Elemental Love

by L. M. Somerton

  Dominic took a shower, the water as cold as he could bear it, needles stinging his skin. He sluiced away soap and shampoo and rested his forehead against the tiles. His rebellious body still resisted all attempts to cool its ardor. He rubbed himself down roughly with a towel then stalked naked into the bedroom, annoyed at his own lack of control. He lay down on the narrow bed and wrapped his hand around his cock with little enthusiasm. The velvety sheath slid easily beneath his hand he was so slick with pre-cum, but he forced himself to move slowly. His eyes closed and his thoughts drifted.

  The lightest of touches tickled Dominic’s bare shoulder. He twitched, shrugging it away, and carried on tormenting himself with featherlight strokes to his hypersensitive shaft. A minute or two later, the sensation returned, so light Dominic wasn’t sure if it was real or his imagination. He continued to pet himself gently but opened his eyes to identify the source of irritation—probably a stray feather sticking out of his pillow. He blinked. He was seeing things. A slender green tendril curled over his upper arm—it seemed to be growing out of the wooden headboard. Leaves sprouted from the shoot and he recognized the distinctive shape as oak.

  “Dreaming. I must be dreaming,” Dominic muttered. As dreams went it was one of the most vivid he’d ever experienced. The delicate pressure on his skin was all too real. Erection forgotten, Dominic prodded at the stem. It was cool to his touch but there was the slightest vibration, almost as if the plant were breathing. As he watched, the stem circled his upper arm once, then again. He flexed his biceps as it squeezed a little, digging into his flesh.

  He flinched as something slithered across his ankle. A second stem, issuing from one of the bottom corner posts of the bed was winding around his calf, pulling it so that his legs parted wider. Dominic bent his knee, tugging in an attempt to free himself but only managed to encourage the plant to hold him tighter. New shoots found his other limbs. Fresh, leafy growth embraced his wrists and ankles. Dominic found himself gradually pulled into a spread-eagle position on his bed. He yanked harder at the stems but they would not break. They kept tugging until his naked body was stretched taut.

  “Not a dream, this is a nightmare.” But it seemed so real. The stems thickened, holding him in place as firmly as any chains could have. He was completely helpless.

  Dominic attempted to slow his breathing and calm down. This was nothing more than a waking dream. Perhaps if he relaxed, his mind would allow him to awaken. One by one he allowed his muscles to release their tension, and for a few moments nothing happened. He was still held in place but his bonds stopped moving and growing. He gave himself a mental pat on the back. Dreams were nothing more than his subconscious playing tricks, or so he’d heard or read somewhere. His encounter with Evrain had stressed him out and now he was paying for it with some kind of erotic out-of-body experience. Except, as far as he was concerned, he was firmly inside his body and in control of his thoughts. For Christ’s sake, he was tied to his own bed by a mutant oak! Tied down. Spread-eagled. Utterly exposed and defenseless. His cock, which had wilted a little, hardened into stiff rigidity.

  Dominic moaned. His deepest, darkest fantasies were coming true. Secret longings that he had spoken about to no one, brought to the surface in a dream that had him doubting his sanity.

  “No!” Dominic jerked his head up and strained to see what was going on farther down his body. A slim creeper wound sinuously around the base of his shaft, forming a living cock ring, ensuring that he stayed erect. The touch was torment. Strangely, Dominic wasn’t scared. He still thrashed hard against the waxy green restraints in an attempt to free himself, but to no avail. The ache at his wrists and ankles just served to make him even harder. Pre-cum gleamed at his slit and his balls throbbed with heat. In his mind, he acknowledged that he would have been disappointed if his struggles had succeeded in breaking his bonds.

  He stilled to gather his thoughts and calm his racing heart. Accept the dream, Dom. Go with the flow. Admit you love this. He closed his eyes and focused on the grip of the plant. He would probably have bruises by the morning where he’d fought, but now there was no attempt to squeeze or hurt him. His hands and feet were not tingling or cold so his circulation wasn’t affected. That gave him comfort. The stems had made no attempt to encircle his neck or cause him harm. The message was clear. If he submitted, he had nothing to worry about.

