Chapter Text
Perfection incarnate — that was how Knives would describe his mother if asked. Utter blinding perfection that made the stars seem dull and the finest cakes paltry in comparison. In this world, there was everyone else and then there was Vash, flawless and above them all and anyone who thought differently was a brain dead fool.
In Knives’ early childhood, Vash had been like a star, winking in and out of his life as Vash ran between work and school, always doing something. Rem, Vash’s foster mother, had been enormously helpful in the early years. She was the one who encouraged Vash to finish out highschool and even attend college, taking care of the new baby while Vash was busy in classes and studying. It wasn’t until Knives was six years old that he even realized it was Vash who birthed him, not Rem. While Knives loved them both, the two people who mothered him, it was Vash that he was enamored by.
Around the same time Knives began to understand Vash was his mother, was when the two were first separated for an extended period of time. Vash was twenty-two and fresh out of his undergrad, Knives six and ready to worship his mother’s feet. Vash had gotten into several graduate programs scattered around the country, none in the same city as them.
Knives had distinct memories of listening to Rem and Vash talk late at night, long after Knives was supposed to go to bed.
“Of course I want to go,” Vash said, head in his hands, “but what about Knives? I’ll be busy all day, I’ll barely have time to take care of him! I can’t afford to have him in day care every week after school and even if I could, it wouldn’t be fair to him. I’m not dragging him across the country just to neglect him.”
“He could stay here with me,” Rem suggested, her voice soft.
“I can’t do that to you or him. I can’t just abandon my kid with you.”
“It wouldn’t be abandoning him. December is, what? A five hour drive away from July? It would be hard, but you could always take the bus back on weekends and on any holidays.”
“I can’t be a commuter parent. I’ll just… not go. Or go later. I don’t know.”
“It’s only six years,” Rem told him. “Six years to secure a future for you and Knives. I’m here, I’m ready to help, so please, let me help.”
“He’s my baby,” Vash’s voice was soft and sounded just seconds away from cracking. “What kind of parent just leaves their kid like that?”
There were other conversations like that, Vash wavering back and forth on what to do until finally he took Rem’s offer.
Knives remembered the day Vash left well. He’d hugged his mother tight, as if he hugged Vash tight enough then Vash wouldn’t be able to leave. Knives didn’t ask Vash to stay though, nor did he cry. This was something that Vash wanted and so he didn’t dare let himself beg.
“I’ll be back in five days,” Vash promised, holding his son tight. “You won’t even notice I’m gone, I swear. I’ll be here every weekend, I promise.”
And for six years, Vash kept his promise — running himself ragged through a Phd while still coming home any time he had more than a day off. Knives remembered those days, staring out his window, desperately waiting for his mother’s return. Maybe it was just because of the transient nature of Vash’s involvement in his life, but he had seemed wonderous to Knives’ childish eyes. Vash was a star, winking in and out of existence, too uncomprehendingly beautiful to exist in any one place for long.
For fifteen years, Vash’s perfection was simply the way of the world, an indisputable fact, so really, it was no wonder that Knives spent nearly every waking moment thinking about Vash. Why wouldn’t he spend his days contemplating life’s greatest wonder?
It was at summer camp that Knives realized that his feelings for his mother were not quite what most people would consider “normal.” Knives wasn’t particularly interested in summer camp, in fact he hated every moment he was forced to be away from home, but his mother insisted that it would be good for him and so like the dutiful son he was, Knives went.
“You’ll have fun,” Vash told Knives when he brought up the idea of a sleep away summer camp. “It will be a chance to spend some time bonding with other alphas! It will be good for you!”
“I don’t need to spend time with alphas,” Knives replied.
He never understood Vash’s insistence on him spending time with alphas, just because Vash was pretty sure of Knives' secondary gender. Alpha and Beta males were still hard to differentiate before presenting and one couldn’t be entirely sure until afterwards, but according to the tests they had done when Knives was little, there was a better than average chance he was an alpha. Vash had always seemed certain of it though and when he thought Knives had gone to bed, had expressed his worries to Rem over the distinct lack of alphas in Knives’ life. Knives didn’t care that he didn’t have any “strong alpha role models” to look up to, but Vash obviously did.
Knives' father was an alpha, though Knives didn’t know much more about the man that had the privilege of impregnating his mother and then ran off before Knives was even born. That was fine though — why would Knives care about him when Vash was in his life?
“Come on,” Vash insisted, “you’ll have a great time! You’ll make new friends and have a blast and be happy you went, trust me.”
Knives was unconvinced that either it would be fun or that he needed new friends, but accepted it just the same. If it would make Vash happy, he’d accept most things. Three months, Knives was to be away from home, away from Vash. At fifteen, it wasn’t that strange to spend time away from home, but nevertheless Knives resented every moment. Since the accident a little over a year ago that took Rem from them, it was the first time Knives would be spending even a single night away from his mother.
Torture was probably the simplest term Knives could use to describe the situation.
That summer, a lot of things changed, not just Knives’ perspective on his feelings. For one thing — Knives hit a growth spurt that shot him up five inches that summer. Knives distinctly remembered the growing pains that plagued him every day that summer. It was agonizing, the ache in his bones as Knives swore he could feel them grow in real time. It was like being stretched by a medieval torture device that came from within his own traitorous body. In the time that the two spent apart, Knives went from being just a touch shorter than his mother to looking down on him.
The second important thing was that Knives presented.
It happened a week before the end of summer camp. Knives was sitting around a campfire when the conversation turned to future ambitions. Truthfully, he hadn’t been paying that much attention to the conversation as a whole, had instead been hoping that he’d be allowed to leave soon so he could call Vash before his mother went to sleep. It wasn’t until the girl sitting next to him tapped his knee, that he tuned back into the conversation.
“I just want to live at home with my mom,” Knives answered truthfully when the question was turned to him.
“That’s it?” One of the other boys asked, sounding bewildered. “What, like sitting around all day and letting your mommy take care of you?”
“No,” Knives shook his head, “I would get a job. My mom has done a lot for me and I want to provide for him back. He deserves to be taken care of.”
“f*cking mama’s boy,” the kid said with more than a little bit of a sneer in his voice.
“I think it’s sweet!” One of the girls cut in before turning her eyes to Knives. “It sounds like you really care about him.”
The girl was familiar — she’d sat next to him at almost every single one of the weekly campfire nights, but Knives still couldn’t place her name. Marrisa? Marcy? Something like that, he was pretty sure.
“It sounds like he has a f*cking Oedipus complex,” said another boy, looking sourly between Knives and the girl who had defended him. This boy was also familiar — one of the five other kids in Knives’ cabin, though his name was escaping Knives as well.
“Don’t be gross!” The girl defended.
“I’m not the gross one!” The boy shot back. “Knives is the one who wants to f*ck his mom! He sneaks away to call his mom every night; I bet they’re having phone sex which is why he does it in the bathroom instead of in the cabin.”
