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The Eggplant from Hell

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This hadn’t been what Leonard had signed up for. If Rip Hunter had told Leonard that he might someday have to play hide and seek with a sentient, ship-sabotaging plant aboard the Waverider, he might have taken a pass—or at least given it some strong thought. “Come out, come out, wherever you are…” Leonard mutters, checking around a corner. The room’s empty, but he peers behind the stacked boxes just to check. He doesn’t know why so many boxes are stored aboard the Waverider—there’s nothing in them; he’s checked—but they do make convenient hiding places at times. He heads to the next room. Somewhere, in the distance, all around him, something, there’s a strange vibration that almost sounds like a…

Purr.

“Gideon?” Leonard tries. “You there?”

Gideon replies back with a line of gibberish, the plant having gotten to the Waverider’s comms long ago. Leonard huffs and hopes that Jax is solving the problem. He and Mick had literally sealed Jax and the professor into an interface room, welding the door shut with Mick’s heat gun in the hopes that the pair could expel the weed growing in Gideon’s processors before it affected the whole damn ship. The thing was siphoning off the Waverider’s energy grid as it expanded, getting bigger by the hour. Doors, they had learned, didn’t stand a chance against the plant’s steady intrusions. That’s how it had gotten to Gideon in the first place, writhing its way in between the closed sides of an airlock and forcing it apart by sheer vegetative stubbornness.

Starting from here on out, Leonard is going to have Mick burn every plant that even gets close to him. Plants have proven that they can’t be trusted.

Leonard searches another room and heads off to the cargo bay. This would probably be going faster if Rip hadn’t gone and gotten himself kidnapped by some Time Pirates. They’d recognized Rip from a past life and had scooped him up off the street, carrying him away on what looked suspiciously like a Star Wars land speeder. Leonard had been ready to write Rip off as a casualty of his former lifestyle, but Ray and Sara had set off in the jump ship to reclaim their Shanghaied Englishman.

And, really, it probably still would have been all right if it hadn’t been for the genetically engineered eggplant from hell being aboard the Waverider at the same time. Sara and Ray had been coming back in when Gideon had suddenly fritzed and announced a time jump, sending them all bouncing across the deck as the Waverider rocketed into the time stream. Leonard had slammed into Mick who’d slammed into the center console and then it had been lights out until they’d woken up in the middle of a Medieval Times dinner show with a weed starting to weave itself in and out of the Waverider’s many access panels as it sprouted pink flowers and knob-like purple fruits. Fantastic. Now Nate and Amaya are outside trying to find something that can be used to replace critical parts while Leonard and Mick try their best to uproot the damn sentient dandelion.

Catching sight of a slowly moving vine inching towards his foot, Leonard sends a blast from the cold gun to freeze the thing. “Gotcha.” He steps on it, shattering the limb while a high pitched vibration echoes through the room. There’s another thing about the EPA nightmare: it screams. There’s no vocal chords or even a mouth (so far), so it’s not an actual scream, but rather a rapid trembling that happens to produce a noise. Mick had actually jumped the first time they’d heard it and a shiver had sent chills up and down Leonard’s spine.

Leonard hopes that Mick’s having better luck finding this thing’s roots because so far Leonard’s only been popping the heads off of daisies. He’s injured the thing but at the rate that it’s growing, his efforts haven’t really made a dent. If the cold gun could hold a long enough charge, he would have been outside freezing the whole damn ship, invasive species and all, and let everyone sort it out later.

Something tightens around his ankle and Leonard has only a second to glance down to see a band of green before he’s yanked off balance. “Damn it!” he swears as he goes down. He hits hard, air rushing out of his lungs, cold gun skittering across the floor. Leonard scrambles for it but he’s dragged backward. A tendril of fear uncurls inside of Leonard, but he shoves it back down and reaches for the gun again. This time, he’s pulled clean out of the room.

Sliding into hallway, Leonard turns onto his back, trying to catch a glimpse of what has him by the leg. He catches himself on the door jamb, holding it tightly as he sits up. The vine around his ankle coils a few more times and gives a hard yank. Leonard’s fingers slip. “Fuck.” Leonard is rapidly hauled down the hallway, clothes slipping over the Waverider’s smooth floors. The thing around his ankle takes him around a corner and into another room before Leonard manages to get the knife out of his other boot. Leonard stabs the blade into the writhing limb and hears the plant scream again. The injured vine retreats but before Leonard can get up, another one takes its place, followed by two more. They seize his wrists, slimy and wet on his skin as they pull his arms upward and Leonard can’t shake the idea of what this reminds him of. He’s seen this kind of porn. He hadn’t enjoyed it.