  Dominic felt the stirring of a breeze around his body. He hadn’t opened a window because the night air had an intense chill. There had to be a draft coming from somewhere that he hadn’t noticed before. This seemed more directed, though. It was as if someone was gently blowing warm, moist air across the head of his cock. He craned his neck to look but there was nothing to see. He was giving himself neck ache and let his head collapse back against the pillows. The soft sensation was maddening. It didn’t provide nearly enough stimulation for him to come, instead it had him craving more. A proper touch.

  From the corner of his eye he caught movement. Jerking his head from side to side, he watched as new shoots appeared from the bedposts. Not stiff enough to be termed twigs, they were more like vines or creeping ivy, but covered with oak leaves. The plant seemed sentient, moving with purpose. Assaulting from both sides, tiny tendrils tightened around his nipples, squeezing to the point of pain. Dominic gasped and arched his back only to be pressed back to the bed by wider stems across his thighs. He threw his head back and yelled as fronds circled and squeezed his balls. Stimulation of so many sensitive spots at one time was unbearable. He was going to come. A part of him resisted the urge. He should not be gaining so much pleasure from this uninvited attack on his body.

  Dominic sobbed desperately as new stems pushed their way back to tickle the edge of his hole. The thought that he might be penetrated crossed his mind and he clenched his ass cheeks defensively. The touches to his balls, his dick and his nipples continued. Little pinches and jabs that caused momentary, delicious pain.

  “Oh God!” Dominic writhed and squirmed as much as he was able in his leafy restraints. There was no escape from the plant’s attention. However much he wriggled, the stems were there, touching, probing. It was as if the thing was exploring, mapping every inch of his body. Testing every sensitive spot. Working out which areas gave Dominic most pleasure and most pain. He threw his head back, closed his eyes and gave in to the sensations coursing through him.

  Sweat sheened his skin. Muscles clenched and relaxed. Limbs twitched as the plant found new spots to tickle. Held on the edge for what seemed like a lifetime, Dominic was desperate to come. His balls were drawn up tight, his dick leaking pre-cum that the plant seemed to delight in sliding through and spreading. He gradually became aware that most of his body had been left alone and all the various shoots were now concentrated on his groin. Stems curled the length of his shaft, probed at his hole, wrapped his balls in a tight grip. The strange cock ring loosened. Dominic screamed. He spasmed and orgasmed harder than he could ever remember having done before. Heat rushed through his body and his vision blanked. He didn’t see stars, just layers of green. Emerald upon olive upon lime flashed before his eyes. He spurted again. Sticky secretions burst from the plant stems, leaving silvery trails on his skin. Dominic panted, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Then, as suddenly as they had appeared, the stems retreated—unwinding from his limbs, slithering across his skin and disappearing back into the wooden posts and headboard of his bed.

  Freed from bondage, Dominic scrambled upright, close to hyperventilating in shock. If this was a dream, then he had serious issues. His limbs bore the indentations of the stems where they had been held down so tightly and the evidence of his own release was patently obvious. Across his thighs, his chest and abdomen, tacky, shiny paths marked where the plant had lain.

  “What the hell?” Dominic pinched himself. He was wide awake. His face heated at the thought of how he had felt, how fear and ecstasy had combined in the heat of an incredible orgasm. He went to his knees and examined the bed. The wood was smooth an
d polished. It appeared no different from any other evening. Tentatively he let his fingertips brush across the pattern of the grain, circling small whorls, tracing the knots. Though warm, the furniture gave no indication that it had ever come alive or would again.

  “Nuts. I am definitely going freaking nuts,” Dominic muttered. He was a sweaty, sticky mess and desperately in need of another shower. Half expecting other inanimate objects in his room to come alive and molest him, he padded to the bathroom with a tumult of confused thoughts and disbelief falling through his mind.

