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Disclaimer: Despite the fact that I spend my time writing 16-chapter-long stories about it, I do not own Trigun. =\
Enjoy the ending.
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Nicholai and I snuck away from the party. Knives saw. His eyes followed me as we sifted through the crowd that had gathered. The only thing strange about it though was the fact that he was sitting at a table with a group of people, and he actually seemed to be enjoying himself. He wasn't angry or jealous. He smirked at me and waved goodnight before turning back to the conversation.
After previously showing hostility to them, it's nice to see him relaxing and talking. I guess Knives is just like that. His personality has always been and will always be unstable. He will always change how he feels about certain things, his views never remaining fixed. I admire that because he can adapt to situations upon receiving new information; something I've never been very good at. We really are as different as night and day, I suppose. Me, the serious one who remains fixated on outdated ideas and my brother, the more intense and adaptive form of myself. He never ceases to amaze me.
And now Nicholai and I are walking up the stairs; stumbling really. Arms wrapped around one another and feet getting tangled together from the closeness and the alcohol, we're bumping against the walls and trying to keep each other from falling as we laugh freely, like children. Our touches though are anything but childlike. One hands' fingers intertwined, our free hands are uninhibited and roam the contours of each others' bodies as we continue to stumble down the hallway. We finally make it to the door and Nicholai presses me against it, his mouth immediately working against mine. I grin through the kiss, nearly laughing as I search behind me for the brass knob and stumble against the doorframe. He cups the back of my head, fingers running through my hair and against my scalp, making it all the more difficult for me to concentrate.
I finally open the door and we both fall through it, me landing on my back with Nicholai on top. We do not hesitate in our touches. There isn't a single separation of our mouths that would give evidence of our tumble onto the hard wooden floorboards. I pull up my feet and kick the door closed, leaving the room in darkness, for neither of us has had the opportunity to turn on the lights.
Nicholai tugs on my clothing, insistent and impatient hands seeking refuge in the fabric until finally he finds the buttons and, slowly, patiently, one by one, opens my shirt. With every inch of newly exposed skin, lips are pressed against it until finally he has kissed down the length of my chest, past every scar and gash without a single hesitation. His hands slowly slide underneath my shirt and push it aside, exposing my shoulders. I quiver underneath his touch despite myself as rough fingertips become gentle, roaming over the exposed planes of my body.
Lips are once more bearing down on my own, insistent yet pliant, and I close my eyes softly, tasting a moist, alcohol-flavored tongue as it explores my mouth. My hands travel up his back, feeling the muscles flex through layers of clothing as he moves against my touch. I push upwards until I have him on his back and I am finally on top. I pull away only enough to break the kiss but still close enough for our lips to touch as I speak. "Do you want to stay here on the floor?"
He opens his eyes slightly, the deep smoky blue hard looking black in the darkness. He looks around a bit, not moving his head. "Right here is fine with me."
"We might get splinters from the floorboards."
"Yeah, and we might break the springs in the bed. Your choice."
We don't talk about anything serious; the important issues out of the way and the furthest things from our minds. I now know the reason that we are together. I know, indefinitely, how I feel about Nicholai. I know that certain things can be 'overlooked,' so to speak, and I can forgive him for things that may seem so terribly wrong at the time. And I no longer care anymore whether or not he is truly the reincarnation of Nicholas D. Wolfwood, though nothing has lead me to believe otherwise. I no longer care, because it doesn't matter. I love this man for who he is, and the fact that he was so immediately kind to me, and the way his hands touch my skin like they're doing right now.
"Tell me something?" I tilt my head and look down at him, only then noticing that one hand is smoothing out a lazy pattern on my back. His eyes smile at me and I nod, breathing heavily, my head spinning as his other hand finds its way to my neck and his fingers flow through strands of hair. "Why do you have so many scars?"
I close my eyes, looking away. "Did that upset you?" he asks immediately, tightening his arms just a bit to pull me closer. I shake my head and move my hands to the front of his shirt, unbuttoning it slowly to distract myself as I tell him one of the answers swimming in my mind.
"You told me you've heard many of the stories about my past?" My hands work the shirt open and I glance down at his chest, scarred yet perfect compared to mine. He nods in response. "I got these scars, mostly by helping others who couldn't help themselves." I lay my head on his chest, hearing his heartbeat.
"It makes you angry?"
"Sometimes bitter, not angry. It was my own choice."
"You're more brave than I thought." I grin as I hear those words and sit up again, pressing my hands into his chest and then stroking downwards to his stomach. His skin is so smooth… I never thought it could be this smooth.
"Do they bother you?" He immediately shakes his head and I feel the stress caused by that question that had settled in the back of my mind slowly release. I should have known that they didn't. He's one of the only people who nearly failed to acknowledge the fact that my body was disfigured in such a way.
"What you look like doesn't bother me."
I raise my eyebrows. "Are you saying I'm ugly?"
