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The night is warm with just the hint of breeze when Hemlock opens the greenhouse door. He sighs as he can smell the fresh fragrance in the air as he steps inside. Nothing beats Gotham in full bloom in the summer.
Though the greenhouse is technically an isolated space from the outside, Ivy and him have worked hard to make sure that they incorporate parts of Gotham’s biosphere so the plants can thrive. There are ventilation shafts woven in between pots of ferns, and a delicate irrigation system that sources straight from the Gotham river. It wouldn’t make sense to raise plants that are completely sheltered. The beauty about nature is that she has the ability to adapt to anything.
The babies they are raising here are proof of that. They are new specimens, for sure, genetically modified plants that the world has never seen before, but when are Poison Ivy’s experiments not? That’s what she was renowned for back in her time researching at Gotham University.
Hemlock would know, because he had the front-row seat to all of her lectures. Jason Todd was Pamela Isley’s prized graduate student assistant.
Which means he was also there when the jealous Dr. Jason Woodrue sabotaged one of their spore samples. He had been locked in with Isley, forced to breathe in the mutated spores until it changed their bodies from a molecular level, and made them more plant than human.
Whatever changed Jason’s mammal body into his new pristine photosynthesizing one also got rid of the neural centers in his brain that were responsible for love, affection, and community. He doesn’t regret a thing; his world is so much brighter now because of it.
But he does remember how it used to feel. He’s sure Ivy does too, even though she acts like she doesn’t. At the end of the day, parsing through the memories he had of feeling in love, feeling affection, it’s clear what the source of those emotions truly was. Every organism in the world feels it, even plants.
The need to reproduce.
Hemlock understands that. Reproduction is how nature adapts to things— it’s how she overcomes challenges and grows stronger. You can’t evolve the perfect specimen in one generation, but you can do it over several hundred generations. Trial and error is what makes you the apex predator in the ecosystem. It’s a lot like research in that way.
Ivy seems more interested in short term solutions like wiping out Gotham’s human population and destroying the agriculture industry. She doesn’t have the time to be thinking of the slow climb.
Thank god Jason has been working on his project in private. Once it’s all ready he can present it to her, and then she’ll understand.
Speaking of his project, he approaches the backroom of the greenhouse where it’s kept.
Stepping through the door, Hemlock can’t help but admire the giant flower that is sitting in the center of the room. He modeled its phenotype after the titan arum, but all he can think of is how he’s Seymour and this is his Audrey II.
… So his human self also used to be a theater nerd. It was truly a blessing that he turned.
Anyways, it’s beautiful, the flower. Lovely red and pink petals curled around a long stamen that is almost so tall it looks like a pillar. The air around is filled with a sweet scent of honey— an aphrodisiac, but one that’s not meant to lure bugs, but rather imprison the already caught ones. Jason did so much research on carnivorous plants so he could find the right nectar formulation.
Not that the plant is carnivorous either. It takes inspiration from that category, certainly. But at the end of the day its function is exactly what Jason named it: Lilium carceramores.
His little love prison.
“Wake up, Nightwing.”
The man he has imprisoned doesn’t budge, but Jason knows he’s awake. He walks closer and stops just shy of the flower’s petals.
A single wave of his hand jerks the vine wrapped around Nightwing’s ankle forward, and wrenches a startled grunt out of the vigilante as he sprawls over the floor.
Satisfied with proof that his prey is living, Jason stalks forward. The petals part before him like they’re welcoming their warden.
He was aware of himself as an attractive human male before, even if some shameful part of Jason had always found it better to hide behind shapeless hoodies and lab coats. Now that he’s been hybridized, that notion no longer exists in his brain. Plants flower in order to attract pollinators and Hemlock is not shy in displaying his petals.
He has his body on full naked display: toned, sculpted physique with green tinted skin, and a few vines and flowers curled carefully around the alluring parts of his stature, accentuating his natural curves. A small ivy bush covers his most intimate part, because Hemlock likes a little wink-and-nod when he’s in the public eye. He thinks he’s grown taller since photosynthesizing, his body using the sunlight to build him into the model of a Greek God.
Nightwing acts like he doesn’t appreciate any of one of Gotham’s finest botanical specimens standing before him. He averts his head as Hemlock sits in his lap, looking pointedly up at the one spot the flower petals haven’t concealed and where the ceiling peeks through.
Jason traces bored little circles into the bare skin peeking out from his torn suit. “Won’t you look at me, lover?”
“I’d rather not,” Is Nightwing’s reply. “Not until you let me out of here.”
Jason sighs and drapes his arms over Nightwing’s shoulders. He husks, “You know I can make you look at me. A little bit of pollen will have you all over me like the early days of your stay here.”
