Work Text:
Gabriel comes to him when the first tendrils of spring are digging their way into the soil of his grove, as Jack begins to wake from his deep winter's slumber.
Groggy from his months of hibernation, Jack mumbles weakly at Gabriel's intrusion into his grove, at being jarred so rudely from sleep. A thorn in his side, he grumbles, before he sighs and settles once more, draping himself over Gabriel's form to soak up heat from both him and the midday sun. Gabriel relaxes in the snow, heedless of the chill, and lets himself be used as a place to rest, petting over the soft skin of Jack's back just to feel him under his hands. To feel how soft he is, pressed against Gabriel from the crown of his head to the tips of his toes.
When spring gets going in earnest, both of them will be taken by its frenzy — the push for growth, and budding, and pollinating, and fruiting, and… and it's nice to spend some quiet time together before all that. While Jack is still sleepy and slow and just wanting to be held close. When Gabriel is able to lie here, and murmur to Jack about the course of the winter he slept through, and shield him from the last of the snow on the ground, and hold him close and still.
"I'd like to pollinate your grove this year," Gabriel whispers, soft as the sussurus of spring leaves, as the sun begins to flirt with the canopy above them. As a deity of fertility, it's his role to encourage pollination in spring, and to pollinate others himself, to grow the ranks of those tied to their court, richen the forests that are his domain. He's sure that Jack won't deny his request, sure that he wouldn't want to — they've spent some wonderful springtimes wrapped in each other before, and he can feel Jack's shiver against him as he thinks back to those times as well.
But nevertheless, he has to ask and give Jack the option of refusing. There are rituals that must be followed for these things. A give and take, to formalise the decision. He's so ready to hear an enthusiastic assent that he's deeply surprised to feel Jack frown against his chest, then lift his head with visible effort so he can look at Gabriel's face. "You chose me last year, Gabriel, you can't do the same this year."
Gabriel blinks for a moment, unsure if he really heard Jack denying him. Yes, it would be abnormal but it would hardly be them first time he— Jack shushes him with a finger pressed to his lips before he can even open his mouth to protest, to ask him why. His voice is firm. "Pick another grove. Do your duty there, and I can be your reward for doing so."
He takes a moment to think over that alternative, weighing the pros and cons. If he were to pick a grove near to Jack's to pollinate, then there are some very fun possibilities that open up to him — pollen produced by that coupling would spread on the breeze, act as an aphrodisiac to all those around them. It could even prime Jack for his arrival to claim his "reward", if he played it right.
"That was suspiciously fast," he accuses, looking down into the head of dandelion yellow hair tickling at his chin. Jack doesn't grace him with an immediate reply, instead yawning and slowly pressing a sucking bruise into Gabriel's neck.
He's almost let the matter slide when Jack hums, smug, into the flesh of his shoulder. "I had all winter to figure out a solution to your inevitable attempt to do this. You're not exactly subtle."
Of all the insolence… Gabriel's going to get back at him for that. Jack's already offered himself to Gabriel as a reward — he really only has himself to blame.
Gabriel comes to him when spring is in full bloom, Jack's grove a riot of colour and growth, dripping with nectar and pollen and pheromones as Jack comes into the lushness of the season. Jack is his grove, and the grove is Jack, and Jack wants him so desperately that the moment Gabriel steps into his space the plants are already reaching for him with delicate new shoots and soft leaves, tugging him gently, entreatingly towards where Jack is waiting.
The level of Jack's desperation, his intense need for Gabriel's arrival, his touch, is a carefully cultivated thing. Something Gabriel's been working to encourage since their meeting at the start of spring, even, and he can't help but feel intensely smug at how successful he's been.
Gabriel had done his duty and fertilised his chosen grove, "coincidentally" the closest grove to Jack's own. He and the other dryad's coupling had sent out a dense fog of pollen, enough to blanket all those around them. A fog that's still sitting heavy in the air, enticing all those who breath it in to give into their desires and fuck.