“Oh my god, you can’t say that!” The girl sounded horrified now. “I’m going to tell the camp counselor that you’re trying to bully Knives!”
“Oh come on, he doesn’t care!” The boy gestured at Knives, who was sitting there impassively watching the two argue. “Do you?”
Knives shrugged. “Not really.” He didn’t care about any of these people’s opinions of him, so why would he care what they tried to accuse him of?
“See? He’s totally fine with me talking about how much he wants to stick it in his mom.” The boy crossed his arms, looking triumphant.
“That’s it,” the girl said, standing up, “I’m going to go tell Counselor Andy.”
“Don’t be such a stick in the mud, Nadia,” another girl said. “We’re just joking around. If Knives isn’t offended then there’s no reason you should be on his behalf.”
“Fine,” Nadia said, dropping down onto the log next to Knives.
Knives tuned out the rest of the conversation after that, not interested in everyone else’s menial plans for the future. Instead, he was contemplating their reaction to his. He wasn’t lying when he said he wasn’t offended — so long as they weren’t sitting there insulting Vash, he genuinely didn’t care — but he did find their surprise confusing. It wasn’t that strange, was it; to want to take care of the person he loved the most?
Just the thought of it, of living quiet and domestic with his mother, made the inside of Knives’ chest bloom with more warmth than the campfire gave off. Knives would be the perfect provider, pampering Vash so much that Vash would never even feel the need to leave their home. His mother would always be there with open arms and food on the table — feet permanently bare with never a need to even put on his shoes.
Knives’ heartbeat quickened at the thought, his cheeks going even warmer, breath coming just a touch faster. Before his eyes, the campfire seemed to waver, his pupils dilating strangely, making the fire suddenly seem too bright.
Maybe I’m just getting sick, Knives thought with a hint of hope. If he had a fever, then maybe Vash would pick him up and he could go home early.
An hour later, when the camp counselors finally released the kids back to their cabins, Knives was already struggling to stay up right. The walk back to his cabin felt miles long and by the time he finally crashed onto his bed, Knives barely had the energy to dig his phone out of his pocket. It was only ten and normally Knives would be making his nightly phone call to his mom, but for once something felt more important to Knives than hearing his mother’s voice. Sleep.
Knives shot off a quick text to Vash, explaining that he wasn’t feeling well and was going to sleep early. Less than a minute later, Knives’ phone buzzed with a response.
Vash:
I’m so sorry baby! Text me in the morning and let me know how you’re feeling.
Love you! Sleep well.
The words had barely finished processing in Knives’ mind before he was drifting off to sleep, the sounds of his roommates talking around him for once doing nothing to disturb his slumber.
It was only a handful of hours later that Knives woke, sheets soaked in sweat. His head felt like it was full of cotton, thoughts fuzzy and undefined — as if the heat he was feeling had boiled his brain. His mouth felt too full, his gums aching like he had too many teeth. Only half awake, Knives stumbled from his bed to the bathroom, locking himself in.
The cold water from the sink felt like ice against his burning skin, but it also provided a little bit of relief as he washed his face.
Mom, Knives thought through the haze, as he slumped down the bathroom wall and sat heavy on the floor, have to call mom.
Luckily, Knives’ phone was in his pocket and he didn’t have to go back into the bedroom. That was good, he wasn’t sure if he’d even be able to stand again now that he’d sat down. It took a few tries, Knives’ fingers feeling unusually large and unwieldy, but eventually he was able to unlock his phone and navigate to his recent call list.
Vash picked up on the third ring, sounding a little bleary. “Hello? Is everything okay?”
sh*t, it must have been the middle of the night. Knives hadn’t even thought about the fact that his mom must have been asleep and he was disturbing him.
“Mom,” Knives whined.
“Nai, honey?” Vash asked, his voice immediately going alert. “What’s wrong?”
“Hurts,” Knives got out. He didn’t think his mind was as blurry as it apparently was, but he found his words coming out sluggish and uncooperative. “Need you.”
“Did you get hurt? What happened?”
“Need you,” Knives repeated. Hearing Vash’s voice wasn’t providing the comfort that he had been hoping for. Instead, it just seemed to make him hotter, more desperate for something he couldn’t name. An erection that he’d only half noticed before, tented his pants, feeling suddenly like it was drawing all his blood there instead of his head. God it hurt.
“Nai, are you in trouble?”
“No,” Knives sighed, slipping his hand into his pants and squeezing around where the base was already beginning to swell. “Just want you. Don’t like it here. Need you mommy.”
There was quiet on the other end of the phone, Vash seeming to try to puzzle out what was wrong with his son. That was good — Knives’ mom was so smart, he’d take care of everything. Knives continued to palm himself, stroking and squeezing his co*ck, trying to relieve some of the pressure. As he did, the tiniest bit of relief came over him, better than washing his face had been.
“sh*t,” Vash muttered before sighing. “I thought they were supposed to call us if something like this happened.”
“Mom?” Knives asked. “What’s wrong?”
“When did the pain start?” Vash asked.
“A few hours ago.”
“Are you in your room?”
“Bathroom.” Just listening to Vash’s voice made Knives’ co*ck throb as Knives quickened his movements.
“Okay, I’m going to call the camp counselor and have them send someone to come get you.”
“Am I sick?”
“No honey, it sounds like you started your first rut.” Vash still sounded concerned, but also maybe a little bit… happy? Normally Knives could read his mother’s mood easier than he could read a children’s book, but the fuzziness in his head was making it hard to shift through the nuances in Vash’s tone. “Congratulations, you’re an alpha.”
Knives groaned at that. As much as Vash had always seemed so sure of Knives’ secondary gender, Knives had always secretly hoped to be a beta. Even if Vash insisted that he’d love Knives no matter what, whatever happened with Knives’ father had left a bad impression of alphas on Vash. Of course, Vash tried to hide it, tried not to let Knives see how uncomfortable being around them made him, how he flinched when an unknown alpha got too close for comfort. Knives’ watchful eyes weren’t fooled though.
It was clear from Vash’s reactions, alphas were dangerous — things to be feared and Knives wanted no part of that. He wanted to bring his mother comfort and love, to protect Vash against everything in the world that sought to take him from Vash’s side. That was Knives’ purpose in this world, to love and support Vash in everything his mother wanted, to provide and pamper the man who had given Knives so much.
The last thing Knives wanted was to be something that his mother hated being near.
“Don’t wanna,” Knives muttered. “Just want to be at home. Home with you.”
There was another moment of quiet over the line, the only sounds Knives’ labored breathing and the rhythmic click of nails — Vash tapping on his phone no doubt. It was a thinking habit of Vash’s whenever he was trying to figure out a particularly complex problem.
Finally, Vash sighed and said, “I’ll come get you. Just wait for me, okay?”
