Don't Touch the Plants
Pairing: Dick Grayson x Fem!Reader
Summary: Dick, who was once banned from engaging with Ivy as a kid because he kept poking her carnivorous plants, still manages to get himself in trouble, even as an adult. One overdose of sex pollen has the two of you scrambling to reach a safehouse before the effects set in.
Word Count: 7K
Content Warnings: 18+, explicit sexual content, porn with very little plot, sex pollen, dubious consent (because of the pollen), established relationship, sex marathon, oral (female receiving), rimming, p in v sex, unprotected sex, overstimulation, squirting, mating press, praise kink, explicit language, no use of Y/N
A/N: I'm sure this has already been done before, but when I read the episode of Wayne Family Adventures where Dick explains to Damian why he got banned from Poison Ivy cases for a while, I couldn't help but think it was the perfect lead-up for a sex pollen fic 😅 Holy shit, this is FILTHY AF
ALSO even though this is getting posted around Xmas, it has nothing to do with Xmas, and I DO NOT RECOMMEND that you read it around your family!
"Are you going to behave yourself?" you ask, pointedly glaring at Nightwing as you both approach the giant greenhouse at the back of the Gotham Botanical Gardens.
"Why, I have no idea what you could possibly mean," he responds with a cheesy grin.
Your gaze narrows even further. "If you get eaten by a giant carnivorous plant again, I'm not coming after you."
"I can't help it if I'm irresistibly tasty." He presses a hand to his chest, his tone heavy, like it's such a burden to bear.
"Oh, brother..." You roll your eyes.
"Babe, you know exactly how tasty I am," he leans in and whispers into your ear.
You push his face away with a gloved hand and refuse to acknowledge the heat beneath your own domino mask. "Way to keep it professional, Nightwing."
His husky chuckle sends a shiver down your spine. "You're not denying it."
"And you still haven't answered my question. Do I need to make you wait out here?" You cross your arms, coming to a stop in front of the main doors, barring his entry.
"Come on, that was a long time ago!" He holds his hands out like he's trying to prove his case. "I was 8!"
"Yes, because you've done so much maturing since then," you mumble sarcastically with your hands on your hips and staring pointedly.
He pouts, and you can fully imagine the big blue puppy eyes he's giving you beneath the whites of his mask. "I'll be good," he promises, drawing an X over his heart. He drops the act and adopts a more serious tone. "I'm not letting you go in there alone. We all know how volatile Ivy can be."
You stare him down for a beat, gauging the honesty of his pledge, before stepping aside with a sigh. "She's mellowed out a bunch after she started dating Harley."
"She's still dangerous."
"I know," you agree, moving to pull open the large glass door. "Just keep your hands to yourself."
He's back to smirking cheekily. "That's not what you said last night."
You have to refrain from smacking him.
It's hot and humid inside the monumental glass building. All types of exotic plants fill the space from floor to ceiling, along with buzzing and fluttering insects in various colorful forms. You begin sweating under your suit almost immediately.
"Let's make this quick," you announce, stepping deeper into the greenhouse. You cut him off as soon as he opens his mouth. "If you make one more comment about last night, I swear to god..."
He laughs, holding his hands up innocently.
You both follow the path deeper into the building. It feels like you're getting swallowed up by the rainforest all around you. It's not like walking into a lion's den; the threat here is subtle, older, thousands of years of slow growth and adaptation. You tread carefully, making sure to avoid any wayward sprouts or vines along the path. Don't want to piss off your host by accident.
"To what do I owe this unexpected intrusion?" Ivy's voice carries to you before you've even laid eyes on her.
Several jungle ferns shift their fronds, opening a previously hidden path. You and Nightwind share a look before stepping through and entering what appears to be a chemist's laboratory. There are tables full of glassware, vials, and beakers filled with colorful liquids, Bunsen burners, measuring scales, and the like.
Ivy is standing behind the table, wearing safety goggles, and swirling a bright green concoction inside a triangular beaker.
You step closer, but still maintain a healthy distance from her and the lab equipment. "Batman said you've had a breakthrough on the water quality project."
She sets down the beaker and steps out from behind the table. "Yes, follow me."
You both follow her to a different section of the greenhouse.