On his way here, Gabriel had passed multiple spirits of all kinds giving in to the pull of it, fucking and procreating and feeding him so very well. Here, that same pollen swirls through the air, fertilising the flowers blooming across every surface in faint promises of what's to come for Jack himself when Gabriel finally reaches him. Faint promises which he knows Jack can feel like a physical touch against his skin, has been feeling again and again, over and over as Gabriel had done his work and fucked the other dryad, now a limp, sated mess in their own grove.
And now, he's here for dessert, for his reward. He sinks his will into the plants of the grove as he walks, telling them how he wants Jack arranged for him, purposely slowing his pace so that the vines and flowers have time to do as they're bid. As a deity, he can exert his will over all the spirits below him in the hierarchy of power, though he doesn't usually have any desire to do so. Jack has always been a special case, though. An exception to all his rules. By the time he reaches the centre of the grove, Jack is bound like a prize by his own vines — arms pulled above his head and pressed to the soil, legs prised apart and up to bare him to Gabriel's gaze, waist and neck and hips all held down against the ground.
He is a truly glorious sight to behold. Gabriel lets his eyes linger on the pale green flush curling along that petal white skin, the contrast of that pallor against the brightly coloured flowers that bloom and close against Jack's skin, leaving the impression of kisses along his neck, down his sides. Over his chest, with a relentlessness pulled directly from Gabriel's desire to do the same. Jack's already blooming from the stimulation, from the days and days of foreplay he brought upon himself, nectar dripping out of him to pool on the ground, core unfurling just enough that Gabriel can get a glimpse of the deep petal pink of his insides.
The pièce de resistance is the vine draped lovingly over his eyes, completely obscuring his vision. Leaving him with no distraction, nothing to do but feel what's being done to him. And Gabriel can feel, through his own connection to the grove, that Jack is slowly losing himself to it. Already right on the edge of toppling over that edge. That knowledge is sweet as honey on his tongue.
He lets Jack wallow in the sensations offered by his grove for a time, looking his fill, feeling as Jack's grip on himself slips just a little further, before finally reaching out to touch. Jack gasps, loud and sharp, caught off guard by the shock of a sensation not his own — something he cannot feel or see coming.
Even with Gabriel manipulating the plants of his grove, taking control of their movements away from Jack, Jack could still feel what the plants were doing, still know that the touches were coming. Use that knowledge to steel himself for them as best he could. Gabriel's touch, though, he cannot predict, and unable to see, the sensations are so much more acute.
Ever the snarky thing, he manages to scrape his wits together and gasp out, "I hope you treated your chosen grove better than this." The sentence trails off into a keen as Gabriel reaches down between his legs to feel at the sensitive edges of Jack's furl.
Gabriel's response is edged in laughter. "Don't worry Jack, I was as polite as can be. Good thing I don't need to be well behaved for you, hm?" Jack feels so soft inside, petal soft, ripe and slick and so very ready for him. He's likely been thinking about this since their conversation at the start of spring. He's most definitely been thinking of it for the past few days. Gabriel would be lying if he said he hadn't been thinking of it, too. Still, no need to be too hasty. It's vastly more fun to draw things out.
With a soft hum, Gabriel pulls his fingers from Jack, relishing the small sound that Jack sobs out as he does. The digits are covered in Jack's nectar, clear and sweet, which he smears in a messy line straight across Jack's chest. It takes the ghost of a thought to have butterflies, interested in a meal and uncaring of what else was happening, alighting along that sticky line, gently beating their wings and lapping against Jack's sensitised skin with their proboscides. Jack trembles, tugging uselessly against the vines holding him down, the brush of cool air and gentle tickling pressure overwhelming as Gabriel slips his fingers inside him once more. Pressing against Jack's petals, feeling how slick and open he is, making sure he's ready. Not that he doubts Jack is ready for him, he can feel full well how desperate Jack is for him. But he's not entirely without manners, despite what Jack may claim. And if it tortures Jack some more, in making him wait just a moment longer, then more's the better.
