Trigun Fan Fiction ❯ Evermore ❯ Meet And Lust ( Chapter 1 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Disclaimer: I do not own Trigun in the least. Don’t sue me, I have nothing of worth to give.

Evermore

Chapter One

Knives and Vash, twin brothers. The only two Plants who weren’t born inside of bulbs. The only two who had power to spare, knowledge unrivaled, strength unmatched. They were, in a word, the perfect human beings, with one problem: They weren’t humans.

Knives hated humans, he despised them and wished them death, in fact he had tried to eliminate all humans on more than one occasion. This came from his early childhood, when he and Vash appeared perhaps eight years old, but were in fact just over a year.

Vash, on the other hand, was an ideal saint of sorts. He loved all things, and wished nothing to die. He fought Knives every time his brother tried to destroy humanity, and in the end, he succeeded. Thanks to all his hard work and trying and persuading, Knives has finally agreed to let humans go along.

The two of them were over a century old the last time they truly fought, though their tussles never ceased. As all brothers are, they fight endlessly, though these days it’s more about the insignificant things, such as which one got the last dessert.

As the days and months and years passed, they grew close once more, just as they were when they were children. It had been over another century when this story takes place, when the both of then are precisely two hundred fifty-seven years old, and still neither of them looked a day above twenty-three.

It was as they were heading to the city of LR, on foot, when they saw them for the first time. Instantly, both brothers felt a sense as though they had finally found others like them. At the same time, a terrible feeling of foreboding swept over Vash as he noticed the weapons they had. . .

Two girls were fighting a dozen men, both with guns, one silver, one black, both reverse six-shooters. Vash’s jaw dropped a little as two and two came together and he realized that the women had found the twins’ old guns and somehow got them working again.

As they watched, the blonde girl’s silver gun was knocked out of her hand and went high above them. She immediately ran towards the closest man and jumped; in one swift motion her feet landed on his chest, her hands on his shoulders, and then she kicked and went up into the air while knocking the man down. She flipped back and caught the silver gun on its way down, twisting and aiming smartly. She fired twice and the man she aimed at went down, across from the man she had just knocked down.

The redhead, who handled the black gun just as well as the blonde, was more whacking the men, giving them bruises and cuts, rather than shooting. She moved like a dancer, dodging with artful twists as bullets flew from each direction. She fired once in all the time they watched, at the man the blonde had knocked down. The bullet went through his stomach and he lay still, probably passed out from pain.

Both girls were panting, then stood back to back as both they and the men all caught their breath. Out of the dozen or so men who had obviously all been standing at the start of the fight, only three remained, and looked like they were weighing their chances. Two of them dropped their guns and fell to their knees, apparently giving in.

The third growled and pulled a gun from his unconscious friend’s hand and shot both at once.

The girls split and ran around the man once before creeping up on either side of him. Then they both jumped and caught each other’s off hand, each landing gently on the man’s shoulders with one foot – then they kicked hard, twisting towards each other, bruising the man’s neck and leaving him dazed. They kicked with the opposite foot once their places had been traded, hitting the same spots and felling the man.

They twisted again and let go of each other then, landing with the blonde woman and redhead on opposite sides of the now fallen man. They looked around themselves carefully, their silver and black guns looking oversized in their hands. It was a mystery to Vash how they could even lift the guns for as long as the fight must have taken.

They spotted Vash and Knives and the same expression passed over them that had passed over the twins upon seeing them. All four stared at each other, eyes darting between the two strangers, for a long moment before the eyes settled.

Vash was staring at the blonde woman, not knowing quite why but finding himself entranced with her. She was apparently in the same spell, for she was looking right back, unmoving, shocked. Though he couldn’t turn his head or his eyes to see, he knew that Knives and the redhead woman must be in the same trance as well, gazing at each other.

And then a name passed his lips, though he didn’t know where it came from: “DL.” Faintly, he heard Knives speak at the same moment, again a single name: “Swords.” And across from them, the girls both mouthed names themselves, and Vash could see the form of his name on the blonde girl’s lips.

He took a step forward, forcing himself into motion, but it seemed to snap all four out of their stupor. The redhead ran for her friend and grasped her hand, and then the blonde looked away and, holding the other’s hand, both women ran to the twins’ rights.

“Wait!” Vash yelled before he could stop himself. Both he and Knives broke into a run as well, following the women, though for the life of him he couldn’t understand what was making him move like this.

The twins had the advantage. They were older, which was obvious as the girls still stumbled a bit, uncoordinated. And the twins were taller, with longer legs, and they had a quickening motion they knew – something that could speed them up temporarily. The girls didn’t seem to know of it.

Though when they began they were about forty or fifty feet apart, with twenty seconds the twins had caught up. Vash couldn’t stop himself from reaching out for the blonde girl’s hand – he noticed now that she wore jeans, a buttoned vest, fingerless gloves and sneakers, the silver gun he was so familiar with in a holster on her thigh.

He had grabbed her hand with his left, and spun her around. He could see her clearly now, the cut of her hair and the color of her eyes. She had dark green eyes, rich and deep, and her hairstyle was definitely unique – just as his was, if one were to think of it.

Her bangs were short, only reaching her eyebrows, but for two strands in the center which reached her chin. Her hair was all shoulder-length if not for two forelocks, pulled in front of her shoulders and reaching below underarm, about on length with the undercurve of her breasts.

The line of sight drew his eyes and found himself leaning back a ways to look further down, at a slim appearance of skin visible at her stomach, some nicely formed muscles and tanned skin, further down to the curve of her hips, the length of her legs in tight jeans, and back up to her eyes.

