(Vax/Vex flashback smut with Vax/Keyleth and Vex/Percy non-smutty current. Playing with style a little bit here, sorry if it's wonky but I'm feeling experimental.) ***
There are many things unsaid between them, things they don’t need to say. Twins’ Intuition, people like to call it, but more than that there are things that nobody would ever want to hear said. Perhaps things nobody would ever believe.
Vax sees it from time to time, the slip of a girl that has grown into a woman so far beyond everything he’d ever wanted for her - her grace, her perfection, the first woman he’d ever truly loved. From the moment of their first shared breath they’d been forever intertwined, there was nothing he wouldn’t do for his sister.
Nothing. He would kill for her, bleed for her until he gasped his last breath, and use his final words to try to protect and provide for her.
He knows that she’s jealous of Keyleth, that she doesn’t even understand why every time she sees them together it’s like a knife her guts - it’s the same reason why the thought of Percival touching her fills him with sourceless rage. Before Vox Machina it was only them, they were their own world unto themselves intertwined in every possible way. Together, they ran. Together they scraped and trained and when the nights grew cold and long they clung to each other fiercely.
There are multitudes within them, multitudes between them, and sometimes when she looks at him he feels the guilt of the things unsaid that have had their time and passed.
“Brother,” she said more years ago than he cares to remember in a time both after the dragon and before the Conclave; “would you-”
She didn’t have to ask, she never had to ask. The inn was warm despite the winter chill, their bed thick with fresh ticking and the fire burning low. Trinket, the small bear that he was already well along to growing into the beast he would become, laid curled in front of it sleeping. Vax went to her, forgoing his shift to slide under blankets with her. Her smooth, warm skin melded with his almost seamlessly; her back pressed to his chest, long braid pulled over her shoulder so that his lips could meet the soft curve of her neck.
It wasn’t the first time, it wouldn’t be the last time, but it was a lonely evening when they just needed to feel loved. Needed to feel wanted.
“Yes, Sister,” he murmured against her flesh, nimble fingers caressing her skin down her side and then across her belly.
There was a fresh scar on her hip and his fingers traced it reverently. He’d see that scar a thousand times in days and years to come and recall how she had whimpered and squirmed when he touched it, how she’d whispered; “Please, please have me.”
He doesn’t hear that voice anymore, that scared young woman who cried when he touched her, who laughed and then sobbed as her body began to move with his, teasing him intentionally. He never minded that she liked to blame him for it, liked to swear that he was a pervert who should know better than to touch her like that even as she moaned his name and begged for more. She couldn’t admit that she wanted it perhaps even more than he did, though he knew he was equally to blame.
His fingers dipped lower, following the curve of her inner thigh until she shivered under the thick blankets, before caressing her sex. He barely shifted his fingers around the tight little dark curls on her mound, listening to each small breath as she opened herself to him, asking for what she desperately needed; “Please, Vax…”
He caressed the softness of her delicate lips, sliding his middle finger along her warm cleft to draw up her wetness before dancing circles across and around the tiny little button that made her quiver in his embrace. “Yes…” she panted, grinding back into him, “don’t stop. Not yet… oh gods-I’m-I’m…”
His free hand wormed underneath her, barely clasping over her mouth in time to hold back her cries as she bit at his fingers mercilessly. “Good girl,” he moaned against her ear, sliding his hardness along her ass and then between her thighs, letting himself enjoy the way she squeezed them tight around him as she came, taking far too much pleasure in the sweet nectar that dripped onto his manhood when his fingers shifted lower to plunge into her.
He wonders sometimes if Percival can make her come like that, if his dainty nobleman’s hands scored with battle scars can have her undone so readily or if that’s something reserved just for the touch of someone that ought not be touching. He knows that no matter how sweet the lovers he’d had since, nothing has felt the way she did.
Her nails clawed at his hip, urging him into her, her wet thighs opened even as his fingers drove into her hard and fast. “Brother - please…” she moaned when he dared to move his hand from her mouth, content that she’d not alert the next room to their taboo interlude. “I want-”
He withdrew his fingers then, sheathing his cock inside her before she could finish, her words becoming a broken sob. The first time she had cried and he had panicked, the guilt had eaten at him and driven him away for days, he’d taken everything from her, he thought. When he’d returned, she’d begged him to do it again.