He is not going down like this, to some censorship-avoiding fever dream of a damn tentacle. He struggles, pulling against the tight grip but the plant, in violation of all plant rules, holds tight and separates his arms. Next, another coiling limb wraps around his free ankle and straightens Leonard’s leg when he tries to kick. “You son of a bitch,” Leonard snarls. He thrashes but it gets him nowhere, the plant holding him spread eagle in midair.

“I get the feeling this isn’t just a plant,” Mick rumbles off to the side. Leonard squirms and arches to get a good look at him, albeit upside down. Mick’s suspended as well, green vines wrapping around his legs to hold them apart as others curl around Mick’s powerful arms, holding his fists immobile. One long tentacle with a purple sheen is winding its way across Mick’s chest, dipping beneath his shirt and coming out at the hemline by his waist. The look certainly doesn’t help Leonard’s earlier thoughts.

“What gives you that idea?” Leonard asks dryly and tests his bonds again. More tentacles loop around his spread limbs while another twists around his waist. His skin crawls at the feeling of slime as a few tendrils slip underneath his clothes, climbing down the arms of his shirt and testing the waistband of his jeans. Leonard goes limp, wondering if pretending cooperation is the best course of action. The tentacles travel further under his sweater, leaving long, wet trails. Leonard grits his teeth.

“It’s, uh, it’s been gettin’ a little friendly, Len.” Leonard goes stiff as the implication of Mick’s statement sinks in. He twists back into position to see Mick, catches how his partner’s chest is starting to heave, and stares at the long, unmistakable tentacle sliding into Mick’s pants. Mick grunts, his face tightening and Leonard feels an involuntary surge of arousal that sickens him. He looks away but the creature that has him helpfully spins him around and tilts him so that he can have a good view of the way that Mick’s hips are starting to instinctually buck. “Fuck…” Mick says, the word ending in a sigh. “This is the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to me, Len.” His lashes flutter and his tongue flicks out to lick his lips. “Yeah, little to the left…”

Is he…? “Mick!” Leonard snaps. He needs Mick focused if they’re going to have a hope of escaping this thing. Where’s the heat gun? Leonard glances around, checking out the far corners of the room. There is the possibility that Mick got brought here the same way Leonard did, but Leonard’s hoping that it’s not the case.

“What?” Mick growls. “Ain’t going nowhere. Might as well enjoy it.” He shifts forward and groans. “Yeah, it’s weird, but the thing’s pretty good. With it’s…”

“And for all you know—” Leonard cuts off with a sharp gasp as a wet, writhing tentacle snakes into his pants. It coils at his crotch, looping and twisting as it rubs against his cock. A shot of liquid heat spikes through Leonard’s body and his legs spread a little wider all on their own. When he realizes his body’s betrayal, Leonard snarls and closes his legs as tightly as he can manage. It does nothing to dissuade the tentacle squirming in his jeans. He feels the slime tickle along the skin of his upper thighs before the tendril worms its way into his underwear and wraps around his cock. It pulsates as it coils around him, making his eyes roll back into his head with the combination of heat, slickness, and pressure. A whimper escapes from his throat as his back slowly arches.

“You see?” Mick says. “Yeah, this thing—” He grunts and pulls on his bonds, his muscles flexing as he tries to force the plant to let go of him. “Where the hell do you think you’re going? No. No, no, no, hey!” Mick chokes off into a low groan, an obscene noise that makes Leonard shudder in sympathic response. “Oh. Oh, that’s…” Mick trails off, deep growls rumbling through him. His mouth opens as he pants. That doesn’t bode well, Leonard thinks.

The seams on Leonard’s jeans start to snap, strained to the breaking point by the tentacle still funneling into his pants, and Leonard feels a tug on his shirt. He opens his eyes. “Don’t you dare,” he warns. The thing ignores him, more tentacles joining to push his shirt up. Leonard squirms, fighting back against the removal of his clothes, but it gets him no further than any of his previous struggles. His sweater and coat slide up past his chest and onto his upper arms before being dragged off of his torso entirely. They rest along his bound wrists, leaving him naked from the waist up.