"When Batman first came to me with the idea to use plants to filter out all the pollution, fear toxin, and Joker venom poisoning the Gotham river, I told him it couldn't be done. Humans are destroying this planet at a rate too quick for my beloved plants to adapt. I had lost too many of my babies to these vile contaminants already; I didn't want to contribute to the loss of even more while studying a fool's errand."
The sound of running water hits your ears moments before you step to the edge of an indoor pond. Gorgeous, vibrant blooms of water lilies, water hyacinths, and watercress plants float across the top, while cattails line the sides. The water within the pond is clear enough to see a few fish and turtles swimming beneath the surface.
"Batman's plan of enhanced evolution and genetic modification of these specific species has indeed borne fruit." Ivy comes to a stop near the pond's edge. "The water of this pond is being directly supplied by the river."
"Wow..." you mutter quietly. The Gotham River water you know is mucky and disgusting. It's hard to believe just a few plants can accomplish so much. "Can I take a sample?"
"Be my guest," she gestures toward the water's edge.
You hesitate just for a moment, assessing the situation. You don't sense any hostility from her, but still want to make sure you're not about to get eaten by a plant sea monster hidden within the depths of the pond. You deem it safe when she looks away with disinterest. You pull a vial from your utility belt and dip it below the surface of the water. You release a subtle sigh of relief when nothing jumps out at you, and you're able to cork the vial and drop it back into your belt.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you."
You look up in alarm, but find that Ivy's attention has been drawn elsewhere. You follow her gaze to Nightwing, whose face is far too close to a bulbous, orchid-looking plant, in a striking magenta color.
"Why does this one smell so..." Dick almost sounds dazed as he stares at the flower.
All too suddenly, the center bulb bursts open, and a cloud of pink powder shoots directly into his face.
"Nightwing!" You cry out, startled.
He coughs and stumbles back. "What the hell?"
"Oh, here we go..." Ivy rolls her eyes and reaches a hand up to massage her temples.
"Oh, shit. Please tell me that's just normal plant pollen." You look from Nightwing back to her.
She gives you a flat look. "Would I be keeping it all the way in the back of the greenhouse if it were?" She asks with a raised brow.
"Fuck. Do you have an antidote?" You reach out to steady him when he stumbles again, like a baby deer taking their first steps.
"Relax, it's non-lethal." She waves away your distress. "He'll burn it out of his system within twelve hours. Faster if he engages in physical activity."
"What?" You look at her with confusion and then stiffen when Nightwing presses his face to your neck and breathes deeply.
"Baby, you smell so good," he practically moans into your skin.
Your knees nearly buckle when he suddenly drops his entire weight onto you, like the world's neediest weighted blanket. "N-Nightwing... get ahold of yourself!" You hiss through clenched teeth, embarrassment and concern battling within you.
"At the dose he just took, it's going to set in fast. You may want to get him to a safe house sooner rather than later."
"Ivy, what exactly was in that pollen?" You're almost scared to ask.
"A hormonal stimulant. It was originally designed to enhance subservience, but there were unintended side effects, so I stopped the project and relocated the plant somewhere it wouldn't come in contact with others."
"A hormonal stimulant..." You repeat, trying to process what exactly that means. "Ivy, is this fucking sex pollen?!"
She smirks and waves you away. "Have fun with your new pet."
The plants in the greenhouse shift again, blocking her from view and opening a new path straight toward the exit. You struggle under Dick's weight, especially when he seems more keen on snuggling closer to you, rather than walking by himself, but you manage to get him back to the Batcycle. He presses in close, arms wrapping tight around your middle, hips grinding his bulging erection against your ass.
You nearly whimper, hands tightening around the handlebars. "Babe, you need to let me drive."
You're not sure if he's ignoring your words or incapable of following them, when all he does is moan and grind even faster.
Through sheer luck and determination, you manage to get yourselves to the nearest safehouse without crashing, even with your boyfriend dry humping you the entire time. You stumble up two flights of stairs and practically fall through the door of the empty apartment. He clings to you like a barnacle the whole time, hands rubbing over your torso, gripping your hips, squeezing your breasts, even dipping down to cup your sex through your uniform.
"I'm gonna make you feel so good, Baby," he declares, his voice a low, sultry thing that sends tingles down your spine.