  This time, he used hot water. He scrubbed at his skin until all traces of sap—or whatever the hell it was that the plant had left on him—were gone.

  “Why do I get the feeling that a plant just came on me?” He shuddered. Apart from reddened dents around his wrists and ankles, there was no other damage to his body. All the important parts were unharmed and intact. Dominic stayed in the shower until the water began to cool. He switched off the spray, sighing heavily, and grabbed a clean towel for a quick rubdown. He examined his reflection, softened by the misty moisture coating the bathroom mirror. Anxious eyes stared back at him. He massaged his temples, fighting off the beginnings of a headache. He had no idea how he was going to sleep, or ever be entirely at ease in his bed again.

  Perhaps there was something in Aggie’s tea that brought on hallucinations. Dominic tried to find a logical explanation for his experience. His mind needed a reason before it would settle. Sure, he was tired, but he usually was after a hard day’s work and he’d never had weird dreams before. He could have touched a poisonous plant without realizing it—that was plausible, more so than Aggie giving him something unsafe. Unwilling to go back to bed naked, he pulled on a pair of thin, cotton sleep pants that rarely saw the light of day. He plumped up his pillows and grabbed a seed catalog that he’d been meaning to browse through, then took a breath and lay down. For a few minutes, he stared blindly at the catalog, convinced that his bed was going to start sprouting shoots any minute. When nothing happened he relaxed a little. The clock told him that it was only slightly after ten. Still early. Dominic resolved to read for a while, then he’d attempt to sleep. With the light on.

  * * * *

  Evrain lifted his fineliner pen from the paper and shoved it behind his ear. He took a step back from his table to get a better view of the piece he’d been working on. The surface was slightly tilted with a lip at the bottom edge holding his layouts in place. The double-page spread he regarded with a critical eye was from a graphic novel—a personal project rather than one of the book covers or advertising designs he earned his living from. He smiled, satisfied that he had achieved exactly the expression he wanted. Dominic Castine’s pretty face now adorned his central character. He was the perfect muse for debauched innocence, his eyes yaoi-huge, glistening with unshed tears.

  Evrain wished the scenes he had been drawing could be real. Dark green leaves and curling stems against that creamy skin would look delicious. He could almost feel Dominic’s indignation at being tied down and ravished against his will.

  “I think you’d secretly enjoy it, Dominic,” Evrain whispered to himself. “You’d fight but you would submit eventually and take pleasure from every illicit touch.” He cast a critical eye across his work. Just because it was for his eyes only didn’t mean that he lost any of his perfectionist streak. He knew the work was good. It came easily to him, even more so since he’d come into his powers. If he used natural inks, he could move the fluid on the page with a thought. It was one of the few things he could manage with any degree of control, probably because when he worked he could blank out all distractions and focus absolutely. Gregory assured him that natural talent underpinned what he did, it was just enhanced by his gift.

  It had been one of their more normal telephone conversations.

  “Evrain, you’ll learn that there are ways to use your power to your advantage without frightening the natives. Warlocks do not exist outside fiction to 99.999 percent recurring of the population. Please try to remember that.”

  “I’m hardly going to forget, Gregory. I don’t want to be consigned to Arkham along with the rest of the fictional psychopaths for the rest of my life, but there has to be some advantage to being a freak of nature.”

  Gregory had sighed. “You—we—are not freaks. We are…anomalies. A slight aberration in the evolutionary process and of course there are advantages, you are just not proficient enough to realize them yet.”

  “So how do you benefit from what you can do, Gregory?” It had been something they hadn’t discussed.

  “I have interests in several companies and own a great deal of real estate, but that’s not how I made my money,” Gregory had said. “After I graduated I went into the oil exploration business. I’m closest to water and earth elements. I can feel the earth, sense changes in density below ground. Once I’d felt one oil deposit, I could recognize another and another. I gained a reputation as an expert in oil discovery and that’s a very lucrative career when you keep getting it right. It can also be explained by science, technology and, to a certain extent, luck.”