Does she cry for Percival? He can’t help but think she wouldn’t, she would feel no shame in laying with him who looked so different from herself. Vax shudders to think of it, but when he watches Keyleth sleeping in his bed, part of him can’t help but imagine his sister on top of her new lover - she must be triumphant in her conquest, in her desire.
She never looked at him when they made love, he buried his face in her throat and adored her with soft kisses and whispered platitudes in her ear; “I love you so much. You’re so beautiful, so precious, so perfect.” He thrust into her slowly, filling her, completing their seamless union where skin met skin and their bodies truly ceased being twins and became one in the same. “I love you, Sister.”
She moaned for him then, the shudder claiming them both as she met each thrust as a perfect mirror. This time when his hand clasped her mouth there was no aggressive bite, his fingers instead filled her mouth and three-full and she sucked at them eagerly.
It never lasted long, not when she was so warm and inviting and clamped down on his cock when she came, spreading the fresh wetness until it slicked his thighs once - twice - as he rubbed at her clit with each hard slap of his hips on her ass. “Just a little more, darling,” he panted, already feeling the ache in his balls making his body throb from head to toe. “Gods you’re so slippery.”
Her mouth opened and he thrust in his smallest digit, stretching her lips around them fully as she cried out and curved inward. Vax’s body followed her, shoving his cock as deep as he could, rooting inside his sister as though it had always been intended to be until she shook in his arms again.
Does Percival spill his seed inside her? Would she be the bearer of DeRollo children? Perhaps after the time of the dragons was over. He would do the same Keyleth, should she wish, if she was ready for that in her life. They move a different speed together, one he’s never had with any love in his life, but it’s good. It feels special and fresh.
He couldn’t bring himself to fill her, no matter how dire the temptation, how good he knew it would feel to root into her and let go of that lingering passion. He withdrew in a fluid action, and then shoved his cock between her slick thighs, crying out when she clamped down around him and rocked her hips to stroke out that last needy thrust as he spread his seed across her skin. Stifling his cries against her back, he wrapped himself around her then and held her.
Vax held his sister as she panted, and then cried. He smoothed out the stray curls at her temples, he kissed her shoulder and whispered that everything would be okay, that they’d be together forever in any way she wished, that she was loved beyond love. Beyond flesh, beyond blood.
“Sister,” Vax says as she looks up from her arrow, testing the tension on a new bowstring as they prepare to head off for certain death yet again.
“What?” She rolls her eyes his direction, barely a glance before looking back to her target.
He approaches her, they’re alone and could be a little longer. “I love you,” he murmurs against her throat, one hand following her hip where a small divot hidden under taut leather was all that remained of her old scar, “always.”
She draws a deep breath, and for a second he’s certain time stops and that despite the years since he’d last touched her in a way he had no right to touch she too holds that desire they don’t dare speak of. “I know,” she answers without looking. The gooseflesh on her neck rises up, not from the Whitestone chill he’s certain. This time, she turns to him and for a brief moment their lips touch - an innocent kiss that only they know holds meaning. She looks at him with fondness, and then with sadness. She doesn’t pull away now as she has often over the years and the months and the days. “Is that all?”
The old tug still lingers, a kindling fire in his belly that he knows will never die. It would be easy in the moment to forget all that awaits them and return to old lonely world made of only their breath and their flesh. His hand falters and he leans into her, foreheads pressed close, identical eyes closed. “I’m sorry, for all of this. For the badness.”
“Don’t be.” Her voice softens, ice melting to cool water. He kisses her again, letting it linger until she pulls one step away. “The past is done.”
He nods, he knows. He’s known for a long time that what was done was done - they can’t undo any of it, nor can they douse the sparks that had once upon a time been a roaring fire. “Goodnight, Sister.”
The corner of her mouth twitches, and she casts a glance toward the castle where their friends wait for them to return. “Goodnight.” She raises her bow and he watches the lean perfection of her form, the deadly accuracy of her bow as the arrow glides through the air and slams into a tiny notch between loose stones he hadn’t even noticed before. As he turns to walk away, she calls back; “He’s good to me, I hope you know.”
“I know,” he answers, “you wouldn’t settle for anything but the best.”
She laughs and the sound carries him all the way to his bed, to where his woman waits for his touch and his soothing words. Some things were best left unsaid.
