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It was just the same as any other job—Wolfwood as the Eye of Michael’s hound, hunting down those who dared to go against their leader. Find, extract, execute. Rinse, repeat. He had grown numb to it, the blood on his hands. What’s another drop in the sea he’s spilled?
The instructions were different, but he knew all along he would be leading him to the slaughter. Knew all along it was best not to get attached—you don’t name an animal that’s not long for this world.
And yet…
Vash wasn’t like Wolfwood’s usual targets. He didn’t deserve death like the traitors he was so used to putting down. Despite all his issues, Vash was kind. Warm. He made Wolfwood want to believe that things could be different. He was the kind of person who’s easy to get lost in. And Wolfwood had, on occasion—on those sleepless nights when Vash stumbled into their shared motel room, smelling more like the shitty ale from the bar next door than anything else.
Nothing between them was ever supposed to be serious—just a cheap romp when they became too pent-up. There wasn’t much space for privacy, what with the way they were traveling, packed into that jeep like a damn clown car. But somewhere along the way, things began to slow down. The awkward silence after they had given in was replaced with something more tender. Instead of parting ways when things ended—Vash heading to shower and Wolfwood shuffling to the window to curl up in the chair and blow smoke through the tattered screen—they stayed connected, the heat of their skin pressed together, Vash tucking his face into the crook of Wolfwood’s neck with a soft trill.
It didn’t mean anything—Wolfwood knew as much.
They were both just lonely, that’s all.
Vash wasn’t of this world. Wolfwood had known from the start that he and his brother were something else entirely. It was always so apparent with Knives—draped in a cloak of liquid metal, never needing to eat, drink, sleep... He was a superior life form in all senses of the word. But with Vash, it was much easier to forget. Wolfwood only caught hints of his true nature in the rare times Vash needed to use his full strength, in the hour surrounding dusk, in the heat of the moment.
It was those times—when Vash left fingerprints on metal, when his eyes caught the light in a way no human’s ever would, when his skin shimmered with silver lines—that always had reality settling back in his chest.
Vash is no lamb—it’d do him good to remember that.
“Ugh, it’s so hot today!” Vash whines for the umpteenth time, pulling at the collar of his black shirt.
He’s not wrong, it’s always hell inside this jeep. But Vash usually never complains about the heat—even when it feels like the two suns are actively trying to kill them.
“Why don’t you take off that damn jacket?” Wolfwood says around the toothpick he’s chewed to shit. He ran out of cigarettes the previous day and they haven’t even hit the outskirts of Octovern yet. Unfortunately for him, Roberto’s gotten better at hiding his packs.
“I already told you, it keeps me cool!” Vash snips back, rolling his eyes.
He’s bitchy today, but being overheated will do that to a man. Wolfwood knows there’s more to it, though.
“Here, Vash, have some water!” Meryl reaches her hand into the backseat and fumbles her canteen out of a bag on the floor. The jeep swerves back and forth a bit and Roberto mutters ‘Jesus’ under his breath from the passenger seat.
“I don’t want water… I don’t feel good…” Vash folds his arms in front of him and turns his nose up at the canteen held out in front of him.
“Okay, well, it shouldn’t be too much longer to the city!” Meryl abandons it on the floor as she turns back to the wheel.
Knives had given Wolfwood a specific date to arrive in the city. It had seemed random in the beginning, but after Meryl kept nattering on about the upcoming double full moon, Wolfwood started to get the idea. His boss has always been oddly sentimental about things going on in the sky. He had also mentioned that Vash would probably start acting strange, not that he bothered to fill him in on why this was happening. Some plant bullshit, Wolfwood can only assume.
It pisses him off that Knives was right on the money. When they get to Octovern, there’s a shimmer to Vash’s skin that wasn’t there before—an ever-so-faint golden hue that could be mistaken for a sheen of sweat. His brows are furrowed in discomfort and each breath comes heavy.
“Are you sure this is the right place?” Meryl asks, looking at the stretch of run-down storefronts and apartments.
It’s not, but that’s the point. The last thing Wolfwood needs is the two reporters catching wind of one of their bases.
“Positive. We’ll be here for several days, so there’s no need to wait around for us. We can take the steamer to July when we’re done.”
“And you still won’t tell us what you’re doing?” Meryl presses.
“No can do, little lady. Me and Blondie have some business to tend to. Better that you don’t get involved.”