He laughs and grabs me about the waist, pushing my shoulders down. He presses his lips against mine, still smiling. His arms loosen a bit as he pushes me onto my back and straddles my hips, sitting back up. I frown at him. I'm back at the bottom. "What I meant was that it doesn't matter to me the way you look. I didn't fall in love with your body." I smile up at him. I can practically feel the happiness ooze off of me like liquid. "I fell in love with that nice ass of yours." He reaches a hand under me and squeezes my rear. My mouth falls open in disbelief and he smiles a bit more. I snort and shove at his shoulder, mouth tilted in some sort of frown. "Kidding… I'm kidding."
"Here I was thinking I had the greatest man in the world… and then he tells me that all he cares about is my ass."
"You have to admit it's a nice one, though."
"So I've been told."
He frowns at that. "Who told you that?"
I grin. "No one important."
He frowns a bit more before shaking his head and taking a deep breathe. I watch his chest rise and fall through the gap in his open shirt. He turns back to me and leans down for another kiss. More insistent now, it tells me to stop talking and I do. I squirm underneath him, though, something sharp sticking into my shoulder. I grunt a bit and he pulls away, looking slightly impatient. "What now?"
"Something's poking me."
He immediately grabs my hand, standing up, and then pulls me to my feet right behind him. "Easily solved." I raise my eyebrows at him, but forget about reactions when his hands rest on my hips and his mouth meets mine and he begins taking small steps in my direction. I stumblingly walk backwards, arms resting on his shoulders as my senses are filled with simple pleasures. Wet. Spicy. Warm. Smooth. I grunt as my shoulders unexpectedly meet the wall. Rough. Nicholai takes another step forward, until I am pinned with his body, legs spread. The hand behind me goes to the waist of my pants, deft fingers taking only a second to undo them. His hand presses against my lower stomach and then slides around to my hip, pushing down the loosened fabric at my waist. I lower both hands to his pants, one of them quickly working on the button and zipper, the other brushing against the protuberant bulge in the front. I smile against his mouth as his lips stop moving and he moans just a bit, so low and deep that it almost sounds like a growl. I love it when he makes that sound. His hand, strong and firm, slides around under my pants until it is massaging my buttocks and pull me closer until we are pressed against one another. His hips push against mine almost painfully and I tilt my head upwards and open my eyes.
I feel strangely detached, watching the small cobweb on the ceiling float around in the breeze caused by my breath as his hands push my pants down even more. He steps on them and pushes them down around my ankles. I grip his shoulders and step out of the fabric, pushing it aside with my foot. His mouth goes to my neck and I close my eyes lightly, feeling the heavy, hard sucking and the tongue licking against the flesh above my rapid pulse. I swallow tightly and sigh as his hands quickly shift over my body, fingers touching and teasing every inch of flesh.
I feel almost as if I am in another world, off somewhere floating, drifting in my own mind. His hands and mouth and body, so close and warm and solid, push me farther into the nadir of my thoughts. Yet, I open my eyes and the cobweb is still floating above, bringing me back to reality. Sometimes I think and question whether or not this is real, though. I question whether or not I am fortunate enough to have someone I hold so close to my heart hold me just as close. I look at him and he looks back. Our eyes lock for a moment, the sunset outside of the window casting half of his face in shadow. For a moment, I think I can hear his thoughts, though I don't understand them. I put my hands on his shoulders and pull him closer.
"Is something wrong?" he asks as I hug him and tickle my fingers down his neck and back.
I close my eyes. "No." I just love you so much that sometimes it hurts, and I don't understand it.
He kisses a path from my shoulder to my ear and then nibbles at it, sending shivers up my spine. I quiver beneath his ministrations, lowering my hands to his waist to pull upon the fabric, searching for something to hold on to. He whispers in my ear and I don't hear the words, too caught up in the feeling of warm breath over receptive skin. I exhale, releasing the tension in my muscles and wanting more than anything to surround him, to feel every inch of his body against every inch of mine. I sigh at my own strange illusions, settling instead for pressing my back firmly against the wall and lifting one leg, brushing it against his. A warm chill travels through my body at the fresh contact against neglected nerves.
His hands, ever present against my body, seem ethereal in my state of mind, diaphanous fingers dancing over sensitive flesh. He runs one palm down my thigh, pulling up my leg even more. I contract my muscles, trying to get even closer as he nibbles at my neck. Sweat trickles down my face, the heat of the room and our motions causing my body to react. I grab his face and kiss him eagerly, engraining the taste of his lips on my mind. "…Want you…" I pant into his mouth despite myself, feeling a bit strange saying things like that. It had never really been a part of my nature to desire these types of relationships with others. I spill awkward phrases at inopportune times, not knowing how to voice the needs that grow inside me when I am so close to him.
"Say that again," he pleads, melting to his knees in front of me. I watch as he pins my hips against the wall and takes me into his mouth. Closing my eyes, I shiver intensely, mouth falling open as I gasp for air.
