Mercy.

an empty promise is a lie

[forgivenpunishment]

i do what i have to do

a selective, dash only primarily tristamp nicholas d. wolfwood rp account by melee.

status: active

mun: melee age: 31 pronouns: they/them

follows from @typhoonvash

†††

rules: -18+ only. no minors. -do not follow if you use a--i in place of actual art or writing. do not use my writing for any kind of a--i project. this is 0 tolerance, and i do not care if you use it as a joke or to make fun of it. -this account follows the plot of Trigun Stampede, however Trimax plot threads/characters may pop up because i like the mix of the two. -unless stated otherwise (i.e. same verse/au) each blog gets their own verse. this allows us to develop a meaningful plot and diverse interactions without stepping on any toes. Do not ask me to be exclusive. -doubles okay and encouraged. -n/s/f/w sometimes and only with 21+ muns. will be properly tagged and placed under a read more when intense. -rp style: multiparagraph preferred with small text. i will not be using icons, but feel free to use yours. -if you are a multimuse, there is a high chance we won't interact. it's nothing against multimuses, but i'm looking for serious, long standing rp, not short interactions. i also prefer to keep my dash clean of anything that's not trigun or my rp partners. -no ocs, sorry. i do not have the energy to give the attention that your oc deserves. naturally, ocs may appear in longstanding canon/canon plots (i.e. villains, minor characters, etc) but i prefer threads to be focused on canon characters. -not interested in drama. -shipping is by discussion only. flirtation is fine, but if you want his heart you gotta work for it. -Will not ship: pl*ntwood, liv//wood -will tag common triggers not present in trigun. blood, violence, and alcohol will not be tagged. i try to read bios for personal triggers, but please let me know if it's extremely serious/common/i mess up.

m!a status: closed

anons: open

random starters: open

threads preferred, but short interactions will happen.

often canon divergent/in aus. will be tagged as such.

†††

short bio: Name: Nicholas D. Wolfwood Age: around 25-27, birthdate unknown. Height: 6'2" Sex/Gender: cis male (he/him) Sexuality: ??? Occupation: "Undertaker", "Priest" Family/Connections: n/a, Hopeland Orphanage, Livio the Doublefang Weapons: The Punisher (multipurpose cross-shaped heavy weapon), handguns, serrated knife, sharpened canines. Abilities: S+ compatibility. regeneration (natural and via serum), high pain tolerance. hand to hand combat, melee combat, and firearms. enhanced strength capable of lifting several hundred pounds with mere fingers. increased stamina. excels at gaining intel and getting close to targets before execution. applies creativity and cleverness to strategy, allowing for unforeseen successful outcomes. the near perfect weapon—behavior and independent habits need work.

Nicholas D. Wolfwood (a.k.a. The Punisher) is a weapon and extension of the Eye of Michael, a cult worshiping the two Angels of salvation. He is trained in various styles of combat and marksmanship, which he uses to fulfill his contracts—assassinations, executions, and search and retrieve are the most common.

He's trusted with a special contract: retrieve the Angel. Deliver Him safely. Protect the Angel.

Like a good, functional tool, he obeys and is rewarded with the guaranteed safety of Hopeland Orphanage and its children; no more will become victims or lab rats. His current status with the organization is unknown after the JuLai incident.

He didn't expect to make friends. He expected to kill them. He didn't expect the Angel to thank him for his work. He expected the Angel to hate him for his betrayal.

verse list (outdated)

other muse(s):

midvalley: @thathollowsound

[orangetintedglasses]

"Nnh... not... not g-gonna..."

Words tried and failed to form on his tongue in protest of the jab. Were he in the right state of mind, Vash absolutely would have squawked in offense and horror at the suggestion (and the implication!!) of taking Wolfwood's underwear for his own personal use. He would've blustered some quip about how it 'wasn't like that' and maybe even gone off on a tangent of his own while his fluster wore off— do you really respect my affliction and sensitivities that little? How terrible of you, Wolfwood, he is so deeply, terribly hurt by the lack of consideration…

But. It was clear he was not in the state of mind for such things, just going off his attempt at a response just then... or the funny look on his face as he looked up again.

Vash's state of mind was questionable at best, now; he hadn't really been expecting Wolfwood to one, be awake enough to observe his embarrassing little ritual below the belt, and two, talk to him during it— looking down at him with that painfully adoring gaze, and touching him so tenderly as he did. It did something funny to his already-mushy brain and his heart, the now-still lump somehow managing to twist and flutter in the cage of his ribs, despite not pumping anything through his system anymore.

It… it was embarrassing, getting caught in the act like this… or at least, it should've been. But Vash's big, blown eyes seemed to sparkle with something else— something softer and reverent —as he stared up at the other man.

Really… what else was he supposed to do now, other than what he was told to?

He's still not going to pocket the shorts or anything, though…! That's— that's a level of weird he does not subscribe to, regardless of how this obsession of his might scream otherwise—

So, with his mouth already watering, Vash got to work— obediently and diligently, though not without a certain breed of slowness that was inherent to intimacy like this. Hungry as he was, he wasn't yanking Wolfwood's shorts off his body: he was pulling them down and enjoying the reveal in the process, utterly transfixed as the hunter's cock sprung free and bounced—

Not yet. Not yet— task. Job. Be good—

—but managed to 'focus' enough to pull the bothersome piece of clothing down the rest of the way, over the impossible distance of Wolfwood's long, muscular legs— which he may or may not have touched a little, too, running his long, curious fingers over the seam of the muscles of his outermost thigh —before tossing them… somewhere, and coming back up to claim his prize.

And boy, would he ever claim.

Returned to his comfortable spot (face-to-crotch again, right where he wants to be), Vash brought himself nice and close— close enough that he could nestle his face beneath Wolfwood's full, heavy cock, and let it rest alongside the bridge of his nose while he got his fill of the musk gathered there. He wouldn't spend too much time in that spot, but he was taking it in before he moved on; getting in a few deeper, slower breaths before he couldn't take it anymore, and dragged plush lips up along the underside of Wolfwood's shaft as he came back up—

His left hand was quick to wrap around the base and steady the thing; his tongue quickly found its mark soon after, licking around the head, the sensitive corona, and lapping up what was already beading at the tip with soft little kitten licks, just to start…

[forgivenpunishment]

"Gh... good," Wolfwood manages to mumble-grunt, sighing long and wistfully at the attention from Vash's tongue. Though they may have skipped a step the day before, what, with going from a tandem handjob to full-blown penetrative sex, this sensation is new. He's had plenty of dreams involving Vash's pretty face where it is right now, but those dreams never quite captured the feeling right. The closest sensation he could replace it with was a spit-soaked hand or some lube, but that was nothing compared to the bubbling apprehension and nerves that just some licking could provide him with.