"Dick, stop," you insist, forcing his hands to release you enough that you can turn in his hold to face him. You rip both of your masks off, tossing them to the side, before cupping his face between your palms. "Look at me." His pupils are fully dilated, his gaze laser-focused on your lips, sweat slicking his brow. He licks his mouth and tries to lean in to kiss you, but you hold him back. "Dick, Honey, we can't do this right now."
He blinks slowly, your words taking longer than normal to register. "Why not?" he asks, head tilting in confusion.
You stare at him flatly. "Because you're high on fucking sex drugs!"
"Pshhhhh... I'm fine." He waves his hand and tries to take a step to prove his point, and nearly collides with the wall. "Whoops!" He giggles like a drunken sorority girl.
You sigh and run your hands down your face, looking up toward the ceiling, at a loss for what to do. "Dick, you are not fine."
He giggles again, like you've just said the most hilarious joke. "You keep saying dick. Does that mean you wanna see mine?" He reaches to remove his utility belt and lets it fall to the floor at his feet.
You dart forward and grab his hands before he can remove anything else. "It's literally your name, Richard!"
"Oooooohh! You called me Richard. Does that mean I'm in trouble? Are you gonna spank me?" He grins goofily, turning around and wiggling his butt in your face.
"Oh my god, you're fucking ridiculous."
"Come on, baby. Smack my ass." He grins over his shoulder, slapping an open palm down over one perky globe. "You know you want to."
"Good grief..." You grip his shoulders and get him down the hall and into the single bedroom of the safehouse. You make him sit on the edge of the bed and then step back. "I'm going to leave you in here until whatever this is wears off. Feel free to jerk off or whatever you need to do to burn through it faster."
"No!" He grabs your wrist before you can get far enough, and he tugs you straight into his lap. His arms circle your waist, locking your body against his. "No, baby, don't go! I'm gonna make you feel so good. I need it. Need to feel you come on my tongue, and around my fingers, and on my cock. Please, baby." His tongue darts out, licking up the side of your neck and making your eyes roll back and your breath shudder.
"Babe, I'm not taking advantage of you when you've been compromised." You struggle against his hold and your own budding desire.
He nips and sucks on your pulse point, refusing to let you go. "We already talked about this. Remember?"
You stop your struggles for a moment, trying to figure out what he could be alluding to, when it finally hits you. A silly conversation you both had months ago. It was just pillow talk, running through hypothetical situations when the postcoital buzz was running too high to fall asleep, despite the late hour. Dick had asked if you'd still have sex with him if he was dosed with something that made him desperate for sex. You'd firmly denied, stating it would be morally wrong, even with the two of you dating.
"But what if I gave you permission ahead of time?" he countered. "What, like before the drug or whatever set in?" He shook his head. "No, like right now. If I ever get drugged and become out-of-my-mind horny for you sometime in the future, you have my explicit permission to fuck my brains out until I calm down." You scoffed and rolled your eyes. "Dick, that's not how consent works." "Sure it is," he grinned, tugging your knee higher on his hip, where you had it dangling over his side. "24/7, any time, anywhere... I'm always DTF." You snorted at that. "Okay, now I know you're bullshitting. You would not be down to fuck anywhere." His lips pursed into a pout. "What do you mean?" You raised a brow. "You're telling me you'd be DTF inside the batcave?" He stays quiet. "In the batmobile? In the manor's kitchen?" "Hey now! The kitchen is a sacred place. You don't mess with Alfred's domain!"
You blink at Dick as the memory fades away. "That was purely hypothetical; you were never supposed to actually get dosed with sex pollen!"
"I still gave you blanket permission for this exact situation." He's back to kissing and nipping at your neck, slowly chipping away at your resolve.
"Dick, you are literally incapable of saying no to sex, right now. That's not true consent."
"I'm incapable of saying no to sex even without any pollen. I want you every second of every day. Why do you think I make so many sexual innuendos?"
"God, you're hornier than a teenager at prom." You thread your fingers into his hair and yank his face away from your neck.
He releases a lewd moan, rocking his hip up into you. "Yeah, baby. Pull my hair like that again."
"Damnit..." You huff, mind racing as you try to figure out what to do. He's not going to let you leave the room. You could try to fight him. There's a chance the pollen will make his reaction time slower, but he's a force to be reckoned with when he's determined. He won't let you win easily, and you'll probably just end up in a compromising position, anyway. "Okay, fine," you relent. "We can have sex. The sooner I get you back to normal, the better. But I'm giving you hell after this."