After hanging up, Knives only had to wait a handful of minutes before there was a knock on the door and the soft voice of one of the beta counselors asking him to unlock it. Apparently it wasn’t all that uncommon to present and the camp had arrangements for anyone who might go into heat or a rut. There was medication of course to suppress such things, but the first one an alpha or omega experienced was best to let it take its natural course.
Shepherded away into a small room that had little more than a bed, a mini fridge well stocked with food, and water with a bathroom off to one side, Knives waited for the inevitable to take him.
Knives remembered laying in bed, body aching, and all he could think about was how much he wanted to be home. According to the counselor, the first rut would only last about two days so there was no real reason to send kids home, but apparently Vash had insisted and was on his way. It felt wrong to be here, away from the comfort of his bedroom, the familiar smells of their house, and most of all Vash. All he wanted was his mom there to hold him through the pain, to stroke his back and rock him the way he did when Knives was a kid and came down with a fever.
As Knives waited, his mind kept drifting back to his mom — his sweet voice and how good he smelled. All he wanted was to call Vash back, to have his mother soothe him back to sleep.
Knives had tucked himself away when the counselor knocked on the bathroom door, but alone again, he found himself pulling out his co*ck and stroking it. His mind couldn’t help the way it wandered to the conversation by the campfire just a few hours earlier and to the vulgar things that boy had said. Phone sex, he’d mentioned, talked about Knives sticking his co*ck inside of Vash.
He wanted to call Vash back, to have his mom talk him through the discomfort and tell him what to do to alleviate it. Vash knew everything, surely he’d know how to make Knives feel better as well.
The idea of it lit something in him, making Knives knot start to swell uncomfortably before he’d even come close to cuming. f*ck, he needed something around it better than his hand, squeezing it the way it was meant to be. It hurt like this, with only his own hand as comfort, unable to get the pressure he needed.
He needed Vash, with his soft hands and sweet smell. Even though his mother’s hands were smaller than his, Knives knew that having Vash here, taking care of him, would be so much better than doing it himself.
Knives wants to f*ck his mom.
The accusations from earlier swirled in Knives’ mind. He hadn’t thought anything of them at the time — he’d never thought about having sex with his mother ever in fact — but now he couldn't get the idea out of his head. Forget how Vash’s hands might feel, how would other parts of his wonderful mother feel wrapped around his co*ck? How would it feel to have his mom take care of him down there as well, to have Vash sitting in his lap and pet his hair soothingly as he rode Knives’ co*ck?
“Mommy,” Knives couldn’t help but whimper as his hands sped up, desperate for something far softer and wetter to be wrapped around him.
Time passed in agonizingly slow seconds after that, with Knives rutting helplessly into his own fist, desperately wanting the one person in the world that he cared for. Knives couldn’t be sure how much time had passed, only that he’d gotten off several times already and was still achingly hard. It must have been at least a few hours though because suddenly, a noise was cutting through the delirious fog of his rut. A lovely noise — the most beautiful voice in all the world.
“Nai, honey?” Vash called, slightly muffled from the wood door between them. “Can I come in?”
Knives mind was cloudy and full of a lustful haze, but he was at least with it enough to pull his pajama pants back up, covering his still painfully hard erection from view. The sheets beside him were covered in tissues and some suspicious wet marks, but there wasn’t much he could do about that.
“Come in,” Knives called, his voice sounding rough like he really did have a cold.
“Hey, how are you—“ Vash cut himself off mid sentence as he opened the door and stepped into the room. “Oh, that’s… okay.”
“Mom?” Knives asked, sitting up in bed, attention immediately on Vash. “Are you okay?”
Knives could always read his mother of course, but there was something different now — an added awareness as if Knives couldn’t just see what Vash was feeling, but smell it as well. Concern came off his mother in waves, concern and… another thing. Something that smelled like interest for just a moment before souring into something closer to anxiety.
“Yeah,” Vash said, suddenly taking small, shallow breaths through his mouth. “Yeah, I’m okay. Let’s get you out of here, okay babe?”
Knives nodded, making to stand up, but immediately found himself swaying on his feet, about to fall back onto the bed. Before he could though, Vash was at his side, wrapping an arm around his son’s waist and putting Knives’ arm around his own shoulders.
Knives twisted in Vash’s grip, plastering himself against his mother and taking in Vash’s sweet omega smell. His mother always smelled good before, but now it took on a new hint. Beneath his mother’s turmoil of emotions was an allure there he never smelled before. It was something that had Knives throbbing in his pants, more arousing than any of his previous fantasies.
“Smell good mom,” Knives said, burying himself into Vash neck, taking deep inhales of his mother’s floral scent.
“Let's get you home, big guy,” Vash said, rubbing Knives’ back in slow soothing circles. “Come on, I already checked you out with the office.”
Vash rolled the windows down almost as soon as he finished helping Knives get to the car. As soon as Vash started the engine, he started rolling the windows down.
“Fresh air will make you feel better,” he explained as he pulled away from the camp grounds. “Why don’t you just close your eyes and try to sleep? We’ll be home before you know it.”
The car ride home was almost unbearable. Even with the windows down and the high speed winds whipping by as they drove down the highway, it couldn’t fully erase the lingering scent of his mother, sweet and concerned next to him. Three hours of smelling his mother with no ability to do anything other than whine, Knives forced himself to endure.
All Knives wanted was to climb over that center console — or better yet, pull Vash over it and onto his lap. Yes, that was what should happen. Everything would be better with Vash pressed against him, straddling his lap, pressing Knives’ face against his chest.
Eventually of course, the torture had to end and after what felt like an eternity of suffering, Vash finally pulled into the driveway to their house.
“Come on,” Vash said, ushering him out of the car. “Let’s get you inside.”
Knives slouched against his mother, eager to take in Vash’s scent and soothing touches. Over Vash’s shoulder, Knives spotted one of their neighbors, an older alpha widower, looking on curiously. Knives had never before had a problem with Roberto, who kept to himself and rarely ever interacted with them, but in that moment, boiling anger bubbled up to the surface of Knives’ roiling emotions.
He’s going to try to steal mom from me. The thought consumed Knives’ mind before any logic could be brought against it. Without even meaning to, Knives felt a growl rumble through himself as he clung to his mother, wrapping protective arms around Vash’s frame.
“Nai,” Vash called, patting his back and trying to get his attention. “You have to let me go if we’re going to go inside.”
Reluctantly, Knives loosened his grip on his mother’s waist, though didn’t let him go completely. It was just enough though that Vash could take small steps as Knives shuffled behind him, glare still fixed on their neighbor.
As soon as they got into the house and the familiar smell of home and Vash filled Knives’ lungs, he finally let himself relax just a touch. The pair made their way upstairs, going straight to Knives’ bedroom.