It was erotic on its own, like a well-known headliner at a concert. The little laps against the crown of his cock made his insides twist with pleasure, and hardly anything has even started yet. Wolfwood's hand moves on its own, stroking Vash's hair back and petting him slowly, the action reflecting just how drowsy his body still feels.

His eyes shut as he fully relaxes, going boneless into the pillows and keeping that one hand tethered to the eager vampire below the covers. A long exhale through his lips relieves the last of his tension—he's not sure he's ever been this relaxed before, and it's as one of his organization's most vile enemies gets far too close to his most sensitive, erogenous zone. Even that thought on its own is hot enough for some perverted historian to write a dime novel on it a hundred years from now.

"Feels... feels good, darlin'," Wolfwood murmurs, continuing to stroke Vash's hair. He reopens his eyes to see his companion's cerulean irises staring back at him, and he's not sure if he can get any harder in practice, but he feels as if all the tension that had melted away just refocused down on his dick. He feels stiff as a rod, and the comparative coolness of Vash's fingers are sweet relief. Vash's tongue zaps him with a chill every time it makes contact with the sensitive, smooth skin of his head, though. Not... not a bad chill, just a little... zing.

Yeah, once Vash gets his fill, he's gonna be out like a lamp again, for sure. Sex is exhausting. How do people do this nightly?

(... if things keep going the way they are, he has a feeling he might find out exactly how.)

"Fuck," he sighs again, trying to keep his heartbeat steady in all of this, "You're... you're, uh, really good at this..."

[orangetintedglasses]

... !!

Canary's teasing would hit an unexpected second target in Star, too, making his face heat up quite a bit as his mirror playfully taunted the undertaker. He didn't really know why it did, or what it was about it, but it just sort of… hit him weird— and not a bad weird, either, just. Weird.

Weird because that was his own voice (on a fundamental, sound-based level) but not his thoughts or words; it was him hearing what that sort of bold, unabashed teasing sounded like coming from someone who sounded like him. Maybe not exactly— maybe him and Canary had subtle differences, but he'd never really been around long enough for him to pick up on any —but close enough… and that 'close enough' provided a strange, nebulous space that allowed Canary finally allowing himself to have fun and enjoy himself like this to fuel some kind of feeling in his gut.

Not quite arousal, not quite fascination or awe, but—

Close. Close, close, close—

Alright, f-focus. The visiting typhoon had Wolfwood's upper half handled (ha-ha), so Star would keep his hands low— wandering around Wolfwood's hips, squeezing and gripping and trailing up along his waist and stomach before his right hand slide inward, finding his centerline. From there, his hand wandered lower, lower, spreading his index and middle fingers open in a wide 'V' that he would fit in the space just above where he and Canary were joined, all while he chased that last leg of sensation into the final stretch.

It felt… dominant. Like part of him wanted it to be known that he was also here and he was not inclined to feel left out— faster, harder, more...

… ah, wait, yeah. Yeah, there was that hot prickle of hormonal possessiveness again; he could feel it gathering at the base of his skull. There was more than enough going on for him to be able to shove it away, though, he could ignore it… or so he thought. The feeling had clearly brought friends this time: friends in the form of another handful of feather-buds gathering on what little unmarred skin existed on his body, prickling along his chest and ribs before they erupted into more plumage. They didn't even wait for Star to finish like they usually did, either, he was still thrusting at a rather selfish speed— not something he enjoyed doing, but it was always stupidly difficult to come during his cycles, and… well. Wolfwood was begging for it. And the begging always, always made Star want to give the undertaker whatever it was he was asking for— so him doing it while he was in this state of utter, submissive delight? Unable to do anything but writhe and moan and come between them as climax after climax was pulled out of him…?

It filled the shorter blond with a rush of affection so fast and so powerfully all-encompassing that it basically shoved him over the finish line.

As his hips snapped flush to the bowl of Wolfwood's hips, Star let out a stuttering moan that quickly broke in several places— and tried to stifle whatever whimpers were left by burying his face into the side of his partner's neck, where he just sort of… naturally bit down, pressing sharp teeth to tender flesh like an animal, screwing his eyes shut—

It… it felt like he couldn't even move while it was happening, either; his body refused, locked in place until finally— finally —he stopped flooding his poor undertaker, and by that point, Wolfwood was absolutely full. There was already nectar beading around his beloved's entrance, even with him still buried to the hilt— and when he was finally able to move again, he'd only managed to rock his hips back and forth the one time before shuddering still again, barely even able to pull more than a few inches out before he was completely overwhelmed by the feeling… and still, quite a bit was pushed out, just from that.

His slit was dripping, too, ho-ly— Canary's vines are absolutely painted with big shimmering pearls of nectar, heavy and rolling onto the bedspread. He's such a mess—

[forgivenpunishment]

Wolfwood is as conscious as prey caught in a vice as both Vashes have their ways with his neck. Star's climax overwhelms his senses, flooding him with a sensation that his body can hardly comprehend—he's several orgasms deep and numb with overstimulation that isn't being acknowledged by any party, and it's perfect.

It's not that he wants every time he and Vash fuck to involve the usually careful and considerate blond to disregard every one of Wolfwood's feelings of discomfort and take what he wants when he wants, but this has been something he's dreamed of having for... a while now. At least since before they separated. He loves the tender, sweet sex that they normally chase after, he does, but being used like a toy excites a part of his brain that he normally disregards.

Something about there being three of them together makes it a little harder to focus on who's feeling what, especially when it's all so overwhelming. So many thoughts and feelings fill his mind that he's not sure where they end and he begins, but not in a dangerous way like when he'd almost been absorbed into the Plant collective. No, both of these Vashes are quite proficient at keeping him separate and independent, likely because they've both had their own practice at doing so on their own.

He does find that making any noise out loud helps when he begins to lose himself, though. Like the moans he breathes when Star comes inside of him, clutching his hips and burying his face into his neck—

Canary, who had been so wrapped up in teasing Wolfwood and ensuring that Wolfwood felt good in all of this, had set aside his pleasure for the sake of words. The words had been effective, of course, but Star's climax shakes him from those thoughts like the rumble of a nearby explosion knocking him out of bed.

Ah—hah—

His face contorts with pleasure, his vines tensing as he reaches the finish line as well. Canary's eyes roll back, his teeth release Wolfwood as he arches his spine and falls back to the bedspread beneath. Nectar oozes from his entwined tendrils—his cock, as he likes to call it—and the smaller feelers seek Star's hand and wrap around it instead of Wolfwood's length, perhaps providing the human with some small amount of relief.

As Star comes down from his high, Canary slowly backs his curious vines out from his slit and slides them to the sides, then he takes note of a... an itch bugging his shoulders—is this sympathy pain from Star's feather situation, or...?

One hand reaches to his own shoulder and, yep, it seems they synchronized in some odd fashion—sleek, black feathers have bloomed from his skin. They don't form wings by any definition of the word, but... they are there, and they're sourced from him. Wolfwood, even in his thoughtless stupor, reaches a hand out to them, his eyes positively glazed over with ecstasy.