If he were a puppy, he'd be wagging his tail and perking up his ears right now. "I promise I'll be so good to you. Gonna make you feel amazing."
"Yeah, babe, you've said that already." You give him a strange look. You thought sex pollen was supposed to make people desperate for their own release, but he seems entirely obsessed with yours. "Dick, Honey, why don't you let me suck you off. I'm sure that'll help make you feel better," you suggest while also testing a theory.
His protest is immediate, arms tightening like vices around your waist to keep you exactly where you are. "No, baby. I'm supposed to be making you feel good. That's the only way I'll feel better."
Your brows arch in surprise when your suspicions are confirmed, but then you remember what Ivy said about the pollen. It was originally intended for subservience, to get people to bend to her will. This pollen doesn't activate a person's need for pleasure; it amplifies their need to please others.
You've only just come to this conclusion when gravity suddenly shifts, and your back is pressed to the mattress while Dick cages your body beneath his. "I was put on this earth for you. You're so fucking pretty, I could just stare at you all day." He hands touch you with reverence, removing pieces of your supersuit as they go. Your gloves, your belt, the thigh holster for your grapple gun, boots, all removed with complete and utter devotion and care. "Sometimes I get jealous of how pretty you are."
You blink up at him, his admission catching you off guard. "Dick, you've been voted Sexiest Man in Gotham six years in a row by the Gazette. Bruce has been making second place since you were 19."
"I'll still never be pretty enough for you." He sighs like he's already accepted his place beneath you, which makes zero sense to you. He's the actual prettiest person you've ever met. "Which is why I make up for my shortcomings with this." His fingers unzip your tactical pants and yank them down your legs, your undies following almost immediately after. His wide shoulders spread your thighs, mouth hovering over your mound. He hums a low, satisfied sound, "I've always loved how wet you get for me."
"Fuck, Dick!" Your hips jolt against the slow drag of his tongue up your slit. He targets your clit like he's on a mission to get you off as quickly as possible. Normally, he enjoys taking his time and teasing you with slow, sensual strokes, but that doesn't seem to be the case tonight. He rubs the full length of his tongue up and down the bundled nerve, sending spikes of pleasure straight to your core. Your whole body is already shuddering from the sensations. Your breath leaves you in a sharp gasp when he sucks your clit deep into the cavern of his mouth and assaults it with quick flicks from the tip of his tongue.
"Ohmygod!" Your back arches, vision going white as your climax blasts through you like a popping champagne bottle. You've never cum so fast before, it's jarring. You whimper when he doesn't let up, continuing to suck and lick your exposed nerve well past the point of overstimulation. You have to reach down and yank him by the hair again, just to get a moment to catch your breath.
His eyes are wild, lips smeared with your slick and parted with his panting breaths. "I'm not nearly done with you," he vows, voice a near growl.
The butterflies in your stomach take flight when you realize you have no idea what you've gotten yourself into. You turn on your stomach and try to crawl up the bed on shaking limbs. You don't get far before his arm hooks around your hips and raises you onto your knees with your ass in the air. "Dick, please. I just came! Don't—" Your voice cuts off in a gasp as he pierces your folds with his tongue. He laps at your insides like he's trying to reach the melted ice cream at the bottom of the waffle cone. "O-Oh!" Your hands fist around the rumpled bedsheets, your head falling between them. You're not sure when he removed his gloves, but you feel his bare hands spreading your ass cheeks so he can push in even closer
The sounds of his tongue fucking you from behind are so lewd, your entire body burns with embarrassed arousal. It's wet, and loud, and you're both moaning like you're getting equal pleasure from this carnal act. You bite the sheets, hoping to muffle at least some of the embarrassing sounds coming out of you, only to release them with a sharp gasp at the slap of his fingers against your aching clit.
"None of that," he chides, rubbing the sting away with slow circles over the smarting flesh. "Wanna hear everything coming outta you, baby."
"Dick!" You say it more as a curse than as his name.
Based on his responding chuckle, you know he understood your meaning. His fingers leave your clit, gliding through slick folds and then spreading them wide, so he can see the way your needy hole clenches eagerly, begging to be filled. "Such a pretty pussy," he praises as he sinks his middle and ring fingers inside your heat. He knows it drives you wild when he uses those fingers; catches the way you stare at them when your eyes trace the blue stripes of his uniform. He pushes them in as deep as they'll go, curling them right up against that spongy spot on your upper wall that makes your eyes roll back.
