WANTED, DEAD OR ALIVE

They can both say all they want—that whatever happened was just sex, it was only one night, that there are no feelings behind... whatever this is... but...

"Yeah," Wolfwood manages to croak in response, his limbs still feeling as though they're without bones, "Think all the fatigue's catchin' up with me now."

Sitting like this with Vash is nice and all, but he would like to get cozy in bed. He's not sure if he's one for cuddling and sleeping at the same time, but while he's in this gooey state it's hard not to want to try it. Before they can even attempt to settle down for the night though, they've gotta get washed up. Ugh.

Vash gets up first, his departure marked by the flood of release that drips down Wolfwood's limp cock, balls, and the insides of his thighs. He's so kind and careful while tending to the hunter, washing him diligently as Wolfwood slowly regains sensation in his body. The blond helps him stand, and it's almost embarrassing how he has to actually utilize the various handrails and safety bars that are installed. Boy, he's tired.

The rest of the shower goes by in a blur. Wolfwood thinks he can feel Vash's fingers massaging his scalp and rinsing his hair; he scrunches his face when a hot washcloth scrubs his cheeks and rubs his drowsy, shut eyes. As everything is happening, he silently vows that the next time they get intimate like this—assuming that there is a next time—he is not going to be as much of a bum, but... it is kind of cute how much Vash seems to enjoy taking care of him. He only wishes he could return the favor. That fight earlier drained a lot out of him, and not sleeping at all the night before didn't help either.

Eventually, the duo leaves the steamy bathroom in a cloud of floral-scented fog. Vash grabs the hunter a pair of shorts from his things, which is all he really cares about wearing to bed right now, since clothes sound like way too much effort. Wolfwood keeps himself stable with one arm over Vash's neck as they stumble over to the over-sized bed. God, it looks like Heaven to a sinner like him.

(The thought does cross his mind about how heinous of an act he's committed, but the guilt can come later.)

Vash splatters him with more release and that's all he needs in order to close the distance with a deep, low whine. He pushes his hips up and bucks the two of them against the shower wall as his cock spills into Vash in several powerful pulses.

Unfortunately, he's not sure whether it's the steam of the shower or the fatigue or the bonelessness that comes with an orgasm like this, Wolfwood does feel his legs begin to bow and weaken and wiggle. Thankfully, he's lucid enough to recognize a fall about to happen and catches himself, clutching onto Vash's thighs harder than he had been (somehow) and slowly, slowly, descending the both of them to the floor of the tub until he's resting on his knees, cradling the vampire over his cock in too-endearing of an embrace (not that either of them will complain).

"Ghh—hah—"

Wolfwood's breath leaves him in unsteady pants, his forehead dripping with water as he fails to fully dodge the spray above the both of them. His normally unruly hair sits flat and wet over his eyes, breaking eye contact even if he knows that they're both staring at each other. He can't see shit from behind the curtain of ink-black hair—honestly, his hairstyle is probably pretty similar to one of the brutes they fought with earlier, whose bright blue (white?) hair entirely covered his eyes. He's not quite sure how someone would fight like this, let alone share an intimate moment with their partner.

It's a mess. It's a damn good thing the shower is running, or they'd both be kneeling in a puddle of spunk. Probably. (That's not how this works, he's well aware most of his release is currently corked up in the vampire, ready to be unleashed...)

"Hah—Vash..."

Despite his best efforts, Wolfwood can't bring a hand to move from either spot where they cling to Vash, even if it's for the sake of brushing his hair to the side. Fresh, warm water sprays into his open mouth, and it's almost refreshing.

And unfortunately, he couldn't say he minded it. It'd just be a poor attempt at denial anyway when the sensation wrung a gasp out of him— a sound that trailed off into a pinched little moan—and his slow-burn erection noticeably twitched as they settled fully, briefly pausing in its steady droop…

Enough! Don't be greedy!

Yeah, no, Wolfwood needed rest, and this was evidence enough of the fact. The poor guy couldn't even keep himself upright anymore and yet here he was, making sure that he didn't bring Vash crashing down with him when he had every right to just collapse after the night they'd had.

And now… now they were just…

… oh. W-wait, could the hunter even see right now…?

It was pretty clear where he was looking, with the way his head was angled slightly upward, but Wolfwood's hair was thick and it was plastered to his face in a heavy, wet curtain, the sight of which made Vash's mouth screw up in a scrunchy, smitten little smile. Surely that would've brought some kind of commentary with it, if he could see?

But it's really, really cute...

"Yeah…" is all Vash would sigh in response as he finally pulled his arm from where it had been secured around Wolfwood's shoulders, and lowered his hand to gently cup Wolfwood's face in his palm, rolling the pad of his thumb over his cheek. Just for a moment— h-he'd had a goal with this, and once he'd gotten his fill, he hovered that lone hand up a little higher, just over his forehead… then, he fanned out his fingers and softly— sweetly —swiped the hair out from in front of the preacher's eyes.

It was a gesture that Vash was all but forced to take slowly, since he only had the one hand for the time being. So, first, he freed the right eye, then the left, being mindful not to accidentally poke or scratch him along the way…

There he is.

… then they'd be able to look each other in the eyes again; pools of warm, hazy silver to crimson, their color renewed by the primal act and the exertion, igniting the borrowed blood in his veins. He'd always felt more… connected to someone, whenever he drank from them, but this was…

. . .

… something… felt like it had settled into place somewhere deep in his chest as Vash's gaze flickered between both of Wolfwood's eyes, and without… well, any thought at all, really, he went in for another kiss, returning his hand to its place on Wolfwood's jaw. The kiss was as all-encompassing as the one in the bedroom had been— the one that'd sparked this —but this one was charged with a distinctly different kind of energy. It was slower. It was tender— and he was going to take his time with it, pulling away after a long few moments just to murmur against the other's lips—

"… need help…?"

Now Wolfwood knows that he's sweating bullets under the steam of the shower. It's probably more filth than cleanliness in the small standing room of the shower tub at this point.

Hands dig into the pack of Vash's thighs, Wolfwood's middle and ring fingers both managing to squeeze the meat of Vash's ass as he thrusts. He clings to the vampire like he will drop him, and that motivates him to continue holding him... in some backwards way.