A question pings the mental link wordlessly, Wolfwood seemingly asking if he has any feathers as well. Canary does his best to peek over Wolfwood's shoulder, but from his angle he can't see any.

N-no... I don't... can't see any feathers on you, Wolfwood...

The human responds with an exasperated groan, and Canary can't tell if it's relief or disappointment. It honestly feels like both? Had he... had he grown feathers before, or something...?

Wolfwood doesn't respond to any unspoken inquiries, instead collapsing his entire weight onto Canary and drawing a quiet 'oof' from the blond. The visitor's expression softens to something both exhausted and endearing as he brings a hand to the back of Wolfwood's sweaty head and pets his hair.

Heat still prickles at his bones, makes him itch for his mate, but something in his body tells him that this Wolfwood likely won't be able to fully satisfy that craving. Well, perhaps that could be an interesting way to open a line of conversation with his own Wolfwood once he returns. 'Hey, I know you're mad at me, but I can't think about anything other than fucking you until our limbs fall off and won't be able to until I deal with it. Wanna help?'

Mm. No, that might just make him mad. It might also be too desperate. Ugh. He'll figure that chestnut out once he gets home.

A pinch on his ear breaks him out of that worry. Wolfwood—the one currently collapsed on top of him—shoots him a glare and has taken the lobe of his unpierced ear between his fingers.

Just... be honest with him, idiot.

Canary merely responds with the furrow of his brow and a broken half-smile, his lips wobbly as he begins to regain faculty of his body little by little.

Right... honesty.

Wolfwood stops pinching and twists his upper body about a quarter turn so he can at least see Star from the corner of his eye.

How're you feelin', darlin'?

[orangetintedglasses]

Ohhh, he can't hear you anymore, Wolfwood…

Once the blond slipped beneath the covers, the heavy bedspread fell over his back and legs and molded to the shape of him there, effectively trapped him in the warm, dark space— and the second that happened, it was already over. Game over, fate sealed, because he was right where his stupid brain wanted him to be, and it wasn't even to do any of the scary things vampires were known for doing with their prey—

No, his instincts had him down there to drown himself in the scents that had gathered there overnight, in the place where scents were strongest on the human body. And to make matters worse, both his and Wolfwood's had mingled together, into one, and it was just… fuck…

If Vash smelled like sunshine, Wolfwood smelled like moonlight. Moonlight and nightlife— like smoke and sex and leather, and the way stars glittered overhead when you were far enough out, iles and iles away from any source of light pollution. Absolutely paradoxical...

And together? They smelled like twilight. It was something utterly surreal, intoxicating… so much so that Vash wouldn't even notice the blankets lifting up to investigate what he was doing at first, as he found a comfortable spot on his side where he could stay nice and close. Where he was basically face-to-face with Wolfwood's clothed erection, and a hand could easily find purchase on his flank— teasing the waistband of his shorts down just a little bit before a rush of air finally caught his attention.

His gaze rolled up almost languidly, away from his quarry and up to meet the hunter's curious gaze peering down at him. It… wasn't a ghoulish sight or anything, not when Vash's eyes had returned to (what could be considered) their 'default' color. They were hazy, sure, and his pupils were blown to hell, but there was nothing unnatural about them anymore, and his gaze was half-lidded and syrupy. There were no spooky red orbs gazing up at him from the shadowed dark; just a lover's lust-drunk gaze, partially obscured beneath thick, heavy eyelashes and a mess of (staticky!) golden hair.

A-and maybe that was kind of worse, given how they'd both been kicking themselves a bit for letting things get as far as they did with all of this, but… it was really, really hard to care about that right now.

… so, to that effect…

Vash didn't even answer Wolfwood's partial crackle of a question— not in a conventional sense. Instead, Vash responded by returning his attention to the bulge in front of him and drew his hand down the front of Wolfwood's hips to take hold, wrapping it around the shaft once he got a feel for the shape. It'd be easy to just… pull the poor man out of his shorts, really get his mouth around him, but something about this just felt right as he brushed his lips against the sensitive head through the thin fabric dutifully trying to maintain the modesty the priest had just regained a handful of hours ago—

Maybe it's a display for permission on behalf of whatever scant few braincells are still engaged enough to feel even a shred of shame over how he's acting right now— whatever's keeping him from just burying his face into Wolfwood's stomach and inhaling like a freak—

[forgivenpunishment]

Vash's curious touch on its own is enough for Wolfwood to snap the covers closed once again and slowly allow the pillow to fall to the side, his torso falling back against his own pillows as he physically deflates with a sigh. Well, perhaps 'melts' is a better word for it, as deflating makes it sound like he's not eager for this.

Oh, he's eager alright.

So eager, in fact, that he snapped the covers back down over Vash's head like an idiot. Doesn't he need to breathe—?!

Wait—he's a vampire. He doesn't need to breathe, right? Well... he can still get hot and uncomfortable if he's under there, so...

(Oh, who is Wolfwood kidding, he's lifting the blankets back up so he can watch as the vampire plays with his thinly clothed sex, mouthing over it like a man obsessed.)

Hands now free from blankets and pillows, his right one reaches down to stroke the blond hair and pet it down, as if that'll make the static calm itself. Each strand clings to his fingers like even that wants to be as close to him as possible too.

"You're insatiable," Wolfwood croaks, scoffing fondly, "Not that I fuckin' mind."

His fingers brush the hair from the front of Vash's face, revealing even clearer those blue, blue eyes that he had gotten to know quite well even before this little excursion. The adoring, sleepy gaze that he douses the vampire with should be permission enough for him to keep going, to keep exploring as he pleases, but just in case it's not...

"I told you that you could indulge yourself to your heart's content, and while indulging in my musk and spunk wasn't exactly what I had in mind, I did mean it."

Beneath the fabric of his shorts, his cock strains, reaching to meet Vash's lips even through the barrier separating them. The slit in his underwear reveals a sliver of angry, red arousal and the slight sheen of pre already beginning to glisten as it buds up and gets caught in the fibers, smearing the head with each subtle motion. Every breath from his companion makes him twitch with want—it's more desire than he's felt in his entire life. He wants this for breakfast each morning, wants this to be his wake-up call, alarm, doesn't care what's on the agenda for the day. Oh, he's spoiled. He's going to be so, so spoiled.

"Go on, take off my shorts. Stow 'em in your bag if you want 'em so bad, too."

[orangetintedglasses]

By the time the sink was done running, Vash's face was dripping with water— running down his neck in thin, icy rivulets as he stared his reflection down in the mirror again, this time through blurry smears-o-vision after flashbanging himself when he'd turned on the lights.

