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When Knives was young, he read voraciously—technology, history, sociology, biology. He knew of the many documented differences between plants and humans. That plants only manifested as the omega secondary gender, whereas humans were divided into three. This left Knives and Vash—alphas and independents—as outliers among their kind. It was a trait that Knives was happy to share with Vash.
But William Conrad was never satisfied to abide by the laws of natural science, and he was all too eager to share his theories with Knives.
“It is my hypothesis that plants are not omegas, per se, but that they conform to the role imposed on them,” he said to Knives once, when they were overseeing the human–plant hybrids. “After all, Rem could just as easily have raised you and your brother as girls. The physical body follows the social expectation.”
The standoff at Jeneora Rock had Knives reassessing his priorities. Two plants recovered from a miserable, wailing anthill of humans. A foolish minion cut down before he could properly entertain his delusions of defeating Knives’ brother. It had been a successful operation, all things considered. And yet.
Every time Knives thought back to the encounter with his brother, irritation itched hot beneath his skin.
"The humans need that plant to survive!" Vash had said.
Knives' teeth ground down hard. He was tired of the exchange. Like the old films he'd watched on the SEEDS ship, it never changed—the same script, the same actions, the same conclusions, over and over and over. As a child, Knives could mouth the words along with the actors with perfect timing.
The humans are just trying to survive, Vash would say, like an animatronic doll. And then, without fail: It’s our fault.
Far be it from Knives to relieve Vash of his titanic guilt complex.
Next time, thought Knives. Next time the conversation would be different. Next time, he’d make Vash see things from his eyes.
The next time they met, Knives was fully prepared. JuLai was his territory, and Vash was but a kitten wandering into the lion’s den.
When Vash arrived (armed with excuses and reasons, predictable to a fault), Knives wasted no time on small talk. Debate had lost its flavor long ago. He merely grabbed ahold of Vash and submerged them both into the tank he and the doctor had prepared.
Vash let out a cry of surprise, gurgling in the water. So pathetically human.
“Did you know, Vash?” Knives purred, gripping Vash by the nape of the neck and leaning in close. “The humans have a process for dealing with the stubborn and unruly. They call it bitching.”
Vash’s eyes widened. Of course he knew—his eyes were just as open as Knives’ to human depravity, no matter how much he pretended to be oblivious to it.
Tie down an alpha, let him marinate in his powerlessness, and fuck him until he submits. The strong-minded alphas held out the longest, but even they could be broken into obedient, pliant omegas. It took days for the changes to fully take effect, for the hormone levels to start influencing behavior and mentality.
For an independent, asserting dominance via his gate? Conrad promised it would only take moments.
Vash struggled to escape Knives’ grasp, aiming a sharp jab at his chin, fist wrapped around the handle of his gun. Knives knocked it away, bladed tendrils slipping out from his back to immobilize Vash.
“Shh,” he soothed. “Connect with me.”
“Don’t do this, Nai,” Vash warned. “Nai!”
Knives ignored him, kissing the side of Vash’s neck as he brought his gate to bear. Four wicked arrow-tipped tentacles plunged deep into Vash’s back.
“Oh god,” whimpered Vash. He thrashed weakly against Knives’ hold as the blades slipped deeper between his ribs, and then went limp. A hazy telepathic connection formed between them, their hearts and breaths synchronizing. Knives thought he could stay like this forever, nestled against Vash’s spine.
But it wouldn’t do to get distracted. The point was to bring Vash to heel.
Knives worked Vash’s pants down, curling his hand around Vash’s cock, already half hard. Vash shied away from the touch instinctively.
“No,” said Vash. “Don’t do it, don’t—ah!” He let out a gasp as Knives roughly worked a finger into his hole with his other hand.
Vash’s body was hot. His alpha instincts should have been raging, filling the air with the sour scent of hostility, but the water tank stifled any sense of smell. Knives could feel the rejection in the tension of Vash’s shoulders, the frantic way he shoved his hands against Knives’ chest. But it didn’t matter—it only made Knives’ inner alpha roar with the desire to force Vash into submission.