With a grunt, Wolfwood shifts his forehead to press against the tile behind Vash's shoulder, knowing full well that he's going to exert the last of his energy to go all-out, to drive them both off the cliff of completion. Even just the image forming of Vash on his knees, taking his cock in that big mouth of his causes some flutter of arousal to twist and turn within him. He's literally fucking the vampire in the ass right now, brain. Isn't that good enough? Isn't that more than a blowjob? Greedy-ass organ.

"M'gonna... I—I'm," he gasps as an attempt to warn Vash, hiking the blond up with some finality to his heft, a loud grunt to make the vampire aware of his strain and the effort he's about to put forth, "Gonna fill you up, not stoppin', not now."

It is a warning—it's an opportunity for Vash to tell Wolfwood if he doesn't want him to finish inside. God help him, he will try to remove himself if the blond really wants him to. He doesn't know how much of a (literal) pain in the ass it is to get spunk out of it, especially if his body doesn't function properly, so far be it for Wolfwood to make the call on that.

Granted, from how fucked out Vash looks, he's pretty sure that the madman actually wants Wolfwood to finish inside of him.

Wolfwood's thrusts, as promised, become wilder, harder as he takes on the brunt of the effort required of two people in the heat of the moment. He slams against the wall repeatedly, rocking his head into the tiles and surely leaving an imprint of the grout lines on his forehead in the process.

… y-you know, if it could do that. It was skipping several beats already, to be honest—

T-the point was, it was attractive! He— he could admit that to himself!

He could also admit (with some level of shame) that he was going to be spending a lot of time thinking over this later, when Wolfwood was finally passed out and getting the rest he needed (and deserved!) while the blond laid awake, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about everything that had transpired tonight. The fumbles, the fight, the ruddy, russet blush staining Wolfwood's skin, the look of concentrated, building pleasure of a man who was taking and giving for the first time with absolutely everything he had…

Coupled with the filthy promise of having his throat fucked later, later, some point further down the line (HOPEFULLY not tonight, this poor preacher needed sleep and Vash refused to be a further detriment to his well-being than he already had been!), and it would be no wonder why Vash—

"Ghh—hhk—!!"

—popped off as quickly as he did after that. He could feel the way his eyes rolled into the back of his head in ecstasy as he slammed the lids shut, and grit his teeth tight, tighter, as though he had any hope of containing the cry that was bubbling up in his throat. It was the kind of cry that bounced off the walls of their small, steam-filled space as the trap he set for it failed to stay shut and his mouth flew open, and his voice cracked around a breathless utterance of Wolfwood's name, heat and pleasure both coiling through him in an unstoppable rush—

The muscles in his core, ass and thighs all clenched and clenched until the feeling snapped at the base of his cock— flushed and aching between them —and made it jump. Once— twice— spilling between them in short ropes that slipped down his water-slicked skin and disappeared—

It was… obscene. This whole thing was something straight out of a porno flick, except… except those generally lacked real feelings. This definitely did not; Vash could almost taste every single flicker of emotion on Wolfwood's end as they started to narrow down to a focused point, where nothing beyond arousal could breach the barrier of thought. And Vash didn't mean to. H-he never meant to; the vampire absolutely loathed using his powers in any capacity, passive or not. But right now, it was impossible to do anything else as he drowned in both of them, his greedy, pleasure-drunk hole fluttering and squeezing around Wolfwood's cock to encourage him to keep going— "p-please— please, w-wanna… wanna feel you, too—"

Rocking forward into Canary nearly drives him to tears as the motion also shifts Star behind him. The breath he lets out is essentially a whine—and were he any clearer of mind he would never ever admit that, but... it is.

His lips part from Canary's and Wolfwood tips his head back, searching for a kiss from his beloved. He's bent around like a twisted piece of metal after a car crash, and he can't find it in himself to complain at all.

Darlin', kiss... kiss me...

The undertaker is well aware that Star is not entirely there at this point, but the Vash's face is hooked over his shoulder which makes it easy enough to at least latch to his lips in a desperate kiss. Whether Vash returns the action—or, he supposes, is able to return the action—is another question entirely.

Canary, below Wolfwood, purrs with the sensation of being filled with the human's satisfyingly long and thick length. It's familiar, but also knowing that Wolfwood hasn't had the opportunity to experience this exact feeling fills him with a deep, deep delight. From what he's seen, Star seems to be more human-like. Sure, he has both sets of genitals, likely imperfect as far as their full use is concerned, but it's not quite the same as flowery bits and tendrils. That's not even to mention the cillia that line his walls, grabbing and pulling and massaging the undertaker's cock as it pushes in and pulls away. Honestly, the fact that Wolfwood hasn't finished yet is astounding—he remembers the first time he fucked his Wolfwood being rather quick, much to his amusement. His Wolfwood... was not so amused by the bubbly laughing that took over—he wasn't so assured that it was fine because Canary had told him it always happened the first time, and that they'd just go again and he'd get used to it.

Well... keeping him distant has meant that he hasn't gotten to get used to it. Maybe it's best that he doesn't get used to it? What if he doesn't like it—

Canary can feel Wolfwood's meta-physical hand grab at his ear and pull him out of his own thoughts.

'Course he likes it, idiot. Focus.

Wolfwood returns his attention to Canary, stony, sharp eyes honing in on his, with a bright flush coating his cheeks and neck and shoulders. Hell, his whole body looks to be a radiant ruddy blush beneath those bright, broken markings. They almost make the blush stand out even more.

It's ironic that Wolfwood had ordered him to focus, when ideally he needs to... stop focusing. Canary knows that in a moment he'll likely be in a similar state to Star—well, kind of, his own heat is more of a selfish thing, a craving to be filled and... all of that... but his mind just keeps drifting to other things—

With a low growl, Wolfwood bucks his hips forward suddenly and powerfully, making Canary see stars. It's as if he hits a boiling point, because very quickly the slow pace they'd been at is not enough for his body. His violet eyes sharpen as they regard Wolfwood's scruffy face, his jaw darts forward to kiss again, his own hips begin to jut upwards and maintain the steady motion to sate the burning yearning in his gut. Watching Wolfwood's expression fall from controlled determination to a fucked-out hollowness causes a smile to curl the sides of his mouth as he maintains hungry, needy kisses at a rapid pace.

F-fuck, I'm—

Canary hardly lets him communicate anything, not relenting in the least before Wolfwood is spilling into him, allowing his ecstasy to melt in their mental link. It was sudden, yes, but definitely not the first time it will happen tonight if the visiting Vash's body milking his cock for all it's worth has anything to say about it.

