[ It's not really as if Tim has any choice but to drink the nectar that the vine is leaking, not if he doesn't want to choke on it. He makes a soft noise when Jason strokes the hair from his face, muffled and wet around the vine, sounding conflicted - it's nice, being touched by Jason, being treated tenderly, but all his instincts are telling him he should be fighting this, struggling to get away from the plants and their influence. He's tense with an undercurrent of distress, but some of it melts as the vine in his mouth pulses, sweet sap flooding down his throat and spreading warmth through him.
It does... it does feel good, it feels better than he wants it to, and watching what the vines are doing to Jason - the way he suckles and groans in response to them - he can't stop watching that. It's hard to concentrate with such a vivid show going on right in front of him. It's hard to keep fighting, keep holding onto his resistance, when it feels this good, this warm and tempting, making his body feel heated and sensitive to every touch.
And there are a lot of touches going on. The strange, inhuman but not unpleasant touches of the vines squirming under his suit, stroking over his skin and probing further. He arches and twists in the grip of the vines and the curling cilia of the flower, but it's a vain effort, more reaction than struggle - he's going nowhere. The small vines, on the other hand, are going everywhere, testing the limits of his uniform, and one manages to find and push down the zipper from the inside. Suddenly, he's a lot more exposed, his suit opening in a long, thin V right down from his chest to his navel. The vines are there instantly, pushing in, pulling the uniform further off of him, baring his shoulders and the scarred expanse of his chest and stomach, and he gasps around the vine in his mouth as they start rubbing against his nipples - moans, startled and strangled, as they push their way into his jock and curl around his cock, making his hips jerk. ]
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It does... it does feel good, it feels better than he wants it to, and watching what the vines are doing to Jason - the way he suckles and groans in response to them - he can't stop watching that. It's hard to concentrate with such a vivid show going on right in front of him. It's hard to keep fighting, keep holding onto his resistance, when it feels this good, this warm and tempting, making his body feel heated and sensitive to every touch.
And there are a lot of touches going on. The strange, inhuman but not unpleasant touches of the vines squirming under his suit, stroking over his skin and probing further. He arches and twists in the grip of the vines and the curling cilia of the flower, but it's a vain effort, more reaction than struggle - he's going nowhere. The small vines, on the other hand, are going everywhere, testing the limits of his uniform, and one manages to find and push down the zipper from the inside. Suddenly, he's a lot more exposed, his suit opening in a long, thin V right down from his chest to his navel. The vines are there instantly, pushing in, pulling the uniform further off of him, baring his shoulders and the scarred expanse of his chest and stomach, and he gasps around the vine in his mouth as they start rubbing against his nipples - moans, startled and strangled, as they push their way into his jock and curl around his cock, making his hips jerk. ]