She seemed to have not looked away from his eyes yet, and as he gazed at her, she seemed to come to a decision. Her eyes settled, and then she leaned forward and hugged him around his middle, the top of her head brushing his jaw.

Shocked as Vash was at the sudden move, it didn’t stop a feeling of peace from running through him, nor did it stop him from holding her against him. He found himself growing somewhat weak, and tired, while holding her so. He looked over at Knives and saw they were in the same position, and Knives seemed to be nodding off on his feet.

He looked up and met Vash’s eyes for a moment, and they each gave each other a weak, tired smile before collapsing. They were both asleep before hitting the sand.

- - -

When Vash woke, he felt oddly empty, though he didn’t know why. It was dark and the stars were out, the moons bright above them. Couldn’t be too late if the moons were that high above them. Knives, he tried. Knives?

He got a groan as a response. I’m awake.

Vash sat up and rubbed his forehead. What happened? I can’t remember much. . .

Knives poked him in the ribs. Remember the girls?

Vash looked over at his twin, a face and pair of eyes rising before him. “She. . . Where are they?” he began, looking around. He thought he’d been holding the girl in his arms when he fainted. . . was it a faint?

“Gone,” Knives answered simply.

“But they. . .” Vash couldn’t finish, thinking over why they would have left. There was a connection made between them, he was certain of it – the blonde girl, DL, she seemed really into him. And they hadn’t said a word. He didn’t know the sound of her voice yet. . .

Beside him, Knives patted at his pockets, and Vash snorted. “They wouldn’t have stolen from us,” he tried.

“They wouldn’t?” Knives returned, sound of fire in his voice. “They have our guns!”

“I left them in the middle of the desert,” Vash returned hotly. “Anybody could have found them.”

“The only way anybody could have found them,” Knives spat quickly, “is if they were Plants. You may be deaf to it but they call us, and the sound has been tearing at me since you left them behind!”

“We don’t need them anymore! We never did!”

This isn’t the first time they argued over the guns. It was a favorite subject of Knives’ to bring up, a constant reminder of betrayal, or so he saw it. In Vash’s mind it was no betrayal, simply getting rid of a few things mankind could do without. Things Knives created for the sole purpose of killing mankind.

They continued to argue, touching many subjects, as they got to the town they were headed, all along trying to forget about the women they met earlier. Unfortunately it wasn’t as easy as focusing on something else. Every time Vash noticed blonde hair he looked that way, and whenever it was a woman of her height, he found himself staring. But nobody matched her in the least.

The hair style was always wrong, the clothes, the eyes. He remembered, as he thought about it, a few freckles lined across her face. One below her left ear, one on the right side of her jaw, and most prominent, one smack dab between her right nostril and lip, a decoration that drew his eye once, brought it down to her lips.

He wanted to kiss her, and badly. He’d already thought of that mouth many times, even as it had been only a few hours. In fact, it was near midnight, and he and Knives were beginning to cross the town to continue their trek.

In truth, there was nowhere they were going in particular; it had a wordless decision for both of them to simply keep moving, not settling in one place or another. They began a routine of sorts, that traveled them across the planet every thirty years or so, so likely no one who saw them in town would recognize them thirty years later when they returned.

It was stunning, seeing the planet progress over the years. Not just the humans, although their evolution was coming along nicely, but also the ability for the planet to hold and serve life. The ground was far more nutrious, the water cleaner and more abundant, everything truly was becoming greener and stronger. The people themselves were getting a long better these days.

Although there was the odd bad gang of men and women around, like the ones who had attacked those two women. . .

There he goes, thinking of her again. No girl had plagued his thoughts like this, not since he finally let his idolism of Rem fade. Once, every time he had a moment to himself, he found himself thinking of Rem, of her smile and blue eyes, kind words and soft voice, and what she meant to him.

Now it was that girl, that green-eyed blonde with what used to be his gun. She had hugged him. He remembered the feeling clearly, of her arms around him, her head on his shoulder, her hair only lightly brushing his jaw and neck. She had felt light in his arms, lighter than she should be, as though she were some form of ethereal being, and his passing out what punishment for trying to catch her.

But she was a Plant, DL and her friend; Vash knew that as clearly as he knew he and Knives were. There was no question about it. But perhaps she didn’t know it.

It had to be obvious. Grown in less than five years, never aging older, the ability to feel people as you passed by them, enhanced intelligence, being faster and stronger and more coordinated than the humans; she had to know it. With their smarts, it was impossible not to know.

Okay, so she must know she wasn’t human. How would she know she was a Plant without someone there to point her in the right direction? Sure they could speak to their imprisoned sisters, but how is that much different from feeling humans, and being able to hear their thoughts and speak in return? In essence, it was the same.

Maybe she realized that as well.

But he was getting ahead of himself. Knives was silent beside him, thinking of the red-headed girl, most likely. They had both been silent a long while, though they had tried their best to forget the girls, at least for the time being. Out of the corner of his eye, Vash saw a flash of gold in the darkness and glanced that way.

She was there, looking straight at him, holding a paper bag to her chest. Vash had stopped walking, facing where Knives had been a few seconds before, seeing her standing there and staring back at him in shock. In the back of his mind, he noticed that Knives had stopped walking and had turned to him.

There was a long pause in which nothing at all seemed to happen when Knives spotted DL as well. Swords wasn’t with her, it seemed, for Knives looked. And then Knives turned towards Vash again and said, “Leave her be.”

There was no way Vash was going to leave her be. First, it was unlike Knives to even say that, when he had been so prejudiced for so long and was so intent on finding more like themselves. And second, Vash simply couldn’t watch her walk away and out of his world.