Meryl pouts but doesn’t continue nagging. Wolfwood is grateful as they slip out of the jeep. There’s a tremor in Vash’s legs that he hopes she doesn’t see—that’ll be a whole other lecture.
When they drive off, kicking up a wake of dust behind them, Wolfwood waits until the jeep is out of sight to begin walking.
“Come on, Needles.”
“Wolfwood, I… I really don’t feel good,” Vash whines.
“Yeah no shit,” Wolfwood says, wrapping an arm around Vash’s shoulders and beginning to steer him towards the church he knows is a couple blocks over. “Why don’t you fill me in on what’s actually going on?”
“It’s n-nothing… probably just a flu…”
“I’m not stupid, Vash, I know you don’t get sick like we do.”
“Mmn, it’s fine, Nai will take care of it,” Vash hums, leaning more of his weight onto Wolfwood.
Nai will… take care of it?
Wolfwood can’t say he’s seen the man take care of much, other than butchering those who get in his way.
Vash has a different smell about him—sweet like the fresh fruit they so rarely have access to. It makes Wolfwood feel kind of strange, but Vash’s condition might just be getting him out of sorts. He’s never seen him like this before. The lack of nicotine in his system can’t be helping either.
It takes a bit of time to make the short walk with Vash so listless, Wolfwood using the alleys to keep out of sight. They eventually find themselves in front of a shabby church, paint peeling off the cracked wooden clapboards. The doors have been painted with a large X as a warning to the townsfolk. It splits in two when Wolfwood pushes them open.
Inside, the light is dim. A few followers are hanging around on the benches of the nave, they catcall him as he makes his way down the aisle, Vash still clinging to his side. Up at the front—on the chancel, of course, sits Knives, draped in mercury. Vash stirs in Wolfwood’s grip.
“N-Nai,” Vash whines.
“Vash,” Knives huffs out his name with fondness. When he pushes back the hood of his cloak, his usual callous expression has softened into something practically maternal. “I’ve missed you… Come.” He extends a hand towards them and Vash breaks from Wolfwood immediately, nearly tripping over his own feet to scramble into his brother’s arms.
Knives stands to receive him, his cloak spilling over to shroud Vash inside, his gaze never leaving his brother as he speaks. “You’ve done your part, Punisher. Now rest.”
The blades move so fast, Wolfwood doesn’t even have time to flinch before the room goes black.
When consciousness comes back to him, his eyelids feel heavy. He keeps them shut, using his other senses to get his bearings. Wolfwood can tell he’s lying down—on what he thinks might be a bed. That smell from before is stronger now, heady and exotic. It makes his mouth water, filling his head with thoughts of biting into plush ripe fruit. There’s a trilling sound that comes and goes—it resonates pleasantly in his core.
“P-please.” Wolfwood hears Vash’s strained voice. “Nai, just listen to me.”
“I-I don’t see why…”
Strange, Knives’ voice sounds just as labored.
“Just… just trust me. He’s what we’ve been missing.”
Wolfwood feels a hand slide up his thigh, running over his crotch before setting to work on undoing his belt.
Oh.
He’s already hard.
That’s… confusing. Wolfwood didn’t even know that could happen whilst knocked out.
He wants to open his eyes, but he’s not sure if that’s a good idea. That could startle them, and with his involuntary sobriety, he’s not exactly in the mood to be dismembered by Millions Knives.
“I can’t believe you—” Knives’ voice cuts off with a gasp just as Wolfwood feels the breeze of being pulled free from his pants.
Wolfwood doesn’t need to have his eyes open to feel the heat of both sets of eyes on him. The hand that’s pulled him free gives him an experimental pump, pulling his foreskin down to reveal his swollen head. He can feel wetness already beginning to collect at the tip. Wolfwood furrows his brow at the friction, fighting to not buck forward into that warm hand.
“Disgusting.”
Wolfwood can’t help it. His cock twitches.
“Come on Nai, it’ll—ugh—it’ll feel good.”
Huh?
Vash trying to convince his brother to go for a ride certainly wasn’t on Wolfwood’s bingo card for today, but he can’t say he’s entirely surprised. Not with the way Vash cries for him in bed sometimes.
“No,” Knives says firmly.
“Please? Try it for me?”
The hand leaves Wolfwood’s cock and he hears the wet sound of lips on skin along with soft gasps he can only assume are coming from Knives.
“V-Vash…”
Curiosity gets the better of him and he finally cracks his eyes open.