Leaving Jack's chest to the mercy of his inhabitants, Gabriel rearranges himself so that he's seated between Jack's spread legs, running a hand down the inside of each thigh just to hear Jack's low whimper, feel him struggle ineffectually against his bindings. They don't let him move an inch, and the unyielding restraint winds him higher still the longer he writhes. Gabriel takes his time, still teasing, playing with the soft space at the apex of Jack's thighs, gossamer light at first, then harder until Jack's thighs tense rock-hard with his attempts to press into the motion.
Only then does Gabriel's grip harden in turn, unable to restrain himself any further, hands splaying out over Jack's hips and gripping tight as he finally gives Jack what he needs.
The noise Jack makes as he slides home is halfway between ecstacy and bone deep relief, and goes straight to Gabriel's cock. His hands, trussed up tight and unable to grab at Gabriel like he so desires, sink deep into the dirt as he grasps at whatever he can, unable to help himself. Setting down root, just as Gabriel roots himself inside Jack.
Gabriel pulls out slowly, feeling every petal of Jack's insides caress him one by one, watching as Jack continues to struggle fruitlessly against the vines, just to feel how irrevocably he's held. The next time Gabriel presses in, just as slow as he'd pulled out, he can feel every spiral layer of Jack's form part around him, catching over and over against the texture of his cock, the sensation enough to make his fingers clench against Jack's hips and leave faint green marks budding under the surface.
Seating himself fully, his cock bumps against Jack's pistil, and Jack reflexively clenches around him, trying to pull him deeper still, crying out loud and unabashed at the sensation it sends rushing through him. The butterflies, disturbed by his chest's heaving, take flight, and Jack's sounds devolve into soft little moans drawn from low in his throat as their flapping wings beat against his skin. "What a pretty little songbird you are," Gabriel teases, learning forwards to run his tongue across the residue of Jack's nectar on his skin. He moans himself at the taste — full of the promise of spring, sweet and lingering and enticing.
The both of them are covered in a fine layer of clinging pollen, the flowers in Jack's grove inspired by the spiking arousal to release their own seed to add to the haze in the air. Along with Jack's nectar, the taste of the pollen bursts across his tongue. The taste of spring, amplified by the taste of Jack underpinning it. Gabriel licks across Jack's skin, making sure to lap up every remaining smear of nectar before laving over the vines holding Jack still, then delving into his mouth. His hips keep up their short little motions, fucking into Jack, making sure to brush against his pistil every time he does to hear how he moans.
Jack's lips are soft and damp, parting eagerly underneath his. Their kisses are chaste — a brushing of lips and tongues, a sharing of breath. Gabriel gives Jack a taste of himself, lapping at Jack's lips to share his nectar between them, and Jack can't hold back his whimpers as Gabriel murmurs about how good Jack tastes against his mouth.
Eventually, the prickling warmth in Gabriel's thighs and hips starts to swell, his breathing deepening as his arousal grows. He pulls out of Jack, until just the tip of his cock sits inside his furl, takes half a moment to appreciate how tremendously beautiful Jack looks like this, then slams home. Jack screams as the sharp, curling thorns on Gabriel's hips, the thorns that bloom when Gabriel comes with the intent to breed, claw into his skin and catch, sinking deep and keeping them locked tightly together until Gabriel has finished with him.
At the same time his thorns catch, Gabriel's cock presses hard against Jack's pistil, grinding against the sensitive organ as Jack's hips twitch and tremor. Gabriel floods him with his release, and the feeling of his cock jumping against Jack's insides, the burning tug of Gabriel's thorns in his thighs, is enough for Jack to peak, finally, gloriously, his pollen tubes dilating to let Gabriel in, letting his essence flow through them and into his ovaries to fertilise him.
Jack is quiet in his release, in a way he isn't in the lead up to it, little whimpers and gasps catching deep in his throat every time he exhales. Soft, breathy little things, as if he can't help it. Every low sound causes Gabriel to jump inside him once more, relentless in drawing out his own pleasure.