  “Hmm. I don’t really fancy being the next J.R. Ewing, or moving to Texas. Too bloody hot.”

  “You’ve yet to work out where your strongest elemental affinities lie, Evrain. When you do, then you can worry about how to use your powers to your advantage. Without harming others, mind you. We can be selfish to some extent but not deliberately to the detriment of others, that’s a big no-no.”

  “So there is a dark side to all this then?”

  “Evrain, you are not too old to get a spanking, and believe me, if you start quoting Star Wars at me I will be on the next flight up there just to deliver one.”

  There had been a pause while Evrain had taken that in. Spanking was something he often fantasized about delivering. He had no desire to be the recipient.

  “You’re rolling your eyes, aren’t you?” Gregory had added. “Stop it.”

  “Do you have cameras hidden in my apartment, Gregory? Never mind. I don’t want to know.”

  Evrain had ended the conversation quickly after that. He was still no closer to understanding which elements might become his favorites—he was equally drawn to all four. In the meantime, if he could improve his artwork even a little, he’d take it. He checked his watch. It was almost half past ten, so too late to drive back to Hood River in order to deliver his grandmother’s pot of balm to the delicious Dominic Castine. He would save that treat for the morning. The next day was Saturday. He wasn’t sure if Dominic worked weekends but he’d take a chance and call in before going for a hike. Of course, if Dominic invited him in, he wouldn’t turn down an alternative form of exercise.

  Chapter Six

  Evrain parked opposite the diner in Hood River. He’d found the prospect of seeing Dominic again more attractive than a Saturday morning lie-in. Waking early, he’d had a quick shower and shave, dressed for hiking then jumped in the car. He’d not bothered to eat, deciding that trying out the diner Dominic lived over could be a good way of persuading the shy young man to spend some time with him. Now he sat in his vehicle, quelling nervousness that he was unaccustomed to dealing with. He gripped Agatha’s little jar of balm, tapping the lid with a forefinger.

  “Jesus, get a grip, Evrain. He’s a man, not a three-headed alien from Pluto.” A man I desperately want to get my hands on and cock into. His thoughts were honest at least. It wasn’t just the physical attraction, though—he felt drawn to Dominic. After such a brief meeting, it was odd that he couldn’t get the man out of his head. He’d suspect that his grandmother had doped him with a love potion if he didn’t know better.

  He got out of the car and shut the door with a decisive slam. Just as he was about to cross the road, a figure descended the fire escape at the side of the building. The dark red hair was confirmation enough that it was Dominic even before Evrain saw his face. He grinned and leaned against the car, waiting for Dominic to spot him.

  Ev
rain knew the exact moment that Dominic realized he was there. He froze. His lips parted. He glanced around as if checking out escape routes. Oh, no, you don’t. Evrain crossed the road before Dominic had the chance to make a run for it. He didn’t look either way, just marched across the road with his sights firmly fixed on Dominic. It was a good job there wasn’t any traffic because Evrain’s sense of self-preservation had completely deserted him. Dominic didn’t move other than to hunch his shoulders slightly. Tension was apparent in every inch of his lean frame.

  Evrain got right into Dominic’s personal space. Dominic backed up until his ass hit the diner window.

  “Good morning,” Evrain said. He leaned in and pressed his lips to Dominic’s. It was a very chaste kiss but Dominic still blushed to the roots of his hair.

  “Wh-wha, what are you doing…here? Here. What are you doing here?” Dominic fumbled over his words. He ran his tongue over his lower lip as if gathering Evrain’s taste.

  “I’m here to take you to breakfast.” Evrain only made that decision as the words left his mouth.

  “I don’t understand.” Dominic’s gaze darted around. His fingers clenched and unclenched.

  “Breakfast. The first meal of the day. Generally involves bacon for anyone living on this continent.” Evrain paused. “I apologize. I’ve just stereotyped an entire nation or two.”