“Lay down,” Vash told him. As Knives did as he was told, Vash went about arranging the pillows on Knives’ bed, bringing in more blankets and pillows from his own room to add to the pile. The nest was haphazard — it was difficult to build one around someone rather than to make it first and then climb in — but having all the familiar smells and soft warm sheets around him was already sending waves of comfort through Knives. Spending a rut in a nest wasn’t as important for alphas as it was for omegas in the midst of a heat, but it still helped. Knowing that his omega was there for him, building him a nest, both calmed and stoked the fires in Knives’ chest.
“All right,” Vash said, stepping back and admiring his handiwork. “I’ll be back with some water, but otherwise just call out to me if you need anything, okay?”
“Mom,” Knives said, reaching out for his mother and managing to grab his hand before Vash could get too far and pulling until Vash toppled onto the bed with him. “Need you.”
“I’ll only be downstairs,” Vash said, petting the back of his son’s head. “I’m going to stay home in case you need anything, I promise.”
“Stay here with me.”
Vash’s body felt so warm against his, but a soothing warmth unlike the fire that lit himself from the inside out. Despite the clothes they wore and Vash’s thick denim jeans, Vash felt good against him, like the only soft thing in a hard, sharp world.
“Trust me, you’ll want me gone,” Vash said with a soft laugh. “Your full rut hasn’t quite begun yet — it would just be embarrassing for both of us if I stay when it does.”
“Won’t be,” Knives promised, pressing his face into his mother’s neck. “Don’t want you to leave me all alone.”
There was a pause where Vash seemed to consider before he sighed and he acquiesced.
“All right, honey,” Vash said, patting Knives back. “Give me a second.” Reluctantly, Knives let his mother pull out of his grasp, regretting it the moment Vash’s warmth left his side.
“Where are you going?” Knives asked, reaching out for him.
“Just here,” Vash told him and he moved to lay on the other side of the wall of the nest. “I’ll stay here until you fall asleep, okay? You must be exhausted.”
He wasn’t wrong — Knives had barely slept at all last night and could already feel his eyelids drooping, but still, he wanted to be closer. Knives rolled over in the blankets, seeking out his mother’s smell as he shoved a few of the pillows over. There was still a thick comforter in the way, but Knives ignored it, crowding close anyway and wrapping Vash up in both his arms and the blanket. Through the blanket that separated their bodies, he could barely feel his mother’s heat anymore — not like a second ago. Still though, he could smell Vash, pressing his nose against the back of his mother’s neck, right where Vash’s scent gland was.
“Nai, don’t—“ Vash cut himself off with a gasp, his scent immediately spiking with adrenaline as Knives pressed his lips to Vash’s scent gland, scratching baby alpha teeth over it. Knives’ rut might have started, but his canines still needed another year or two to fully grow in. While it wasn’t uncommon for small children to seek comfort in their parent’s scent, mouthing at it like this went beyond simply toeing the like of acceptable intimacy between parent and child. Scenting was one thing, licking and pressing open mouthed kisses that edged on biting against someone’s scent gland was not something done platonically.
God, he was so hard, it was making him light headed. His erection had subsided for the most part in the car ride — he probably would have passed out if it didn’t. Almost as soon as he was laying down though, his mother pressed temptingly against him, it was back with a vengeance and demanding his attention.
“Mommy,” Knives whined, rolling his hips and trying to find his mother’s backside to grind against. Through all the layers of blanket, he could barely feel his mother’s body, but Vash must have felt something because he gasped and squirmed in Knives’ grip, trying to get away.
“Nai, this isn’t appropriate.” The anxiety that had spiked in Vash’s scent was starting to show in his voice. “You need to let me go.”
“Don’t go!” Knives suddenly felt like he might cry. “Don’t leave me again. I’ll be good, I promise. Don’t want you to leave me alone.”
“I’ll just be down—”
“Don’t abandon me.” Knives may have been bordering on begging, but he didn’t care. At that moment, he’d do anything if it meant Vash would stay. Vash seemed to sense it too; seemed to hear the desperation in his son’s voice. In Knives’ arms, he could feel his mother’s tense muscles begin to relax, his scent shifting from anxious to something more sorrowful.
“I won’t leave you, baby.” Struggling for a moment to pull his hand out from the blankets that encircled him, Vash eventually managed to and laid it atop Knives’ arm around his waist. “I’m sorry.”
“Missed you so much.” Knives’ words came out as vibrations against skin as he continued to mouth at the skin of Vash’s neck. With every scrape of teeth against his scent gland, more of Vash’s pheromones were released into the air, leaving Knives feeling light headed and dizzy with desire. Even twinged with discomfort and stress as it was, Knives never before smelled something as mouth water as his mother.
Still in Knives’ vice-like grip, Vash shifted, twisting around so that he could face Knives. “I missed you too.”
“Don’t send me away again,” Knives pleaded.
“I won’t,” Vash reassured him, pressing a kiss to his son’s forehead. “I’m sorry, baby. I just wanted you to have a fun summer. I never want you to feel abandoned.”
That was how Knives spent most of that first rut, his arms wrapped around his mother and his face buried against Vash’s stomach. He remembered being unbearably aroused but also unwilling to act on it — not if it meant his mother would leave him there to suffer through the rut alone. The only relief he found was as the fog clouded more of his mind and he couldn’t resist the urge to rut against Vash’s hip. By then, he was half delirious from the rut, unable to control himself as he found release against his mother’s thigh. Vash seemed to ignore it though, even as Knives gasped his name, Vash just continued speaking in the same soft tone, the same soothing words coming out in an unbreaking stream.
Knives didn’t often cry — not since he was six and didn’t understand why Vash had to move so far away and couldn’t take Knives with him — but he cried that night. He cried out in pain and overwhelming desire, desire for the person he held in his arms and knew there was almost no chance he might have.
When Knives woke up the next morning alone in his bedroom, his fever had broken and his mind was much clearer. The day before was a foggy mess, full of discomfort and his mother’s touch. First roughs didn’t last too long, nor were they as intense compared to what he’d experience as a full fledged adult alpha in a few years. It seemed he had managed to weather the storm.
Vash was downstairs in the kitchen cooking and Knives smelled him before he saw him. It wasn’t the food he smelled — though the sausages on the pan smelled delicious especially considering the fact that he hadn’t eaten at all yesterday — but Vash himself. The heightened awareness of his mother’s omega scent seemed like it hadn’t faded at all with the rut.
“Good morning!” Vash said, turning around, spatula in hand. A bright, chipper smile was on his face, though it was the kind that Knives could immediately tell was fake. It was the same one he gave people who asked about Knives’ father, right before he lied and told them that his husband was at home. It was a smile that meant there was something he wanted to avoid.
Knives came over, wrapping his arms around Vash’s waist to pull him into a hug. Or at least that’s what he tried to do before Vash side stepped him, the tips of his ears red.
“You grew so much!” Vash said, backing up another step. “I didn’t even notice before, but look at you now! I thought I had more time before my little boy got taller than me.”