It was kind of a nightmare? His senses were so muddled; it felt like someone was holding his head underwater and not letting him come up for air. He could hear Wolfwood, he knew Wolfwood was speaking to him, but the sound was too far away, too muffled… he couldn't pick up on what he was saying…

Maybe that's for the best right now, though.

… mmn. He was looking… more pallid again, though, from what he could make out through the smears. Wolfwood's blood must've been pretty close to being fully cycled out of his system. That was probably part of why this was affecting him so badly: his first taste of human blood in so long, and now his hard-coded leech instincts must've been trying to push him into a state where he'd be willing to feed again, like some sort of… pseudo-survival mode…

Except he was pretty sure arousal didn't fall under that umbrella??

Or maybe it did. Arousal clouded the mind, made people make rash judgements… and right now, it was really, really difficult to think past the wall of pure want looming on the horizon of his brain. Lust coiled tight in the pit of his stomach and poked him, prodded him, reminding Vash of the gorgeous, dozy person in the other room who was more than willing to offer himself to (someone who should've been considered) his mortal enemy, and just how tantalizing Wolfwood was, how warm, how devastatingly attractive...

He encouraged you to take, and you're curious, aren't you…?

He… was, yeah, but he shouldn't… a-act on that curiosity in this state. He didn't like taking, didn't like being…

Greedy? Is it really greed if he's told you he doesn't want you to hide this anymore?

That was kind of a loaded question, but… yeah, Wolfwood had said something like that last night. The memory itself was a little fuzzy, but the wayward priest didn't want Vash to do all the hiding, the sequestering— didn't want him isolating himself when he wanted or needed something until the feeling passed, as he was prone to do…

But as the little one-sided argument went on inside the blond's head, his body was taking matters into its own hands; suddenly, he wasn't in the bathroom anymore, and way past the threshold of the door when clarity kicked back online. Vash gasped softly, blinked… and realized what had happened as he stood there, swaying a little in place and breathing in the scent that was still so heavy in the room and…

… a-and…

Turning his head, Vash noticed that Wolfwood had taken his suggestion to heart, dozing again, but… had he moved? Something had moved. The man was now cradling a pillow— his pillow —with his nose buried into the plush body of the bedding, like a lonely soldier in his bunk, which was… quite a sight to behold. A sight that sent a hot knife of arousal straight through his gut—

Go on. Take.

—yeah, no, bye-bye reason. Bye-bye sensibility— those concepts quickly vanished from Vash's pretty blond head as he all but glided forward, his footsteps eerily soundless as he moved to the foot of the bed and lifted up the corner of the covers on 'his' side to crawl in under them. There was still sense enough in his hazy, empty head to prompt him to go slow and be careful— he'd already woken Wolfwood once —but he was hunting, now, lying on his stomach and sliding about halfway up the bed to seek his quarry of those tented, straining shorts…

[forgivenpunishment]

Wolfwood had... meant for the pillow thing to be a joke—had meant to reveal his playful grin with a flourish, toss the pillow back to the side and make fun of Vash's condition... but...

It was cozy. Vash smells nice. He smells of flowers and—somehow, considering his affliction—sunshine. It's not fair.

Moreover, he'd like to experience more of that smell—he wants to bathe in it, bask in it, dive into it...

Does Vash feel the same way about him? Is this what he meant?

A small ping of alert cuts through his hazy, sleepy senses when Vash leaves the bathroom and—all quiet like a damn predator—returns to bed in as few of paces as superhumanly possible. Seriously, was the guy lunging to the bed? Wolfwood hardly registers the man pull the covers and get back in, his internal radar still stuck on the vampire hovering in the bathroom doorway.

Alright, he needs more sleep. That much is obvious, and now with Vash back in bed it should be easy enough to settle his nerves and return to the land of dreams. He's got someone to watch his back, someone that he trusts, even if neither of them think themselves worthy of being trusted. Drowsy thoughts are allowed to be whimsical and admit such scary things.

But—

Vash doesn't return to snuggle against his chest like Wolfwood expects. He'd expected this act to end with the blond snatching his pillow back playfully, perhaps replacing it with a different pillow before settling back into the hunter's arms. Alternatively, he'd expected Vash to be too restless to return to bed and to perhaps go tackle some chores without him, instead... he's...

"Mmrm?" is the only thing Wolfwood is able to mumble from behind the comfort of the pillow, wondering why Vash is shuffling around in bed. He's going lower, like he's—like his attention is being drawn elsewhere, like—

Oh, oh God—

Wolfwood can feel a hot coil of desire unfurl low, low in his gut as he considers what Vash could possibly be getting up to. He aches as he allows arousal to flicker to life from a basic, routine morning occurrence to an exciting, new sensation—a hunger. For both of them.

While he did promise that he'd fuck Vash's throat later, Wolfwood hadn't expected it to happen so soon...

(Well, that's a bit nonsensical—there's no way he can draw enough energy to his hips to even do such a thing or flip them over at all and pin Vash to the headboard. The fact that his body even has enough energy to get it up at all right now is a miracle in itself, if he's being honest. It's no wonder he didn't even feel it happen, he's too damn tired. Currently, Vash has total and complete control over the reins.)

"V-Vash," Wolfwood sighs distantly from his cover, sliding it slowly to one side so he can peek with just a single silver eye between his sleep-bruised eyelids. Ruddy blush coats his cheek, heating up the cotton fabric where it had been touching. "What... what are you...?"

Boy, his voice sure sounds like he hasn't used it in weeks with the way it cracks at the slightest attempt of vocalization. The way that his mouth begins to water in anticipation certainly doesn't help matters, either.

[orangetintedglasses]

Oh. There he is.

The arm around his middle was more than welcome— if not a little surprising, in his current fuzzy-headed state —as was the way Wolfwood pulled himself closer, eliminating most of what little space there had been between them beneath the covers just as Vash managed to fully roll onto his side. It put them face-to-face, chest-to-chest… and groin-to-groin, which had the vampire right in the line of fire of another, ah… aspect… typically experienced in the wee hours of the early morning…

… if you just so happened to have a very specific set of plumbing, below the belt.

Yeah. Yeah, there he is, indeed—

"… no. Not yet. Made sure." he murmured back after swallowing, blinking slow, like a cat. His eyes wandered over the other man's face, taking in Wolfwood's stubborn refusal to open his eyes with a note of fond amusement. It was like he was staunchly denying the very concept of being awake at this hour, which was cute, and he couldn't exactly blame the guy for it; he was probably still exhausted, and needed more sleep.