A kernel of panic unfurls inside of Leonard. His clothes are his armor, his way of protecting himself against the world. With them gone, there’s nothing standing between him and whatever the world wants to do to him. He’s vulnerable. And cold. Goosebumps pimple along his skin. They’re followed swiftly by twisting tentacles and resultant slime, almost as if the creature wants to replace Leonard’s clothes with a covering of its own making.

Or it’s slicking him up to make him taste better, like ketchup on fries. Neither option is particularly appealing.

A loud ripping echoes through the room as Leonard’s jeans finally give up, parting at the sides. They hang limply downward, held on only by his boots. His underwear doesn’t have a chance, quickly shredding with only a few pulls. Free of the constraints of his clothes, the tentacles spread Leonard’s legs wider, bending them at the knee to pull them upwards and he gasps, half in fear and half in helpless arousal. He feels undeniably exposed. Vulnerable. Defenseless.

A quick glance at Mick shows that Mick’s in the same predicament, his clothes hanging off in pieces while his naked body is on full display. Mick’s always been a rather nice view even with the scars—thick shoulders, hard muscle and long legs—and now’s certainly not an exception. Leonard knows that he should probably look away but he can’t. He stares at the show in front of him, feeling his cock getting harder the longer he looks.

This had better not give him any new kinks about Mick and vines. He’s already messed up enough about Mick.

Leonard follows the writhing tentacle wiggling across Mick’s broad chest down to where his hard cock juts out from a squirming green pile. Movement draws Leonard’s attention downward a fraction more and he catches sight of the large, thick tentacle that is coming up underneath of Mick. Leonard’s breath sticks in his throat as he wonders if the tentacle is where he thinks it is. Desire stabs into him and he squirms as he tries to will it back down.

Small tendrils curl around Leonard’s stomach, curving upwards. They tickle and he tries to wriggle away as they slowly climb up his body, twisting in his bonds, but like before, it doesn’t deter the snaking vines in the slightest. They curve under his pecs, slide around his nipples and delicately touch each sensitive nub with soft, probing trails of wetness. Leonard’s shocked when a whine echoes through the room. He shuts his mouth against it, biting down on the inside of his lip, but he can’t stop it. It reverberates through his chest as the tendrils brush teasingly over his hardening nipples. They feel too good. He rocks himself from side to side as his mind starts to shutdown his higher level thinking. He can’t think, can’t process with the tendrils touching him like that. The just barely there caresses make him ache for something more tangible, a solid touch that he can arch into. They’re small, writhing little things and the wet slime makes them feel like a million tiny tongues licking at him. His cock twitches painfully and the creature wraps another tentacle around it. The pressure is oddly soothing, giving Leonard something to ground himself with as the tendrils on his chest move again.

“You okay, Lenny?” Mick asks, his voice harsh as he tries to control his breathing. It does nothing to help Leonard get himself under control, reminding him of all of the other times that Mick has sounded like that. The tentacle that is disappearing behind Mick’s balls starts to steadily pump, sliding up and down and Mick’s entire body seems to flex with it. His upper arms curl forward as he tests the strength of his bonds again, but when he only gains a few inches, he releases the tension and lets himself sink back down again.

“Peachy,” Leonard replies. He tries to make his voice snap with sarcasm, but it’s too full of the pitiful, weak whines he can’t stop making. He shakes off a slimy, purple limb as it snakes over his face and tries to push at the corner of his mouth. It tries again and he bites at it, threatening with his teeth, the only weapon he currently has left.

It’s a mistake. Sensing a threat, more tentacles rise to Leonard’s face. His eyes widen as they coil and twist in front of him, making thick loops in the air. Two rush forward and Leonard ducks his head, but they merely circle downward and then up. He jerks to the side, snapping his head as far to the right as he can get it. It makes no difference. The tentacles probe at the corner of his mouth, parting his lips and slipping inside. The slimy appendages brush over his clenched teeth and gums before they reach the back of his mouth and slip behind his molars. Slowly, they force his mouth open. Leonard thrashes wildly, trying to defy the creature invading his mouth, invading him. The creature rolls with each toss of his limbs, each shake of his body, insistently pressing forward.

A large tentacle, this one a deeper purple pushes into his mouth, laying thickly along his tongue. Leonard tries to bite down but the other, smaller tentacles make it impossible. He has no choice but to accept the thing slithering into his mouth. Breathing deeply through his nose, Leonard stills, letting himself hang in the air. Struggling only makes the tentacles push more—tighten, go deeper, add—and he doesn’t want that.