They’re all on a mattress on the floor in a small room that Wolfwood can only assume is in some back part of the church. A lantern sits on a nearby table, casting dim orange light over the space. He’s lying across one side of the bed, Vash and Knives tangled together next to him. They’re both out of their clothes, Vash slotted between Knives’ legs, sucking on his brother’s pulse point. He’s never seen Knives like this before—he’s red in the face, lips quivering in some combination of embarrassment and reluctant enjoyment. He, too, has a golden sheen to his skin now, and both of them have several downy feathers that have poked through their skin to frame their faces.
He supposes he should think it’s weird, two brothers being together like this, but he can’t bring himself to be bothered. Not with the strange sensation building inside of him, and certainly not when they look as good as they do. His skin feels sensitive to every shift in the air, and the usual noise inside his head seems to have fallen away, emptying it of everything except what’s right in front of him.
“I knew it. I knew you were awake,” Vash hums—he seems to have perked up since earlier. “Here…”
He scrambles off his brother, who whines at the sudden loss, quickly repositioning himself behind Knives’ back. The gold isn’t just on their skin, Wolfwood realizes—it’s dusting the sheets, hanging in the air. The back of Knives’ head rests heavily on Vash’s scarred chest, lean belly heaving with every breath. Vash snakes a hand around his hips, dipping between his brother’s legs before running two fingers through the slick folds as Knives bites his lip.
“Come here, Wolfwood.”
“Vash, No—” Knives begins to protest but Vash brings his other hand—the prosthetic—up to his mouth, slipping two fingers between his teeth, putting his large canines on display. Were they always that big?
“Don’t mind him, he’s always been difficult. Once he starts feeling good, though...” Vash rubs a circle around his swollen clit for emphasis, causing Knives to jolt and whine from behind the fingers. “He’s actually very sweet.”
Wolfwood swallows, pushing himself up slowly. His cock, still out of his pants, continues to twitch as he watches Vash’s fingers spread Knives open, putting his pink fluttering hole on full display. This is dangerous. Even if Vash has him subdued right now, that won’t stop Knives from killing him afterward. Or during. But that fresh sweet scent is in his head, under his skin, and it’s not enough—he wants more. He wants to lick it from their skin, drink this nectar of gods straight from the source.
How long had they been at this before he came to? Has Vash already had his tongue inside him? Has he already opened him up with his fingers? Wolfwood wonders if Knives comes apart like Vash does on his fingers—with shaking thighs and the sweetest moans. They’re twins after all.
As Wolfwood moves closer, Knives tries to close his legs, despite how his round eyes stay fixed, unblinking, between Wolfwood’s legs.
“Ah, ah…” Vash says softly next to his ear, grabbing each of his legs behind the knees to keep him spread. It’s obscene, the way his cunt spreads open, swollen lips glistening and pushed out like a flower in full bloom. “You can’t fool me, Nai, did you forget I can hear your thoughts when we’re like this?”
“V-Vash. Don’t.”
“He’s wondering what it’ll feel like. W-wondering how full he’ll feel with it all inside. Why don’t we go ahead and see?” Vash says breathlessly.
Fuck it. If I die, I die.
Wolfwood closes the gap, crawling between Knives’ legs and pressing the head of his cock to his dripping entrance. He pushes in slow, and the sound that leaves the man beneath him is definitely not human. It’s a high-pitched trill, almost like a purr, but it trails off into a strange clicking sound. Blades burst from his knuckles, stabbing into the mattress where he’s gripping the blankets on either side of Vash. God damn.
“Ah! I-it’s… so much…” Vash whines, as if Wolfwood was stretching him open and not his brother. “J-just relax, Nai, you’re taking it so well.”
It’s a tight fit—Wolfwood has to fuck his way in slowly, backing out when Knives becomes too tense. When Vash releases his brother’s thighs to run his fingers through his white-blonde hair, Knives doesn’t try to close his legs again. Instead, he watches with reverence where they connect, where Wolfwood is slowly disappearing inside him, until coarse black hair meets downy feathers. He squirms around it, completely speared on his cock.
“S-see?” Vash huffs, running his hand in gentle circles over Knives’ belly. “Feels good, right? To have something reach so deep?”
“Nngh...” Knives slurs. Wolfwood grits his teeth as he feels his cunt throb powerfully around his cock.
“Shit, Blondie,” Wolfwood groans, finally finding a few words. “So tight.”
