( there is a distant part of him that realizes he should take his time β because vash deserves that much, at the very least β but that even greedier part of him that's finally slithered its way to the surface has sunk its claws deeply into the whole of him, the core of him, whispered sweetly in his ear that he's wanted this for so long without even realizing it, what's the harm in pressing a little farther, a little faster than he likely should?
( it doesn't sound like vash is complaining, at any rate. everything beyond that initial bitten-off plea to wait has been replaced with the sounds of his want, his arousal on top of the way his body responds to his touches, and he'll be damned β as if he hadn't already been, but that is not the point β if his brother isn't still the most beautiful thing he's ever seen take a breath. )
as much as the other's previous smugness had looked more at home in his expression than nai thinks it should have been ( because honestly, control is an attractive look on you, little brother ), the way he seems to fall apart for him at the simplest things is just one more tick-mark in the addiction column; the way that hand settles on top of his own, holding it there, like he has any intention of pulling it away, the way his body trembles with every inward press of his fingers, or the slotting of their bodies together. it's a heady thing, and he's already found himself dizzy from it, drunk off of it even before vash gives over the one word that means he could never deny him anything.
please.
as if he would.
he presses down hard against the little bundle of nerves inside him again, almost gently massaging with the tips of his fingers as he seeks to maintain some measure of a rhythm in his lazy upward grind, the movement of his hips keeping their lengths sliding against one another and aiding the inward press of digits.
his tongue curls behind the sharp points of his brother's teeth, encouraging more, whatever he wants to give and take for himself. it's all too much and not enough for the both of them, and isn't that just par for the course? ) βHere?
( he manages a tease, now pressing hard against that little spot with an added obscene roll of his hips. as much as he's trying to feign control on his end, his next words come out almost hushed, a plea of his own. ) Words, little brother. I need you to use them.
no subject
( it doesn't sound like vash is complaining, at any rate. everything beyond that initial bitten-off plea to wait has been replaced with the sounds of his want, his arousal on top of the way his body responds to his touches, and he'll be damned β as if he hadn't already been, but that is not the point β if his brother isn't still the most beautiful thing he's ever seen take a breath. )
as much as the other's previous smugness had looked more at home in his expression than nai thinks it should have been ( because honestly, control is an attractive look on you, little brother ), the way he seems to fall apart for him at the simplest things is just one more tick-mark in the addiction column; the way that hand settles on top of his own, holding it there, like he has any intention of pulling it away, the way his body trembles with every inward press of his fingers, or the slotting of their bodies together. it's a heady thing, and he's already found himself dizzy from it, drunk off of it even before vash gives over the one word that means he could never deny him anything.
please.
as if he would.
he presses down hard against the little bundle of nerves inside him again, almost gently massaging with the tips of his fingers as he seeks to maintain some measure of a rhythm in his lazy upward grind, the movement of his hips keeping their lengths sliding against one another and aiding the inward press of digits.
his tongue curls behind the sharp points of his brother's teeth, encouraging more, whatever he wants to give and take for himself. it's all too much and not enough for the both of them, and isn't that just par for the course? ) βHere?
( he manages a tease, now pressing hard against that little spot with an added obscene roll of his hips. as much as he's trying to feign control on his end, his next words come out almost hushed, a plea of his own. ) Words, little brother. I need you to use them.