With a gurgle of surprise, Leonard feels something hot and liquid hit the back of his throat. It feels not unlike drowning. He flails his limbs again, trying to get them up to at least grab the thing depositing thick spurts in his mouth, but they’re pulled further away. He swallows more out of self-preservation than anything and closes his eyes as the plant creature purrs at him. The liquid is sweet-tasting, like ripe fruit, and sticky as it leaks out of the corners of Leonard’s mouth and down his chin.

Heat starts to grow inside of Leonard, sliding through the core of him and radiating outwards. His limbs grow heavy as the fight drains out of him and he slumps against the tentacles holding him up. Dimly, he realizes that it’s probably a side-effect of whatever the thing is pumping into him, but all he can really focus on is the tingling of his body, nerves seemingly super-charged as he drops into a carefree hedonism. His cock throbs between his legs and the tentacles around it writhe. Leonard pushes shamelessly into them, chasing the pleasure that they give him.

The tendrils teasing his nipples pull upward and Leonard’s far enough gone now to protest their leaving. He tries to push himself back into their squirming grasp, arching his back invitingly. The tendrils poke softly at the hardened nubs of his nipples, but it’s not enough. Leonard whimpers and rolls his entire body upward.

Little pockets of pressure pull at Leonard’s skin, touching down along his shoulders, his chest, his belly. One lands on his left nipple and he pushes up into it as pleasure explodes inside of him. He jack-knifes to the side. Tiny pink flowers have latched onto him, sucking and pulling. Another targets his other nipple and Leonard writhes, unable to handle the feeling of having his nipples caught in the heavy suction of the flowers. He mewls, his mouth opening wide around the tentacles still in his mouth and his hands curl into tension-filled fists. He jerks helplessly with each spasm of pleasure. Between his legs, his balls tighten, and his cock throbs.

A new tentative touch slides back behind his testicles. Leonard knows where it’s going, what it’s searching for, and he doesn’t bother to fight. It slides over his hole, lightly slicking the rim as it tests the outside and Leonard chokes on a sob. The tentacle circles him and slips inside, a small writhing appendage that easily pushes past his rim and into his ass. It coils inside of him, twisting and looping and he can feel each movement as it slides against his inner walls. Leonard spreads his legs wider. His body feels like it’s on fire and he wants to come. He needs to come.

Gradually, the tentacle thickens as it goes deeper into him, stretching him wider and wider. It feels as if it sinks in deeper than what should be possible, then curves back around. At the first brush of his prostate, Leonard chokes. On the second, he comes.

His body spasms, limbs flailing wildly as his body shudders through surge after surge of pleasure so intense it verges on pain. Something wraps around the head of his dick, catching each spurt of come, and he thrusts into it, liking the petal-soft feel of it, needing the tight heat.

He’s panting, unable to get enough air, and trembling helplessly, little sobbing whines that he can’t stop coming from deep inside of him. The tentacle in his mouth retreats, leaving him empty, his jaw sore. For a moment, Leonard can’t close his mouth, too used to having it forced open. It takes some convincing to get his jaw to work again.

The tentacle in his ass is still there, thick and inescapable, but thankfully not moving at the moment. The flower buds on his skin pop off, letting blood rush back into place. A painful tingle seeps along Leonard’s abused nipples and he whimpers again. They’re hard, elongated, and even the slight touch of air on them is nearly too much. The tentacles around his cock uncoil, slipping away, letting his spent hang limply between his legs.

Mick groans like he’s dying and Leonard forces his eyes open just in time to see Mick coming, to see the plant creature milking him just as it had Leonard. Pink petals open around Mick’s dick and swallow him down, eagerly lapping up everything that he spills. Mick’s body ripples as he thrusts forward. In a way, it’s beautiful.

As Leonard watches, though, he becomes aware of a slow pulsing of the thing in his ass. It’s a soft, pleasurable sensation, hardly noticeable at the moment, and Leonard’s almost afraid to find out what it is, wanting to just lay back and pretend that it isn’t happening. In the end, however, curiosity gets the better of him and he leans forward to glance down between his legs. The tentacle inside of him curves beneath him and he can see the small bulges pulsing up through its purpled exterior. Leonard’s orgasm-fried brain tries to process what he’s seeing, but it doesn’t hit until he feels warm liquid start to leak from his stretched asshole. “You have got to be kidding me,” he mutters, too exhausted to even muster up a measure of outrage at being used as a receptacle for plant spooge.

