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Don\'t Fight Your Reflex
By : TerriblyShiny
Category: +S to Z > Trigun
Views: 1714 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Trigun nor make any money from writing
Chapter List
- 1-Don\'t Fight Your Reflex
- 1
"Couldn't sleep?"
The man flinched slightly, perhaps thinking he'd go unnoticed in the echoing cavity of Plant Bay Theta. He drew his fingertips away from the bulb glass and shoved his hand in the kangaroo pocket of his sweatshirt, causing his empty, pinned sleeve to bob out a bit. Head tilted slightly toward her, he called out, "Not yet, I guess."

She chuckled in reply. Leaning against the pole of her push broom, she rested her chin on her folded hands. "Gotta rest sometime." She audibly sighed, then continued to glide the bristles of the broom across the floor. Bits of doll plastic and fluffy motes of dust caught the soft glow from the plant above.

He shrugged, resting his back against the warm glass. "It was a little too quiet in my room," he explained with a smile.

The broom scuffed the smooth floor rhythmically. "It's not much less quiet here," she reasoned. "That is, unless you can hear them," she gestured at the bulbs circling the room.

"Not exactly," he muttered, head low.

"Hey, hey." She tipped the broom handle against her shoulder and waved her palms apologetically. "I didn't mean anything by it. Good for you if you can. They're probably brilliant conversationalists," she offered genuinely.

His eyes were shut, his smile wide as he lifted his head. "People make the best conversation."

As she wiped her brow on her sleeve she watched him crouch and seat himself at the scaffolding edge, his legs danging above her. "I can keep you company till the rest of 'em wake up, I suppose."

"Awful lot of cleaning to do," he reflected as his eye caught a cracked doll torso in her sweepings pile. His mouth twitched back at one corner.

"Sure, lots to clean. Luckily, we're still around to do it. Lucky you're the man you are, Vash."

"It's my fault this happened, they-"

"With all due respect, bullshit." She puffed air from her nose. "Out there, you might be this outlaw, this criminal or what-have-you, but to us, on this ship? You're-"

"I'm no hero, I'm-"

"Let me finish," she interrupted, resting her broom against a rail. "Hero's a burdensome word. I was going to say, you're a good man."

He rubbed at his messy hair. "Um. Thanks." He dropped to the ground and stepped closer. His hand drew from his pocket, offered to her tentatively. "Winnifred?"

"Ha! Wow! So, you really know all of our names?"

A slight blush crept across his face. "I try to. Yon and Marigold's daughter."

"In the flesh. I never met you, though, I was much too shy when you last visited."

"Glad you came out of your shell." He took her hand and shook twice. "Nice to meet you."

His grip was warm, gentle. She glanced from the scar round his thumb back to his face. "Likewise. Say, I'd like to put my feet up for the night. Probably be awake for a while, yet, though. Care to have a sit?"

He pursed his lips slightly, weighing his options. "Sure, if you don't mind my company, Winnifred."

"Winn," she corrected as she stepped across the plant bay floor.

He caught up to walk with her, past the shuttered doors, round a corner to another hallway. "So peaceful at night," he whispered.

She nodded. Their voices wouldn't likely carry through the doors of the cabins they passed, but just in case, she walked quietly as well. "Hundreds of dreamers." Through another shuttered door to a near-identical hallway, she stopped at the third door on the right and punched in her key code. The panel blinked green and the door slid open. She gestured past the threshold.

"Is, um," he began, swallowing, "is this your room?"

"Yep. Not much to it, but I modded the shelf bench to be a pretty comfy couch."

He peered into the moonlit room. Beneath two small porthole windows was the aforementioned couch, just a stride across from a bed. The room wasn't terribly wide, but was comfortably deep. "Hm."

"What? It doesn't smell or anything, does it?"

"No, no. It's just that it's your private space. I don't want to impose, so I should just-"

"Like I said, I'm not shy anymore. C'mon in." She brushed past him and toed her boots off by the entryway. "You have to try this couch."

Her bare feet shuffled across the poly-tile, through a narrow doorway. Clinking, then the sound of a faucet filling one glass, then a second. Footsteps padded back to the main room.

