Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Warnings: smut, so very much smut. Post-series Vincent isn't as uncertain of himself, so he's OOC compared to most of the series, excepting the last few minutes.
Vincent Law, the lowly immigrant, only had enough courage to talk about his feelings to Re-L in a moment of insanity. He'd been desperate to get her gun, and had done the only thing he could think of, overwhelmed with emotion to hear her talk about being drawn to him. And he wouldn't have done that if he hadn't been so damned scared of getting shot.
Vincent Law, the confused wanderer, would have stumbled away stuttering apologies if he accidentally walked in on Re-L changing. He would have avoided her for the rest of the day, ashamed. Particularly ashamed of his own desire and inability to act on it.
Vincent Law, Proxy in denial, spent his desire feeling guilty for wanting her, feeling unworthy, feeling weak. He couldn't act on it, couldn't do something as simple as step toward her and shut the door. He would have withered when Re-L's blue-shaded eyes snapped toward him, abrupt and sharp as a hidden blade.
He damn sure wouldn't have smirked at her as his eyes flicked lazily over her half-naked body.
But now he was Ergo Proxy, and now he was in control of both sides of his nature, human and Proxy. Both sides just happened to be in agreement that it was a nice sight.
"What the hell are you doing?" she snapped. She made no effort to cover herself, even though she had a clean camisole in her hand and could easily have resumed dressing.
Both sides of him, human and Proxy, studied her bare breasts for a moment before meeting her eyes. "I came to tell you something," he answered, deliberately holding her gaze as he waited for her to respond, not saying anything more.
Before Romdeau, before Ergo Proxy and Vincent Law were one, before Re-L had watched her grandfather die and her city fall to pieces, he knows she would've gotten frustrated in seconds and snarled at him. Now she arched a brow at him, halfway between sardonic and curious. "Well?"
His eyes tracked the camisole's fluttering descent to the floor as she planted a hand on her hip. The motion thrust her breasts forward so that the hardened pink nipples pointed at him.
Neither side of him recalled what he came to say. Instead he took a step forward. "Kristeva's teaching Pino to steer," he said. This wasn't news. The entourage autoreiv had been teaching the small companion model a few new things so she could help more around the ship for the past two weeks.
Re-L watched his face and looked over him as he moved forward. "Right now?" she asked, meeting his gaze again. Her other hand remained at her side, but he noticed she had clenched it into a fist.
"Yeah," he said, taking another step forward, his stare locked with hers.
Once he fell still again his eyes lowered to her fist, following the lines of her body from her knuckles to the thigh they rested beside, over the toned planes of her stomach. He took his time looking over the soft flesh of her rounded breasts and the surprising pink of her nipple against the pale white of her skin. With some reluctance, he dragged his eyes onward, over the pale column of her throat and up to the soft lips he knew were warm and damp, finally reaching the intensive stare of her dark eyes set in the blue backdrop of her eyeshadow.
"Was there anything else you wanted to say?" she asked, her voice sharp, but underneath it he detected another note, one he searched his memories to understand before arriving at comprehension. Anxiety. Re-L was nervous.
He smirked as he added up the pieces- how boldly she left herself exposed but how she hesitated to reach toward him, how she didn't actually make a move so much as present herself to him. There were a million things he wanted to do with that knowledge, all of which involved removing more clothing, but he was not just a primal creature who would take what it wanted without regard.
"You're beautiful," he said, aware his voice had dropped to a husky pitch, and even more aware of the minute reactions she had to that tone: the way her pupils dilated a bit, the way her breath drew in sharply, the way her nipples tightened, the way goosebumps covered her arms and her tongue brushed unconsciously over her bottom lip. He took another step forward and reached out.
As much as the most primal instincts cried to take one of her breasts in his hand, he closed his fingers around her fist instead. Her hand relaxed in his after a moment, and he wove their fingers together.
One last step brought them chest-to-chest. He could feel her nipples brushing over the fabric of his shirt with every breath she took, and she was breathing faster than normal. Their mouths were close, but he kept his eyes on hers to say one last thing:
"Do you want this, Re-L?"
What would happen if she said 'no?' She wondered for half a second if he would leave, disappointed, with his tail between his legs. But he wouldn't make such a pitiful exit, not anymore. Not since Romdeau fell and he came back... whole.
His eyes bored into hers, his fingers gently squeezing her hand, so close to her thigh she could feel their warmth. The rough fabric of his jacket against her chest was strangely thrilling, and frustratingly in the way. Her panties felt distinctly damp. Did she want this?
"Yes," she managed to whisper, and then his mouth closed over hers, lips crushed against hers, his tongue sweeping against hers.
She lifted her hand from her hip up to the side of his cheek, and his free hand slid around her waist to press her against him. He squeezed her fingers again and then released them, his palm smoothing along her thigh to hitch her knee around his hips. His mouth stayed on hers the whole while, kissing her until her toes curled, lifting her up in his arms so her legs wrapped around him.