He feels Nightwing twitch, before his body language goes back to indifference. His voice is low and dangerous, nothing like the cheeriness he exudes in their fights. “You don’t want to do that, Hem.”
“I know you don’t want me to do that, ‘Wing. And truthfully, I don’t want to either. It makes for much better sex when you give yourself to me willingly.”
“I’m not in the mood.” Nightwing says then presses his lips together. He seems staunch on defying Hemlock today, even though his lover had been so enthusiastic in their coupling session yesterday. This is why Jason doesn’t like humans. Their natures and behaviors are so fickle.
Left with no choice, he lets the buds that line his nape open up, beginning to let out a fine yellow mist that fills the air inside the flower. Situated in his lap, Jason feels the moment Nightwing sucks in a gulp of air, intending to wait things out until the pollen disperses.
He rolls his eyes in exasperation. These vigilantes never learn.
He changes positions so he's now settled on his knees, still straddling Nightwing’s lap. Jason reaches a hand down to his bush, parting the leaves gently so Nightwing can get a look at his cunt. He’s already beginning to drip— it’s hard not to, when Jason has always had a thing for having strong men underneath him.
The sweet sap from his pussy dribbles onto Nightwing’s closed lips and chin. He can see the vigilante fight to resist the urge to drink it.
It’s a losing battle. With how much exposure he’s gotten to it over the past few days, Nightwing is already addicted to the aphrodisiac qualities of Jason’s slick. Jason loves watching him go over the edge too.
“Come on,” he purrs, eager to egg him on. “Just a small taste, lover.”
Nightwing is shaking from the effort it takes to resist Jason’s temptation, face slowly turning red from lack of oxygen. Sweat beads across his forehead, pupils dilated, until finally the tip of his tongue pokes out and licks across his upper lips. Then it repeats the motion again. And again.
Jason laughs in delight as Nightwing surges forwards suddenly and pushes him to the floor, hands coming down to tangle in his hair as he buries his face between his legs. Nightwing gets to work surprisingly quickly for someone who has both arms restrained behind his back, legs tied together by vines.
His tongue is also just as dextrous, and Jason can’t help the gasp that comes out as he feels it swipe over his entrance. Nightwing latches onto his clitoris, sucking at the bud like he’s desperate and then alternating to stick his tongue between Jason’s folds, lapping at it like a dog.
Jason lets out enthusiastic moans between every lick, which are echoed by Nightwing. Fun fact about the vigilante that Hemlock learned only after they went from enemies who fight to enemies who fuck: he loves giving head.
It makes Jason wonder what types of partners he’s had before. Maybe that Batgirl chick, or a few of the Bludhaven rogues he sees in the news sometimes. The thought makes him tinge a little greener, leaves him feeling a little more than agitated. Unwittingly he secretes more of the psychoactive component into his slick.
Nightwing is his.
He locks his knees around the back of Nightwing’s head, forcing him to stay in place. If the man cares, he certainly doesn’t show it, already too overcome by his chemically-induced lust to change his attention to anything besides Jason’s slit. He’s so adorable, like a puppy, the way he gets into pleasuring his captor-lover-partner regardless of how Jason’s genitalia presents itself on the day.
Jason briefly wonders if he should present his penis so he can watch the man attempt to shove it down his throat.
Whatever. There’s always next time.
Jason lies back against the petals, feeling them arrange themselves into a cushion for his head. He arches his back, tensing at the right times and letting out soft encouraging gasps every time Nightwing’s clever tongue flicks over a sensitive spot. A blushing warmth starts in Jason’s cheeks, beginning to spread down to his throat, making his green pallor seem a lot more human in the moment. He can feel himself getting close, pleasure building in between his legs and ready to let go.
He unhooks his knees and gets Nightwing’s attention with a tug to his hair. “Ease up now, lover.”
Nightwing gasps for air, face is still red, but now from exertion. A generous amount of pollen dusts his face, and his gaze behind the mask are glassy. He’s hard in his suit, and Jason watches as he struggles to form words, mouth hanging open, tongue still endeavoring to dive back into the wet, wanting cunt before him, with half a mind to drown himself there.
There’s a string of saliva connecting his lips to Jason’s bud. “Please, Hemlock, baby, hah, you taste so good—“
“And?” Jason queries, amused. He gives Nightwing’s hair another little tug.
Nightwing’s eyes roll back into his head and he moans at the tug, leans into it a little. His hips jerk upwards.
Then he starts to beg.
“Lemme make you feel good. Please, please— I’ll do it, I swear, I can, just please, let me fuck you…”
It pleases Jason to no end to watch the pretty boy plead for his right to fuck him. He’d be the first to admit that he has always had a fascination with Nightwing, the same way Ivy does with Batman. But whereas Ivy usually fantasizes in making Batman bend the knee before her eventual plant throne, Jason imagines more of a companionship role for Nightwing.