So he started towards her.

Vash, leave her be, Knives told him, a bit more firmly.

Mentally, Vash waved a hand at Knives, a signal to tell him to leave off. This was Vash’s business and he was intent on, at least, speaking to the girl. “DL,” he said as he neared her.

She wasn’t afraid of him. He could see that as he watched her, still standing there. She was surprised, wary, a little confused, but not afraid. But as he drew nearer, she took a step back. It made him pause, worried of frightening her, though it seemed impossible for him to scare her. Then he began again towards her.

She seemed to have had enough. Without looking she made a left turn, down an alleyway. It was a quick move and though he heard her running, it didn’t take long for her steps to become inaudible. He broke into a run, down that alley, and met a fork. Left appeared to be a dead end, and right broke into a curve. It seemed the move obvious move was to go right and travel around, hopefully losing him.

But he’d felt her mind. She preferred tricking and hiding to running until you couldn’t anymore. His logic told him she turned left. He looked that way now, reaching out for her mind, brushing it only a little before it retracted and tried to hide from him, barriers and cloaks thrown up around her.

“DL,” he said. “I know you’re there.”

The end of the ally was perhaps fifteen feet away, and perhaps five feet from the end was a tall stack of boxes and barrels, perfect for hiding. She could be anywhere in that stack, or simply standing behind it, hoping he wouldn’t look.

“Stop following me,” she said.

His mind nearly went numb, hearing her voice. It took a second for him to catch on to her words, and he couldn’t help tilting his head a little in confusion. “I wasn’t, well, not at first,” be began.

“You were just now. Just stop it.” Her voice echoed across the alley, coming at him from all angles.

Clever girl, he thought. Talking in the right direction would hide your presence, true. “I’m not following you now,” he reasoned. He took a few steps towards that stack before stopping. “You should have figured by now that I –”

“You don’t mean me any harm? Yeah, I kind of got that the first time we met,” she said harshly. “With the way you stared like I was a juicy piece of meat, and that stint where you grabbed my hand. Totally obvious; you’re harmless.”

He bit his lip. Well, he had made a bad impression, now that he looked back on it. “Did you make me pass out?”

“If I said yes would you leave?”

“You’re not afraid of me.”

Though the sentence was tossed in there with no real reason behind it, he heard DL laugh. “Why would I be afraid? As I said, you’re harmless.”

He rounded the stack quickly, as silent as he could be, but didn’t see her standing there. The paper bag was on the ground, but she wasn’t; it was a trick!

He couldn’t help his grin. She was a lot smarter than he gave her credit for. He looked around quickly, knowing by the bag that she not only was here, but she was planning on returning. All he had to do was wait, really.

His mind shifted over to Knives then, wondering what he’d left his brother doing. Certainly Knives wouldn’t seek out the nearest human and start another diabolical plan, so what would Knives do with free time? He didn’t want to think about it too much, so instead Vash turned and started for the curve. If DL wanted to play hard to get, he would play, too.

- - -

Knives sighed in exasperation as Vash ran after that girl. It was foolish to chase when the girl obviously didn’t want to be caught; she merely looked away from Vash as he advanced and chose a dark alley over meeting him again. That wasn’t very promising. Question was, why didn’t Vash see it that way?

Maybe he did and refused to give up. Knives snorted at the thought and began walking towards the end of the town where they had been headed moments before. If Vash wanted to waste time following that girl, then hell, Knives wasn’t going to wait up.

Vash had a problem with giving up, anyway.

It wasn’t until he was practically at the outskirts of town that he noticed the red hair. Though he fought against it, he looked to his right and saw a flash of red; it had to be her. . . That woman, Swords. His body moved against his will, going towards it, that flash that had caught his eye.

It made him round a building and travel back to the main street of the town, and he caught the flash once more entering the tavern, a place that was essentially a bar with a hotel on top. Five levels high, it was hardly a ‘hotel’ compared to the larger cities of December and the rebuilt July.

As soon as he entered, his jaw fell. It was such a rare thing to be able to shock Knives, but what he was seeing was shocking.

There was Swords, that elegant, red-haired beauty, dancing up on the rickety stage. She seemed to be in her own world, lost there, ignoring everything else. The sweat that covered her body made him believe she’d been there for some time.

And if that were true, he had to wonder if it were really her that led him here, or a connection of their minds, or possibly his own want to find her had brought him here to see her again. Either way he was entranced, not just by her dance or her body, but by her flow.

He had been right earlier, when he watched her fight and thought she moved like a dancer. This had to be her main love, for she was so good at it, so wonderfully artistic in her motions, that every male could not look away, nor move any closer. She was too beautiful, really, so much so that no one wanted to interrupt her dance.

Her skin was lightly flushed from exertion, covered in a sheen of sweat. She had a CD player on her hip, earphones secured in her ears. Her hair had as much motion as her body when she moved, when she spun and dipped, kicked and leaned, her eyes shut all along as she moved to her own music.

She stopped, out of breath, and reached down to the CD player and pushed a button on it after perhaps five minutes of that. She had paused another few minutes ago, but this time she hopped off the stage and stretched, smiling faintly.

She opened her eyes a moment before the smile and Knives, still standing in the doorway, remembered the clear, bright blue of her eyes. As he thought now, more came to mind: her high cheekbones, narrowed eyes, ruby lips. Her clothes were a two-piece dress, more pointedly, a vest with a zipper and a skirt with a slit.

The top was magenta, the skirt was as well. Her shoes, however, were as red as her hair and lips. Simply heels, there seemed to be nothing extraordinary about them, except that they looked incredible on her.

