[ When they were younger, barely a year or so old, Nai was ever-present in his life, in a way that even Rem wasn't. It's undeniable that Vash loved...LOVES Rem, but Nai was a grounding presence, a presence that he constantly gravitated towards no matter what. He learned piano for Nai on some level back then, an unconscious effort to deepen the bond that he would ever have with one other person in the universe. He realizes as he sits where he is, pressed to his brother's body, that perhaps they'd rubberband back together no matter what they did, inevitable.
It had been painful to run. Terrifying to sever a connection that ran so deep. But he'd done it, and he'd done it to protect people he knew would wind up hurt because of them. Because of the anger he'd seen in his brother's eyes. But as he looks now, he sees none of that, only a face that looks far more similar to a boy he remembers all too clearly from those days on the ship, the stars in the background.
It makes his chest warm in a completely different way than the Nai is touching him warms him. Wandering hands feel scalding -- a sensation that Vash is certain is his own reaction to touch rather than the temperature of Nai's hands. It's a one-two punch when nails dig into skin and another hand drags over his ass and it's all that he can do to temper the moan that tumbles into Nai's mouth as a result.
Mismatched hands shoot up to tangle in bright blond hair, and this time they pull, and they pull hard, yanking at the roots of the strands. His hips roll forward into that possessive hold, seeking out the sting of it but also the warmth and friction of the body (his brother's body) underneath him. It's almost too much, for someone like Vash, still yet unused to gentle touch or the way it makes his heart races to hammer in his ears. ]
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It had been painful to run. Terrifying to sever a connection that ran so deep. But he'd done it, and he'd done it to protect people he knew would wind up hurt because of them. Because of the anger he'd seen in his brother's eyes. But as he looks now, he sees none of that, only a face that looks far more similar to a boy he remembers all too clearly from those days on the ship, the stars in the background.
It makes his chest warm in a completely different way than the Nai is touching him warms him. Wandering hands feel scalding -- a sensation that Vash is certain is his own reaction to touch rather than the temperature of Nai's hands. It's a one-two punch when nails dig into skin and another hand drags over his ass and it's all that he can do to temper the moan that tumbles into Nai's mouth as a result.
Mismatched hands shoot up to tangle in bright blond hair, and this time they pull, and they pull hard, yanking at the roots of the strands. His hips roll forward into that possessive hold, seeking out the sting of it but also the warmth and friction of the body (his brother's body) underneath him. It's almost too much, for someone like Vash, still yet unused to gentle touch or the way it makes his heart races to hammer in his ears. ]