I-it wasn't like Vash had meant to wake him…! But… he also couldn't deny the certain breed of warmth that blossomed in his chest when he heard the sleep-rough grumble—

They didn't have to get up now, though: Vash had called down to the front desk hours ago and caught the night person in time to request they bill them for another night— a process that had (thankfully) been fairly simple, thanks to the fact that that same person had given them the room when they'd arrived. They had time; they could stay for however Wolfwood needed to recover some of the sleep debt he'd accrued over the last two days…

… and that meant that they had time for simpler things. Sweet, simple things, like Vash leaning forward and slotting their noses together for just a moment— just long enough to press a little kiss to the corner of Wolfwood's lips. Sweet. Chaste, even, as he mumbled a 'go back to sleep' against the hunter's mouth…

… and… desperately tried to ignore the temptation coming up to a simmer in his low stomach.

Ugh, he really needed to get up before this became a problem. Reluctant as he was to leave the comfortable little nook he'd been given… who would want to? It was cozy and warm next to Wolfwood, and he was so, so close to him there… close enough to touch, to feel, to taste, and—

GET UP.

… yeah. Y-yeah, yeah, the scent was… getting to him again. Badly. B-but he just needed to get up and… w-walk it off, maybe wash his face again? Then he could climb back into bed and fall back asleep. Simple. Easy.

Vash took another big, deep breath in (mistake! Stop DOING THAT!!) and forced his limbs into cooperation— pulling himself out from under the heavy, aching arm of his companion and onto the carpet on unsteady feet. The shift from horizontal to vertical really did a number on his already-spinning head— he nearly went careening into the plush chair close by —but he'd stagger over to the bathroom all the same and disappear inside, running the water after a bit too long of a pause…

[forgivenpunishment]

Drowsiness doesn't allow Wolfwood any room to feel embarrassed about the cute gesture Vash blesses him with. He merely hums in affirmation at the kiss, fluttering his dark eyelashes a little so he can see the blond pull away and dip into the bathroom... with no small amount of difficulty, apparently.

Wolfwood almost feels stunlocked in the way he watches Vash move, paralyzed with an overwhelming sense of affection. He shakes his head subtly, chuckling under his breath as he falls back to the pillows, his eyes glued to the door.

Hadn't he done this... yesterday, too? And he'd mentioned as such while they were fucking—that Wolfwood smelled good enough to drive him up the wall. Huh. Even after a shower he still reeks? At least he smells good...

"Oi, Blondie," Wolfwood calls out once the water pauses, not wanting his creaking voice to have to cut through the noise, "If you're gonna hole yourself up in the bathroom to jack off for an hour over my smell again, at least lemme watch~"

It's a tease, not meant to be taken seriously, but, well, he wouldn't mind. Plus, it's no secret that his semi-regular morning wood has made an appearance, tenting his shorts in a way that makes him feel naked—especially when he'd accidentally pressed against Vash earlier. Well, 'accidentally', he'd fully intended to pull the vampire nice and close, but didn't quite feel the sensation of being, uh, hard, yet. Oops.

He sighs, unsure if Vash is able to hear him or not and not exactly seeking a real answer (since it was a joke. Definitely just a joke.). One hand adjusts his shorts so he's more comfortable as he folds an arm behind his head and tries to shut his eyes to get some more sleep in, but...

One eye cracks open, looking at one of the pillows Vash had been resting on overnight. There's a pause in his thoughts like a wrench thrown into the gears. Two can play at this... scent... game, right?

God, Nicholas, you're an idiot.

Fine, fine. The heart and dick want what they want.

His arms snatch the main pillow Vash had rested on and bring it to his face so he can snuggle it close in a completely inexcusable, desperate way. He really hadn't meant for this to be more than a silly action, something for Vash to stumble upon when he exits the bathroom, but as he pulls the pillow close and gets a full breath of Vash's sweet scent, it's... kind of intoxicating? It's comforting, and... he's just in the bathroom, there's no need to miss the guy...

Taking in Vash's scent allows him to relax into an almost-sleep level of bonelessness again. Wolfwood closes his eyes against the pillow and steadies his breathing, letting his drowsy brain drift off into dream territory and a quiet snore sound from his open lips.

[orangetintedglasses]

@forgivenpunishment // no care, no care in the world (x)

Sooo sleeping in the same room as Wolfwood during their first night on the road had proven to be… well, a bit of a problem.

A problem that Vash had been fully aware of going in: sharing a space with someone with a scent that strong with senses as sharp as his own was always going to be an issue. He'd planned to mitigate it entirely by opting to pay for individual rooms the entire time, but when that plan had fallen apart within the first twenty-four hours, the vampire had figured he'd just… brace himself and tank whatever reaction he'd have come the morning. And sure enough, he'd woken up dizzy and hungry, and had all but barricaded himself in the bathroom just so he could separate them long enough to reset his senses.

He'd splashed his face with cold water over a dozen times; he'd spent an embarrassing amount of time just bent over the counter, breathing in over the bar of hotel soap that he'd worked up with a bit of a lather, just so there was something to help push the hunter's scent from his nose and let him function somewhat normally…

… y-you know, without giving in to the temptation that that sort of environment typically brought along with it. Regardless though, Vash had been able to do what he'd set out to and tanked the experience, even if he knew that Wolfwood had absolutely clocked him acting like a freak. Awkward, but entirely manageable.

But that had been the result of them spending the night in separate beds.

There had been no thought to what would happen if they'd shared a bed together last night; there had been no concern, no drop of consideration as to whether or not they'd be sleeping in close proximity at all, and as it turned out, Wolfwood was a bit more of a cuddler than either of them had (probably) expected. Vash hadn't minded it at all, though; it was endearing, and the closeness and warmth had actually knocked him out, letting him fall asleep faster and easier than he'd had in a long, long time.

It had been nice. Genuinely nice. But unfortunately it had meant that he'd spent a good handful of hours just drowning in that close proximity— taking in the post-sex miasma of faint sweat and sin on top of Wolfwood's natural scent with every breath until he inevitably stopped. He was just that relaxed, that tired, and he hadn't needed to worry about it like he'd had the night before…

… and when he woke up, well…

Vash's eyes cracked opened slowly, glassy irises— blue as wildflowers again —lolling around his skull, not really registering much of anything as he tried to process what he was seeing. But his head was too light to take anything in, reeling just from slivers of early morning sunlight and smears of lingering shadow, and moving his body in an attempt to sit up felt impossible when his limbs seemed to be taking his bare-bones requests for 'up' more like suggestions rather than actual inputs. It… it felt like he was drunk— well and truly drunk, too warm and heavy to be much use to anyone —and when he took in a sharp, sleepy breath to try and force some more wakeful awareness back into his skull, as one often did when they first woke up for the day—

Ah…

—oh, did that just make things worse. Wolfwood was still so close, still smelled so good— and Vash couldn't help but blearily wonder if the warmth he was feeling actually belonged to his companion, rather than himself.