"Fuuuck..." You sigh heavily, cheek pressed to the sheets, back arching as far as it'll go, a tremor running through your thighs.
The hand not buried between your legs squeezes the thick, meaty globe of your ass, molding the flesh in his strong grip. He watches the way your body greedily sucks on his fingers, slick practically running down your thighs from how wet you've become. He curls them hard into your G-spot and tugs while simultaneously squeezing your ass cheek, delighting in the way you shudder and moan. His attention soon gets diverted elsewhere when the clench and release of your pussy causes something else to do the same.
He releases a low, wicked laugh that cuts through the hazy pleasure fogging your mind like a sharpened blade through wet paper. "You know," he starts, still playing with your insides like an expert puppeteer. "You haven't let me play with this yet." His warm breath on the back of your thighs is the only warning you get before his hot, wet tongue presses to your puckered back door.
"Ungh!" Your breath punches out of you on a strangled moan, hands clawing at the sheets. No one has ever touched you there before. Sure, you and Dick had talked about it, and you'd expressed some interest, but you hadn't expected today would be the day you'd start that particular adventure. "Dick! Oh, fuck." You squeal, body tensing and jerking against his ministrations.
His fingers continue to plunge into your soaked core while his tongue laves against your virgin rosebud. His amused laugh skitters across your bare skin. "You like this, baby? I feel the way you squeeze my fingers when I lick your tight ring. You gonna cum again? Gonna squirt all over my hand while you've got my tongue shoved deep in your ass, Dirty Girl?"
There are no words that can describe what you're feeling right now. You should feel humiliated by how turned on you are. You're not even the one on sex pollen, but it feels so damn good that you don't even care. You want him to ruin you in the best ways. Embarrassment has been entirely replaced with shameless, wanton desire. "Please, Dick," you beg openly. "Fuck my ass with your tongue!"
You feel the grin split his mouth where it's pressed to your skin. "As you wish."
He increases the pressure, pressing his tongue harder against your virgin hole before the muscle finally gives. Your mouth parts on a loud sob, a thin stream of drool dribbling out the corner and soaking into the sheets. He stretches your cunt with three of his fingers now, tongue buried deep in your ass. You can't take it for long; it's too much. So fucking good, and hot, and dirty. Your body was already so close to the edge. It never really even left after that first orgasm. His fingers, long, slender, so annoyingly perfect, punch into your G-spot right as he shoves his tongue as deep as it can possibly go into your ass.
You shatter like an exploding star. Your hips push back, grinding against his face and fingers as your second orgasm ruthlessly rips through you. "OhfuckOhfuckOhfuck!" You moan deliriously into the sheets. Your ass clenches tight around his tongue at the same time your pussy absolutely drenches his fingers. Your body is shaking all over, muscles tensing and contracting in quick succession. After a few seconds, your strength abandons you, forcing you to collapse onto the bed. His tongue slips out of your ass with a parting flick, causing you to twitch in response. He continues to rub your G-spot from the inside, keeping you stimulated and on that edge, until you weakly grab his wrist. "Dick, please," you beg, trying to get him to pull his hand away. "I can't."
"Baby, I'm not done yet," he insists. "Gonna keep making you feel good."
Your breath stutters in your chest when you recognize the gravity of his tone. He's not messing around. He's going to keep giving you orgasm after orgasm until that pollen's fully run its course, or until you've passed out from the pleasure. Your eyes widen in aroused horror when you recall that Ivy mentioned the effect of the pollen could last up to twelve hours. How many orgasms would he be able to wring out of you in that amount of time? How long before your mind and body broke from the overstimulation?
You force yourself to get up despite your shaking limbs and turn to sit on your knees, facing him. "Dick," you reach out and place your hands on his chest. Looking down, you notice the thick, heavy bulge under his suit that he seems to be completely ignoring. "Why don't you let me make you feel good this time?" You try again. Maybe he'll start burning through the pollen faster if you can get him to climax as well.
He shakes his head. "My pleasure isn't important, right now. You are the only one that matters."