“The counselor said I grew five inches,” Knives confirmed, a bit of pride flaring up within him. Even if he wasn’t sure about the rest of what being an alpha meant, he did like his new height advantage on his mother.
“You’re really growing into quite the fine young alpha, aren’t you?” Vahs asked, the smile not leaving his lips.
Knives studied his mother’s face, trying to look for any hidden layers to his words. Testing the boundaries, Knives took a step closer only for Vash to back up yet another step. Yes, Vash was definitely trying to keep him at arm’s length.
“Are you scared of me?” Knives asked, wanting to reach out for his mother again, but holding himself back. “Do you hate me now?”
“What?” Vash blinked, the false cheer dropping from his face immediately, his expression aghast. “No, of course not! How could you ever think that?”
“You don’t like alphas,” Knives reasoned. “You don’t even want to hug me anymore.”
“That’s not—” Vash cut himself off with a sigh. “Look, no matter what, I could never hate you, you got that?”
Knives nodded.
“Good. As for the alpha thing; it’s not that I hate alphas, it’s just… it’s hard to be around them sometimes — as an omega, I mean. It’s an instinct thing, okay?”
“An instinct thing?”
“Yeah.” Vash pinched the bridge of his nose. “There’s a natural sort of deference omegas tend to feel instinctively in the presence of an alpha. It’s not like we just feel the need to roll over and do everything to appease them or anything like that, it’s more that the pheromones can really affect us whether we want them to or not. Does that make sense?”
“I think so. I don’t understand why that makes you uncomfortable around me though.”
“It’s not you, honey,” Vash said, coming over and placing a hand on Knives’ shoulder and squeezing lightly, “it’s just that my sense of smell is more sensitive than others. Pheromones more easily affect me and sometimes I find myself acting because of them before I even notice. It’s just always a little disconcerting to find myself doing something before I even process that’s what I’m doing. I always knew you would present as an alpha, I just wasn’t expecting how much your pheromones would change is all.”
“So you don’t like mine anymore?”
“That’s not it — I’m just saying that it will just take me a little time to get used to it.” Vash reached up, rubbing a hand on top of Knives’ hair and messing it up even more than it was already. “Just like how I have to get used to you being taller than me now!”
“You really aren’t mad that I’m an alpha?” Knives asked, grabbing Vash’s hand before he could take it back.
“Of course not. Didn’t I say that I’d love you no matter what?” Vash took a step closer, holding his arms out for a hug which Knives readily moved to accept. As soon as Knives’ arms were around his mother, Vash was petting his son’s hair and rubbing soothing circles against his back — just as he had done the day before throughout Knives’ rut. “You’re gonna be a great alpha, the best one anyone has ever met. You’re already so sweet and protective of the people you care about; already doing such a good job as an alpha.”
“I want to take care of you,” Knives told him, squeezing back tightly. “I just want to make you proud.”
“I’m so proud of you, my love,” Vash said as he pulled away. “I couldn’t imagine anyone I’d rather have as my child.”
When they were far enough away from each other, Knives noticed the flushed look on Vash's cheeks and the way his pupils seemed wide and unfocused.
“Mom? Are you okay?” Knives asked, cupping Vash’s cheek to tilt his mother’s head up to look at him.
Maybe it was just Knives’ imagination, but as soon as Knives’ fingers met his mother’s face, Vash’s breath hitched and the scent of his pheromones suddenly grew stronger.
“Of course!” Vash insisted, shaking off Knives' touch. “I’m just fine! I might just go adjust the air conditioning though. It’s a bit hot in here, don’t you think?”
Before Knives could respond, Vash was disappearing from the room.
It seemed that Knives’ presentation had affected his mother in some way and Knives could only hope that it had shifted Vash’s perspective of him the same way it had shifted Knives’. Time would be needed though. Knives was barely fifteen, there was no way Vash would ever accept him as he was. Someday, things might be different though.
Almost three years later, Knives leaned against the cool brick of the outside of his school as he rubbed at his temples, attempting to rid himself of a headache. Another omega had gone into heat in the middle of class and again Knives was the first to notice and thus had been tasked with taking her to the nurse. Usually, something like that was asked of other omegas or betas who were virtually unaffected by the pheromones. Over the past few years though, after his omega classmates realized he wasn’t going to jump them as soon as they began to go into heat, they all seemed to clamber at the chance of being taken care of by him.
Some alphas might have felt flattered by it, might have bragged about how of all the alphas in the school, they were the one that the omegas flocked to. Not Knives though.
Annoying was all it was to him.
Like his mother, Knives always had a sensitive sense of smell which meant that he could always pick up on the sweet scent of preheat before anyone else could and he knew better than to yell it out in front of everyone. That’s all it was really, a bit of tact and suddenly he was every omega’s guardian alpha of choice.
The truth was, it made him nauseous — that was the real reason he either mentioned it to the omega or brought it up to the teacher each time. The idea of being stuck in a classroom as it slowly filled with the wretched saccharine smell of an omega’s heat, sounded like actual hell. He had no interest in touching any of his classmates. Somehow that lack of attraction has been interpreted as respectful and Knives being a gentleman rather than the disdain it really was. If it was up to him, he’d never go near another omega in heat, let alone be assigned to ferry them to the nurse every time.
Still though, Vash had brought Knives up well and the last thing Knives wanted was for the school to call his mom and claim he was “mistreating” omegas. The one time the school called home when Knives was twelve because he told another kid that he “smelled gross” and to stay away from him, both Rem and Vash had let him have it. Over an hour was spent lecturing him about how it was never acceptable to make fun of or bully someone.
Obviously, Knives hadn’t meant to be mean when he told the boy he didn’t want to sit next to him. He was just being honest when he said that he thought he would be sick if the boy was too close, it really wasn’t his fault that he started crying. How was Knives supposed to know that the boy was an omega going through puberty younger than most and getting flashes of preheats? Still though, Knives learned to keep his mouth shut after that though, lips locked tight despite the way the omegas’ smells turned his stomach. Vash wanted him to be polite — to be the best alpha he could have ever hoped to raise, and so Knives would be.
“Thanks for helping me out in class today,” the girl from earlier was saying. “For walking with me to the nurse, I mean. I hate having to rely on someone like that, but it really helps keep the creeps away if I’m with an alpha I can trust, you know?”
“Mhm,” Knives agreed, only half listening. Clara had taken the suppressants from the nurse, but the stench of her preheat still hung around her like a cloud. Knives really would have preferred if she hadn’t tracked him down to thank him, let alone stand so close to him.
“So, I heard you really like music and stuff. Are you in the band?” She asked, apropos of nothing.
“No,” Knives said, confused by her sudden question. “I do piano classes outside of school, they count as a music credit.”
“Oh, that’s cool!” Her voice sounded way too excited for the conversation and it wasn’t helping Knives’ headache. Couldn’t she just leave him alone? “I would love to hear you play—”
“My mom’s here,” Knives interrupted, spotting a familiar blue sedan, “I have to go.”