Keep going, want more—

But—I just—

Go—

And, sure enough, as Wolfwood had mused momentarily about earlier, the usually slight pain of overstimulation is there and gone in a second flat; his dick is still painfully hard even after such a powerful orgasm.

Fuck, okay, okay, yeah—

After a slight pause to gather himself, Wolfwood moans loudly as he rocks between the duo again—unable to cover his own mouth with embarrassment or shame or decency. His body only tightens around Star as he loses himself to the constant stimulation

Ah—!

—a-and the feel of thick instrusions slipping up between his legs and straight into his vacant hole, summoning a deluge of nectar that dripped down the flora and onto the bedsheet in thick, syrupy ribbons. The feeling was sudden, but thoroughly grounding, thrusting Star back into his own body with a gasp and a flourish of buds that rose along both his skin and vines that burst open as the glow in his eyes guttered and faded, leaving only wide, blown-out blues to blink the confusion away.

Star's flowers, as they blossomed and shuddered to life along his vines, were red as they ever were— though some were splattered with Canary's violet. The feathers were that same deep midnight color they'd developed the last time they'd… manifested… shimmering with flecks of bright blue that ran down along the shaft and dotted along the barbs in a few places…

O-okay— okay. Okayokayokay, he— he was here, he was back. K-kind of—

And just in the nick of time, apparently, as he could feel the other two starting to lose themselves a little, as well— so it was probably a good thing that that sudden snap of pleasure had knocked him out of his fugue. Star didn't know how long he'd be present for, but he knew that he'd try to keep himself afloat for as long as he could, as disappearing into his partner(s!!) wasn't really optimal.

It's also a little scary, e-especially right now, when Wolfwood isn't even supposed to be doing it, and Star's been having enough trouble with feeling like himself—

Not the time for that right now.

Ah, r-right. They were connected. Having any sort of doubt or negative thought of any kind was going to be broadcast for them all to experience together, and the Independent wasn't sure if they'd be able to process it fully through the growing haze, or if it'd just cast a dour sort of shadow over what they were currently feeling; he'd prefer not to risk either, and opted to shunt the feeling aside as best he could for right now.

And the best way to do that? Was to focus on the physical: the rhythm he now had to manually curate, and the pleasure as he started getting a hold of it— like the tight, hot clutch of his boyfriend as Wolfwood squeezed around him (so much so that Star actually had to stop moving once or twice, easily overwhelmed by the sensation) and the feel of Canary's vines as they undulated, rolling up and along his walls in a wave-like pattern that, admittedly, felt pretty good as-is… b-but he expected that that might change in the next few minutes, and quickly ramp up in intensity—

Needed this~?

"Yeah, yeah," Wolfwood breathes, a gasp forcibly choked out as he levels his head out and focuses. Eagerly, he pushes his hips forward and up, drilling deeper between those pale thighs as he digs his fingers even harder against them. His arms burn with effort, biceps and forearms straining as he holds his partner, but he welcomes it. It's a minor pain that distracts him from bursting at the seams with pleasure, and absolutely necessary since, yeah, he's never fucking felt anything like this before.

Moreover, the look in Vash's eye is almost diabolical in nature—it's clear that something crossed his mind, because he's looking at Wolfwood like he has a damn mission. He's begging like he's hedged a bet on this interaction, and Wolfwood can't say that he minds at all. If this is what the Church condemns, then let it all burn, because holy hell, this is—

"All for you, baby," the hunter gasps around Vash's mouth, sloppily kissing when he can spark two brain cells together and complete the motion. Right now, his hips are currently occupying his mind, and they begin pumping in earnest, rocking forward and back until—

God. God.

He's—

Vash is fully sunken on his cock, and it's—the... the pressure is...

Wolfwood's eyes glaze over as he stares up at the bright ceiling, his mouth completely open and letting out throaty noises he can't entirely control the volume of. He's pretty sure he's forgetting something—oh, yeah, breathing.

"Haahh," he finally takes a breath and focuses his gaze back to Vash's beautiful gemstone irises, "Y-you're... you're so... fuckin' hot... w-wanna..."

He dives in for another kiss, rocking his hips and sparking pleasure up and down his spine like a damn ripcord. He shudders, moving his attention from lips to neck and pushing Vash harder against the wall, lifting and dropping his hips against his dick like an animal at this point.

Oh wow, yeah, color him… a-a color that was definitely going to take that and compartmentalize it in a way that he probably shouldn't! That single, solitary word was a critical hit, and did the blond in a lot harder than it should've— than it had any right to when Wolfwood had already given him about a dozen nicknames already long before anything like that. And while that one in particular had probably just slipped out— a heat of the moment, 'brain isn't firing on all cylinders right now' kind of thing —it still did something warm and feathery to his heart and his dick in tandem that made Vash squeeze his eyes shut tight, gasping and writhing as the wayward priest's thrusts started picking up in speed, and he eventually buried himself inside entirely, like he belonged there—

And God, was it… s-something. Tight and hot, the stretch and burn (and the rush of endorphins thereafter) were nearly enough to drive all the sense that remained from the deceptively-ancient blond; each strike inside at Wolfwood's new, relentless pace feeling like the man was carving out space within him, and there was a strange rush of both joy and thrill as Wolfwood chased the feeling of pleasure. It was quite the sight to behold, and Vash was nothing if not grateful that he got to watch the man who'd been so calm and collected during a literal fight just a couple hours ago succumb to this strange new feeling, all ruddy with blush, his eyes glazed over…

Gorgeous. Gorgeous, gorgeous, amazing, perfect—

"Knew— hnn— knew you'd feel good, b-but— nnh— mph—!" the poor blond panted, trying his best to fulfill the request of his partner— but being lifted and dropped and filled like that over and over was making it a little difficult to focus, each strike making his brain just sort of shut off, but God, Vash was trying—

"S-so… so much, so… deep, l-like I can feel you innh— in my throat, Whl— Wolfwood, fuck—"

Ohhh he can't even move to match pace like, which means he can't go harder, either. Right now he's completely pinned and at the hunter's mercy as he pounds him senseless and leaves bruises along his neck, reducing any thought he has to tatters in the process, and it is heavenly. Vash doesn't even know where he wants to put his damn hand, still holding onto Wolfwood's soaked, slick hair like a lifeline—

... And then Wolfwood feels the creeping, crawling sensation of smooth vines crawling him and cradling him where the sun doesn't shine, which scrambles... something in his mind. A weak moan escapes as he arches his back, sitting on his knees—well, kind of, considering his weight is now supported by these appendages. He turns his head slightly, just enough to glimpse his lover in the eye as he whines aloud, "A-ah... Vash..."