“You’re mine,” said Knives, thrusting his fingers deeper into Vash. It was a typical alpha hole, virgin-tight even with the perfunctory fingering, but Knives couldn’t shake the fantasy of Vash dripping with slick, blissed out and welcoming his cock. Yes, he should have done this to Vash ages ago.
“You don’t get to tell me what not to do,” Knives said coldly. He plucked at the connection between them, feeling Vash’s gate resonate in response. “Stop resisting me for once in your life, and you’ll see how much better things are—”
Vash’s will struck back through the gate, stubborn as always. Knives moved to squash it, make Vash submit, when—
when—
Vash’s gate was like a coursing river, impossible to dam or divert. It took everything Knives had to hold his focus when Vash surged up and lunged forward, teeth sinking hard into Knives' neck.
Into the mating gland.
“I said stop!” snarled Vash.
Knives’ tentacle-grip on Vash slackened reflexively in shock. Something dark bubbled up in the connection between them, dark and yawning and tugging at Knives’ consciouness like a gravitational well. Instead of trying to escape, Vash pulled Knives even closer, a strangely feral gleam in his eyes.
“You think everything has to go your way, don’t you? You never listen to me; you’ve always thought me too weak to know any better.” Vash laughed low in his throat, every word laced with an alpha growl. His tongue dug into the new— the new mating bite, lapping up the fresh blood there.
“Do you think you’re the first one to try to bitch me?” said Vash, pulling at his cock, stiff and eager now that he had Knives on the backstep. Knives stared at him, stupefied. His neck stung and his head felt like it was swimming. “I’ve seen and been through more than you. And I know how this works better than you.”
In a brief squabble, Knives attempted to pin Vash down with his blades again, but a well-placed blow to the chin knocked his head back, dazing him. If Knives had been a human, the punch might have snapped his neck. Vash grabbed Knives by the hair and forced his head down towards Vash’s crotch.
“Vash, you can’t possibly—!”
“I’ll do whatever it takes, Nai,” countered Vash. “Even if my stubborn, unruly brother won’t be reasoned down with words.”
He ran a thumb against Knives’ mouth, urging the jaw open. Whether from the alpha pheremones flooding the tank or from Vash’s overpowering gate, the sudden role reversal must have been starting to sink in, because when Vash murmured open up, Knives did.
“Don’t bite,” Vash cooed, sweet as poison. And then he fed his cock down his brother’s throat.
Knives had no practical experience in such matters at all, no presence of mind to do anything with the hard member filling his throat except to gag. But Vash didn’t seem to mind, thrusting deep and hard like Knives was nothing more than a wet hole.
It occurred to Knives that this wasn’t what he wanted—well, he hadn’t wanted to be overpowered in the first place—but more than that, it wasn’t fair that Vash got to stay above it all while Knives only got ever more emotionally entangled. He whined around Vash’s rough treatment, the hand in his hair not allowing him to pull away.
Vash’s cock started to swell at the base, stretching Knives’ jaw even further. As Vash’s thrusts grew rougher, Knives thought wildly to himself—he’s going to knot my mouth—when suddenly the hand in Knives’ hair tightened and Vash pulled out, leaving Knives gasping and spluttering.
“Not—not this time,” Vash choked out, and then he came all over Knives’ face.
The seed immediately dispersed into the water, and Knives had the ridiculous, fleeting thought that Vash should have come inside his mouth, so as not to waste it. Perhaps Vash read the thought, because Vash was smiling at him, petting the back of his head gently like an unsettled thomas.
Knives was still keyed up, blood still boiling in his veins, but he collected himself enough to speak.
“Vash,” he rasped. “What have you done?”
Instead of answering right away, Vash pulled Knives back up for a kiss, open-mouthed and deep. His prosthetic hand fingered the wound where he’d bitten Knives, each light touch sending a jolt to the base of Knives’ spine. It took Knives a few moments to realize he was panting again, a deep ache between his legs, ready to take more. And the only thing that would satisfy that ache from now on was his brother’s cock.
“Shh,” said Vash. “Connect with me.”