“Do. Not. Speak.” Nai finally manages to grit out. “So… vulgar…”
“He likes it,” Vash says, nuzzling into his brother’s hair. “Keep going. Don’t stop.”
It’s quite the view, looking at Knives spread out underneath him. Wolfwood can’t say he was never curious to see what was beneath that skin-tight suit Knives never seemed to take off. The golden dust only accentuates the lean lines of muscles further. He reaches forward, ghosting his palm over Knives’ sternum until it’s cupping one of his pecs.
“Un—ah!” Knives whines, clenching around him when Wolfwood pinches his pink nipple.
“Knew they’d be sensitive,” Wolfwood mutters, moving to the other side.
This time, his pinch pulls a high-pitched trill from not only Knives, but Vash too.
“Vash, can you… feel this?”
“Ah… Y-yeah…” Vash huffs, face flushes red. “When we’re like this, I-I can feel everything…”
Wolfwood thrusts into Knives slowly—experimentally, really—and watches how both sets of eyes roll.
Holy shit.
“Mmm, W-wolfwood…” Vash whines. “More, please, more. We n-need it.”
Wolfwood obliges, adjusting his position by lifting Knives’ hips further onto his thighs, before fucking in again, deeper this time. The trilling gets louder, and Knives legs wrap tightly around Wolfwood’s hips, desperate for every inch now that he’s been worked open. Wolfwood begins to build a rhythm of short, deep thrusts, rutting against Knives’ cervix and reducing both of the twins underneath him to a writhing mess of whimpering and clicking. There’s golden dust all over him—up his hips and abdomen, on his hands. Wolfwood brings a hand up to his mouth to lick it from his thumb. It tastes just as perfect as he imagined. Juicy and sweet and fresh. He bends forward and licks more from Knives’ resonating throat. Then his jaw. Then his lips.
Inside his mouth is even sweeter. Wolfwood wants more. He licks in, tasting each of Knives’ whimpers on his tongue. Knives clenches around him, as if to demand more of it, as if to welcome him directly into his womb. Hot tension builds within Wolfwood dizzyingly fast. He can feel Vash’s hands in his hair, hear the front of his shirt tearing in Knives’ grip. The twins cry and moan and click until Wolfwood is spilling into Knives, groaning ‘fuck-fuck-fuck’ against flushed golden skin. Everything converges as he feels Knives come around him, cunt clenching and milking until there’s nothing left to give. Wolfwood feels a familiar warm gush of fluid drip down his balls.
And then everything is still. For several moments, the only sound in the room is their own heavy breathing.
“Nai?” Vash says softly, as if waking him from a dream. He runs his hand over his forehead to clear damp strands of hair. “You okay?”
“Nngh…” Knives’ voice has a purr to it, and Wolfwood realizes his hands are both fisted into the collar of his shirt, holding him firmly in place.
“I told you,” Vash says. “I knew you’d love it.”
Knives mutters something incoherent into Wolfwood’s shirt, amid a litany of trills and clicks. Vash hums, clearly pleased with himself, as he begins wiggling out from underneath them. “Come on, it’s my turn now.”
“Nooo…” Knives clings to Wolfwood tighter.
Vash giggles, working his fingers into his brother’s iron grip. “You’re acting like you aren’t going to get another chance. Nai, it’s going to be days, remember?”
…Days?
Wolfwood swallows.
“Don’t look so concerned,” Vash says casually as he finishes prying Wolfwood’s torn shirt from Knives’ fingers. Wolfwood leans back and Vash thrusts a pillow into his arms as a replacement, which he clings to immediately, grounding himself in the haze of afterglow.
Vash wastes no time in undressing Wolfwood down to his skin before pushing him onto his back next to Knives. He crawls over him immediately, lining up their hips and guiding the glistening head of Wolfwood’s cock through his own slick folds. Sensation bolts through him, making him twitch and jolt. Suddenly it’s hard to form words. Or thoughts. Or… much of anything. It’s too much, too soon. But when Vash pauses for a moment, allowing Wolfwood to settle as he traces the smears of gold through the hair on Wolfwood’s chest with a finger, Wolfwood finds himself reaching for Vash’s hips, hungry and impatient — possessed by something more than just simple desire.
“With our pollen, you’ll be able to keep up,” Vash hums.
When he drops his hips down, taking Wolfwood down to the root, Knives screams into the pillow beside them, and whatever was left of Wolfwood’s composure is lost in the dust.