You feel a little lightheaded. Isn't this sort of every woman's darkest fantasy? Having someone be completely and unequivocally dedicated to pursuing her pleasure rather than their own? You just weren't prepared to endure twelve hours of this.
You shift closer, moving your hands up to cup his cheeks. You try to change tactics as you lean close and kiss the edge of his mouth. "Then how about you make me cum around your cock next? Wanna feel you deep inside me, stretched so good." Your whole body feels like an exposed nerve, still hypersensitive from that last release, but if you can get him naked and inside you, then you think you can tolerate at least one more orgasm while you try to help him achieve his own.
His head tilts, lips pressing harder against yours. "As you wish," he complies.
He finishes removing the top half of your suit and your sports bra before moving to shed his own gear. You crawl into his lap, hands running over familiar planes of corded muscle and warm skin. Dick Grayson has the kind of body you only ever see in museums, bodies carved into marble. A masterpiece of athletic prowess and grand design. Even his penis is a fucking work of art. Long, just the right amount of thick, pulsing veins, leaking tip. It would be annoying how absolutely perfect he was if you weren't benefitting from every solid inch of him. And there were a lot of inches.
You raise up onto your knees, tilting his head back to slant your lips over his. He reaches between your bodies, fisting his cock and guiding his tip to your hovering entrance. His other hand grips your hip, holding you in place until he gets the angle right, then he encourages you to sink down on him. You moan into his mouth, reveling in the stretch of your muscles as your body makes room for him. The slick slide of your bodies joining as one has you keening every time.
You're fully seated in his lap, cock pressed in to the hilt, and your thighs are already shaking. "Oh, Dick..." You sigh, rolling your hips and feeling him sink even deeper.
"That feel good, baby?" He asks you, not even winded, when normally he'd be going out of his mind trying to maintain steady control and not rut wildly up into you. His cock throbs deep inside your core, so you know he's feeling something, but this pollen really has forced him to put his own pleasure on the back burner.
You're beginning to see the flaws in your plan, but it's too late to back track at this point. All you can do now is try to make him feel good while he's inside you, and hopefully it'll be enough to push him over the edge. You start bouncing on his cock, swirling your hips, and clenching in that particular way that normally drives him insane. He barely reacts, rocking against you with a rhythm so steady, he's practically a metronome.
His mouth attaches to the side of your neck, nipping and sucking on your fluttering pulse point. You moan weakly, already realizing you're losing this battle of wills. You thread your fingers through his hair, tugging at the thick strands and making him moan back, but it's not enough to get him anywhere near where you need him to be. He's still firmly in the seat of control, with no sign of struggle.
One of his hands is splayed against the base of your spine, keeping you close and encouraging the slight arch of your back as his head drops to suck one of your nipples into his mouth. You release a broken sound of pleasure, head falling back, arching even more. He sucks the tender flesh, tongue flicking over the pebbled nub. His other hand glides up the side of your ribcage and molds your neglected breast, pinching the hardened bud between his thumb and forefinger.
You can't stave off your building orgasm. Not with the way he's targeting your every erogenous zone like he's strategically planning your erotic demise. "Dick! Oh my fuckk!" You cling to him like he's an anchor in a storm, all while you're slamming yourself down on his cock like you're trying to ride him into the sunset. He encourages your movements, that hand at your back dipping down to grip your ass cheek for leverage as he fucks up into the spot deep in your cunt that makes you a little stupid.
Your lips part on a strangled cry, tension coiling in your gut once again, before you start spasming and feel that familiar spark of pleasure crackle across your nerve endings. "Oh shit! Dick, I'm—" There's a kaleidoscope of colors behind your fluttering lashes, and something inside you breaks loose. You feel an unfamiliar pulse deep in your core. It's hot and intense, and you don't know what it means until the dam bursts and your cunt is squirting all over his cock and abdomen. It sprays out of you in an arcing fan, completely uncontrolled, and entirely unexpected. Your eyes roll back as pleasure at a magnitude you've never felt before sets your nerves aflame.
Dick feels every twitch and tremor and clench where he's buried inside you, still hard as stone. He stares down at the mess splashed across his skin with a sort of bewildered fascination until you slump forward against his chest, blocking the view from sight. You pant and shudder against him, eyes unfocused, mind melted. He cups the side of your face, "So fucking beautiful."