The undertaker has never been good at speaking out loud while also maintaining the mental connection, especially now that another person is in the conference call. The noises he makes are purely accidental—instinctual, even. Just the sound on its own snaps Canary to attention, his eyes fluttering open to look at the beautiful man spread between himself and a copy of himself. Violet rings of light struggle to focus on either man in front of him—first he looks at Wolfwood (the man who made the noise), then he glances to the sneaky, quiet Star, then back to Wolfwood.

This time, when he looks up at Wolfwood from where he is, there's hunger.

As Wolfwood lowers his hand from its offered position, Canary's vines quickly snatch it up, along with his other one. Star's vines can hold onto the human's lower body, sure, but Canary's fully capable of holding him tight from the torso up. Both arms get held captive by flora-laden vines as he pulls the filling of their sandwich closer, eventually close enough to kiss. Canary, letting the haze of heat and desire take over, imbibes in Wolfwood's lips, tucking his tongue right between them and rolling it against his teeth as his body pulls his companions closer.

You two... r'gonna pull... pull me apart... I swear...

Though Wolfwood could easily object to the manhandling, could easily pull himself away, rip the vines off and do things his own way, he acquiesces. It's almost surprising to himself—he usually isn't a huge fan of losing control, of being held down or tied up or anything of the sort, but this is... perhaps because it's just so fantastical, it's hard to associate it with anything horrible.

Wouldn't be so bad...

Even Canary's internal voice sounds distant and doesn't quite make sense. Of course pulling your partner apart would be bad, duh, but they'd never do something so gruesome. They are both keenly aware of Wolfwood's limits, and this is nowhere near them.

Vash... in... want you in...

The dreamy voice of Wolfwood draws a quick glance from Canary as sharp as gunfire.

You too—need...

Wolfwood sighs out loud, his breath shuddering into Canary's mouth as he allows the spiky blond to take his dick in—is... is it in hand or is it a vine...? He can't tell anymore—but it's slicked up and Canary drags him close enough for them to connect. It's hot—literally, physically hot, and sticky, somehow stickier than anything he's used to. It's like the head of his cock is being guided by some kinds of... something, they feel like little feelers inside of the alien—oh, he's going to lose it so quickly, and he's not sure that Canary will even let him take a moment to breathe... especially if his weird Plant slick does what the man says it'll do. Just an inch or two in and it already has Wolfwood drooling, pleasure blooming in his gut and in his head like the flowers dotting the very vines that tether him to both of his partners.

Their bodies are contorted in such a strange manner, he thinks, but it's perfect and leaves him fully bent over and spread by two sets of scheming tendrils for Star to take and take and take.

Star—Vash—can take as much as he wants. As much as he needs.

It was Wolfwood's reaction that got to Star, though— driving spikes of heat straight into straight into the base of the shorter blond's spine and climbing up, up, up each of his vertebrae with every spark and starburst. His own cock throbbed (and dripped) with distant need, but he was barely registering it— barely registering much of anything even as he moved closer, following Canary's lead and leeching off of his intent to sandwich the poor ensnared undertaker between them.

Which… had been the plan, initially; memories were kind of blurry right now, though.

There would be no room— not even an iota of space wasted —between the two Independents and their quarry, as Star wound his arms low around Wolfwood's waist and hips, then rocked his own up and forward, rutting into the cleave of his partner's ass. Maybe it was teasing, maybe it was just an automatic, mindless motion as he lined himself up proper, but eventually— finally —he used the rhythm to sink into that tight, familiar heat.

There had been a part of him that had nearly sent vines out to do the job instead; it would've been much more efficient. The vines could adjust shape, size, and length in order to provide Wolfwood with something perfectly tailored to make him feel good… not that that meant Star's length wasn't satisfactory. But with how disconnected from his body he was, things like reciprocity and sating himself hadn't really entered his mind until Wolfwood specifically called for him to enter, not his additional appendages. And that would at least pull him back a little ways— enough to be able to remember the fact that he wasn't just an extension of the others and was, in fact, an active participant here.

Pretty… pretty important to remember that…

He couldn't help it, though. This was… probably why he didn't remember any of the other times he'd entered this state instead of the other: it was too easy for his mind to blur and disconnect from his physical presence, and if he were being honest (and aware enough), it was probably the most Plant-like he'd ever actually been—

… maybe.

He removes his hand and darts it back to the oil dispenser, pumping several handfuls and praying any of it survives the trip back to his cock through the spray of water still pouring around the two of them. His unoccupied hand takes hold of Vash's and brings it to wrap around his own neck—he's about to do something very stupid that tomorrow-Wolfwood will probably regret when he feels the soreness in his arms, but tonight-Wolfwood does not give a fuck about the strain he's about to put on his body. He's been through far worse trials and tribulations.

The oil coats his cock with several strokes; breathy, hot moans escape his lips in the process. Once Vash's arm is secured around his neck, Wolfwood wraps both arms around either of the blond's scarred thighs and lifts, leaning him against the tile of the shower. It's definitely not as comfortable as a bed for either of them, but the hormones practically swirling in the mist around them give away just how little they actually care about comfort.

No, what matters right now is getting off, forgetting about the real world, feeling good—

"Up we go," the hunter huffs as he lifts, eventually supporting Vash temporarily with just one of his arms as he lines his aching cock to the blond's entrance. Even just the kiss of his rim to his head is enough to send loud static noise to his brain. "Want you."

They lock eyes, and it draws Wolfwood in like a magnet—his lips seek the vampire's and find them, kissing him like his entire life depends on it. His voice is a rough whisper, the hiss of a dying fire beneath a pouring rainfall, "M'gonna fuck you now."

It's simple because he's not sure what else to say. There's nothing else he wants more and there's no more smart remarks he has left in the tank. His whole brain is overwhelmed with thoughts of this vampire in various positions, all split on his cock and begging. What a fall from grace this is.

He captures Vash's lips again hungrily, then guides his cock into the blond with an upwards thrust. Wolfwood nearly freezes in disbelief at the pressure around him—such an intense, foreign feeling. He needs to steady his breathing before proceeding, mouth open and panting mere threads away from the teeth and lips and mouth of a predator. Part of him hopes God is watching this, whether it's due to spite or the beginning of a bridge between worlds, he's not sure which is more thrilling. Probably the spite.