They can both feel as it takes — as Gabriel's essence sinks into him, filling him. Fertilising him. Jack trembles under him, eyes half lidded and sightless, as he peaks again.
Gabriel comes to him as spring is drawing to a close and settling into the heat of summer, when Jack is swollen full with fruit. The heat curls around everything, lulling Jack's grove towards rest and sleep. Jack himself is sprawled by the little pool in the sunlight, dozing, one hand trailing in the cool water. He startles awake when Gabriel scoops him up from the soft grass to deposit him on his lap.
"Why are you here?" he asks, indignant, as Gabriel cradles him close. "I'm still mad at you." Despite his words he nuzzles into Gabriel's throat and nips soft as dewfall, unselfconsciously greedy for affection.
Jack hadn't expected to come away from their little tryst fertilised and ready to fruit, had thought that Gabriel was only capable of inducing that once a year. To his chosen dryad, no less. A common misconception, and one that Gabriel had encouraged over the years — he had no particular interest in spending every spring fertilising spirit after spirit, not when there were vastly better uses of his time. Having to only devote one day a year to his springtime duties has been a boon, and not one he planned on giving up any time soon.
Jack, once more, was a special case. Fertilising him was never a chore. Gabriel would see him grow ripe and round every season if he had his way. That being said, he probably should have warned Jack of his intentions ahead of time. Hindsight, and all that.
"I'm here because today's the day, I can feel it." Gabriel settles Jack more comfortably on his lap and presses a hand over his rounded form, feeling how Jack's petals stretch taut over the fruit inside him. "You're ripe."
Gabriel is a fertility spirit, knowing these things is a part of his power. Jack doesn't even bother to question it, just leans back against him, rubbing his face against Gabriel's neck. He grumbles a little more for good measure, nipping once just under Gabriel's ear. "You'll be staying to watch, I take it," he says with a dramatic sigh for good measure.
Gabriel's grin is deadly. "Something like that."
Jack settles into Gabriel's grasp after that, letting himself fall back into a doze once more. May as well get some last moments of rest before everything starts.
The sun has barely shifted in the sky before Jack starts to feel the first waves of sensation that herald the coming labour. A curious pressure, a sudden acute awareness of the petals that make up his form, of the way they softly shift over each other inside him. The weight of the fruit inside him, pressing down, down. The plants of the grove gently pluck Jack from Gabriel's lap, twining vines and fresh soft shoots around his limbs, tugging him to rest against the trunk of a strong tree, suspended safe and cradled off the ground.
Dryad birthing is, inevitably, a long process — the fruit has spent the past few months growing in Jack's core, and so every single layer of his petals need to unfurl for it to be plucked free. Unfurling too fast will bruise them, or tear, but the slow process of peeling back every single petal that makes a humanoid form is an exquisite agony that lingers on and on. Left to their own devices, dryads tend to try and hurry the process. And that's more dangerous than anything else.
So the dryad's grove will nip the issue in the bud, by keeping their dryad bound tight and still through the birthing process. It's one of the only times in a dryad's life that the grove won't listen to their commands, the sensation Gabriel so loves to mimic with his own commands. This time, Gabriel doesn't need to do anything, just sit and appreciate the spectacle at his leisure.
Gabriel stays seated, watching as Jack tenses, resisting the vines automatically, not from reluctance, but a reflex to the strange feeling of his body working against him without his will. Watching as Jack's spine is pulled slowly into an arch, arms tugged inexorably behind his back, legs lifted and spread to expose him completely. Watching as he's suspended in midair, hickory branches holding his extremities, vines weave themselves into intricate spiral patterns across his skin, lacing themselves together to hold him tight for as long as it takes him to unfurl. It's exquisite. Gabriel can feel himself harden, can feel how he throbs at the sight. He reaches down to stroke himself, just enough to take the edge off.