It would be fun to parade him through the streets of an overgrown Gotham. Jason hasn’t decided if he wants Nightwing on his knees and leashed like a dog, or dolled up and leading Jason by the hand like a prince consort. A husband and lover, pet and slave, all rolled up into one. And so handsome too. They’ll have such a pretty brood together.
(And if his husband-to-be resembles that Wayne-boy from the magazines that Jason used to secretly crush on, Hemlock doesn’t really care.)
Yes, Nightwing is his. Hemlock won’t give him to anyone else. And if he has to part with him before they get their time together then he’ll make sure he’ll poison him for anyone else.
Jason nudges Nightwing back up to sitting, and slide into his lap in a mimicry of the positions they started out in. Nightwing kneels underneath him, arms bound behind him, but his demeanor has changed into something much more pleasing— and eager to please. He looks up at Jason reverently like he’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever see, eyes filled with devotion.
“Do you want me, lover?” Jason can’t help asking. He can feel Nightwing’s stiff rod and how much it’s throbbing. He grinds down against it, rubbing his folds against its base and getting the material all slick. “Will you take care of me, make me feel good for the rest of our days?"
“Yes, god, yes,” Nightwing chants. An uncharacteristic keen breaks out past his lips. “Please, Hem, oh my god—“
Jason tugs open the zipper with a practiced hand, and seats himself onto his lover’s cock. He feels a sigh rush through him as he takes it to root. Nightwing is thick as average, but longer for sure, and Jason moans as he feels the tip rub right up against his sweet spot, toes curling.
After a moment spent acclimating himself to the stretch, he begins to move, raising himself up on his knees and dropping himself down again, relishing the fullness pushing into him again and again.
Nightwing writhes underneath him, moaning and convulsing in pleasure. His eyes are rolling around, mouth open and gasping for air. There’s a little bit of foamed spit gathering on the corner of his mouth. He’s too out of it to stay still, overdosed on the potent chemicals Jason has been feeding him with during his jealous musings, so that it’s a bit of a struggle to him get the rhythm going.
Jason frowns and leans forward to kiss him, tongue swiping across his bottom lip to get him to part his lips. Once Nightwing does, he lets the antidote flow out of his mouth and into Nightwing’s.
The man’s seizing slows, quells and his whole body relaxes.
After a moment spent recovering, he says, “I wish you wouldn’t dose me like that.”
Jason hums, unbothered, and continues bouncing himself on Nightwing’s lap. He uses the vigilante’s shoulders as leverage so he can angle his hips to rub at just the right spot. His breath is starting to quicken, chest heaving as that coiling pleasure continues to build inside him. He sneaks a hand down to begin rubbing at his clit, moaning as it intensifies the feeling.
Nightwing is watching him through lidded but careful eyes. He’s still interested clearly, but also recovered enough of his normal senses to start moralizing. Jason hates when he does that, when he brings work talk into their private affairs, so he returns Nightwing’s gaze with a delightfully innocent pout. As innocent as a misanthropic plant-human hybrid can make it look, anyways.
“Can you blame me? You look so good begging for me.”
“I’m beginning to think you didn’t actually need my help with your week-long experiment, Hemlock,” Nightwing says dryly. “And that you really just wanted an excuse to fuck.”
“Why can’t we do both?” Jason’s fingers skim the sensitive underside of his clit, and he bites his lip, head tipping back in excitement. It also makes him clench down harder on the cock inside him.
He doesn’t miss the way Nightwing hisses, nor the way his eyes trace the curve of his exposed neck. “Hah, you’re such a killjoy, Nightwing. Maybe I won’t keep you as a pet anymore when we take over Gotham.”
“That’ll never happen,” Nightwing says, just as dryly. “We’ll stop you and Ivy, as we always do.”
Jason lowers his head and gives Nightwing a mischievous, handsome smile that he knows he’s down bad for. For emphasis, he lets some vines crawl down the sides of his face so they can caress the vigilante’s face, and tickle his nose. Nightwing scrunches his face up cutely.
Jason lets go the vines that have been holding Nightwing captive and drapes himself over the other.
“Now make me come, lover, and we’ll see,” he purrs.
Jason knows what the man is going to do already before he does it, but it still makes Jason preen with excitement when Nightwing shakes his wrists free and places his hands around his hips. He lowers Jason to the floor gently, getting him to wrap his legs around his waist.