Vash quickly got the memo when Wolfwood moved his arm for him wrapped it around the other man's neck and shoulders (with a rather undignified squeak) just in time, as he was lifted up and felt the bite of the tiled wall pressing against his back, the ceramic still somehow cooler than his shower-warmed skin—

"Wolf— mmh—"

The hunter laid into him with kisses and touch, and after a little maneuvering, sunk partway into him with little to no ceremony, other than a simple declaration and the motion itself before that blessed, virgin cock split and stretched him— enough to pull a gasp and a choked noise of surprise from the sensitive blond… and he really, really couldn't find it in him to complain. This entire night had been one problem after another the second they'd rolled into this backwater hole— the first and last glimpse of civilization before things really started thinning out to nothing up here, and the memory would be stained with stares and claims and monsters of all kinds sniffing around where they shouldn't have been… a-and a series of fumbles on both of their parts after that brief moment of reprieve they'd manage to claw out of it.

So, yeah. Wolfwood had the right of it: this was about them now. It was about feeling good and forgetting everything else for a little while, instead of succumbing to the despair of the reality waiting for them just outside the door. The dangers didn't matter; no one else mattered…

… and yet, Vash still found his mind drifting to the succubus from the bar, the one who'd tried (and failed) to take Wolfwood for herself. The thought filled his chest with a strange bubbling mixture of emotions— something greedy and triumphant, yet satisfied, and happy, because… wow, yeah, he'd— he'd have been quite the catch for them. A virile young thing with no experience that was, uh… rather blessed below the belt would've been a thrall worth bragging about…

But their 'prize' was all his. The scrawny little leech who'd been 'too afraid' to make claim was the one here, his back pressed to the wall of the hotel shower with a few inches of Wolfwood's toe-curlingly thick cock buried inside him, and the promise of more (of all of it, every single inch of it, more, more, more) on the way.

Claimed or not— their territory or not —Vash was the one who'd gotten to go 'home' with the charming, handsome stranger he'd had the fortune of befriending, and it filled his stomach with zip of glee that almost felt mean-spirited. Was it mean-spirited…? M-maybe, but… but the thought of that woman in this position instead, and turning Wolfwood into her thrall in the process…

Yeah, no, it's probably a good thing Wolfwood picked this angle; that mental image sets that possessive instinct of Vash's on fire and makes him want to take the reins so he can ride the man within an inch of his life—

"F-feels— feels fine, good, k-keep— oh—" the blond gasped against his companion's mouth as a hunger of a different kind took over, and he dove in for another kiss, then another, like he was chasing that faint taste of fake raspberry sweetness he'd left there. His arm curled up a little and followed the curve of the back of Wolfwood's head so he could get a handful of his soaked, ink black hair and keep him in place— "keep going, all of you, all of you, pl— please, pleasepleaseplease—"

It's sweet?

Canary's slick is sweet and tangy with just a hint of salt that such fluids normally taste plentiful of. He tastes like a damn fruit—not one that Wolfwood has ever tasted, that's for sure.

As he's mulling over the taste in his mind, letting its profile fully seep into his taste buds and the slight bite of it sink its fangs into his very mind, Star gets to work behind him, pulling his shorts down enough to slide a finger into his hole and drawing the undertaker from his thoughts with a moan. A shiver crawls up his entire spine from the bottom up, and his arm freezes in the crooked position it's in, eyes squeezing shut while he adjusts to the feeling and tries to refocus. He has a job to do after all, Darling.

Just—um—it's kind of an aphrodisiac. It... it's meant to enhance the mood—

The visitor's thought breaks apart because Wolfwood dives down without hesitation, replacing his fingers, yes, but also adding his lips and tongue to the equation. Canary squeals with surprise and delight—finally getting what he's needed for... way longer than this visit.

Wolfwood briefly displaces the hand that had been holding one long leg open to urgently push his own underwear down his thighs. Somehow, with everything going on, he manages to lift one knee and then the next, removing the damp piece of fabric from around his ankles in yet another show of dexterity. It seems like all three of their minds are beginning to mix together—Canary's pleasure at the addition of Wolfwood's tongue lapping at his alien clit, his glee at feeling filled, and Wolfwood's own craving for more, and his greed for both whirl through the mental link. The bowed position he leaves himself in allows Star access to his fully spread thighs; his cock, for now, hangs untouched and dripping pre onto the bedspread below. Three fingers press into Canary's hole with quick thrusts, each journey forward matched with a spreading motion on the way out. Those needy tendrils from earlier wrap around his soaked wrist, stretching higher up his forearm.

"Whuh," Canary cries out, drooling over syllables as his body is rocked back and forth with the motion, "Whuh—Wolfwhuh—a-ah!"

He'd forgotten how easily he could come from just Wolfwood's eager urgency alone. The practical deluge of nectar does little to dissuade the centerpiece of their oddball trio from his position, however.

It's difficult to push through the sensation of Canary's climax—nearly overwhelming his nerves—but it does send away any hope he'd had of maintaining control during this fuck. The only reason Wolfwood can keep it together, prevent himself from also coming, is because he's so laser-focused on eating Canary out. His ecstasy is like an echo rattling around in his mind, but he refuses to give into it—not while Canary's so eager and hot, wanting more and more...

Wolfwood's mind is paradoxically numb with pleasure and somehow open to even more, like a wound that feels good instead of painful, or something. He's no poet. Especially not right now.

Quickshot.

Somehow he manages to tease the single word, even through the activities surrounding him.

Nuh—notmy—mnn! Not my fuh—not my fault, you surprised—surprised me!

His silver-laced attention floats its way up to meet Canary's violet want, his vision blurry with the sight of the guest's pubic mound and toned stomach and tits and neck along the way. Yeah, yeah, he's a mess of flesh and metal, sure, but he's a beautiful mess—especially when his purple markings glimmer and pulse with each peak of his mood.

Still, he kind of wishes he could see Star from this angle, but knowing that those blue-tinted digits are working him open diligently, knowing that he can hardly hold himself back from just sticking his needy cock in and taking—that's pretty good too.

Wolfwood slows his mouth for a moment to breathe, focusing on the connection instead. He removes his fingers from Canary's slit and holds his hand up and back for his lover to take if he desires.

Y'should taste this. 'Specially if it really does enhance the experience.

Mm—i-it... in... increases... increases stam... stamina... nuh... numbs... pain... quuh... quickens the refr... refractory...