When Jack is far enough gone that he's dripping nectar on the clover, eyes closed with the intensity of it all, Gabriel inches closer, making sure to keep just far enough away that Jack can't feel his heat. From here, Gabriel can finally hear the little panting whines that he knew Jack's been releasing with every breath, can see clearly how Jack's already bloomed far enough that Gabriel can see glimpses of the bright red of the fruit through the translucent petals still layered overtop. As he watches, the next layer of petals start to unfurl, dripping nectar as they bloom.
Really, he was never going to succeed at keeping his hands to himself.
Jack's eyes fly open as Gabriel traces the edge of a petal, light as a breeze. "That's. Not. Watching," he manages to pant out, before losing whatever else he'd been planning to say in a cry as Gabriel works a finger between the unfurling petal and the one beneath it. It's gloriously soft, drenched in nectar, the edges of the petal curling around his finger like a questing tongue. He can feel Jack's tremors from the inside out. Jack tries to glare at him, but a second finger slipping into that little space has his eyes rolling back in his head and his head tipping back so he can pant, mouth open. A vine slowly works its way along one arm and into Jack's mouth — something for him to bite down on, when it becomes too much.
"Oh, I'm watching with great interest, don't worry," Gabriel informs him, running his other hand over the vines lacing up Jack's side in a filigree web. The petal he's stroking lets a third finger slide in between it and Jack's core, helped along by the nectar that Jack's body is liberally producing, and Jack's yell is muffled into something gentle by the vine in his mouth. Gabriel gently pets at the petal, curling his fingers in incremental motions and inching them from side to side until the petal relaxes into the ministrations, unfurling with a delicate shudder. As Gabriel starts to trace the next petal that needs attention, Jack can't help but sob.
Time passes. Even with Gabriel's assistance, the fruiting process is a slow one. At their feet, Jack's nectar and Gabriel's arousal mingle, soft grasses and brush sprouting where they fertilise the soil. Jack's burning arousal cuts through the air, curling through Gabriel like biting into a crisp apple. A delicious tease, increasing in intensity with every petal that unfurls from Jack's form.
By the time they're close to done, his forearms are completely buried inside Jack, both streaked with nectar as he gently feels around the fruit, freed at last from Jack's layers upon layers of petals. Jack's too far gone to resist, hanging heavy in his bondage, only able to weakly tremble as Gabriel's hands move around his innermost spaces.
He takes his time, inching around the fruit bit by bit until he reaches the stem, where the fruit remains connected to Jack. Then, with a single sharp motion, he snaps it.
Jack's entire body tries to contract, only stopped from convulsing in place by the dense web of plants holding him still. Gabriel's cock throbs at the sight — Jack's face torn between ecstacy and agony, his petals trembling like leaves in a storm, his throat working as he tries to scream.
Gabriel desperately wants his cock inside Jack, wants to feel that overwhelmed quivering around him. First, though, the fruiting. He can't be hasty. Slowly, slowly, he inches it down as the petals tremble around him, fluttering against the skin of his arms.
After what feels like an eternity, but realistically can't have been more than a few minutes, the fruit crests, emerging from Jack's body with a damp sucking noise. Gabriel has just enough patience left to gently place it on the soft bed of clover beside them, but the moment the fruit touches the ground he's got his hands back on Jack, petting over him, drawing out the aftershocks until Jack is once again shaking with it.
In the end, he doesn't even get his cock inside Jack where he's slowly furling up tight. Instead he fists at himself once, twice, before coming with a grunt all over the lovely blush-pink petals of Jack's insides. As he watches, breathing hard, one hand still patting along Jack's side, his seed is tucked away deep inside Jack, deeper than anything else could ever reach, as Jack slowly curls shut.
Once Jack's vines deem him ready, they lower him to the ground before slowly releasing him one branch at a time. It gives Gabriel the perfect opportunity to once more arrange them with Jack draped over his chest, boneless and exhausted in the aftermath. Gabriel rests one still-damp hand on Jack's back, feeling him breathe slow and steady — he's already asleep.
Gabriel already knows where he'll plant the seed so it can grow into a new dryad. Then, next year, he and Jack can make another.