He’s still sheathed inside him, still hard, still wanting what Jason can give him. He’s not quite to the point where he would do anything for Jason if he asked, but his willingness to abide by his requests is already showing and it makes the rogue all giddy. Hemlock wants to dig his thorns into Nightwing and never let him go.
Nightwing snaps his hips forwards, beginning a pace that is all rough pursuit and brash. Jason gasps, holding onto dear life as Nightwing fucks him hard into the floor petal of the plant. Nightwing does it with the skill of an experienced lover, making sure that every stroke is rubbing right against Jason’s most sensitive places, and that every time he thrusts in he grinds his hip bone against his swollen clit to make him cry out.
The pleasure is overwhelming. It feels like heaven. Jason gazes blissfully upwards at his lover.
Nightwing has his eyes closed, strong brows pinched together, and he’s letting out his own gasps and small moans as he works them together to climax. He’s so devoted to fulfilling his role it hurts Jason to think about how he won’t just let Jason envelop him in his petals, keep him happy and complacent for the rest of his days. In his eyes Nightwing is the perfect lover. The perfect specimen.
Nightwing isn’t aware of the changes happening in Hemlock’s body until it’s too late. Hemlock feels his womb beginning to descend, start to coiling around the shaft inside of him. Nightwing gasps in shock as it constricts itself around him like a second sleeve. His immediate instinct is to pull out, but Hemlock holds him close with his arms and legs.
“Stay,” he whispers, and feels the man falter.
He feels his insides tighten up, then begin to clench and undulate around the cock in him, mimicking a milking motion. A shiver runs through Nightwing and he lets out a shaky groan, eyes rolling briefly up into his head at the stimulation around his cock. Slowly, his thrusts start back up, though they feel a little more driven by his own desperation, like he’s masturbating with a sex toy in private.
Jason holds him tight, letting the man reach his climax inside. He comes himself when he feels Nightwing spill inside him, toes curling and body going stiff, petals quivering from the force of the pleasure that overtakes him. But that’s nothing compared to the feeling of Nightwing’s seed planting inside him. Jason lets out a satisfied moan at the heat spreading through his abdomen. It doesn’t take a degree in botany to know that the first stage of his experiment was a success.
Nightwing collapses against him, still gasping and shaking from the aftershocks. He’s hypersensitive from the womb-fucking, unable to string together words for a full minute, and settles for a string of unintelligible whimpers. When he finally pulls out, cock soft, Jason lets him.
“What… was that?” Nightwing’s voice is brusque from his climax, but he sounds a little like he’s in awe.
Jason is careful to make sure that none of his seed came out with the help of his vines. “You didn’t like it?”
“No— That was just… unexpected. Was that your experiment this whole time, Hem?”
“Maybe.” Truthfully, Jason’s real experiment starts now, but Nightwing doesn’t need to know that. Instead Jason props himself up on his elbows, staring up through his eyelashes at the vigilante. “Took me a while to figure it out. Did it feel good?”
The embarrassment that spreads over Nightwing’s face makes it all worth it. He looks abashedly to the side. “I— Yeah. It felt really good. Like I was being milked inside of you, almost.”
“Good.” Jason sits up more, now sidling up to Nightwing and brushing their lips brush together. “I like making you feel good, Wing.”
Nightwing’s face somehow gets redder. It’s impossibly cute. Jason hopes he’ll blush like this when he parades the hero around as his spoil of war, with a cute little flower adorning his cock and all. But when he goes in for another kiss, Nightwing steps away. “Well, thanks for the ride, literally. This was fun, Hemlock.”
Jason tilts his head. “You can stay longer.”
“I can’t. I told Batman that I’d be off grid only for a week.”
Jason frowns, and for a moment he’s tempted to open up the buds again. Then he stops. Ivy did always counsel him that he could get too impatient sometimes. Plants need water and a nurturing hand to grow into their places. Humans are the same.
Besides, Jason has gotten what he wanted for now.
“Alright,” he relents. “Then let me give you something to part with.”
Nightwing looks at him suspiciously, but doesn’t do anything as Jason extends a little vine from his index finger. It wraps around his neck a few revolutions, not tightening, and then cuts itself loose to form a thin green band.
“A necklace?”
“A courting gift.”
Nightwing looks surprised, but a little bit endeared. He makes no move to remove the ring, even though his vigilante training is probably telling him otherwise. “And here I thought you were too separated from human society to care about that sort of thing, Hem.”
“I’ve been studying,” Jason replies. Despite himself, Hemlock smiles a little at the sight of the vine.
“Yes, well next time maybe you can study some things about consent.” Nightwing says, but his tone is light to show that he isn’t too upset over it. “I don’t live to serve you, you know.”
“No,” Hemlock agrees readily, eyes still on the collar around the vigilante’s neck. “You don’t.”