Was Wolfwood awake, too? Surely not. The man had been so tired— where was he, though? Close. Had to be close, if he could feel him. Maybe they'd moved a little in the night, but—

The blond blinked dazedly, and after a long few seconds, forced his body to roll over— if it wouldn't get up, he could at least roll towards the source of the heat, just to try and find an answer—

[forgivenpunishment]

Once Wolfwood had settled into bed and mumbled some words he wouldn't remember in the morning, he was out like a light. The hunter had gone nearly 48 hours without sleep, and while, yes, he'd gone longer without sleep during his extensive training, it was still unpleasant. Hunters like him were taught how to manage fatigue, and, well, the actions he'd taken last night certainly were not in the training manual.

Not at all.

Thankfully, his sleep is dreamless. Nightmare-less. He doesn't notice the way that he instinctively reaches for Vash in the middle of the morning when he's out cold, can't possibly be aware of the way he clings to the vampire like a vine, this mighty vampire slayer rekindled into a vampire snuggler over the course of a night.

Vash was in no mood to discuss the whirlwind of thoughts that came to mind last night, but that hadn't stopped them from bouncing in his skull like a TV screensaver. He promised to focus on the journey, yes, but there's something... uncertain and weird happening. Something is fishy about the very organization he was raised to be loyal to, outside of the way they create devout supersoldiers out of orphans and the terminally ill. Wolfwood doesn't know enough to make any theories, but something isn't adding up. He doesn't mind turning his back on them—assuming he even can without getting himself killed.

A shuffling noise comes to the forefront of his senses, and he grumbles at the interruption of his rest. Even through the dark curtains, bright light seeps through the cracks and invades the slim line of his eyelids. Rude.

"Mmrmn," Wolfwood grumbles, naturally responding to the body that moves closer to him without opening his eyes. He grunts as he lifts an arm, groaning at the soreness that antagonizes him in response before clamping it around his companion lazily. God, he's sore. That hurt like a bitch.

Even his back pops in several places as he shuffles his own body closer to Vash—the base of his spine, his tailbone, right by his shoulders...

"G'mornin'... sunshine," Wolfwood slurs, still refusing to crack an eye open, "M'still tired. Body hurts. S'it checkout time already?"

[orangetintedglasses]

Kissing was… definitely a little difficult, like this. It was more of an automatic action— something his body remembered and was quite familiar with in regards to his chosen mate, so he'd be able to reciprocate on a base level, at very least. A little lip-locking with Wolfwood taking the lead on it was no problem; Star would kiss back until Wolfwood pulled away to busy himself with the other Plant and his budding greed, leaving the shorter blond to settle back into that slow building rhythm, and—

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~?

Genuine curiosity rung clear as a church bell over the connection, his presence now sharper and louder— and just that little bit teasing as Star finally found the rhythm with his hips that had him sinking deep into Wolfwood on the upswing, grinding against where he knew his little reset button was, and just as deep onto the offered vines on the fallback, shuddering and squeezing those, too—

[forgivenpunishment]

Canary's sharp violet gaze snaps to his counterpart, a satisfied, deadly smile on his lips as both he and Wolfwood respond to Star at the same time in the mental link:

Yes.

Yes.

While Canary's response is more concise and eager, Wolfwood's is somehow breathless within the air-less space, as though he's saying it through a sigh. The undertaker blinks slowly, his glassy gaze widening as he notices all of the brilliant colors of purple and red and purple-red flora exploding around him on the mess of vines from both partners. It looks (and smells!) like nothing he's ever seen before, a veritable fantasy of lush floral growth in this hellish desert of a planet.

Through the salty, musky tang of sex and sweat there is an underlying sweetness—something fresh that absolutely delights his senses. And... well... it makes something in his skin squirm with restlessness, hunger...

He presses closer to Canary, who in turn pushes him up, up, closer to Star, squeezing him between the two Vashes like he's in a damn press. Is it weird to say that there is something oddly comforting about it as a sensation? Like being wrapped in a cozy blanket, a warm hug...

Like this, there isn't much Wolfwood can do in the way of movement. He is very much at the mercy of the two blonds above and below him, and he is quite happy in this position. He feels boneless and full and the pleasure sourced from being nestled within Canary is a constant tether to his body, a swirling below his gut that ebbs and flows in a consistent tide.

Your Wolfwood... s'missin' out...

The teasing thought ekes its way through the connection, Wolfwood doing his best to manage a smirk as another spike of heat sends a full-bodied shiver up his spine. His eyes roll back and his lips smack, trying to stop drool from dripping so obviously.

M... must be the luckiest Wolfwood... around for... for this—

And that thought—which Wolfwood had wanted to keep to himself, but that's not how this works—melts Canary's heart, even in this heated state.

Yes, you are.

Canary responds with no hidden amount of warmth, his gaze softening as he takes in Star's features, the glow of his indigo markings, the cooler color to indicate the state of his body. These two love each other. The love is practically contagious. They'd hardly had a moment to really share stories, for the duo to explain what's happened to them to have them essentially retired for a month or so in this little town, but whatever happened, the visitor can tell that it's rendered them inseparable.

Admittedly he... kind of yearns for that connection. Could he have that with his Wolfwood?

Unlike his earlier asides, Wolfwood is finally functioning on such little brain power that he can't yank him from the thought, not that it's a particularly sad or harmful one. It is, perhaps unlike many of Canary's thoughts regarding his own future, genuine curiosity—an admittance of something greater.

Hope.

Seeing—no, experiencing—this parallel world's version of himself and Wolfwood's connection to each other... it's eye-opening. He and Wolfwood—his Wolfwood—could keep each other safe if... if he just stops running.

It feels silly to have such fluffy, sunny thoughts fill his mind as Wolfwood is squeezed between himself and Star, idly begging to be fucked. The thought is like a subtle, steady pulse beneath a sleeping man's skin. He begs for more without even actively thinking about it, what a talented man.

Canary's hands wander to Wolfwood's sides, groping his pecs as he thrusts his hips up to match Star's pace. His sharp teeth meet the base of the human's neck, biting at those perfect bright patterns that mark his deep connection to Star. What a lucky couple.

You're doing so good, Wolfwood. I bet you feel so full, don't you?

Wolfwood nods meekly, moaning in response. It's cute and hot and—God—he needs to make his Wolfwood make these noises stat.

"A-ah—" Wolfwood whines, his face scrunching in pleasure as another orgasm rocks through him. He turns as best he can to Star from their sandwiched position, one eye squinting close and the other eye begging for more with each steady pound, "Va-Vash—Star—wa-want... want you to... need you to..."

He groans, unable to make the words come out audibly, a gravelly whimper overtaking any breath of a noise that he wants to let out.

Come in me—want—want you to come in me again and again, fill me up more—

Canary almost chuckles darkly at the notion, but doesn't want the sensitive Wolfwood to take it the wrong way, so he holds himself back, instead responding with a long lick up his collarbone and a sharp bite at his jaw.

Good boy, Wolfwood... you gotta help your husband out, don't you?

Y-yeah... want... want it... husband...

