Mythos

Chapter 3

In a Glass, Darkly

[KxM]

When Vash returned with his brother, she'd had eyes only for Vash. She had been so afraid that she would never see his sunny face again, she didn't even ask about the man slung over his shoulder, the wedge that would come between her and the man who had dropped into her heart.

Vash's first order of business was to get Knives out of town, so almost as soon as he made it back he was looking for a place on the outskirts to stay, and in his hurry he barely protested when the girls insisted that they move in with him to keep tabs on the infamous gunman. Vash didn't admit that the real reason he allowed it was a selfish one; the girls gave him courage.

Knives was unconscious for a solid week and in that time Meryl had plenty of opportunities to make several false starts in confessing her feelings to Vash. Whenever she found herself alone with him, the air would go stale, a feeling like a hand constricting her throat would settle in and she'd have to beat a hasty retreat out of the room. And by the time Knives was awake, Vash spent most of his time arguing with his rapidly healing brother behind closed doors.

Just once the night before, she had caught him alone on the front porch. The dry desert air threatened to steal her ambition. The setting suns blazed a crimson trail across the porch, lighting the man with a rosy glow. Steeling her nerves, she had called his name softly but when he turned around his eyes showed an uncharacteristic seriousness that took the wind from her sails. The coming coldness of the desert night chased her back into the house.

Perhaps it was because of her preoccupation with the dopey blonde that she never noticed Knives creeping closer like a snake.

It had begun innocently enough. A stolen glance at her over the upturned edge of his coffee cup. Surprising her by entering a room when her back was turned and stealthily slipping past her. He never brushed her. She only felt the air rustling in his wake, carrying his particular scent. He even deigned to talk to her every now and again. Although only when he needed something and he never addressed her by name. She was always "you" or "human." Or sometimes "bitch." Lately she felt unusually vulnerable near him. He seemed to know her discomfort and he often allowed his eyes to linger on her longer than was perhaps decent.

She was always flustered despite herself. He was so like Vash and yet they were polar opposites. Knives was Vash gazing through the Looking Glass. And his eyes. Where Vash's eyes filled her with a feeling of warmth and safety, Knives's gaze could plunge her into a world of fear or anger by turns. Still she had to admit that he was gorgeous. When he had been unconscious and she had to doctor his wounds, she had often marveled at this mass murderer who looked like a sleeping child. Like a wolf in sheep's clothing, he reminded her of the tales she had heard in church as a child. About how the devil was very beautiful.

Of course, Meryl didn't believe in most of that crap. She had seen the devil in too many ordinary people.

Still, she probably should have seen it coming. But she had no real chance.

His reasons were simple. He knew that she really belonged to his brother, so he wanted to possess her. He hated to admit that he was also just curious. What was it about her that made his brother so soft? Whether Vash actually returned her feelings not even Knives could intuit, but he knew that Vash would do anything in his power to protect his human friends, even at the expense of his own safety. Why?

Meryl climbed the dusty stairs in silence, laundry basket on one hip. She made the rounds collecting everyone's dirty clothes. By the time she had made it to Vash's things she was almost angrily stuffing the articles into her basket-after brushing off the stray donut crumbs-as she berated herself for the millionth time for allowing herself to become so upset over Vash. At first she was upset over her not being able to tell him her feelings and now she was just upset for being upset. Lost in thought, she knocked a little louder and harder on Knives's door than was necessary.

When a characteristically silent Knives opened the door she marched in without even glancing at him, so great was her ire, and quickly gathered up his laundry. She didn't realize until she stood up that Knives had moved to block her exit in front of the open door. He stood shirtless in a pair of denim jeans slung low over his hips, barely revealing his sharp hipbones. She drank him in surreptitiously. The slope of his broad shoulders. The muscled expanse of his chest and the thin blonde trail of hair leading to his groin. He was so like Vash, except for the conspicuous absence of any scars, beside the suggestion of a mark where Vash had shot him months before.