Not that there need be. She was extraordinary in and of herself, and Knives’ staring gradually reduced as he realized she was staring right back at him.

It was like seeing her for the first time, once again. Only they were much closer now, perhaps ten or fifteen feet apart, and a wave of feeling passed between them. She was ready for a male, he could feel it; she was practically radiating her sexuality and drawing his own out, towards her.

Moth to a flame, or rather, butterfly to the flower. He stepped closer to her, and unlike the girl Vash likely was still chasing, she didn’t move away. She smiled at him, turning to face him as a hand lifted to pull the earphones out and hook them on the CD player at her hip.

Dangerous-looking and ominous, his black gun was still strapped to her thigh, her right thigh; the right that her skirt slit on, from ankle to hip. The slit barely stopped a few inches from the belt that obviously held the skirt up.

In his peripheral vision, Knives was mildly aware that the danger in the tavern was rising, rising as a man at the bar did. He was standing, and Knives’ eyes shifted to him as he reached out to Swords. All at once Knives didn’t feel so good anymore, to say the least.

It seemed the moment went by in slow motion. Knives’ anger rose higher and higher as the man took the two steps necessary to reach Swords, and Swords’ eyes narrowed and shifted to the man as well. She stepped back, away from him, in a smooth dancer’s move, her hand grasping the hilt of the gun – oversized in her small hands.

She was lifting it when Knives’ own movements brought him there. Hardly a thought passed his mind as he reached for the man, then his hand clenched on the back of the man’s neck and jerked him back, towards the bar, hard. The right side of the man’s ribs hit the metal bar harder than he did, it seemed, for there was a large crack and he yelped.

Ignoring the man now that he was no longer a threat, Knives caught Swords’ eyes and refused to let go. Her hand slipped off the hilt, dropping the gun back into its holster, and then she stepped back and began a quick ascension up the stairs. Knives trailed after her, knowing without words that she wanted him to follow.

She led him up to the top story and a middle room, holding the door open for a moment, until he walked in, before shutting it behind her. She looked more dangerous now, her eyes narrowed in the near darkness, standing there like a judge.

“Knives,” she said.

He smiled, though he wasn’t sure why. “Swords,” he greeted. He couldn’t help but marvel at the irony of it, their names being so alike.

“I could have handled him myself,” she stated defiantly. Walking into the room, she lifted a foot onto the chair near the table and unstrapped the holster, then dropped the gun with a thud onto the table.

“Maybe,” he replied, eyes on the shapely leg visible from his point of view. “But you could have gotten a bruise, or his blood on you.”

“And you took care of it for me, did you?” she asked, taking off her shoes next and dropping them in the chair.

“I couldn’t allow him to touch you,” he said, quietly, a predatory purr in his voice.

“Oh?” She looked up now, a delicate brow raised in question.

His eyes traveled once more down her frame, then back up again. “No,” he continued, eyes reaching for hers again. “He was just a human. Not nearly worthy of your touch.”

“Even if my touch bashes his skull in?” she asked, brutally.

Knives shivered then, from the tone she used. It sounded delicious to him, that she was capable of forgoing the humans’ feelings and pain to deliver justice. “What would you do,” he began slowly, “if the skull you bashed in turned out to be a potentially fatal wound?”

“Let the creep die,” she shot back. “I don’t need him alive for anything. If no one else chooses to help him, fine, but I’m not wasting my time with him.”

This had to be love.

- - -

Vash followed her trail for at least half an hour. It took about twenty to recognize her pattern, and then he could have caught her anytime, but kept letting her get away at the last moment. About five minutes she made it obvious that she knew he’d learned her pattern, but didn’t change her tactics. The chase was just as fun with her as it was with him.

At the end he was back where the chase had started, in that alley. He headed for the stack again and peered behind it.

She was standing there, leaning against the wall, arms crossed with one foot on the wall as well. She had one brow raised, and regarded him with a look that quite clearly said, “Game over.”

Vash could only shrug at her. “You’re not very good at running.”

She tilted her head. “That’s because you’re not very good at tracking,” she countered.

He laughed. “I’m over two centuries old; I think I know how to track pretty well.”

“Uh huh,” she replied slowly, nodding.

“I do!” he insisted.

She grinned. “Well, I’m fourty-seven years young,” she began, “and everybody knows that old geezers – while wise – could never catch a young hot rod.”

Her phrasing brought back many a story from his childhood, when he spent time on the computer and accessed files about the human race, read about them, viewed some of their movies, and saw some of their shows. It was all fascinating to him, but nobody uses those wordings anymore.

Which is why he replied, “Whippersnappers don’t know what they’re talking about.”

And she laughed, a laugh that rang through his ears and made him take a step closer to her, smiling at her. She didn’t simply laugh, but threw her head back, letting the world hear her amusement.

The moment she tilted her head back down, her laughter fading into a simple smile, her eyes still alight, he kissed her.

He felt her entire body jerk with surprise at the motion, but she definitely wasn’t protesting. She kissed him back, her lips warm and soft, and he moved his arms around her to pull her against him. He felt her hands on his shoulders, felt her right carefully outline the grate on his chest, and she drew back a small ways.

He moaned a little in protest and followed her mouth, worry entering his mind at what she would think upon seeing his scars. But then she tilted her head the opposite way and kissed him once more, her arms lifting around his neck.

At the moment, he felt he could die here and do so happily.

He became more certain of it when they mutually opened their mouths and deepened the kiss, turning a simple kiss quite quickly into a feral heat.