Fill: "Flesh of My Flesh, Blood of My Blood" (Vax/Vex)
***
There are many things unsaid between them, things they don’t need to say. Twins’ Intuition, people like to call it, but more than that there are things that nobody would ever want to hear said. Perhaps things nobody would ever believe.
Vax sees it from time to time, the slip of a girl that has grown into a woman so far beyond everything he’d ever wanted for her - her grace, her perfection, the first woman he’d ever truly loved. From the moment of their first shared breath they’d been forever intertwined, there was nothing he wouldn’t do for his sister.
Nothing. He would kill for her, bleed for her until he gasped his last breath, and use his final words to try to protect and provide for her.
He knows that she’s jealous of Keyleth, that she doesn’t even understand why every time she sees them together it’s like a knife her guts - it’s the same reason why the thought of Percival touching her fills him with sourceless rage. Before Vox Machina it was only them, they were their own world unto themselves intertwined in every possible way. Together, they ran. Together they scraped and trained and when the nights grew cold and long they clung to each other fiercely.
There are multitudes within them, multitudes between them, and sometimes when she looks at him he feels the guilt of the things unsaid that have had their time and passed.
“Brother,” she said more years ago than he cares to remember in a time both after the dragon and before the Conclave; “would you-”
She didn’t have to ask, she never had to ask. The inn was warm despite the winter chill, their bed thick with fresh ticking and the fire burning low. Trinket, the small bear that he was already well along to growing into the beast he would become, laid curled in front of it sleeping. Vax went to her, forgoing his shift to slide under blankets with her. Her smooth, warm skin melded with his almost seamlessly; her back pressed to his chest, long braid pulled over her shoulder so that his lips could meet the soft curve of her neck.
It wasn’t the first time, it wouldn’t be the last time, but it was a lonely evening when they just needed to feel loved. Needed to feel wanted.
“Yes, Sister,” he murmured against her flesh, nimble fingers caressing her skin down her side and then across her belly.
There was a fresh scar on her hip and his fingers traced it reverently. He’d see that scar a thousand times in days and years to come and recall how she had whimpered and squirmed when he touched it, how she’d whispered; “Please, please have me.”
He doesn’t hear that voice anymore, that scared young woman who cried when he touched her, who laughed and then sobbed as her body began to move with his, teasing him intentionally. He never minded that she liked to blame him for it, liked to swear that he was a pervert who should know better than to touch her like that even as she moaned his name and begged for more. She couldn’t admit that she wanted it perhaps even more than he did, though he knew he was equally to blame.
His fingers dipped lower, following the curve of her inner thigh until she shivered under the thick blankets, before caressing her sex. He barely shifted his fingers around the tight little dark curls on her mound, listening to each small breath as she opened herself to him, asking for what she desperately needed; “Please, Vax…”
He caressed the softness of her delicate lips, sliding his middle finger along her warm cleft to draw up her wetness before dancing circles across and around the tiny little button that made her quiver in his embrace. “Yes…” she panted, grinding back into him, “don’t stop. Not yet… oh gods-I’m-I’m…”
His free hand wormed underneath her, barely clasping over her mouth in time to hold back her cries as she bit at his fingers mercilessly. “Good girl,” he moaned against her ear, sliding his hardness along her ass and then between her thighs, letting himself enjoy the way she squeezed them tight around him as she came, taking far too much pleasure in the sweet nectar that dripped onto his manhood when his fingers shifted lower to plunge into her.
He wonders sometimes if Percival can make her come like that, if his dainty nobleman’s hands scored with battle scars can have her undone so readily or if that’s something reserved just for the touch of someone that ought not be touching. He knows that no matter how sweet the lovers he’d had since, nothing has felt the way she did.
Her nails clawed at his hip, urging him into her, her wet thighs opened even as his fingers drove into her hard and fast. “Brother - please…” she moaned when he dared to move his hand from her mouth, content that she’d not alert the next room to their taboo interlude. “I want-”
He withdrew his fingers then, sheathing his cock inside her before she could finish, her words becoming a broken sob. The first time she had cried and he had panicked, the guilt had eaten at him and driven him away for days, he’d taken everything from her, he thought. When he’d returned, she’d begged him to do it again.