"Excuse me," she mumbled, walking toward the door. When Knives didn't move, she looked up at him and promptly froze.

Something in his eyes, like a warning, made her feel like a cornered mouse. His usually cold eyes were alive with some sort of heat, something stirring just below the surface. She was about to back away when he grabbed her slight shoulders and pushed her further into the room.

She tried to run past him, hopelessly trying to make it through the doorway, but he simply slipped his hands about her waist, twirled her around and flung her heavily on the bed. When she began to rise he was already on her, hands on either side of her head caging her in. At first she flailed, hands flying up instinctually toward his eyes but he merely frowned and knocked her hands away, pinning her tiny wrists to the bed. His much larger form loomed over her as he studied her, listening to her ragged breathing beneath him. The already diminutive girl shrank from him, trying to sink into the bed and escape his iron grip and furiously cutting gaze. Then without warning he let her go and backed away. In disbelief she slowly sat up, not daring to take her eyes off of him.

"Alright," he said, standing clear of the door. "Go, if you really want to."

She inclined her head to him, mouth slightly agape. He could always take her by force. But he wanted it to be her decision. He wanted her to turn the events of this night over and over in her mind when she was alone with him.

"The choice is yours, Meryl," he said slowly and with secret cunning, finally calling her by her given name.

For once, Meryl Stryfe was rendered speechless. She stood nervously and raised a hand to her heart. Her eyes searched the room, unseeing. Her hand fluttered on her breast. She didn't like the glint of confidence in Knives's eyes. But at the same time, she wasn't walking away. She didn't know what to do. Just yesterday she was failing miserably in her attempt to tell Vash her feelings and now all of a sudden she was being propositioned by his unstable brother. Knives merely watched the outward display of her inner struggle with a small smile creeping across his lips. Tears began to cloud her vision and when she looked forward, she could almost imagine that it was Vash that stood before her. Then she resolutely wiped the tears from her eyes and Knives once again entered her vision. She looked into his expectant eyes.

"I…as long as the others don't hear."

Knives's devilish grin widened and he reached behind him to close the door.

Knives advanced on her and before she knew what was happening she felt his hand running up her leg, pushing up her skirt and hooking around to cup her ass while his other hand found the small of her back and pulled her forward to him. Then all of a sudden he seized either lapel of her collar and ripped her blouse open, buttons showering the floor. She started to reprimand him angrily, but he quickly silenced her with a finger across her lips. She shrugged off her blouse while Knives dropped her skirt to the floor. He laid a palm between her breasts to push her back onto the bed and then proceeded to slide her black tights off her lithe legs. She reached behind her to unclasp her bra, revealing her pert breasts to him.

Then she lay beneath him and she felt his warm hands insistently pressing against the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs. Her thighs parted for him and he settled between them, resting on his forearms before reaching down with one hand. She gasped as he slid his thick middle finger into her, positioning the thumb of the same hand on her clit and she cooed slightly as he dragged the finger inside her toward her opening and back over and over again. As Meryl's arousal wakened she grew bold and drew her hands up to run down the swell of his chest to the muscles of his abdomen, contracting ever so slightly with his breath. She quickly slickened under his touch, lying back with her eyes closed in a haze of pleasure. The klink of his belt coming undone disturbed her reverie.

She held her breath and then he pushed his hips persistently forward, insinuating himself into her and she felt him stretching her completely, leaving no part of her untouched. It hurt. But she didn't mind; she wanted to remember her choice in the morning. They shared a deep, moaning sigh when he picked up a steady rhythm.

"Knives…," she moaned softly.

"Don't say my name, human," breathed Knives in a voice thick with lust and she felt the rumble of his words in his chest. "It's too much above you to pass your lips."

"Fine…asshole," Meryl retorted.

In response, Knives sped his thrusts to an inhuman speed and Meryl's mouth opened in a silent scream of pleasure.