Canary's pale thighs quiver, glistening with saliva and sweat. Wolfwood can't help the pride he radiates like sunlight over the connection at already driving the other Vash speechless. Even just looking up at his eyes, they're already glazing over—drool has wet his chin, reflecting violet light with the geometric patterns.

Which was quite a lot, now.

His cup runneth over as the pair in front of him dove into things headfirst (literally, in Wolfwood's case!), and he was swiftly filled with bright, sharp pops of sensation, diffusing his own want into a bit of a fine mist that mingled within the humid space between the three of them. He could feel that strange dichotomy of numbness and pleasure from the undertaker; he could feel giddy, bubbly surprised that crashed over Canary like a wave as he was touched and driven over the edge. It was a nice feeling, warm and all-encompassing, and all of it just drove him forward— urging him to move more and work his second finger inside, as well, pumping faster and eventually scissoring the digits open little by little as Wolfwood's body adjusted to him, opened up for him more… all while Star laid over his boyfriend with little squeezes and touches to his side, the junction between his lips and thighs, his…

… huh? H-hold on, that's wasn't right, was it…?

Yeah, no, h-he… only had the one hand free, yet there were multiple points of contact now. His vines had gotten the hint and started to act accordingly, more of them creeping under and beneath them and crawling up to get a (loose!!) hold on Wolfwood's legs, his ankles… even up and around the base of his shaft as a bit of a bonus surprise. It wouldn't be enough to obstruct or anything, it was all just thinner rings of smooth flora, squeezing ever so slightly as they settled and provided that additional stimulation. Vines even found Canary's limbs and coiled around them, helping to lift and hold his legs up (and therefore open) for a little more ease of access and to test what felt good and what could be too much—

The other vines, still entwined with absolutely no plan or desire to detangle themselves from Canary's own, twitched and squeezed and shuddered a little, oh-so curious about the intent Star could sense within the visiting Vash…

Because if Canary was the fruit in this situation, then Star, in the state he was in now, was more akin to the tree; offering stability and comfort in the wake of this brand new connection. He was also drinking in the passive emotional energy in the room, and sort of… mirroring it back, but that was less tree-like and more generally alien of him: amplifying sensations and feelings in his own way, with his scarecely-used arsenal of empathic senses, and leaving his actual, physical tether (and its need) as a bit of an afterthought. Maybe even an after-afterthought, having gone a little quiet.

There is tension in his wrist as he thrusts his fingers forward and back, sticking to just the simple movement at first—quickly though, since his partner was so insistent on handling more.

"You really needed this, huh? Bet you've been thinkin' of me doin' this for weeks, denyin' yourself," Wolfwood's words are frequently interrupted by pants that leave his mouth in a puff of steam. Sweat streaks down his body, the heat of the shower mixing fresh water with their shared filth. "I'll take care of ya, give ya what ya need."

Silver eyes flit down towards where the vampire has almost collapsed into his shoulder, a sly, fox-like grin growing and growing with each new noise of pleasure Vash makes. The hand on Vash's cock moves, searching for his free hand and dragging it to his own length, wrapping each pale digit around it and allowing him to simply feel it.

"You'll take all of that, darlin'," the hunter promises, and it's not a question. Vash has said that he can handle more, can handle deeper, and if he wants Wolfwood to be a little bossy about it, he will be. Within the blond's hole, he spreads his two fingers subtly at first, not wanting to start too wide and not wanting to slow down too much. "Gonna make you feel so good, Vash."

His voice practically scrapes against the tiles of the bathroom, much like his stubble scratches where it touches the blond's skin. With a snap of his wrist, Wolfwood strikes deeper, searching for the spot that will certainly cause some new sounds of pleasure to escape Vash's lips.

"Whh— w-wasn't— wasn't denying myself—"

No, he was. Sort of. Not necessarily in a self-loathing, 'woe is me' way and more of a 'I don't know if these feelings could ever be reciprocated' way, but they were so far past the pedantics of it. Pedantics wouldn't end with him fucking in the shower, and though Vash had the thought (and urge) to cling to the other man to stabilize— to throw his arm up and wrap it around the broad plane of Wolfwood's shoulders and neck —the hunter seemed to have a different idea in mind, letting the blond feel for himself just what it was he was asking for by taking his hand and wrapping it around his aching heat, just to let Vash feel every inch as he chastised him and promised him filth in just about the same breath…

It… was just about the hottest thing he'd ever had the pleasure of experiencing…?

Like, 'I didn't think I could get any harder but wow, yeah, look at that' levels of insanely attractive. He was pretty sure that move alone had him weak at the knees—

But. But. He shouldn't— he couldn't give in entirely, not— not yet. No, there was part of him that felt like it wanted to challenge; it wanted to bite back a little despite knowing he would just end up rolling over for the man looming over him. He could at least try—

"Hnn—!" another hiss, and Vash tried to breathe so he could regain some level of composure. It… wouldn't really do too much, but it'd be more than enough to respond with a little more eloquence than just moaning— "c-can't… can't do that to you, not… not unless you're fine with me strhh— straddling you and feeding you every s-single one of those chocolates m-myself…"

Which didn't exactly sound like a bad time, honestly. Especially not if Wolfwood was already tucked inside him as he did it— but it was the 'treating him as a personal blood bank' part that made Vash's stomach squirm a little… but before he could even begin to formulate how to wind that nuggest of information in without sounding like a desperate mess (or re-killing the mood), Wolfwood's trigger fingers would find exactly what they were looking for.

It took a few of those quick, come hither motions to do it, but on the third or fourth strike, the blond's sharp little whines came to an abrupt halt, nearly choking on a strained, pleasured sound as his eyes nearly popped out of his skull.

"Wolfwood—" Vash gasped like he'd been shot, and he had to stop himself from turning his head and sinking his teeth into whatever flesh was closest out of what felt like instinct. God, his dick was painfully hard now, throbbing with every beat of his jackrabbiting heart and bobbing as his hips gained a mind of their own, refusing to stop— "fuck, Whl— Wolfwood—"

He... might've come, just then? It was hard to tell, there was no evidence of it (unless you were really looking for the traces of that milky prostatic fluid that the shower would've immediately washed away) but it sure felt like something had happened with the way the poor blond was shaking, and how he was fluttering around Wolfwood's fingers, craving more, more…

He can feel his heart positively race when Wolfwood turns at Star's command, his eyes darting between the two other men before him, trying to will himself to come up with an excuse to leave—not... not because he doesn't want this (as would be obvious with his fairly loud thoughts that are craving this exact moment), but... but because he...

