( unintentional or no, teasing is as teasing does — maybe that was funnier in narration's head, but we're leaving it, so you're going to have to deal with it; any teasing vash might give over now will most undoubtedly be given back to him once nai has the chance to reciprocate even a little, and if he stops to think about it … he might just wonder how their positions ( both figurative and literal ) had been flipped so quickly. so easily.
( oh, how the turns have tabled, mister several kitchen utensils. you reap what you sow, et cetera, et al. )
the very fact that it's thrilling for vash to have the upper hand like this is. well. perhaps thrilling for them both, because if he's perfectly honest? it's a good look on his brother; golden skin flushed against the paleness of his own, the way he ducks his head to hide his grin is almost infuriating, but it's really more endearing than anything else, and if the fingers in his brother's hair tug a bit more sharply at that apology than strictly necessary. hm. have you forgotten who you're dealing with? )
You are not. ( he finally says out loud, breath hitching with each press of lips to exposed skin, the promise of something more always at the edge of everything, and he's sure by the end of it he'll have gone completely mad with how badly his twin makes him want.) Don't lie to me. You've always been awful at it.
( a truth he'll gladly give over, even though it does nothing to get him anywhere near to having the upper hand again; he swallows, throat just short of audibly clicking with it as vash's mouth teases over the shape of him over the cover of fabric, fabric that may leave little to nothing to the imagination as far as they've gotten, because there is no denying that he is … intrigued.
that's putting it mildly, of course. a few desperate, sweet kisses and bites already have him almost achingly hard and wet between his thighs, and if it were anyone else, he might feel a little bit bashful, embarrassed for wanting this much. but because it's vash?
the sound he lets slip this time is nothing short of a moan. rough and grating and abbreviated because he catches himself, yes, but there nonetheless. )
Vash.
( a plea without really being one, it's all the permission his brother should need to follow through with whatever he has going on inside that beautiful head of his. )
no subject
( oh, how the turns have tabled, mister several kitchen utensils. you reap what you sow, et cetera, et al. )
the very fact that it's thrilling for vash to have the upper hand like this is. well. perhaps thrilling for them both, because if he's perfectly honest? it's a good look on his brother; golden skin flushed against the paleness of his own, the way he ducks his head to hide his grin is almost infuriating, but it's really more endearing than anything else, and if the fingers in his brother's hair tug a bit more sharply at that apology than strictly necessary. hm. have you forgotten who you're dealing with? )
You are not. ( he finally says out loud, breath hitching with each press of lips to exposed skin, the promise of something more always at the edge of everything, and he's sure by the end of it he'll have gone completely mad with how badly his twin makes him want. ) Don't lie to me. You've always been awful at it.
( a truth he'll gladly give over, even though it does nothing to get him anywhere near to having the upper hand again; he swallows, throat just short of audibly clicking with it as vash's mouth teases over the shape of him over the cover of fabric, fabric that may leave little to nothing to the imagination as far as they've gotten, because there is no denying that he is … intrigued.
that's putting it mildly, of course. a few desperate, sweet kisses and bites already have him almost achingly hard and wet between his thighs, and if it were anyone else, he might feel a little bit bashful, embarrassed for wanting this much. but because it's vash?
the sound he lets slip this time is nothing short of a moan. rough and grating and abbreviated because he catches himself, yes, but there nonetheless. )
Vash.
( a plea without really being one, it's all the permission his brother should need to follow through with whatever he has going on inside that beautiful head of his. )