Your gaze blinks back into focus, meeting the glimmering sapphire blue of his own. Your breath catches in your throat; there's an animalistic hunger in his eyes. A craving so raw and potent, you feel like sweet, innocent prey quivering in front of a salivating beast. Your muscles are too weak to resist as he guides you onto your back and folds your knees against your chest. He stares down at the place where you're still joined, where the mess of your slick has begun drying on your bodies. You feel the piercing heat of his gaze as it drags back up the length of your torso, over your shuddering breasts, and locks back onto your eyes.
"Let's do that again."
You don't get a chance to respond before he's slamming into the mating press. He keeps you folded in half and open, bending forward until his shoulders meet the backs of your knees, as he fucks deep into your quivering pussy. You can't do much other than take his ruthless thrusts and scream out his name over and over again.
"Come on, baby," he grunts into your ear. "I know you can squirt f'me, again."
You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head. "I can't!"
"Sure ya can." He rolls his hips and punches into you at a different angle.
Your eyes snap back open, lips parting on a choked breath.
"That's it, baby. Don't think. Just let go. Make this messy pussy squirt all over my cock."
You don't even know where any more liquid could be stored inside of your body after that last round, but it's like he's opened a locked door that can never be shut again, as another flood of hot, filthy wetness soaks you both. Your nails rake down his back, screaming your pleasure so loud, you're pretty sure you've compromised the integrity of this safehouse. He fucks you through it the whole time, even as your squirt splashes across his stomach and drips down his balls. He doesn't stop until he feels your shaking hands pushing weakly at his chest.
"Dick, please... No more. I can't." Tears from overstimulation have collected on your lashes.
"Hey, shhhh," he hushes you gently. "What's the matter, pretty girl?" He stills within you, but you can feel that he's just as hard as when this all started, maybe even more so.
Your breath catches on a hiccup, a single tear leaking out of the corner of your eye. "Wanted to make you feel good, too. But 's too much, baby. I can't—"
"No, sweet girl," he coos, bending down to kiss your tears away. "You did so good," he praises.
You reach up and cup his cheek with the palm of your hand, thumb rubbing gently across his cheekbone. "What about you?"
His eyes slip blissfully shut as he nuzzles against your palm. "Don't you worry about me, baby girl." He relishes in your touch for a moment before sitting back on his heels and carefully pulling out of your puffy, abused cunt. He stares down at your gaping hole and has to fight himself to not bend down and fill you with his tongue all over again. His cock throbs painfully, balls heavy with pent-up release, and it momentarily cuts through the haze of the pollen to stop him from doing just that.
He breathes in a sharp, steadying breath, which doesn't actually help, because the room reeks of sex, and that just sends him spiraling again. He wants to fuck you until your voice is raw from screaming his name. He wants to make you squirt again. He wants to make you feel pleasure so unimaginable that there aren't even words to describe it. He is merely a tool for stimulation. A vessel to transport you to the highest level of being. He is your humble servant, and you are his goddess in mortal form.
He squeezes his eyes shut and uses a meditation technique Bruce taught him to fight against fear toxin. It doesn't completely pull him out from the influence of the pollen, but he at least feels in control enough that he won't jump you despite your protests.
"Come on, Beautiful. Let's roll you onto your stomach so I can massage those aching muscles. Hmm?" The driving need to make you feel good is still the main focus of his motivation, but he can ignore the sexual aspect of that motivation for now.
You moan long and slow when his thumbs dig circles against the base of your spine and smooth their way up. He works the knots out of your back and shoulders, feeling how you relax beneath him. Your eyes fluttering behind closed lashes, a low, contented sound rumbling out of you when he works out a particularly stubborn knot.
His cock leaks like a broken faucet, a steady dribble of pre-cum collecting on the thoroughly soiled sheets, and occasionally smearing the back of your thighs when his tip accidentally brushes up against them. His balls hang low, so fucking full and heavy that he can barely see straight. He may have been denying his own pleasure this whole time, but he's felt fucking everything. Every twitch, every clench, how sopping wet you were when you exploded with arousal.
He continues to ignore the desperate ache in his loins, smoothing his hands down your legs to massage the back of your calves.
"Dick..." you call, voice almost sleepy.
"Hmm?" he questions, thumbs digging into the meat of your calf and smoothing the ache away.