The creature deposits thick spurts inside of him, filling him up to the brim. It becomes slightly painful as he reaches his limit, the creature’s come becoming too much for him to handle, stretching him from the inside. His stomach slightly distended, he twists to the side and sighs in relief when the movement pulls the tentacle against his stretched ass and breaks the seal inadvertently caused by the appendage. Thick white gobs slide out of him, splattering onto the floor below.

Soft tendrils brush over his mouth, nipples and cock, sending little jolts of electricity along his oversensitive nerves and Leonard bats them away irritably, surprised to find that the creature is allowing him the range to do so but not about to turn away a bit of luck, small as it might be.

Leonard hisses as the tentacle in his ass starts sliding out, seemingly miles of vine slipping out of him. It grows smaller and smaller as it’s removed, but Leonard’s ass stays open, gaping still from the former stretching. More of the plant’s deposit inside of him slides out, coating his thighs with a sticky residue. He’s laid down on the floor, gently put away like a toy that will be returned to, and the tentacles unwind from around his wrists and ankles and waist. They brush softly over him, in a parody of a fond caress and Leonard shoves them away. The plant hums its weird vibrational purr again.

The creature’s come is sloshing around inside of him, making him still painfully full, and he rolls over and pushes himself up to his knees with a grunt. Thick, sticky liquid gushes out of him, puddling around his legs. It should be disgusting but even drained Leonard’s dick gives a weak throb of interest. He tosses his head back and moans. What a clusterfuck, he thinks, his fingers sliding around his belly and pushing downward. He wants his gun and a shower, in that order.

Mick is set down beside him with the same predicament and doesn’t hesitate to sit up and start forcing the white liquid out of himself as well. “Dumb plant better not have knocked me up,” Mick grumbles as he pushes a few fingers into himself to try and hasten the process.

Leonard can’t help himself. He laughs. It has a bit of a hysterical edge to it, but he can’t stop. The plant thing is still purring in what Leonard assumes is satisfaction.

“I’m serious,” Mick growls. “This is pretty friggin’ weird, Lenny.”

“Yeah, I know.” Leonard’s laughter eventually dies down and he shoots Mick a look. “Where’s your gun?” Mick’s moved on to trying to dig out what remains in his ass. It probably shouldn’t be sexy, watching him, but it is. Leonard files the thought away.

Mick pauses for a moment as he thinks, then looks off to his left. “Over there.” The gun’s flat on the floor next to a crate, presumably where Mick dropped it when the creature snatched him. In the corner beyond the gun, though, is a large mass of vines all tangled together. Some of the off-shoots veer off into the walls with others into the ceiling or out through the doors. Big pink flowers sprout along the vines and thick, eggplant-looking fruits hang off of it here and there. Beneath the mass, long tendrils of roots stretching down into the Waverider’s power grid, greedily sucking up the electricity. Leonard grins. Well, finally. It was certainly time for something to go right. “Come out, come out, wherever you are…” he drawls.

There’s still a languid heat threading through his limbs and Leonard gives himself over to it for a minute when he leans in close and gives Mick a slow kiss. Mick’s staring at him, eyes glazed over when Leonard pulls back again. “How about you go get it and we do a little gardening?”

Mick lurches forward to steal another kiss, rough to Leonard’s earlier gentleness. “Yeah.”

Leonard pushes himself to his feet, knees wobbling before he forces them straight, and holds a hand down to Mick. Hopefully, he and Mick can get the weed from Hell taken care of before the rest of the crew find out what happened and then he thinks that he’s going to take a really long shower.

A really long one.

Mick starts stripping off long strings of sticky plant come with his lips curling in distaste. Leonard swallows back the urge to laugh again even as his eyes lazily trace down over Mick’s naked body. Maybe Leonard will have Mick join him in that shower.

The plant screams as it burns, vines writhing in the air before they turn black and shrivel down to ash. Leonard laughs.

Jax and Stein get Gideon back up within the hour. By the time the AI is functional again, though, Leonard’s already got Mick into one of the Waverider’s showers, pressing him up against the wall as Mick’s thick arms wrapped around his shoulders. Gideon checks on them once, states an apology and then doesn’t chime in again.

It takes the crew two more days to get the Waverider fully operational again. Sara and Ray show up with Rip after the first.

Leonard and Mick keep the story of the eggplant from Hell to themselves. They figure it’s probably for the best.