He took a glass from her and nodded thanks. Deciding, still, his chest rose and fell a few more times. Finally, he nudged off his shoes beside hers.

She flopped onto the far end of her blue couch as the door auto-slid shut behind him. "I should offer you a proper drink, but I'm afraid all I have is water."

He sipped and shifted his weight as he stood beside their shoes. Ace gunman and supernatural creature though she knew he was, his nervousness in this mundane situation was ill-hidden. She leaned across the cushions and patted a seat for him. Rather than squirm in indecision at the door, he took her on her offer. He sunk into the corduroy and smiled. "Whew."

Pulling her legs beneath her, she rested her glass on the ledge above the back cushions and enjoyed his reaction. "Think you'll stay for long this time?"

"As long as I can." He frowned slightly, a sadness touching his features. He tried to change the subject, pasting a grin on his face as he lifted his arm and stump out in a stretch. "So are you an engineer like your mom?"

"Nah, no spacial acuity," she dismissed. "Janitor. That, and I'm good with the environmental controls. But mostly, janitor."

He beamed. "Important work."

She had to chuckle at that, as anyone else would have meant it sarcastically. "Thanks, but I try not to get a big head."

"If I made anyone's job worse this week, it's got to be yours."

"Yeah, you owe me," she joked. "When this is all over, you can buy me a drink."

He nodded warmly enough, but his eyes betrayed that he didn't expect that day would come anytime soon.

She tapped her chin with her finger. "You'll retire one day, and you'd be welcome to live here on the ship, I'm sure. But you'd need to make yourself useful. What's your dream job?"

"On the ship?" He smirked, swirling the last bit of water around his glass. "You'll laugh at me."

She shrugged.

"Um," he cleared his throat. "I'd like to be a cook."

Smirking, she cocked one eyebrow. "Wouldn't have taken you for a man's spent much time in a kitchen."

"It's my spending-money job of choice. I'm a pro with a wok."

"Impressive." She edged nearer. "Man of many talents. So. Vash." She set her hand atop his. "Want to-"

"Boy, it's gotten late."

"Yeah, but if you want to we-"

He stood, face bright red. Winn swallowed back disappointment. "Vash, if I'm not your type, I understand."

Waving his hand, he averted his eyes and smiled. "That's not it at all."

She rose and felt a bit reassured when he kept his ground. "I'd just like to have some fun with you," she offered, stepping a little closer to him than was friendly.

"You're very kind," he muttered, tense, the stump of his left arm rising as if pointing for the door. "I should-"

"Relax, Vash," she sighed, twining her fingers with his. To her relief, he let her draw his hand up to her chin. "You deserve a rest," she whispered as she touched his forefinger to her bottom lip. Her lips parted. She cupped his palm with hers and touched his fingertip to her tongue. It was rough, callused. She slid her tongue around his finger, tucking her head forward to take it into her mouth.

He gasped softly as she guided his finger in and out of her mouth. She licked at his finger a last time, shifted, and took his thumb past her teeth. She brushed her tongue against it and lifted her eyes to gauge his interest.

Vash's lids were nearly shut, his lips parted. When he noticed her looking, he tensed up again. "I, um." He swallowed, forcing his voice down. "You don't have to-"

"No, but I want to," she purred, his thumb resting on her lower lip. "Take a break with me."

"Um." He stuttered out a breath, watching her suck his thumb in. His eyes rolled up a bit before he closed his lids.

She startled when his eyes opened and he ducked his head down - she still wasn't sure he was game - but he surprised her not by walking away but by kissing her. His first kiss was clumsy, his teeth clicked against hers. He got better, though, and his second attempt brought their tongues together. He breathed hot from his nose and she pressed her lips against his while they found a rhythm. His hand found her waist and pressed her against his leg, and she moaned into his mouth.

Winn wanted to grind against him but practiced enough restraint to merely rock her hips a bit. She touched his chin, his neck. The other hand snuck downward, and pressed her palm against the front of his pants. She slid her hand up his inviting erection.

"Ah. Ah!" he nudged her hand away with his wrist. "Not that."

She decided not to press the point, pressing her palms against his chest and her lips against his. She was breathing as heavy as he was, and felt a touch light-headed from excitement. "Sit," she muttered against kisses. Her hands rubbed his shoulders. "Sit on the bed."