"Want you…" I whisper to the blackness of my vision, fingers flexing and searching for something to hold onto. My fingernails scratch at the wall aimlessly, finding nothing.
He pulls away, licking his lips, and looks up at me, his eyes heavy-lidded. "Again." Whispered yet demanding, I feel my body tighten at that one simple word.
"I want you," I say plainly, intensely. Like a reward, I feel a warm mouth envelope me once again, feel a tongue teasing its way up my length and back down again. "I want you." His hands slide from my hips to my thighs and in between, kneading and massaging the receptive nerves there and causing my knees to weaken. I close my eyes, gritting my teeth as his meticulous hands and mouth work me, molding me like a lump of clay, from the inside out. I can't stop myself from releasing a tense moan, sounding more like a cry, as I lean my head back against the wall.
"Want. You." I put my hands on his head and push him away, leaning down to kiss him and apparently throwing him off balance. We fall back on the floor in a spread of limbs and exposed flesh, and I lay on top of him, ravishing and pillaging his mouth with my tongue. "Want you," I whisper into his mouth, not wanting to break the kiss, "inside me… Nicky."
He grunts into my mouth, pressing himself upwards against me and grinding our bodies together slowly. He wraps his arms around my waist, warm skin against my lower back, and holds me firmly against him. Hands lie flat before sliding down to the sides of my hips. Fingers press into flesh, holding. But I pull back, separating us, as I deftly remove his pants. He lies on the floor, watching me and pulling back his legs to get out of them more quickly. I toss them away before lowering myself back to him, returning our bodies to the place that feels so perfect: together.
I am slowly turned, pressed against the floorboards once more, him on top. I sigh into him, arching my back and pulling up my legs in invitation.
How he's turned my world…
Fingers slide down, probing, seeking entrance. My face contorts as he finds it, slides inside. I grit my teeth against the mix of sensations. I release a shaky, uncertain breath when another finger is entered. Opening my eyes, I see him watching me, watching the blending of emotions upon my face. His eyes, sad and longing, search mine as he pushes his fingers further inside. My mouth falls open and I tilt my head back in another soundless, wordless cry.
My hips thrust upwards of their own accord, and I can slowly feel body leaving mind in the wake, instinct and need taking over for me where logic left off. My eyes are difficult to open. I feel them shudder slightly as I try to look at him, and then close again. When he finally withdraws his fingers, leaving me out of breath and panting on the floor, I wait expectantly. I watch dark shapes form behind my eyelids, suddenly feeling as if I am drunk.
My mind spins out of control once more as I feel him enter me for a second time. His hands are all over me, caressing my chest, pressing into my hips, running up and down my sides. In my blurred mind, it feels as if there are a million people touching me, all at once. My muscles tense up, causing more friction and a bit of pain. I arch into his touch, any touch I can pinpoint. I breathe in the smells of the moment. Sweat and sex invades my heightened and multiplied sense.
I open my eyes and watch him. I see his strong shoulders flex, gleams from the moonlight shimmering off of him to the point that he almost looks as if he is glowing. I watch him shift slowly, intently, every movement controlled and precise. Eyebrows knit together and sweating, he appears to be holding back, restraining himself, more than likely for me.
I maintain watching him, my movements having ceased. He breathes heavily before glancing up at me. His eyes catch on mine and lock there. His mouth falls open and I echo his appearance. Extending my hand to him, he takes it and we interlock our fingers lightly. I pull him down to me, kiss him, and stroke his cheek. Our lips remain fixed together, wet and temperate. Our breaths merge. "Nicky…" I whisper, more to myself than to him, still seeking to make certain that this is not a dream or a strange illusion. "Why are you going so slow?"
He pulls away, just enough to gaze at me, a staid expression that gives away kept secrets. "I want this to last… for a very long time."
I can feel my throat clenching, eyes burning as if I am about to shed tears over his words. "It's okay," I rasp, my voice straining to break free from its confines. "We have enough time to make it last."
I pull him back down, pressing our bodies together. His chest settles against mine and I become aware that our heartbeats have matched each other almost exactly.
The past no longer matters to me, as we lie together, against one another. Nothing really matters except him and his body and mind and soul, and the fact that it is so close to me. And when he moves once again, no longer dragging out the moment to more than be necessary, I feel even closer though he pulls away. I feel us become engaged in each other for an infinite amount of time, as if eternity has compressed itself together, just for us. I know then that we will never be apart.
I know that this love will defy time and all existence and continue on forever.
When I feel myself reaching the epitome of desire, I know that the rest of my life has been the illusion and that this is the one thing that has been so indefinitely real.
There are things that can't be explained in words, I believe. There are some things that are beyond all comprehension. They need something called blind faith in order to exist, and that's all they need. You just have to know in your heart that it's real. You have to trust in yourself and your beliefs. You have to let go of everything else but what you envision as infinitely true. Follow your heart. And when you do that, you will find real love and true peace. Forever.