A quick huff of breath against Wolfwood's tacky skin from the spiky Vash marks a slight chuckle at Wolfwood's complete inability to form logical thought. He'd probably think himself a fool if he were capable of hearing himself right now, but his inhibitions are currently shot.

[forgivenpunishment]

Well, after Vash parts the curtain of hair in front of his eyes, Wolfwood now knows that his vision didn't simply black out after crashing to the floor... that's good. What he doesn't expect is such a sweet, tender kiss after all of that—while they're still connected, no less—and he can't control the way that he melts into it, returning it with the same level of softness that makes his heart all gooey inside.

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.)

"Can we sleep in?" Wolfwood mumbles as they fall into bed, his face rolling directly into the pillow and muffling his voice further, "I don't even wanna know what time it is."

[orangetintedglasses]

"Yeah, you probably don't…" the blond responded with a soft, light laugh; something airy and quiet that puffed out from his nose, the tone aligning with the goal of finally winding down after such an eventful night. He reached out and set his hand on Wolfwood's shoulder somewhat idly, running his thumb back and forth over a small patch of warm skin, "we can definitely sleep in, though. You need the rest."

Vash really hadn't minded helping out, even if him holding the reins meant that things had gone a little slower than they would have if he hadn't been down a limb… but honestly, that just made everything a little more relaxing, in his opinion. They couldn't rush through the process at all just to get to bed faster; they actually had to stop and take things at the pace set (pretty much) for them, which was kind of wild when compared to the chaos of everything leading up to this moment.

… come to think of it, they really hadn't had a second to just be since they'd arrived, had they? Sitting down to eat in what was basically the local's hunting grounds had immediately set things off with a bang, thanks to Wolfwood inadvertently painting a target on his own back— no beats had been missed as they'd barreled through the meal (and the barrage of psychic interference from the staff), got up, and got swept into an altercation by a couple of bounty hunters, culminating in a showdown in the goddamn street that had undone all of the work the vampire and the hunter had done to try and maintain the illusion of this trip being normal…

…

It… really had been an awful night, all things considered. Yet Vash couldn't bring himself to say he'd hated any of it, minus maybe disliking a few key elements here and there. How could he, really, when it had led them to this moment— with Wolfwood already half-asleep post-coitus, and the aches from bruises and scrapes overshadowed by endorphins, and the pleasant burn of strain? The original pains would likely be back in the morning, but the hunter deserved this moment of peace; he deserved the kindness the vampire had given freely, eagerly.

He deserved to be looked after and treated well, because… because Vash knew how the Church treated its 'congregants', and he couldn't imagine that they'd ever been particularly kind to someone like Wolfwood. Rebellious and headstrong as he was efficient at what he did—

You're so, so different from them.

He'd make up for it. As much as he could for the next however-many days they had together, anyway, Vash would make up for it, he decided as his heart twisted up and lodged itself at the back of his throat— aching at the thought that his own existence was the reason for this at all.

It was guilt-driven and selfish, because it wasn't just guilt driving it, and that just made the ache worse: Vash wanted to do this because he wanted to make Wolfwood feel like a person. Wanted. A person who was wanted for more than what they'd been trained to do— for their personality and charm and wit and everything else that made him so…

… so…

Vash's thumb slowly stilled as he looked over the mop of damp black hair, his expression unreadable for a moment. Wolfwood's breathing had slowed, and he was pretty sure he could heard the occasional muffled snore escape from the soft, downy prison between Wolfwood's face and the pillow beneath his head. It was a good sign; it meant that the wayward priest was either relaxed enough to finally let himself succumb to the pull of sleep, or he was exhaused enough that he couldn't fight it anymore and finally had to. Vash would take either option, truthfully.

"Sleep tight, Wolfwood." the blond murmured, the sentiment enough to bring a gentle little smile to his face, unable to help himself. Yeah, he still had some work to do before he could turn in, too— like looking into anywhere that they could get to that might be able to fix up Wolfwood's jacket for him —but that was the beauty of modern technology, wasn't it? Being able to go grab his phone and do all of that while staying nice and close, in case the hunter did end up feeling a little clingy…? He wouldn't bet on it happening, but it was a nice thought.

Man... it was really looking like they had another busy day ahead of them, even without the prospect of crossing the isthmus (there was absolutely no way that was happening in the next 24 hours after all of this). Their schedule would be thrown off for sure because of it, but... would that really be such a bad thing?

... yeah, no. No, the 'birthday party' could wait for its guests of honor.

They had other things they needed to do.

[orangetintedglasses]

Man, kudos to whoever the first architect was behind these kinds of hotels. They really knew their audience— anywhere else, the two of them would've had to deal with the knobs and faucet scraping up the blond's back as Wolfwood's legs gave out from the strain of their coupling. Not here, though. Instead, they'd be brought down to the floor in a slow, tangled heap, the change in position absolutely pushing Wolfwood in deeper in the process; Vash could feel the way the heat pooling in his belly shifted around the additional pressure—

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…?"

With what, he wasn't specific. Washing? Getting up? Anything Wolfwood wanted right now, Vash was at his beck and call— still sat in his lap and keeping him nice and warm inside—

[forgivenpunishment]

Well, after Vash parts the curtain of hair in front of his eyes, Wolfwood now knows that his vision didn't simply black out after crashing to the floor... that's good. What he doesn't expect is such a sweet, tender kiss after all of that—while they're still connected, no less—and he can't control the way that he melts into it, returning it with the same level of softness that makes his heart all gooey inside.

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.)

"Can we sleep in?" Wolfwood mumbles as they fall into bed, his face rolling directly into the pillow and muffling his voice further, "I don't even wanna know what time it is."

[orangetintedglasses]

The way Wolfwood started going harder— moving more recklessly, wildly, digging into the pale flesh beneath his hands like he needs to leave bruises there as proof that he refused to let him fall (or maybe proof of claim) —was something so deeply, purely animal that, were Vash given even just a few seconds to really take in what he was seeing, would make his heart skip a beat.

… 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—"

Finish in me, finish in me— please, I need every drop of you—

[forgivenpunishment]

The finish line is right there—it's tangible, in his sights, and real—Wolfwood just needs to take it.

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.

"That... that was," the hunter pauses, his mind filled with so many words to describe what just transpired—hot, incredible, blasphemous—but eventually settles on just one word, hardly a descriptor, an adjective, or anything of the sort, but it sighs from his lips, "Fuck—"

[orangetintedglasses]

B… baby…

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—

He could feel that knot in the pit of his stomach tightening, taut and quivering behind his navel, getting ready to snap entirely if things went on like this; muscles and core flexing, the former squeezing around Wolfwood's cock like it didn't want him to leave— "ah—! Oh, n-not— not gonna be able to take much more, d-don't— c-can't—!"