He kept kissing her as he side-stepped to it, and he seated himself on the edge of her bed while she knelt. She pressed herself between his knees, sliding her hands up his legs. Her mouth explored his neck, his heavy breathing a continued delight. But when her fingertips found the solidity of his enthusiasm he again rasped, "Not that."

"But-" she started to argue, forgetting her words as his hand found the front of her pants. Winn hadn't expected that, but she figured she should have, and was eager to oblige. Helping him to his task, given the man had but the one arm at his disposal, she unfastened the placket on her pants. They both edged them down and she tugged them free of her ankles till she knelt, bare from the waist down, gazing as if drunk up into his lovely face.

He kissed her softly, almost shy, with patience, while his hand traveled delicately across her thigh. She parted her legs a little, feeling she might pass out if she didn't measure her breath. Those callused fingers felt far softer on the delicate folds between her legs. She sucked in a startled breath when his finger tentatively touched her. She bit her lip, a little embarrassed by her reaction. She felt how wet she was, and so could he.

Vash pressed his nose beside hers, seeming more calm now that she was under his direction. His finger strokes continued, running along her and making her shiver. His fingertip entered her shallow as a test before gliding free. He slid that long and blessed finger deeper into her, and slid it out gracefully along her anatomy. His finger stroked her quicker, deeper, and he tilted his head to give her space to kiss at his neck. In truth it was less kissing and more her licking at his neck with sloppy enthusiasm as she panted.

She rocked her hips with his motion, starving for more. It took all of her restraint not to try for his pants again. To give her desperate hands something to focus on she slid them up under his sweatshirt. She felt ridges and a couple of odd things that may have been metal. He flinched and his hand stopped moving. She held her breath, weighing options, before choosing to keep caressing his scarred skin and sucking at his neck. In lieu of an explanation, she softly moaned her pleasure.

Apparently, she hadn't killed the mood, as his finger became two fingers, sliding expertly and making a wet squelching sound as he brought her nearer to orgasm. No, this was supposed to be about him, she thought hazily, panting with her forehead pressed against his shoulder. She gripped his back and bucked against his hand. Ugh, she she selfishly couldn't bear to stop him from pleasuring her. She was almost there.

She gasped in plaintive, urgent cries as she reached the edge. His lips brushed her ear; he whispered something she couldn't make out in her disorienting pleasure. The feel of his breath on her ear made her quiver and she came against his hand, body tensing, shuddering. She felt the inside of her throb as he kept his two fingers tenderly cupped inside her.

As the seconds of her orgasm waned, she felt a rush of blood in her ears, a ringing. Some of her sense returned to her. She gasped breaths and slid her hands to his pants, pulled open the buttons, tugging them open quick as she could. His erection bobbed out toward her, the faint smell of him enticing. She didn't want to give him the chance to beg her off. She'd rather show him, instead. She dropped her head from his shoulder and took as much of him into her mouth as she could.

"Ah!" he cried, surprised. He didn't stop her, just kept trying to stifle moans as she licked and sucked. She edged one hand into his pants and cupped his balls. He made a guttural moan at that, the timbre of his gasps rising. Pressing him against the furthest back of her throat as she bobbed her mouth onto him, she tickled at him and stroked the base of his cock with her other hand. She'd only begun, really, but he was over-stimulated and possibly it had been quite a while. He touched her back lightly and cried out in a way more high-pitched than he'd be proud of, she was sure. She forced her mouth not to smile as he climaxed. His cum softly pumped out against her tongue. It was saltier than his cock alone, and though it wasn't her typical reaction, she found herself eager to swallow it.

He gasped, trying to catch his breath, and she licked at him, tickling his balls one last time. "Uh...uh..." he panted. She gave his softening cock one last lick and rested back on her ankles.

Vash kept his hand on her shoulder, blinking lazy at her. She beamed up at him and rubbed his knees. He panted, and finally gave her a shy smirk.

Winn felt fairly sure he would stay a while longer, and to her great satisfaction, he did.
- 1
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Don\'t Fight Your Reflex	By : TerriblyShiny Category: +S to Z > Trigun Views: 1714 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Trigun nor make any money from writing

Don\'t Fight Your Reflex