Does she cry for Percival? He can’t help but think she wouldn’t, she would feel no shame in laying with him who looked so different from herself. Vax shudders to think of it, but when he watches Keyleth sleeping in his bed, part of him can’t help but imagine his sister on top of her new lover - she must be triumphant in her conquest, in her desire.
She never looked at him when they made love, he buried his face in her throat and adored her with soft kisses and whispered platitudes in her ear; “I love you so much. You’re so beautiful, so precious, so perfect.” He thrust into her slowly, filling her, completing their seamless union where skin met skin and their bodies truly ceased being twins and became one in the same. “I love you, Sister.”
She moaned for him then, the shudder claiming them both as she met each thrust as a perfect mirror. This time when his hand clasped her mouth there was no aggressive bite, his fingers instead filled her mouth and three-full and she sucked at them eagerly.
It never lasted long, not when she was so warm and inviting and clamped down on his cock when she came, spreading the fresh wetness until it slicked his thighs once - twice - as he rubbed at her clit with each hard slap of his hips on her ass. “Just a little more, darling,” he panted, already feeling the ache in his balls making his body throb from head to toe. “Gods you’re so slippery.”
Her mouth opened and he thrust in his smallest digit, stretching her lips around them fully as she cried out and curved inward. Vax’s body followed her, shoving his cock as deep as he could, rooting inside his sister as though it had always been intended to be until she shook in his arms again.
Does Percival spill his seed inside her? Would she be the bearer of DeRollo children? Perhaps after the time of the dragons was over. He would do the same Keyleth, should she wish, if she was ready for that in her life. They move a different speed together, one he’s never had with any love in his life, but it’s good. It feels special and fresh.
He couldn’t bring himself to fill her, no matter how dire the temptation, how good he knew it would feel to root into her and let go of that lingering passion. He withdrew in a fluid action, and then shoved his cock between her slick thighs, crying out when she clamped down around him and rocked her hips to stroke out that last needy thrust as he spread his seed across her skin. Stifling his cries against her back, he wrapped himself around her then and held her.
Vax held his sister as she panted, and then cried. He smoothed out the stray curls at her temples, he kissed her shoulder and whispered that everything would be okay, that they’d be together forever in any way she wished, that she was loved beyond love. Beyond flesh, beyond blood.
“Sister,” Vax says as she looks up from her arrow, testing the tension on a new bowstring as they prepare to head off for certain death yet again.
“What?” She rolls her eyes his direction, barely a glance before looking back to her target.
He approaches her, they’re alone and could be a little longer. “I love you,” he murmurs against her throat, one hand following her hip where a small divot hidden under taut leather was all that remained of her old scar, “always.”
She draws a deep breath, and for a second he’s certain time stops and that despite the years since he’d last touched her in a way he had no right to touch she too holds that desire they don’t dare speak of. “I know,” she answers without looking. The gooseflesh on her neck rises up, not from the Whitestone chill he’s certain. This time, she turns to him and for a brief moment their lips touch - an innocent kiss that only they know holds meaning. She looks at him with fondness, and then with sadness. She doesn’t pull away now as she has often over the years and the months and the days. “Is that all?”
The old tug still lingers, a kindling fire in his belly that he knows will never die. It would be easy in the moment to forget all that awaits them and return to old lonely world made of only their breath and their flesh. His hand falters and he leans into her, foreheads pressed close, identical eyes closed. “I’m sorry, for all of this. For the badness.”
“Don’t be.” Her voice softens, ice melting to cool water. He kisses her again, letting it linger until she pulls one step away. “The past is done.”
He nods, he knows. He’s known for a long time that what was done was done - they can’t undo any of it, nor can they douse the sparks that had once upon a time been a roaring fire. “Goodnight, Sister.”
The corner of her mouth twitches, and she casts a glance toward the castle where their friends wait for them to return. “Goodnight.” She raises her bow and he watches the lean perfection of her form, the deadly accuracy of her bow as the arrow glides through the air and slams into a tiny notch between loose stones he hadn’t even noticed before. As he turns to walk away, she calls back; “He’s good to me, I hope you know.”
“I know,” he answers, “you wouldn’t settle for anything but the best.”
She laughs and the sound carries him all the way to his bed, to where his woman waits for his touch and his soothing words. Some things were best left unsaid.