“Oh, well, I’ll see you then,” she said, sounding a little taken aback. Before he could fully pass by her though, she reached out, laying a hand on his arm to get his attention.
“Yes?”
“Genuinely, thanks for today. I felt so much safer having you by me.”
Knives just nodded, adjusting the strap of his bag.
“I guess I’ll see you in calculus,” she said, finally taking a step back.
“I’ll see you,” Knives replied, already walking off.
“If you ever need help or anything, we can always get together in the library and —”
“Sounds good,” Knives said, squinting in the bright sun, trying to make out his mother’s face through the tinted windshield. He was pretty sure he could make out Vash’s orange sunglasses, but not much else.
“Who was that?” Vash asked a moment later as Knives got in the car. It wasn’t the usual routine for Vash to drive Knives to and from school, but Vash’s car had started making a strange clicking sound recently and Knives insisted his mom take his car to work until they got it fixed. Which meant that instead of Knives driving himself, Vash was driving Knives around in Knives’ car. Seeing as it meant more time Knives got to spend with his mom, he really didn't see any reason to speed up the fixing of Vash’s car.
“Who?” Knives asked, buckling his seatbelt and tossing his bag in the back seat.
“The girl you were talking to,” Vash clarified, putting a hand on Knives’ seat as he turned to check behind him as he reversed out of the parking spot. “She seemed very… friendly.” As Vash turned, he leaned closer, his floral scent washing over Knives and working as an instant cure for nausea. Vash always smelled of geraniums —similar to roses but earthier with a citrusy undertone, far more special and unique than a simple rose.
“Huh?” Knives blinked, processing his mother’s question. In truth, his mind had already completely moved past anything that was happening before he got into the car. “Oh, Clara? She started having preheat symptoms so I took her to the nurse earlier today. She was just thanking me.”
Honestly, Knives had hardly been paying attention to the girl, too busy looking out for his mom. Though, Vash liked it when Knives was polite and helpful, so Knives didn’t add that last bit.
“Clara…” Vash muttered, tapping the steering wheel. “And are you friends with her?”
“Not really, she’s just some girl in my math class.”
“I see.”
“She was asking about studying together though,” Knives added. He was pretty sure that was what she was saying at least. Something about a library anyway.
Knives couldn’t be sure, but for a moment, he thought he heard a sound like a growl from his mom. If he did, it was soft though and with the sounds of traffic around them, he couldn’t be sure.
“Is everything all right, mom?” Knives asked.
“Of course, just a busy day at work,” Vash waved off. “Anyway, you must be hot, you should take off your jacket.”
Knives wasn’t particularly warm, but did as his mother suggested anyway, pulling it off and setting it in his lap. Keeping his eyes on the road, Vash reached over and picked up Knives’ jacket before tossing it into the back seat along with Knives’ school bag.
“Was there something wrong with my jacket?” Knives asked.
“I think the girl’s perfume is just a little strong,” Vash said with a wave of his hand. “I’ll wash it when we get home.”
The rest of the car ride home was strangely quiet and Knives couldn’t help but wonder what was wrong. Normally Vash loved to chatter as soon as Knives got home, but for some reason his mood seemed strangely sour.
It wasn’t until they got home and Knives took a shower on Vash’s insistence that Vash finally seemed to relax, going back to his usual smiles.
“So,” Vash said as he came over to check the vegetables Knives was chopping, “you just help out the omegas a lot because they trust you not to get overwhelmed, that’s it?”
“Basically,” Knives said with a shrug. They were in the middle of making dinner together — a beef, leek, and potato stew that Vash adored and they ate fairly often. Knives liked the domesticity of cooking together, of feeling like a husband providing for his omega and how happy it made Vash every time he volunteered to help.
“My little boy, such a good alpha,” Vash said, an exaggerated hand to his heart. “I knew I raised my baby well. Looking out for people and even helping his mommy make dinner.”
“I just want to make you proud,” Knives said. It was the truth — Vash’s opinion of him was the only one that mattered after all.
“Oh, you’re so sweet!” Vash cooed, hugging Knives from behind.
Since Knives shot up at fifteen, he’d continued to grow and was now a full head taller than his mother, leaving Vash to press his face against Knives’ upper back as he wrapped his arms around Knives’ waist. Just as Vash had said when Knives presented, he had eventually gotten used to the change in Knives’ scent and went back to being his usual affectionate self. He still got a little self conscious and avoided contact at times, especially around Knives’ rut or his own heat, but the rest of the time he felt free to be as touchy feely as he wanted.
Setting down the kitchen knife, Knives turned in his mother’s arms so he could hug Vash back, placing a kiss on the top of his head.
“Hey!” Vash complained, pulling back and glaring up at his son. “You’re not supposed to do that! I’m the parent here.”
“Then go ahead,” Knives said with a grin. The height he gained on Vash was an endless source of amusem*nt for him and exasperation for Vash. Even on his toes, the best Vash could do was reach Knives’ cheek, forget the top of his head.
Or mouth, Knives thought and he held his mother close. He could reach my mouth just fine.
“Don’t back talk your mother,” Vash said, swatting at Knives’ arm and pulling away.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Ostensibly, Knives was meant to be studying for an upcoming English lit exam, but it was also almost the end of his last year of highschool and it was getting progressively harder to care. He’d already been accepted into University of July and so long as he managed to graduate, there was no real reason to concern himself with school anymore.
Rather than studying, Knives had spent the last hour sitting at his desk playing blitz chess games on his phone. Getting up and stretched, Knives went over to open his bedroom window and let in some of the cool night air. Their house had air conditioning, but it was also old and the upstairs bedrooms tended to heat up no matter how high they blasted it.
Sliding open the window, Vash’s voice came drifting up; he must have been sitting on the back porch right under Knives’ bedroom.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Nick,” Vash was in the middle of saying, his voice slightly muffled by the creek of Rem’s old wooden rocking chair. “It’s not unhealthy. It’s just being protective.”
“I’m the one being ridiculous?” Wolfwood’s voice came back, the loud speaker just loud enough for Knives to hear, meaning that Vash was probably at least halfway through the bottle of wine he’d taken out with him. He always got lazy about stuff like the privacy of phone calls when he was a few glasses deep. “You f*cking growled at the smell of a random omega on your kid. I’d say that’s pretty unhealthily attached.”
His mom’s best friend may not have been Knives’ favorite person, but at least the man was someone he could trust — as much as he trusted anyone around Vash. Wolfwood was loud and more than a little annoying, but he was also beta and had been with his partner for as long as Knives had been alive. Besides, if Vash was spending time with Wolfwood, then he wouldn’t be out meeting people who might actually be interested in ripping him from Knives’ side.
“It’s just —“ Vash stated before he was cut off.
“God, are you secretly one of those ‘alpha moms’ that’s weirdly half in love with your alpha kid? I swear to god, if you start posting videos with captions like ‘teaching my alpha son to cook so he won’t be impressed by your omega’s frozen lasagna,’ I will actually stop talking to you.”