Then she broke the kiss again, having to force herself to the point where she slammed back into the wall. His hands still at her waist, he could feel her shakes, and sense her heartbeat going fast and erratic. His responses were in like, and he couldn’t help his half-grin, half-smirk.

She lifted a hand to her lips and touched them, blinking her eyes as though her focus had been lost. She looked up at him and her voice echoed in his mind: I have a room at the inn.

She didn’t need to say, or think, anything else for him to get the clue. They both turned to the exit of the alley, she swooped up the bag of things as she went past it, and they began a quick walk to the inn, her left hand very tightly to his right.

Upon entering the inn, she went right past everyone – including a man who was holding his side and looked at Vash as though he were the bringer of doom, convincing Vash all at once that Knives managed to harm the man. Doing a quick sweep of the inn proved that Knives was upstairs. . .

Exactly where DL was heading.

Two plus two equals four: Knives had followed Swords in here, and as DL and Swords were obviously a pair, they were sharing a room.

This was going to be awkward.

- - -

Knives wasn’t positive what made him suddenly grab Swords and kiss her, but at the moment it didn’t matter. She had kissed him back in a split second, with heat and passion and a lust he didn’t realize could be possessed by any living being.

They had talked about absolutely nothing for a long time, somewhere around half an hour, and his lust for her had been growing slowly but steadily – and at an increasing rate. It had been an odd sort of lust that made him chase her in the desert, it had been lust that made him follow the flash of red that led him here, and it was lust that was driving him now.

Though it was his intention to have her react in like, she was reacting much stronger than he had hoped for, and she nearly dwarfed him and his power with her sheer sexuality. Her hands felt him up and down; neck, shoulders, upper arms, then chest, abdomen, pelvis and thighs. She gave him quite a jolt when her hands reached around him, grasped his rear and squeezed, but her actions woke a dormant desire in him.

So he began feeling her back as she was doing to him, and as it escalated, the heat in the room seemed to grow hotter. At some point his shirt disappeared, followed quickly by Swords’ vest, and the sensation of their chests pressed together made his already hard erection quiver in anticipation.

He had her draped over the table, half laying on top of her, right hand massaging her breast while his left hand felt around her lower areas, both of them locked in a kiss where their tongues battled furiously for dominance, when the door was opened with a clear and piercing squeak.

And there was his brother, with the other female Plant.

The door was quickly shut behind them. While Vash stared at Knives with high brows, DL regarded their position. She said to Swords, “Table will give you splinters, so be careful. We’re going that way.” Then she pointed to a door that bridged into an adjacent room.

Leaving Vash staring in complete shock at Knives, she set down the bag of food near the table, winked at Swords, patted Knives on the shoulder with a knowing look, then headed to the second room. Vash waited only another moment before grinning his biggest, dorkiest look at Knives and following DL to the other room.

Swords chuckled beneath him and began sucking at his neck, but at the moment he was incredibly torn. On the one hand, there was a beautiful woman beneath him, completely seductive and obviously wanted him as badly as he wanted her. On the other, shock and anger battled the lust, and his pride demanded he shrug off the entire situation and demean Vash and his little woman for thinking he was going to mate with the fiery being beneath him.

Which he had every intention to.

And her continual sucking at his neck, now coupled with petting his chest and diving a hand into his pants, was making his pride back down and his lust rise up again. His attention was being demanded by her, to the point where he felt her mind brush against his own, focusing his mind on her and her alone.

Or so he let her believe.


Though his body still wanted her, his mind was still checking back on Vash and DL, and every time he did, he was slapped away, sometimes by one or the other, sometimes by both. At least until a very strong barrier went up around their minds, strengthened by the power of the woman beneath him.

He looked at her in surprise, breaking the heated kiss they were sharing. Her hands had undone his pants, and now she shoved him off her, and though he flailed, he still landed ungracefully on the floor. He managed to sit up and open his mouth on a yell before Swords pounced on him.

. . . He became powerless in five seconds of her advances, and entirely forgot about his idiot brother and his little wench.

- - -

Compared to how Knives was acting with that Swords woman, Vash didn’t really feel like he was being all that passionate with DL. Not one to let his twin beat him in something Vash was much more skilled in, he pulled DL to him and kissed her in a way that always made human women go weak.

But she responded very well, kissing him back not with skill so much as pure want. It made his heart skip a beat and roused his lust, both physically and mentally. It was easy like this, getting her to want him so much, but it wasn’t so easy to keep a handle on himself so he didn’t pounce on her.

Luckily he could feel Knives continually poke at his mind, which actually helped his control. At times he pushed back Knives’ prods, and it surprised him when DL started doing it as well.

So she and Swords knew a lot more about themselves than Knives and Vash had at the same age. What incredible women.

Incredible, hardly, DL answered his unspoken words. She went on even as her tongue stroked his with hunger, Women are naturally curious, is all.

She didn’t have to explain for him to understand. She also didn’t need to be this conscious at the moment. Vash’s pride surged up quite strongly and made him focus more on her, on getting her to being the blubbering, seduced female he was used to getting.

Where they were at the moment had Vash almost pressed up against a wall, so he pulled DL against him and then spun them around and pushed with his body, effectively pinning her against the wall. She made a small sound in the back of her throat of acknowledgment, but otherwise didn’t protest.

Her hands threaded up his neck and into his hair, lightly touching at first, then more firmly. He kissed her with more passion, more need, hoping that it was enough to drive her to the brink while simultaneously marveling that he wasn’t at the brink himself. And then one of her exploring fingers brushed across a highly sensitive spot beneath his left ear, just shy of his pulse, and he literally collapsed.