The kiss ended suddenly, leaving her gasping for air as she clung to him with her arms and legs. He watched her, his eyes hooded and intent on her face as one of his hands ran up her bare spine until the tickle made her arch her back. In that split second that she leaned back, he caught the tip of her breast in his mouth, his tongue swirling around her nipple as his hand steadied her back, holding her close so she couldn't writhe away.
His other hand, bearing her weight by cupping her ass, tightened, his fingers clenching through the thin fabric of her panties. His thumb brushed between her legs, only the underwear separating his digit from her slit. He made a growling noise around her nipple, biting it and then hurrying to soothe any pain with his tongue. She moaned at his ministrations, one of her hands gripping his jacket while the other tangled in his hair.
He stumbled forward a few steps, still suckling her breast. His hand left her back for a moment and then the shock of cold metal against her shoulderblades made her arch into his mouth further. A flick of his tongue against her nipple made her moan again, and the hand that had been on her back now shifted to knead her other breast.
"Vincent," she hissed, her nerves tingling as he drew his mouth back for a moment, his warm breath cooling on her dampened nipple as he gently pinched the opposite nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Her mind was having trouble stringing sentences together as his hips pressed against hers and she could feel heat and hardness rubbing over her folds through the sodden panties. "Clothes," she managed to grate out.
The smirk he gave her sent a shock of desire over her skin.
"Would you rather take it slow?" he asked, his hand moving away from her breast to hold her by the waist.
She felt a sudden wave of fury, prompted at the loss of contact and the frustrated desire. "Take them off," she growled, fumbling at the straps and buckles of his clothing, desperate to get some of his skin bare so she could press hers against it.
The hand on her waist slid down so fast she barely felt a breeze, but she felt his fingers hook around the wet fabric of her panties, drawing them aside so cold air hit her heated sex. "Like this?" he asked in that husky voice. The knuckle of his thumb shifted to drag over her folds so softly and briefly she might have believed it wasn't intentional, if he hadn't smirked when she whimpered at the contact.
For a second the elastic of her underwear dug into the skin of her hips, and then it snapped. He lifted her ruined panties up like a trophy and grinned at her, almost childish in his glee.
"You bastard," she hissed, "Stop teasing me."
His smile melted back into that sexy smirk and he dropped her underwear in favor of fumbling with some straps out of her line of sight. Something warm and much thicker than his fingers brushed against her slit. He met her eyes.
"Have it your way," he murmured, and then his hips snapped forward and he drove himself into her.
Re-L screamed.
He was thick, stretching her out around him, his cock plunging deep within and settling for a moment as she caught her breath. She felt his lips against her neck muttering something soothing to her as she adjusted to his size, and then he began moving.
Her back slammed against the wall, and every thrust drove the air from her lungs so she had to gasp for more. Vincent wasn't trying to be gentle, wasn't trying to draw it out tenderly, and there was some measure of relief in that. He pumped into her fast and hard, one of his hands gripping her thigh so hard she knew it would bruise while the other dipped between them to brush against her clit.
She lost any sense of time, or any sense of restraint. Her fingers dug into his hair, her legs clenched around his hips, her inner muscles pulsed around him, and ragged moans filled the air, some of them his and some hers. The fingers on her clitoris flickered lightning quick to overstimulate as his hips moved faster and faster. Her climax came suddenly, hitting with dizzying force, and some part of her registered the feel of his cock throbbing once inside of her and the gush of fluid filling her.
Vincent slid out of her slowly, almost regretfully, lowering her to her feet. He looked down at her for a moment, studying her face, and then leaned in to kiss her again. This one wasn't as hard and hungry as the first one had been; there was a lazy quality to the way he explored her mouth before he drew back.
"I came to tell you that Kristeva spotted survivors a few miles away," he said.
It took a moment for her to register his words. "You- what?" she sputtered.
Nonplussed, he picked up her torn panties from the floor, wiping his cock off on them and then tucking it away. "I was supposed to tell you they saw survivors. We're probably pretty close by now."
"Why didn't you say that sooner?" she demanded, fumbling around in search of clean clothes. Now she smelled like sex and had one fewer pairs of underwear. "You just decided to fuck me first?"
He smirked and despite the fact that she'd just had an orgasm and was annoyed at him for not telling her about the survivors, she shivered. "Should I have waited 'til after to fuck you?" he asked, his brows arching in what she recognized as one of Ergo Proxy's mannerisms.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" she grumbled, picking up her camisole from where she'd dropped it ages ago.
"I'm great," he said, and she could hear the grin in his words before she turned to see it. "I'll see you on deck."
She watched him open the door, her panties still in his hand. He shoved them into his pocket and smirked at her as he left.