“Nick!” Vash whined. “You’re not being helpful.”
“Good, I’m not trying to be. Why would I be helpful when I can bully you?”
“Nick!”
“Fine, fine,” Wolfwood sighed over the line. “Look, I don’t know man. Sounds like you’re just feeling empty nest syndrome early. Knives is about to start college, right? You’re probably just feeling protective because he’s growing out of the phase of needing his mom all the time.”
“Ugh, I don’t even want to think about that!” Vash moaned. “It feels like just yesterday he was running around in diapers, I can’t believe he’s about to move out.”
Like hell am I moving out.
“I thought he wasn’t moving out yet,” Wolfwood said, echoing Knives’ own thoughts. “Didn’t you say he’s going to go to U of J and live at home?”
“I mean, yeah that’s the plan, but as soon as he gets to campus, I’m sure he’s going to want to move out.”
“You really think he’d choose to live with a bunch of strangers over living with you?” Wolfwood asked with a snort. “Because if you do, you really don’t know your kid.” For once, Knives found himself agreeing with Wolfwood over his mother.
“Even if he doesn’t move out for college, he will some day!”
“Maybe you’re just feeling broody,” Wolfwood suggested. “Baby hungry I mean. Thought about trying to meet someone? If you’re worried about being alone in that house once Knives moves out, why not try sharing? Who knows? You could just pop out another kid as soon as Knives moves out and get to coddle them all the time instead of your grown ass son.”
The idea of someone breeding his mother, of some strange alpha coming into Knives’ house and taking what was rightfully his, had Knives fighting the urge to go down and claim Vash before anyone else dare think about it. Revolting and obscene, the very suggestion of Vash giving himself up to some undeserving alpha.
“I don’t coddle Nai,” Vash muttered. “And I don’t know. I’ve always wanted a bigger family, but it just doesn’t feel right if I start one without Knives even being around. It would feel too much like I was waiting for him to move out so I could start a family without him — like I’m trying to replace him. I wouldn’t want to hurt him like that.”
“He’s a big boy, he can handle the idea of his mom dating.”
“You know alphas make me uncomfortable,” Vash continued. “How am I supposed to even find someone I want to date when just having an alpha in the house stresses me out?”
“I don’t know, man,” Wolfwood sighed, starting to sound tired of the conversation. “You’re fine being around Knives right? Maybe you should just f*ck him then.”
“Nick!” Vash snapped, obvious annoyance lacing his tone. “If you’re going to be a dick, I’m hanging up. That is my son you are talking about.”
“I mean, if he’s the only alpha you can stand to be around AND you don’t want him feeling left out of a new family, you could just climb on top and—“
“Good bye!” Vash called loudly. “I’ll talk to you again when you’ve grown a sense of decency!”
Knives listened as Wolfwood’s laughter was abruptly cut off, followed by a sudden silence outside of Knives’ window — apparently Vash really had hung up on his friend, not just threatened to do so.
“Idiot,” Vash muttered, followed by the glug of the rest of a wine bottle being emptied into a glass.
Leaving the window that he’d been just standing next to for the last several minutes, Knives sat down heavily on his bed, Wolfwood’s suggestion replaying in his mind. Of course it wasn’t anything that Knives hadn’t thought about before, but hearing it come from someone else’s mouth (even in a joking way) made the possibility of achieving such a thing suddenly feel all the more possible. Not just possible either, but inevitable. Wolfwood was right — Knives mating Vash was the only way to give his mother everything he wanted, the only way to give them both the happily ever after they deserved.
Ten minutes later, after not hearing the sound of his mother coming back in, Knives went down to check on Vash. As Knives suspected, Vash was leaning back in the rocking chair, his eyes closed and an empty wine bottle and glass on the wooden porch next to him.
“Mom?” Knives asked, laying a hand on Vash’s shoulder and giving it a gentle shake.
“Mmm, hey baby,” Vash said, lids heavy and voice just a little slurred. “What are you doing up so late?”
“It’s Friday,” Knives reminded his mom. “I can sleep in tomorrow.”
“Oh yeah. Forgot.”
“Come on, you can’t sleep out here.” Knives leaned down and pulled Vash’s arm around his shoulders, lifting him from the chair. “Can you walk?”
“Can walk,” Vash agreed, even as his knees buckled. Luckily, Knives still had a firm grip on Vash’s waist and arm though and was able to easily keep him upright.
Knives just sighed before leaning over and lifting his mother in a bridal carry, one arm beneath Vash’s knees and the other supporting his back. A few years ago, Knives wouldn’t have been able to carry Vash like this, but he was almost eighteen now and the size of a full grown alpha. Besides, he’d been working out more since he’d presented and could bench press Vash’s weight with ease — carrying him up a flight of stairs like this was nothing.
“Sorry your mom is such a mess,” Vash said, wrapping his arms up around his son’s neck and curling into Knives’ hold. “You shouldn’t be seeing me like this. It’s embarrassing.”
“I like being able to take care of you,” Knives told him truthfully, hugging Vash a little more securely to his chest. “It makes me happy.”
“Such a good alpha,” Vash praised. “Whoever gets you in the end will be the luckiest person in the world and they don’t even know it.”
You don’t know it, Knives silently agreed. But you will soon.
“I just want to be someone you’re proud of.” They had reached Vash’s bedroom by then — his bedroom door just slightly ajar. Carefully, so as to not jostle Vash too much, Knives pushed the door open with his foot.
“How did I get so lucky with you?” Vash’s speech was getting more drawn out as he obviously fought against sleep.
“It wasn’t luck,” Knives told him as he gently lay Vash down on his bed, “I’m exactly how you raised me to be. Everything I am, it’s all because of you.”
“Such a good boy,” Vash repeated. “Would you do mom a favor and get my pajamas for me?”
“Of course,” Knives replied, going over to Vash’s dresser and pulling out a matching set of red pajamas that Knives had gifted Vash that Christmas. It was a simple button down shirt and a pair of short shorts, but butter soft silk that hung loosely on Vash’s slim shoulders and narrow waist.
“My favorite,” Vash said when Knives came back with them.
“Do you need me to help you get changed?”
“I’m not that incapable,” Vash replied with a laugh. “Now get yourself to bed. It’s late.”
“Goodnight,” Knives said, leaning over and placing a kiss on his mother’s cheek before heading to the door. “Sleep well.”
“You too, my love.”
An hour later, Knives slipped back into Vash’s room.
“Mom?” He asked, voice just below full volume. There was no response from his sleeping mother who lay sprawled atop his bed, too hot to have the blankets over him.
Perfect.
Knives made quick, practiced work of unbuttoning Vash’s shirt and sliding his shorts and underwear down his thighs in one easy movement. As cute as his mother looked in the tiny shorts that teased Knives to no end whenever Vash walked around in them, the activities Knives had in mind for tonight would be much easier performed without them.