[forgivenpunishment]

"Later," Wolfwood pants, his mouth openly drooling around a bite mark that he leaves on the solid chunk of Vash's shoulder. His body burns with the pain—his hips cry out for him to take a break (which is not happening), his arms scream to give out—but he can handle it. He's been through worse while under worse conditions, not a situation where he's about to blow his load and needs to keep going until that's settled. His voice is a rough breath as he continues his very jumbled thought, "I'll—I'll fuck your throat later—hah—Vash—"

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.

"Fuck, darlin', feels so—feels so good—I'm—I'm—hah-ahh—gonna come—"

[orangetintedglasses]

Oh… it seemed as though his actions had… inspired the visiting Vash to do much of the same; pleasure quickly ramped up in the small, shared space, going from that syrupy sweet simmer to a full, rolling boil in what felt like an instant as Canary surged forward, and eliminated what little space there had been left between him and the captive undertaker—

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.

Star's silence was finally broken with a soft, shuddering moan, hooking his chin over Wolfwood's shoulder as he pulled back a few inches, then rocked his hips forward again, nice and slow despite the mounting urge between the three of them. A soft periwinkle-colored glow overtook his eyes entirely as they shuttered closed, remaining faintly visible behind his eyelids; he even shifted his stance a touch for the sake of the wandering vines he knew were present— curiously brushing against sensitive skin. For them, he spread his knees apart a little further, widening the gap between his thighs as a sort of invitation, welcoming them inside if they wanted…

[forgivenpunishment]

Wolfwood's head may be a fuzzy blur of popping bubbles and heat hotter than five suns, but he doesn't miss the thought from Star (he thinks, at this point it could be anyone's) of him using his vines to fill him up instead. He plucks the thought like a note on the fridge, balling it into his fist to keep for later, to share with his apparently forgetful darling and encourage him to indulge in it at a later time, when it's just the two of them again.

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

Canary's vines twine together where they touch Star, sliding in with very little resistance as they penetrate his entrance, bringing them all closer together. The vines, as they are, can provide pleasure even if it's the last thing on Star's mind—his mind may not process it, but at least his body will. At least, Canary assumes. It might not result in anything but a greater connection, but honestly, that's not something that the traveler is too concerned with. He just wants more. He's greedy. The more he gives into the fog of lust, the more he just wants to take and take, thrusting his hips higher and faster to hear more of those beautiful noises that Wolfwood is so good at making. Each one pitches higher until he is practically whimpering between them.

[orangetintedglasses]

Up? W-wait, did that mean—?!

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 was a plea for Wolfwood and Wolfwood alone, uttered in a breathless whisper that Vash was sure made him sound completely debauched and (quite frankly) whorish. He figured, by this point, that he probably looked the part, too, like some desperate thing getting a taste of something forbidden after going years without; he could feel the way his thick blond hair was matted to his face, his fringe just on the cusp of obscuring his jewel-colored gaze as they bore into Wolfwood's, lidded and warm, syrupy, and helplessly lovesick—

[forgivenpunishment]

If this is all it takes to have Vash singing his name and begging, they're really going to make fucking a habit from here on out, aren't they? Hearing the vampire like this makes Wolfwood's head feels all fuzzy and warm—he's not sure how much of the lightheadedness is from the hot water and steam or from nearly finishing at the pressure of insertion alone. His teeth nearly puncture his own lip, then nearly puncture Vash's lip (and he's not sure that the blond would complain at this particular juncture if he did).

"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.

"Wanna hear more... keep talkin' to me... fuck..."

[orangetintedglasses]

Oh, he… he was alright without, for the time being. For the time being, Star was just fine as he was— barely even listening to what was actually being said over the connection now in favor of focusing on opening Wolfwood up like he wanted, and… well, everything he could feel over said connection.

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.

But that was fine, Star was… h-he was more than okay just like this. Fine touching like this and reveling in everything, brushing his open, panting mouth and plush lips along the slope of Wolfwood's back as he leant forward, and pressed his fingers in a little harder, a little quicker, searching for his prostate while his other arm slip around his middle, just to hold—

[forgivenpunishment]

It doesn't take long for Wolfwood to realize that Vash has no intention of partaking in his soaked fingers, especially once the man takes a moment to really observe his surroundings and—wow, things changed in the mere moments he had his head tucked into Canary's petals. There is far more flora surrounding them, vines, blossoms, and pollen cover the bedspread far more aggressively than it had been, like an explosion of plant growth has taken place. It smells good in the room; beneath the tang of Canary's slick that still sticks to the fine hairs on his upper lip, there's a definite floral aroma that is... intoxicating, to say the least. He's not sure how long it'll take to air it out of the house, not that he's particularly interested in doing so.

... 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.

Smooth protrusions grow from the ends of the vines that are tangled up with Star's near his thighs, wrapping lightly around his legs as they curiously tease the long-haired blond's slit. Mentally, their pleasure is already an all-consuming circle—but it could be a literal one as well... only once Star begins, though, he doesn't want to get in the way...

[orangetintedglasses]

The second the words came tumbling out of his mouth, Vash knew he was in trouble. He just didn't know for sure exactly what kind of trouble he'd be on the receiving end of until it was already spilling out of Wolfwood's grinning mouth, and by that point it was waaay too late to do anything about it. The man was picking up the pace in both speed and intensity, and Vash was nothing if not helpless against it; barely able to brace himself with his feet in time to avoid slipping further as he widened his stance and rocking his hips, taking more and more of Wolfwood's fingers and whining against his neck—

"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…

... maybe he really had needed this...

[forgivenpunishment]

"That doesn't sound like such a bad time," Wolfwood purrs, fingers working Vash open and gleefully reveling in each stuttered moan of his name. He keeps pushing against the blond's prostate, and that final call of his name is the last fucking straw his mind can handle before it snaps fully.

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.

"Let.... let me," Wolfwood starts, returning his arm to supporting Vash's other leg. The strain on his muscles burns, but it burns good, like an exercise he hasn't done before, "T-tell me if you... n-need... if you're not... comfortable..."

[orangetintedglasses]

Oh... they really are different biologically, aren't they? Different isn't bad, though— quite the opposite, in fact. There's something so inherently sensual about Canary's more alien setup, though Star can only get a glimpse of the petals from where he is...

… 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—

While all of this is happening, the vines wound around Canary's shiver and flex, undulating and tightening ever so slightly around the other Plant's in a display of arousal, trembling much in the same way that muscles would as they strained against pleasure—

[forgivenpunishment]

Wolfwood finally manages to free his fingers from the greedy grip of Canary's tendrils, and brings them to his mouth with Star practically breathing in his ear. His tongue laves over the nectar already spread over his digits, and... and it's...

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.

The vines coil in response around Star's, reacting and accepting their joint connection. Canary... he could make it extra good for his host Vash, once they get going... and if he wants more... He doesn't quite have the words to ask at the moment, but as his vines caress Star's thigh, perhaps he doesn't need to. Maybe the question is already out there.