#queue for me

Tendrils, verdant green, soft as silk and deliciously moist explored every available strip of him as a song moaned through the windows. Eyes caught his through the closest, massive and burning and he panted for the affection, writhing as more teasing tendrils slid into him to beg it.

Snatching one aiming for a nipple, Ogden fed it to his throat instead and watched for the eyes and the lips joining them in the window so wide and pleased and he wanted more. More than slender swirls of leaf and vine somehow covering his floor, squirming and twitching for every moan they tugged and thrust from him.

“Stop,” he gasped, loosing his treat.

And they did. All at once they stopped, pulling away to lay inert while the forest tilted his head, voice clear through the glass, “Did you not want me to wake you?”

“That’s not it,” he panted as he wriggled from bed and picked through the new carpet for the door, not considering how he had to duck to exit but well aware of his lack of clothing and grinning for the look the forest offered it. But more his position. On his knees the forest presented a unique opportunity to tease back. “I want you,” Ogden explained before kneeling himself and taking a vine he did want in his hands. The swoon was a cool breeze on bare skin and he ached to make it sing, angling to with a firm tongue.

“Perfect,” the forest breathed, tangling branches in the fresh thick tendrils of Ogden’s hair when he took more of him, guiding vine along tongue and into mouth. “Perfect,” he sang for the hunger of his little oak... and changes he hadn't expected and didn't want to question—lest it stop.

Impossible to take but Ogden did his best, choking and gagging but refusing to release the forest, suckling harder and harder instead. Begging him deeper and the forest moaned for the effort, for the heat, the delicious trap of throat as he tugged on hair to guide him back. To give him air.

A grunt was earned, branches fought with rougher skin he didn't notice to force him deeper, hold him tighter. Ogden would have swooned had he breath for it when he was tugged away again only to be shoved closer, vine wriggling further and further down his throat.

There it found a ragged breath and a rough breeze in the forest for attention not offered it. Not in memory. And branches tightened in hair, more reaching to play at the curls on his little oak’s face and chest while another rubbed desperate down stomach to tease lower, to offer something in return, as he slid in and out of him so sweet and hungry over and over and over again.

Words were attempted, to warn, to slow but instead the forest gripped tighter to tendrilous hair and yanked him close to hold him as all that wet tongue and tight throat built so sweetly... burst.

Every slip of bark shivered and tensed—bliss shaking the canopy for its volume—and he tried, truly, with a quick tug of all that oddly leafy, tangled hair he tried to spare him the mess.

Failing miserably... choking coughs through laughter and sticky smiles comforted from a veritable blanket of golden sap. It coated Ogden's face, neck, chest and arms with more dribbling down his stomach and still he laughed. The forest stared down at the man, his little oak...his offering...confused but amused as Ogden began licking up all he’d covered him in. All not contained in his throat, all he could reach.

Entirely oblivious to how odd his skin had become.

“Syrup,” he told the forest's leafy brows, as his own rose with a hard swallow and another for the ache in his throat and strange growing numbness of the sap. “Sweet as I hoped you would be...”

Please be what these changes suggest, the forest begged as that heat in him returned not to thrum or pulse but throb and he snatched his little oak up in all his arms to pepper him in kisses. To declare sweetly soft, “Mine...all mine.”

“I’m guessing no one’s done that before?” Ogden asked through bright and hearty laughter, rasping a bit at the edges if it sang sweeter than it should.

Receiving a shake of too big a head, more kisses, and a taste of tongue stealing back a touch of syrup. That tongue licked down chin and neck to chest and stomach after, before forcing tighter breaths for a sweeter taste of him. A coiled taste too tight.

Angling legs for shoulders, Ogden leaned to welcome it, welcoming as well the move of branches to firm grips of thighs, back and head. Gasping for the tongue, he asked, “R-returning the favor there, delicious?”

A coo was all he’d get as answer, and a faster rhythm of tongue, tugging so sweetly even as its tip teased lower.

“That’s-that’s playing dirty,” he chuckled, deciding to play as dirty by shoving higher onto shoulders to grab for antlers.

They leaned for him, as the tongue retracted enough to welcome him past the forest’s lips, yet still the tip of it teased. Pressing softly into him as an oddly cool mouth took what it could hold. Careful lips certain not to devour the man they so easily could, the forest worked to return all his little oak had given of him...to drink him as deeply.

While Ogden clutched antlers as one might a buoy in a storm, near screaming for the soft firm grip and cooing song breathing so cool on his skin. As that song hitched for his, he snapped hips to mirror the careful rhythm doing its best to suck him dry but didn’t want it to. Not yet.

There were not words or comparison for the position, the hold, the sweetness of the affection—the forever promised in the same.

But bodies are not obedient sorts and his betrayed him.

Sputtering wet and ragged, he more puffed than moaned in release. All smiles yet, giddy and warm and held close still, every drop of him caught and swallowed slow enough to be noticed.

Lower and sweeter, he was shuffled and held against a chest of bark and tendrils.

As the forest swirled his taste on his tongue and swooned for it, “As ripe berries...”

“Never...heard that one,” Ogden puffed into curly tendrils.

Pulled away to watch, to smile at, as the forest asked, “Are you pleased?”

Yes seemed too obvious an answer and he shoved off arms to get at lips. Giggling as he was allowed so many tastes, speaking through the last, “Unbelievable. You’re...unbelievable.”

“And yours,” the forest reminded.

So Ogden added, “As I am yours.” Saccharine as the moment, he did have something to do that day and realized in their closeness he would do nothing if he didn’t do it now. Another kiss and a hand on a cheek not quite dwarfing it, he said as much, “But if I don’t get to the rot soon I fear I’ll get lost in you and it’ll never be done.”

“Mm,” answered a swoon as lips pressed into his forehead, a distant sensation, and held a breath and another before all those arms set his feet on the grass. “You will need to dress then, for the village.” Running a branchtip down Ogden's chest, the forest reminded, firm if breathy, “As all of this is mine.”

Ogden wouldn’t argue, didn’t want anyone else to have him. Instead he asked, “Forever?”

Answered with more kisses, too gentle for their size, and a voice too quiet for its throat, “Forever...”