Already achingly hard, Knives discarded his own boxers at the foot of the bed — he wouldn’t be needing them after all.
He didn’t get to do this too often, Vash was pretty good about not drinking too much, but whenever Vash finished a whole bottle of wine on his own, Knives knew his mother would be out for the rest of the night.
Climbing up onto the bed, Knives parted Vash’s thighs to make room for himself to settle. Of course, he could go straight for what he wanted, but Vash raised a gentleman and Knives understood the importance of reciprocation. Instead, he lowered himself between Vash’s spread legs, teasing his mother’s slit with his tongue.
Just smelling his mom’s sweet arousal had been enough for him to cum almost immediately the first time, but it had been a while since then and Knives had gotten a lot better. This wasn’t something to be rushed, but savored.
Knives lavished attention on his mother’s c*nt, taking Vash’s cl*t between his lips and sucking, twirling his tongue around the little nub. In his sleep, Vash’s breath began to squicken, one hand finding its way to Knives hair. Knives just took that as encouragement, moving down so he could f*ck Vash open with his tongue. The taste of his mother was heady and sweet, just like his scent. It made Knives desperate for more, like an addiction he couldn’t stop at a single taste. Pressing in deeper with his tongue, Knives brought his other hand up to rub circles around Vash’s cl*t with his thumb — exactly the way his mother liked it.
God, Vash got wet so easily nowadays; Knives barely had to do anything and Vash was already dripping with slick, ready to be f*cked however Knives wished to. Back when Knives first started sneaking into his mother’s room and cautiously seeing now much he could get away with, he’d have to spend quite a while licking Vash open before Vash got wet enough to grind against him like this. Now, it barely took more than a bit of rubbing and releasing some of his pheromones to make his mother soaking wet.
It wasn’t long before Vash was moaning beneath him, puss* clenching around the hot muscle that moved within him. His mother was close, Knives could tell, and he didn’t let up. With his son’s fingers rubbing his cl*t and his tongue buried deep in his puss*, Vash came with a gasp. Gently, Knives coaxed his mother through the aftershocks of his org*sm, milking every last drop of pleasure until Vash was twitchy from over stimulation. When Vash started to pull away was when Knives finally released him, sitting up and wiping his mouth.
Below him, Vash was still fast asleep. Debauched is how he looked, face turned to the side in silent slumber while his legs were spread, puss* perfectly on display for his son’s viewing pleasure. Gaping just slightly from Knives' pleasuring of him and shiny from slick and saliva — Vash puss* was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.
“So perfect,” Knives muttered, giving himself a few strokes as he admired his mother’s naked form. Now that Vash had cum once already, it was time for Knives to be just a little selfish and find his own delight in his mother’s body. Leaning down, Knives draped himself over Vash, covering his entire body with his own. Like this, he was always reminded of how much smaller than him Vash was now, how easily he could break Vash if he wasn’t careful. He would always be careful though — for Vash, he would be anything that would ensure his mother stayed by his side.
Taking his co*ck in hand, Knives rubbed himself against his mother’s wet c*nt, teasing his hole and grinding against his cl*t. He had to be careful, not about waking Vash up — alcohol put him completely out — but of cumming too easily and having this be over too quickly.
“Does that feel good, mom?” Knives asked as he rubbed his co*ck against Vash’s cl*t. “Do you like the way I feel?”
In his sleep, Vash moaned, rolling his hips back instinctually, catching the head of Knives’s co*ck and unintentionally letting it inside. The brief slip up almost had Knives lose control as the heavenly tight muscles seemed desperate to pull Knives in deeper. Vash was just so f*cking warm and soft and right there moaning a practically begging to be f*cked open.
Knives was tempted to just throw caution to the wind and f*ck his mom right then and there. Wolfwood might have said it as a joke, but he was right; Vash should just let Knives breed him. No alpha would be as dedicated of a mate as Knives, no one could ever hope to give his mother everything he deserved the way Knives had prepared all his life to do. Vash was perfection and thus deserved nothing less in return.
Right now wasn’t time for that though, not with Vash drunk and asleep. It wouldn’t be right to take advantage of his poor mother like that; Knives was brought into this world to protect and cherish Vash, not to hurt him. Knives would never do anything to hurt or violate the man he loved more than life itself.
So for now, Knives had to wait to put his plans into action.
“Not yet,” Knives whispered, easing his co*ck head from his mother’s puss*, fresh slick dripping out of Vash as his hole was unplugged. As he did, Vash let out a pitiful whine in the back of his throat, hip wiggling as if he was trying to get Knives to just shove his co*ck back in already. “I know you want to, but I want our first time to be something both of us remember. It will be magical, just you wait. A heaven unto us both.”
Knives leaned down so he could press Vash’s face into his neck, letting his mother scent him in sleep as Knives eased his fingers inside his mother’s tight hole. Knives wasn’t blind, he knew that Vash was a good person ruled by a strict moral code. There was no doubt in Knives’ mind that his mother would struggle with his morality to give what Knives so desperately needed. If Knives confessed one day, if he came to Vash and simply told him of his desires, Vash would turn him away. Vash would believe he was doing it for both of their good, that somehow a life without each other would be better than a life where he gave in to nature and let his son claim him.
Vash was a good mother and was determined to be the best mother he could be to Knives, even if it wasn’t what either of them wanted. He could not yet see that this, the way they were this very moment, with Knives buried deep inside and bringing him crescendo after crescendo of pleasure, was exactly what they should be. It was what Vash wanted too, even if he couldn’t understand or accept that about himself yet.
Which was why Knives was doing this really — if Vash’s morals were going to insist that the two of them being together was wrong, then at least his body needed to understand.
“I’m the one bringing you pleasure,” Knives whispered, “scent me and remember everything I can do for you. Remember how much you love me; how much you desire me back.”
Knives came thick ribbons onto Vash’s stomach and thighs. It wasn’t as satisfying as watching Vash leak with it, but it wasn’t a bad thing to have while waiting. God, Vash already looked so good covered in his cum, how would he look stuffed full of it? Knives wanted nothing more than to watch his mother’s hot tight puss* overflow with his seed.
All he needed was a catalyst to get Vash to look at him in a new light and the time to help Vash understand that it was nothing to be ashamed of. Time was one thing he’d always assumed he had enough of, perhaps even too much as he waited for his eighteenth birthday to come already, but Vash’s conversation with his friend earlier that night had Knives reconsidering. Sure, Vash showed reluctance to dating, but if there was even a chance that someone might come in and snatch Vash from beneath his nose, Knives wouldn’t allow it. He intended to wait until he was eighteen — just a few months away — before he made his move, but now, it looked like his plans might have to move up, just a little.
“We’re meant to be,” Knives whispered, running his fingers lightly across Vash’s sweetly sleeping cheek. “You’ll see it too, soon enough.”