"C'mere..." You bend the knee of the leg he's not working on out to the side, spreading yourself open once more, and giving him an unobstructed view of your drooling cunt.
His hands stop their gentle ministration as he stares. A better man would say no. Maybe even he, himself, would say no if it weren't for the pollen. But the best he can utter is a quiet, "You sure?" while actively crawling back up the length of your body.
"Mhmm," you sigh, feeling his warmth settle back over you.
His hips drop to the curve of your ass, the head of his cock smearing his dribbling need across your soaked folds. He reaches a hand down to align himself properly and sinks back into your silken heat. You both groan in unison, each of your bodies hypersensitive for polar opposite reasons.
"Tha'sa good girl," he praises. "Takin' my cock nice and deep inside this needy, wet cunt."
His hands glide over the backs of yours, threading his fingers in the space between yours, and pinning them down to the bed while he rocks into you from behind. The wet fwap of his balls slapping against your clit steadily grows faster as he builds momentum.
"God, I love this fucking pussy. Don't care if you call me pussy whipped. I'll worship her with everything I have." He fucks you like the world is ending, pinned to the sheets beneath the weight of his chest. "I love how wet she gets, the way she milks me dry, clenching like she's never gonna let me go."
"Dick! Ung, ung, unghh!!!" Your jaw goes slack when he jackhammers straight into your G-spot.
"I love when you moan my name. Just like that, baby. Love when you laugh at my stupid jokes. Love when you get mad at my stupider jokes. I fucking love you so much! I can't—" He huffs breathlessly. "Baby, I can't stop. Gimme one more. Just one more time. Cum for me once more."
"Fuck! Dick!" Your hands clench around his fingers, squeezing them tight as you're catapulted into yet another orgasm.
"Yes! Baby." He feels every shudder and twitch with how tight he's pressed up against you. "So good for me. I love you! Fucking love you."
He thrusts once, twice, before his full body tenses all at once, and he pulls out just in time to spill his release across the back of your thighs and ass. He rubs his cock between the globes of your ass cheeks, his balls squeezing in tight and shooting spurt after spurt of thick, creamy cum against your lower back. He whimpers while he humps your ass, and feels a little guilty for the mess he's making, but he can't seem to stop. He's not sure how many orgasms the pollen denied him, but they seem to all be hitting him at the same time.
There's a shift in the air. What was once charged with heavy sexual tension has now simmered into a satisfied post-coital bliss. You both pant for breath, bodies sticky with sweat and other bodily fluids, but a sort of peace has settled over you.
When his balls have emptied, and his cock has stopped twitching, Dick rolls off to the side, landing heavy on his back, and stares up at the ceiling. "Holy shit..." you hear him huff, for the first time sounding like himself again.
"Are you back to normal?" you ask breathlessly, unable to even lift your head to check on him.
"Yeah..." He breathes. "I think so." You hear him exhale a sharp laugh. "Damn, that was wild."
"I don't think I can move." Your muscles feel like they've been well and truly liquified.
"Me neither," he agrees. "That was fucking intense. Every time you came, I felt it too, but like mentally, even if my body didn't react. It was like one of those finger trap things, where the more you struggle against it, the tighter it gets, but instead, the closer I got to my release, the farther out of reach it felt. Thought I was gonna pass out from how bad I wanted to cum but couldn't."
"I thought I was gonna pass out from how many times I did cum."
"Sorry," he laughs, barely sounding apologetic. "Once I started, I couldn't stop."
"Yeah, clearly..." You mutter sarcastically. "I think I might need physical therapy just to be able to walk again."
You can hear the self-satisfied grin in his voice. "Good thing I'm a certified personal trainer with a specialty in post-injury recovery."
You release a noncomital hum. He's the one who broke you; it should be his responsibility to put you back together again. You hear him shift across the sheets moments before his hand finds the curve of your waist and gently guides you onto your side. You groan at being forced to move when your muscles still feel like jelly, but then follow that with a sigh when he curls his body protectively around yours. He scoops you up against his chest, holding you close with the last of his strength.
"I know that was kind of a lot, but it was also pretty fucking hot. Can't believe I made you squirt twice." He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your damp hair.
"I think my life flashed before my eyes that second time."
He goes quiet for a second, playing back the last few hours in his head. "Do you think Ivy would let us have that plant?" he finally asks.
"Absolutely not."
