp down on my cock but try to push me away at the same time.” Vash can’t hold back the cocky grin, “I maybe lied once or twice about running out.”
“Asshole,” Knives bites, but he's pumping his finger harder and faster inside of Vash, so Vash knows something about it turns him on. The friction with just the one finger fills Vash with a little empathy for Knives. Maybe he was too mean when they were younger, understanding as an adult that an erect cock inside of him would likely be painful without help. Yet the way Knives seemed to yearn for it at times made Vash hunger to feel Knives’s cock inside of him; or rather, perhaps it was just the fact that Vash knew he would never get the chance for it that induced such a longing.
He felt a chill run down his spine at the realization, “Kni-Knives, why don’t you move your hand back? I’m dripping for you, you know?” Perhaps not his finest attempt at dirty talk, but Vash wanted his fingers out of him now. His fingers, not Knives’s. He could handle his dick getting rubbed but something about the intimacy of his brother being inside of him but not at the same time was doing weird things to Vash’s heart. He’s not actually fucking you, you know. A little voice said inside of Vash’s head, and he hoped Knives couldn’t hear it. Are you sure he’s even there? Or have you just gone crazy from the loneliness?
“Kniives,” Vash whines, “Pleeeease!”
Silence for a moment, and Vash fears the worst, until a single, contrarian, “No” responds back. Vash can’t even be annoyed at him, as the only thing he feels is the relief of hearing Knives’s voice. He knows that Knives never left but still the reassurance calms Vash to his core. He thinks about taking control of his arm back, but he knows Knives will just make him pay for it later, either with a massive guilt trip or maybe an attempt for a full-body takeover. He’d fail, undoubtedly, but Vash knew his brother was obstinate enough to try.
While Knives may be stubborn, Vash knows he’s just as bad. “Oh, come on!” Vash complains, “I’ll do whatever you want!” Knives stops his thrusting for a moment and Vash quickly adds, “Within reason.” Vash can feel the eye roll in the back of his mind as Knives tries to add a second finger. He pushes the first one further in, just grazing Vash’s prostate in a way that makes Vash’s toes curl. Knives pushes further in, encouraged by the response. God, now Vash really wishes it was Knives’s cock inside of him instead.
Enjoying the feeling of Knives fucking him, Vash has never been more grateful for his stubbornness. It was always something he liked to think they inherited from Rem, in a cheeky sort of way. A sudden rush of mixed emotions floods Vash. Anger, betrayal, and something more tender than he struggles to place.
“Don’t even think about that woman while I’m touching you like this. Disgusting.”
Vash laughs, “Oh? Here I thought you would get a kick out of it, you’re the one with mommy issue – oh fuck!”
Knives slips out of Vash’s hole only to grab the base of his dick, harder than he did before. It’s a little painful, but Vash is more surprised by it than anything.
“Think only of me. Not of Rem. Not of that dead priest. Not of those two annoying human women with the television cameras. I’m the only one you should be talking about.”
Vash wants to quip a retort, but he can't as Knives’s grip pulses on his member. He just nods his head, even if Knives can't see it. Knives pumps his cock with a fervor he didn’t have before — he’s not playing around anymore. Vash pushes his hips into his hand, thrusting to meet Knives’s movements halfway. He wants to come and he can tell Knives wants it too, for both of them. It’s easy to imagine Knives is hovering over him, moaning in his ear as he holds both of their members, pumping them in a rhythm. It’s a scenario he’s experienced before and one he’s imagined more than once.
“I-I’m coming! I’m com—” Vash is almost breathless, squeaking out a short warning before his orgasm takes control, shooting a rope of cum in several spurts. Knives, in his infinite cruelty, continues to stroke Vash past it, smothering his slowly softening cock with cum. It’s a lot, and Vash kicks his feet against the ratty sheet in protest, and demands his brother to stop. Knives does, and Vash is thankful.
The hand limply falls to the side as Vash can tell that Knives is slowly letting go of his control. It's similar to the numbness when his hand falls asleep from losing circulation. It’s not the most pleasant sensation, but that slightly uncomfortable feeling is the least he could put up with for his brother. A couple minutes pass, his arm begins to return to normal, and his breathing finally even outs.
“Well, that was a fun way for us to wake up,” Vash jokes and waits for Knives’s inevitable sigh. He doesn’t hear anything, so he tries again, “Maybe we can make this a regular thing, eh?”
Silence.
Vash huffs, annoyed. Suddenly he realizes how quiet it is in the little room they’ve rented. It’s usually never this quiet, and Vash finds that he hates it. “Are you still mad about that Rem comment?” Surely mentioning her will elicit a peep from his twin.
Vash feels his heart rate begin to increase as Knives once again fails to respond. He never truly understood the phrase “silence is deafening” until now. Why isn’t he saying anything?
“Hey, I’m sorry if that really upset you. I wasn’t trying to get you that mad, it won’t happen again.” Usually, he’d be only half telling the truth, but at that moment, Vash truly means it.
Vash’s voice shakes as he pleads for Knives to respond. He’s unconsciously picking at his barely numb arm with this prosthetic. There’s a lump forming in his throat that’s getting bigger and thicker and it feels hard to speak, “Knives? Say something, c’mon. Please.”
With yet another quiet reply, Vash fears the worst. He sits up in bed, practically launching himself forward, “Knives!” he calls out, “Knives!” he yells again, not caring if he wakes any other paying customers of the dingy hotel. He could be waking up the biggest, baddest, scariest bounty hunter and he wouldn’t care. Hell, it could be the entire Earth fleet and Vash wouldn’t mind, just as long as his brother responds to him.
It’s getting hard to breathe and the room is spinning.