He pulled her down with him when he fell, lust becoming so strong that he clutched her to him and began pawing almost roughly along her body as he ravaged her mouth, making her gasp and moan sharply. Though his mind was half-gone now, his hands remembered their chart well, and once they had toured her entire willing body, they returned to the more sensuous spots along her body.

And then DL tossed her head back and could only moan. With little hesitation, if any, he took advantage of such a situation and peeled off her vest, followed by her shirt. Naked breasts awaited his view, his touch, and his kisses, and he couldn’t have restrained himself if he’d have tried.

His mouth attached itself to her neck and sucked, tasting her skin with deliberate swaths of his tongue, sweeping over the expanse available to him and picking up the sensitive spots efficiently. He pulled back only a little, his hands continuing their journey, to look at her neck for a moment.

There, slightly dark red, almost a bruise; a lovely little hickey. He wanted to nip it a few times, but a sudden, sharp gasp from DL drew her attention once more and he couldn’t deny her. It was enough of the playing part of the evening, wasn’t it?

It was made obvious that her mind had abandoned her when he tried to get her to stand and found himself failing. With his own mind half-gone, the path to her bed seemed impossible to reach, but with the two of them working together, they finally managed a one-foot-in-front-of-the-other technique that traversed the room to the bed. They pawed and kissed all the way there, and then she was beneath him.

And loving it, apparently. Her hands not only found the buttons to his shirt, but worked them free fairly quickly, considering how slow her mind was reacting. He devoured her mouth as her hands slid up and down his chest, not seeming at all perversed by the number and depth of scars etched into his body.

He felt across her chest in return, massaging her breasts and teasing the peaks with gentle prods until they were hardened, then trailing his fingertips down her stomach lightly and circling her navel with a single finger. She was still moaning, and now she arched her back, almost losing the grasp of his mouth as her head tilted back slightly.

Oh, no. He wasn’t about to free her moist little mouth. With a tilt of his head and a quick motion of his lips, his mouth fastened more securely to hers and his tongue swept over every inch of her mouth. Her tongue fought back, or tried to it seemed, for she was fighting a losing battle.

Her hands seemed to be mapping out his scars, little by little, carefully feeling each one as though she were worried that one of them was new, and painful. Then quite suddenly she seemed to devise a tactic to battle his own, and lightly began ‘scratching’ at the scars.

As sensitive as they were, they tended to hurt easily, but this. . . this was completely different. A shiver followed every motion of every nail, and he heard himself moan in pleasure. A quiver went down his spine and he forcefully pressed himself to her, stilling her hands as well as his own.

He lifted his mouth finally and let out a shuddering breath as DL gasped beneath him. Her eyes looked more than a little drowned, and she blinked them repeatedly as she seemed to have forgotten how to focus.

She had felt his scars, but not seen. Was there much of a difference to a Plant? He didn’t know for a fact either way, so he swallowed what courage he could and drew himself up to his knees, then sat back. His eyes held hers, and at first she looked confused. Then he pulled off his shirt entirely and dropped it on the floor beside him.

She blinked once more, still laying fully back, and then her eyes drifted down. Thought it was making him somewhat paranoid, he refused to look away from her, trying to feel in her mind if she was repulsed or afraid; anything that would make her want to stop. She sat up then, and her hands reached out once more to touch him.

He shuddered when her hands met with his skin, and watched her carefully as her own eyes trailed her hands as they once more discovered him. Completely unexpected, she not only was not repulsed, but seemed to be rather fond of the maps of his history laid out over his flesh.

Then she leaned forward, left hand sliding up his neck as her right slid below the grate, and her lips touched his neck. His hands automatically lifted to her sides as his head tilted back, and he moaned. She was repaying his earlier actions on her neck with roundabout, sucking on his skin here and there, kissing as she went along.

Her right hand trailed down his chest as she did so, over his ab muscles and traced the thin scars there. Her left hand, now behind his ear and lightly brushing against that sensitive spot that made him collapse earlier, made him hold her tighter, pulling her against him even as his head dropped back and he struggled to find words.

Her mouth found his pulse at the base of his neck and sucked along it, up to his left ear. Once she reached that high, her lips encased his earlobe and earring, and she lightly sucked, tongue alternating between swathing the front and back of his ear; his hands clenched into fists at her back, biting his lip hard to keep from groaning.

The pressure in his pants was growing entirely too strong and hot, and she seemed to know this, because she released his ear after a few moments and kissed him as she straddled him. Her core so close to his was almost torture, but at the moment the most he was capable of doing was kiss her as intimately as he possibly could manage.

She must have had more control over herself, for she began writhing against him, chest to chest, hips to hips, mouth to mouth. Her pelvis brushed against him once, twice, then he found he could respond to the motions and lifted his hips to rub against her in return.

She moaned into the kiss at the same moment that he groaned, the contact almost too much for him, as it appeared to be for her. The muscles in her legs hardened and flexed as she moved, the light rubs becoming harsh grinds quickly as their need grew. At last, when he was nearly out of his mind, he threw himself forward, effectively laying her back on the bed without ceasing their grinds.

The kiss refused to end, even as their lips had to part occasionally to gasp for breath. Her left leg wrapped around his own and rubbed as their hips continued the furious, desperate motion in blind need. Rhythms came and went without pattern as their minds came and went, but the feel only grew with each second.

It wasn’t until sometime later – perhaps seconds, perhaps hours – when the grinding ceased and both of their nether regions were wet with mutual release that he realized just how fast and how far out of control the situation became.

He was still laying on top of her, his head nestled comfortably at the crook of her neck, and they were clinging to one another, panting and hot and sweating but refusing to let go. They were both trembling, but he could feel that hers were much stronger.