You deserve to feel good, bird-brain.

Somehow, the nickname sounds affectionate despite its demeaning nature. How does this man do that?!

So let us make you feel good.

Where Star seems to radiate heat and want, Wolfwood balances it out with an aura of calm, levelheadedness. His violet eyes meet the now shimmering-silver hooded eyes of his counterpart's lover, and...

... There's a pang of yearning—his heart left wondering just how long he's been running from this man in another universe, what he's doing right now, what he'd do for him in this situation...

(Yeah, when he gets back to his own world he is sprinting, not just running, to his Wolfwood, their fates be damned.)

Okay... okay.

Canary takes a breath as Wolfwood continues to approach him, the undertaker curiously taking one of the stray vines in hand and looking up at him with an arched eyebrow as if he's waiting for a reaction. The spiky blond's blush deepens and he bites his lower lip, muffling a moan at the mere touch of his auxiliary appendage. The vine responds by lightly wrapping around Wolfwood's arm and urging him closer; another vine creeps closer to Star, brushing against his skin. Violet blooms do indeed leave behind a trail of golden pollen where they touch, it just... well it takes a second!

Just relax, I'll take care of both of you.

The statement makes Wolfwood feel smug in a way, like, yeah, he'll cure both of their particular aches—Canary said he wasn't picky when he got like this, and Star, well, Star needs to take him. Not a problem there, especially when they'd already been fucking like that just a couple days ago—maybe that's what spurred all of this on in the first place.

Wolfwood takes Star's hand and squeezes it, subtly asking him to maintain contact even if there's a bit of distance as he turns away.

You can, uh, you can probably get me ready while I take care of...

His train of thought trails off as his gaze fixes on Canary, who has now slid his shorts down to his ankles. Wolfwood's eyes follow as he flicks his foot away, tossing the underwear... somewhere... but then his attention returns to the space between the visitor's thighs. The human tries desperately to mask his surprise and confusion at the sight, but fails spectacularly thanks to the mental connection they all share.

If Canary weren't glowing violet, Wolfwood would perhaps think there were nothing there between his legs. Upon closer inspection (and needing to reach out and keep the Vash's legs open), soft white petals with purple edges form a sort of... well... he supposes it's a pussy? They've already begun to sort of fold open, revealing a slit positively drenched in, what has the consistency of, honey or nectar. That part seems similar to Star, but... this Vash is definitely more... alien.

It's okay if it's too weird! I can go! I promise you like the—uh—Wolfwood loves how it... he likes the taste. A-and... it feels good. He says so, anyway.

Stop squirmin' around so much—m'not chickening out on you! S'just... different. I can handle different.

To prove his point, Wolfwood dips his hand down, caressing between the soft petals with two fingers. He means to bring his hand to his mouth—intrigued at the way Canary mentioned his own taste—but something stops him—

Holy shit, you've got vines down here too? Seriously?

Stop talking, it's embarrassing!!

Sure enough, two thin tendrils sourced from within his sex wrap themselves around Wolfwood's wrist, strong enough to keep him there out of curiosity, but not strong enough if he wanted to leave. He does not really want to leave. Wolfwood's fingers stroke between Canary's lips again, ending at a quivering nub that he can only assume is the man's clit. It's a bit bigger than one, and seems to have three... what are these, tendrils? Tentacles? Vines? He chuckles at Canary asking him to 'stop talking', like he means to say all of this shit out loud or something.

Canary can't respond and breaks out of his fluster, instead letting out an audible moan at the touch. His whole body shakes with want, craving more, craving the warmth of the other two bodies being close.

"Mnn," he moans again, ducking his head into Wolfwood's shoulder as he seeks that warmth, "More..."

… mmh, it… it was so nice, to have Wolfwood acting as a steady presence in the midst of all of this— the smug, self-confident airs he put on doing quite the number on the shorter of the Independents. It was a display that surely any iteration of Vash the Stampede was familiar with, and it was one that never failed to remind Star just how attractive he found the undertaker and his brand of attitude, responding to it over the metal link and filling that hot, humid space with heart-shaped bubbles, all laden and dripping with warm, fervent honey.

That same level of rapture was present in his physicality, as well, staring at the back of Wolfwood's head with blown-out pupils and half-lidded (read: barely open at all) eyes as the undertaker moved to situate himself where he was needed, right between Canary's trembling legs; grounding him in a more overtly physical way that made it so he couldn't just get up and run. Star followed after his beloved easily, basically staying glued to his back, gliding a hand affectionately— reverently —up and along his side, mumbling an affirmation out loud. He could absolutely get Wolfwood ready while he tended to the need of the visiting Independent… so thoughtful, so reliable, strong…

… at least, until the fever finally (or perhaps inevitably) got to him, too.

The undertaker wasn't immune to this whole… Plant-hormone thing, and Star was distantly aware of that fact: the fever would claim him eventually, too, and when it did, it…

…?

… something brushed against his arm (ultimately disrupting that train of thought) but by the time the blond looked down, his body had already responded— taking the opportunity to manifest his own vines in turn. Near-identical vines that crawled down his back and along the underside of both arms so they could reach out and slowly twine themselves around Canary's in return, coiling with them gently while being somewhat mindful of the blossoms shuddering along their stems… though even being careful didn't stop some of that newly-formed pollen from scattering from the center of the flowers, lightly dusting whatever surface it found beneath it— and not feeling particularly pickiy about whether that surface was Star's vines or the soft, clean bedspread—

It's so h…ot, I can feel it f…rom he…re…

Thoughts were a little staticky on his end of things, but still audible enough that he could be heard: it felt like he was the one touching right now, with just how strong his connection was to the two other men right now— feeling every ebb of their want as his own as the need between them grew with each of Wolfwood's explorative, curious touches.