Where is Knives? Where is his brother?!
His hands are shaking and he calls out once more. Knives can’t leave him here, he can’t! He’s not allowed. Who does he think he is?!
Vash is vaguely aware of some other noise in the background, but he’s too caught up in his anxiety to care about it. Knives has left him, he’s sure of it. Gone, like that poor Independent Earthling Knives so heartlessly swallowed. Knives, too, is now fully integrated with Vash’s psyche. Never to be heard of again.
“--sh!”
He’s dead. A selfish grab at physical pleasure killed his only brother. Vash should have known better. His brother was weak when he absorbed him, it was only a matter of time until he’d disappear.
He’s dead.
“Vash! Calm down!”
Vash inhales sharply, finally registering that noise as Knives. “Kni-Knives?” he whimpers out.
“Yes. Vash, what the hell? Are you alright?” Knives sounds more concerned for his well being than Vash has heard in a long time.
“You were so quiet…I thought you were…” Vash trails off, I thought you were dead, he thinks, a feeling not said aloud, but shared between the two of them nonetheless.
“You thought I was dead?” Knives sounds irritated, “You seriously thought I’d die from jerking off? I just wanted to relax for a moment. I might be in your head, but even I enjoy some peace to myself. I don’t have to answer your every beck and call.”
“Sh-shut up,” Vash knows it’s hypocritical to demand that from Knives, not when he so panicked about his silence earlier. “You don’t get the privilege of being quiet, Knives. You don’t get to just leave.”
He’s full on crying now, hot tears are streaming down his face. Each drop is cathartic as he finally lets go of the feeling of dread that’s been bottled up inside of him since he absorbed Knives. That looming fear that Knives could, at any time, in response to any action, just disappear. He was on borrowed time and Vash never knew when the alarm would ring.
“Vash…”
Vash doesn’t let Knives get a word in, “You took everything from me! You took Rem, you took Wolfwood! You took countless people who were the closest thing I had to family, just because you were trying to prove something!” Knives is silent throughout Vash’s tirade. He doesn’t try to correct him or defend himself. “I know humans are difficult and cruel at times, I know that!”
Vash lets out a few more rattling sobs. He knows he must look disgusting right now, snot and tears streaming down his flushed face, dried, goopy cum on his hips. He hopes that when he cries, he looks like he's laughing.
“So, so you’re not allowed to leave, especially not on your own without saying a damn thing to me about it. You have to stay with me. It’s your punishment.” His strict tone wavers a bit, “You have to atone with me. Together.”
Knives is quiet, but this time Vash knows he’s there, only this time listening to Vash instead of ignoring him. But the silence still kills Vash, and after what feels like eternity, Knives replies, “I’m not leaving you. Not anytime soon. We only have each other, you know.”
Vash knows that Knives isn’t lying. But Vash he also knows that just because Knives isn’t lying, that doesn’t mean he’s necessarily telling the truth either. Neither of them know how much time Knives has left, or how much Vash has left, for that matter. However, the fact that Knives truly believes that he’ll be with Vash for much longer is enough to comfort him.
“I…I love you,” Vash croaks out, barely audible.
Vash isn’t afraid of expressing love, he’s not afraid of rejection, even. He’s afraid that if he doesn’t say, it’ll be like it never existed. He doesn’t have to say it, he’s positive that Knives can feel the burning love and anguish inside of their shared body, but Vash knows he has to say it. If he speaks it, if he hears it, then he knows it actually happened. It’s a real experience, and that even if he’s simply hallucinated a facsimile of his brother in his head, at least this feeling of love is real. At least he’s expressed it.
“...I love you, too,” Knives responds, quicker than Vash had expected. To his brother’s credit, Knives was always an authentic man, wearing his heart on his sleeve.
Vash’s heart swells, “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank people for loving you,” Knives chastises, gently.
Vash laughs. He knows Knives his right but he can’t help it. He is grateful for every person out there who has ever loved him, and ever will, Knives included. He hears Knives sigh, clearly giving up on fighting with Vash on the issue.
“Get some sleep.”
“I’m not tired.”
“Liar.” A pause, “I woke you up for my own selfish desires.” Vash is about to protest, worried over unwanted guests busting down their door while he’s out, but Knives interrupts before he even gets the opportunity to word his discomfort, “Even if you’re asleep, I can keep aware of our surroundings. We’ll be fine. I’ll wake you up in an hour.”
Vash closes his eyes, realizing that they were much heavier than he thought. He slowly breathes in and out, concentrating on the feeling of sleep and the feeling of Knives.
“Vash.”
“Hm?” He can feel sleep creeping up on him quicker than he thought, but he’s still not ready to go, not yet. The ball of anxiety in the pit of his belly is smaller than it was, but it’s still there, keeping Vash awake, even if he doesn’t want to be.
“I’ll be here when you wake up. I promise.”
It’s the scent of crisp air that Vash smells instead of dust and sand, air that’s been sanitized through a complex filtration system way beyond Vash’s understanding, intermingled with chlorophyll and tree bark. A hand brushes his hair from his brow, gentle, familiar, and comforting. It’s smaller than he expected, but its weight no less firm. It scratches his hairline in a pleasant way, right where Vash likes it.
Vash opens his eyes to see a blond boy wearing the face belonging to someone Vash has long since believed to be dead. He gazes at the boy’s mole that mirrors his own and eyes as equally blue as his. When was the last time Vash had seen this version of Knives? It’s nostalgic.
“Promise?” Vash asks, bleary eyed and blissful.
Knives smiles, “I promise. I’ll always be here.”
Vash closes his eyes again, comfortable in the lap of his older brother, and sleeps.