He wondered to himself if that had been her first orgasm. And then, as his memory remained blank as to how the tryst ended, he wondered to himself if he had provided her with one. Her legs especially were shaking, left leg still wrapped around his securely, her right pressed against his hip. Her arms were around his neck and shoulders, one hand shakily tracing random patterns on the back of his neck.

It felt nice, very nice. If he hadn’t been so certain that she was a Plant like himself, he might have wondered if this were a ploy by the smarter humans to catch him at long last. Though technically ‘Vash the Stampede’ was legally dead, the legend remained, and people would easily believe the legend was still alive – if it meant they could still collect the money on his head.

He groaned something into her neck that he couldn’t discern, but he was sure it was meant to be a compliment of some sort. She mumbled something back in reply, and they both chuckled in amusement at the situation. There had been no penetration, which made this not true sex, yet they both were tired out from it. Both fully-grown Plants with near unlimited energy, and they were sluggish.

Her left leg rubbed at his again, lazily, making him smile. Maybe he could just lay here for the night; it was warm and most definitely the most comforting embrace he’d ever felt before. Though a part of his mind rose up and prodded at him, reminding him that their clothes weren’t meant to be soaked with orgasmic liquids, he slapped the thoughts away as one would a pesky fly.

It was then that he realized the true situation of their clothes. Her vest and shirt had been tossed; so had his. But her shorts remained, as did his pants, and both sets of socks and shoes. In fact, as he tried to focus on it, he thought he remembered seeing a sash of some sort tied around her left ankle. The thought that they might actually sleep in this position while wearing just those things made him grin lazily.

But he was relaxed and sated and felt no need to deal with anything that involved daily life at the moment. He could simply lie here. . . in her pair of accepting arms. . . for the entire night. He could smell her easily where he was, and he inhaled deeply to catch her unique scent.

Mmm.

- - -

It became the toughest battle he’d ever fought, when Swords had pounced on him on the floor. His brother and little woman forgotten, he groped at Swords every chance he got, mouths fiercely kissing and tongues fighting for dominance, neither winning nor losing. He flipped them over on the floor and ravaged her as best he could while still half-dressed, diving a hand under her skirt and pressing where he knew he was going to be very soon.

Though she moaned and whimpered at his ministrations, she was battling back with wild force. It didn’t take very long for her to turn the tables on him, and he found himself on his back again. She straddled him, kissed him deeply, then sat up. He followed her to his elbows, eyes on hers. She took off her gloves and threw them aside, gloves he hadn’t noticed she’d been wearing.

Her hands pushed at his shoulders as she leaned down to kiss him again, but he refused to lay back again so easily. He sat up fully and wrapped his arms around her tiny waist, pulling her tightly to him as he mapped out her inner mouth with his tongue, her own tongue trying almost vainly to push his exploration back into his own mouth.

Heaven and Hell, she was amazing! Her hands ran up his neck to his ears and traced along them, then slid back down his neck and trailed her fingernails along the back of his neck. Goosebumps rose up along his body, and he groaned loudly, the sound almost a growl. His left arm released her waist to further explore her body, down her thigh to her knee, then back up and under the skirt again.

Moving of its own will, his hand found the barrier of her lower garment and slipped past it, feeling the folds of her sex. She gasped sharply when he did so, mouth releasing his briefly before he reattached their lips and fully took advantage of the situation, his mouth and tongue becoming rougher in his need for her.

But she wasn’t complaining in the least. He took it as a good sign, his fingers rubbing against her slickness and finding the spot he’d been looking for. He pushed his middle finger inside her, and her reaction was incredible: she threw her head back and cried out, her hands gripping his shoulders so tightly it hurt, nails digging into his skin; her back arched so much that their stomachs pressed together, and her thighs tried to clench together against his own.

Instinct, lust, desire; it all drove him. He began thrusting with the finger, and as her reactions only grew stronger and louder, he found himself licking his lips and watching her expression every time she gasped and moaned and yelled. It took less then a minute to realize that a single finger wasn’t nearly the size of his member, and he added a second finger to her warmth, testing her walls.

She cried out again and he felt her nails begin to draw blood, and though he winced, he ignored the pain, his lust driving it out of his mind. He bit his lip, desperately trying to contain the pressure in his groin, and added a third finger.

When she cried out this time, she threw herself forward, pressing her face into his neck before biting down. He groaned from the pain this time, and again ignored it, thrusting all three fingers within her and discovering that if he spread his fingers within her, she bit harder and screamed.

This was too much, and at the same time, not nearly enough. His body demanded that he be engulfed in this heat he’d found, and he withdrew his fingers from within her. Though her moan protested stopping, her hands and mouth released him from the death grip she’d been holding him in. Holding her against him, he found his feet and spotted the bed not four feet away.

He stood up with her wrapped around him and near collapsed on top of her once he reached the bed, catching her sweet mouth once again and coaxing her into another battle, even as his hands were working to undo his pants and belt. Her hands were helping him, though shakily; he’d driven her to the brink of need and his pride ate up the knowledge.

He had just freed his member and began pulling the pants off when her small hands grasped it and began rubbing sensually. He could have died. He could have released. He could have torn her skirt off, pushed her panties aside and dove into her.

But her motions made all his joints lock up and forced stuttered groans from him. Her thumb found the tip and rubbed at the eye of his length, and his mind ceased working. His body, however, was beginning to kick into motion again, starting with a steady thrust of his hips into her hands.