One thing was clearer than anything else, though: the Plant at his beloved's mercy wanted. He wanted, and he did, on some level, want the two of them to provide. It would help, Star knew that much for a fact; it'd be too hard to think about running, or what he did and didn't deserve, if he was overwhelmed by pleasure and closeness. So, yeah, the duo would eagerly provide—

And, if Canary just so happened to pry his head up just enough to look at Star from his perch, he'd see just how serious the other blond was about it, too, peering up at the top of his counterpart's head just as he opened his mouth and slid two of his flesh and blood fingers into his mouth, his tongue laving around and over the 'v'-shaped split between them until his digits were glistening—

Pre…tty like this… both of y…ou…

His free hand— the left one —found a spot on the undertaker's hip to touch, caress, then hold onto with a soft little squeeze; a soft of non-verbal warning that he was going to start soon. He scooted just that little bit closer, trying to eliminate any of the remaining space between them before pressing the tip of his middle finger to Wolfwood's rim and crooking his finger over it, rubbing back and forth, back and forth… then applying just the right amount of pressure to nudge past and slip inside— all the way up to the second knuckle on his finger—

Whatever, whatever, move on—he's just grateful Vash corrected him on it, because he does not want to inflict any more pain of any kind onto the vampire tonight that he doesn't already want. There is a natural kind of pain that comes with sex, he's pretty sure, but it's not supposed to outweigh the pleasure... well, unless the pair is into that... but that's not... what this is about. His first time is definitely not the perfect opportunity to begin getting introspective and thinking deeply about kinks he may or may not have. (He's pretty sure it's not pain though, at least, not dealing it.)

The hunter kisses Vash's jaw quickly before retracting his more curious hand and reaching towards the wall-mounted pump with lotion in it. Moving like this presses their bodies impossibly closer, igniting sparks between them when their lengths meet—reminding him of just a mere hour or so ago when they'd finished together in a grand mess (a mess which still somewhat clings to the dark hairs on his thigh, despite Vash's efforts earlier). He easily pumps a couple of squeezes' worth of lotion into his hand and dodges the water, returning his attention back to the vampire's ass. It feels like he held his breath the entire time, like he could practically hear a clock ticking slow, loud seconds in the background.

"Okay, got it," Wolfwood whispers into Vash's damaged ear, careful not to brush against it and stir up the pain again. His lips return to the vampire's, a breathy groan escaping his throat as his fingers massage the lotion against Vash's rim in a circular motion. "Gonna open you up now."

God, his voice is already ruined with lust and desire, rough and low—hopefully appealing to his partner.

Swallowing around a glob of nerves, Wolfwood's fingers have a mind of their own as one presses in timidly at first, attempting to be gentle as he bullies past the ring of muscle, pushing forward, inching backwards, again and again, repeating the motion until he feels like the slickness of the lotion eases the movement. His second finger teases from outside, threatening to push in once he's given affirmation.

"This... this good? D'you want another? Or... or, uh, more deeper?"

"Ah—!"

—as were Wolfwood's fingers.

The groan Vash loosed was soft, shuddering, but wholly satisfied by the feeling of the first digit slipping past the tight ring of his entrance. He did clench a little, as was natural, but he did his best to remedy that as the hunter continued— going so far as to push his hips back into the motion while leaning closer with his upper half, and letting his feet slide a little further apart along the slick, ceramic surface beneath them so he could spread his legs a little, open himself up more. His head dropped hard into Wolfwood's shoulder, his face flushed a deep, ruddy red already, and his mouth was wide-open against his throat once more; lightly panting against his skin before he adjusted to the feeling of intrusion. After that, he was free to engage— to plant kisses and gentle— very gentle! —scrapes of teeth against the thudding pulse point there—

Question. You're being asked a question, respond, affirm—

"Yeah, f-feels… feels really good…"

God, didn't Wolfwood sound fantastic like this, though? Like a low rumble of thunder that had rolled in from the horizon personified, the sound brushing against his ear in a heated caress. It was one of the few things that (he hated to admit) always undid him shockingly easily— fueling some dark spark of heat within him whenever the hunter had used that kind of tone, even as a joke, in the past. The roil and timbre of his voice alone always, always brought a rise of goosebumps pebbling over Vash's skin, and now it was like it was in spite of the heat and the steam building around them in their little slice of shared space.

Honestly? Vash could probably just listen to him talk like this— his voice ragged and wanting, hungry —and get close enough to burst just from that… though he was definitely enjoying listening in tandem with the touch, as both had his slow-to-rise erection suddenly flexing to full, dizzying hardness between them, fast enough to make his legs shake... painting quite the salacious picture of just how much the vampire was enjoying himself.

Ultimately, Wolfwood decides on a lopsided shrug as his hands drift—one to gently caress Vash's dick, the other wandering to the vampire's backside, two fingers teasing the crease of his ass, memorizing the contour.

"Blondie, I'd be more surprised if you didn't have any scars," Wolfwood murmurs fondly, the two fingers dipping to lightly graze his hole, "And you don't need to apologize for any of that weird bullshit that happened. I was being stupid too. It happens... but we're here now. You have me."

The hunter dips down, kissing and nibbling at Vash's lips that have been plumped with the moisture in the room. Even the cold, stale blood of a pure vampire is no match for a steamy bathroom it seems.

Oh, but it really didn't matter. It absolutely did not matter when Wolfwood's hands were on him and roaming, and finding (both of) their mark almost immediately. The blond keened sweetly in response, and his expression twisted up ever so slightly in the gentle sparks of pleasure being ignited by the touch; his brows knitting into an upward slant and easily becoming something just a little more obscene and unguarded again. Guess it wouldn't be difficult for him to get back into the right mindset for something like this… it'd be easy for him to just give into the feeling. To push back against Wolfwood's prodding fingers more insistently and beg for what he wanted with his body, letting him take the reins entirely…

… r-responsible. Be responsible. Be responsible. Be—

"S-soap—" Vash said through a gasp, a zip of arousal all but stabbing him in the lower back and dragging the blade partway up his spine in harsh zig-zags. It was a feeling that made his hips twitch and jump forward, bumping his cock against Wolfwood's hand a little more firmly, but by some miracle, the blond did manage to keep focused enough to get the rest of his warning out, "might burn, f'we use it like that… but there's a coconut body oil behind you somewhere, sh-should… should be okay."

Part of him wanted to shirk the desire to care about the specifics, since it'd mainly be him who suffered for it (for the most part), but his last handful of braincells were keen to remind him that Wolfwood was inexperienced, and wouldn't know that there were some things you just shouldn't put anywhere near sensitive places like that. Some were obvious, sure, but he deserved to know some of the less obvious ones, and as someone who was old enough to remember a time before luxuries like water-based lubricants— when things like grain oil (also not the most body-safe!) had to be snuck out in secret so two people could sin without risk of discovery —it was Vash's duty to make sure he was informed, and to not impart any stupid or dangerous habits on his still-green partner.