One hand traveled lower and traced along his testicles, then the little vixen trailed a fingertip firmly around them, and he collapsed on her again, gritting his teeth as he fought for his own control. It was a losing battle because half his control had been sucked up by Swords, and the other half didn’t want to resurface. He was perfectly happy being putty in her hands – figuratively speaking.

Truthfully, he was amazingly hard in her hands.

He didn’t want the motions to stop so much that it hurt when he finally drew himself back from her and tried to stand. The pants needed to come off.

And he’d forgotten about his shoes entirely. It was frustrating, not touching her, not being touched by her, but she seemed to have followed his thoughts easily and got one of his shoes off while he was struggling with the other. Then she stood and he finally freed his other foot at the same moment the corner of his eye caught her skirt dropping.

His head snapped up and stared in a state of half-bliss, half-hypnotism, at the skimpy undies she wore. Lacy and red with strings for straps, tied at either hip, she was definitely the type who knew how sexy she was and how to work it. He wanted to leave those panties on her and push them to the side when he buried himself inside her, but she untied them and dropped them.

He tilted his head, seeing dark red curls and trying to see what was under it. Though his pants had yet to be pulled any further than halfway down his hips, he forgot about them and reached for those curls, delving his fingers into them.

Soft yet rough, smooth yet thick, silky yet tangled. He swallowed and moved his fingers down further, aiming for that spot he’d found earlier, but her hand caught his own and pulled it away. He looked up at her with a glare and saw that her cheeks were beet red, her eyes glazed in pleasure and making her look ten times as sexy as he thought she could ever be.

And apparently, she decided that since he wasn’t moving fast enough, she was going to be the boss here. She shoved him back on the bed and straddled him again. He barely had time to recover enough to look down at her junction before her body sunk onto his and enveloped his throbbing member.

She cried out. He cried out. Her hands clenched at his chest, leaving deep red scratch marks. His hands clenched at his hips, almost bruising the soft skin there. She panted heavily and writhed her hips against his. He gasped and moaned and rubbed his hips against hers.

This was the singularly best feeling, physically, mentally, emotionally, that he’d ever felt. He was more and more sure of this as she continued her movements, wasting little time becoming adjusted to his size before rising and falling and making his mind abandon him.

Mind or not, his body responded and moved in rhythm to hers, taking mere seconds before slow and steady motions became hard and fast, rough thrusts meant to drive the other insane. And it seemed to be working.

Knives became positive after a minute or so that he could go much faster if he were on top. He flipped them over on the bed, her legs automatically wrapped around his waist, and though it was a somewhat odd position to be in – draped over a bed while partially standing in front of it – he found that he liked it.

Still gripping her hips tightly, he began his own pace of thrusting, his ears picking up her cries and moans as her ravaged her willing body. At one point, though he could not think properly in the least, he became aware that other people were in the building and undoubtedly hearing this. Not just Swords’ cries or his own groans, but the sound of the bed hitting the wall.

The bed was pressed against two wall, anyway. This way in fact made the thumping of the bed louder than it would have been, had they been laying on it correctly. It made him smirk even as he panted out groans, admired the beauty of the woman beneath him as she writhed and yelled, and felt what he could only describe as an amusement park ride getting to the best part.

She surprised him.

He knew from various sources and unwanted conversations that women were notoriously difficult to please, and oftentimes did not reach orgasm when their partner did. However, Swords cried out louder than before suddenly, her cry forming his name, and her inner walls convulsed around him.

It sent such an incredible rush of pleasure through him that he managed to thrust faster briefly, before he pressed his face to the bed beside her own and exploded within her, matching the feeling with a yell that was muffled in the sheets and blanket.

They were both panting and clinging now, his arms tightly around her and refusing to let go, even as weakness penetrated his body and gravity won, making fall off the bed and take her down with him. He fell on his back, refusing to leave the confines of her body, and though it had hurt, he ignored how his head hit the floor.

She was not just panting, he realized, but whimpering. Her legs had released his waist at the right moment so it wasn’t an uncomfortable position, which was good, but he was already missing the sensation of her wrapped around him in every way, holding on for dear life.

He tried to speak, though he had no idea when he intended to say, and found words escaped him. He knew very well that she hadn’t recovered yet, which is why it shocked him so when he heard her mind’s voice, Having some trouble articulating?

He tried to growl in response and managed an odd sort of purr. He could have kicked himself for that, but he couldn’t quite move yet. Yes, he replied, finding his mind with some difficulty. Perhaps you could guess why.

Her face was pressed to his chest, and he could feel her grin. She didn’t reply in any form, and simply laid there – at least for a few moments.

She was shaking everywhere, most especially her thighs and hands. But she sat up partially on him. Catching his eyes, she gave a lazy seductive smirk and licked her lips as she began moving once more, focusing the movements on her hips.

He regarded her with a completely shocked look and found his voice. “How are you not tired?” he demanded.

“I am tired,” she replied, running a finger across his lips, eyelids fluttering in her pleasure. “But I’m so much more horny than that.”

So this is what bliss felt like. He could get used to this.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

I don’t want a single flame. My friend and I RP as these two women with Vash and Knives all the time. It’s only natural that I write a story about it. And trust me, this ain’t finished. I don’t plan on adding any big end-of-the-world battles, but we’ll see.

If you liked this chapter, review. If you didn’t, leave and don’t come back. I wrote this entirely for my and my friend’s own amusement, and that of our friends who like my writing style. I only posted it for you guys. If you have questions about. . . well, anything. . . just sign in and ask in a review, or e-mail me directly. I have a few pieces of artwork of DL and Swords up on my gallery at deviantART.

The link is in my bio. Thanks for reading.

DL-chan~