He wasn't sure if it had been a bad idea to indulge himself in this nectar. Flowing and sweet from between the reassuring comfort of her legs, pulling him closer, deeper. Pleading groans, demanding hands, and endless torrents of this nectar. He rose up and looked at her. The greens, blues and purples upon her body began to glow brighter, brighter, brighter. He shielded his eyes. Flowers exploded from her. They hung in the air and spun slowly, casting soft rays of color out from their petals. He felt her legs press against his back roughly – inside her now, she insisted.
Not enough it seemed. She pushed him back. Towered above him. A great moan of lust rose from somewhere deep inside her, filtered out of her into the air and lit the air with a shifting spectrum of colors. She pulled him up to her chest and rode. Desperate. Bestial.
He couldn't breathe. Soft masses, overflowing, splaying across his face, slapping together, against him, up and down. He couldn't breathe. His eyes were rolling. Colors exploding. Shapes formed together, broke apart and the entire room became fractals.
Smaller.
Smaller.
Smaller.
He couldn't breathe, and he found more and more he didn't care. He could drink from this nectar that hung heavy in the air like powder. That coated his lungs and made his eyes roll and mouth water. The fractals propagated and her figure began to collect together before him. She was clutching him deeper into the abyss between these warm, deathly mounds. Groans rolled out from behind her, fluttering into the air like butterflies and exploding into dust.
Fresh air burnt his lungs, made him cough. Somewhere hidden away inside her he was screaming, exploding. Uselessly. She stood and turned around, dripping a kaleidoscope of shapes that fell slowly to the earth, breaking apart into flowers that grew up to the ceiling as they hit the ground.
He was gone again, lost inside the pulsing folds. Her back exploded open into a flower that bloomed and shuddered, twisted and turned into another flower. And another. Malpighiaceae. Rutaceae. Fabaceae. He was gasping for air and reached out to hold her, but saw only long vines where his arms once were. They slipped uselessly off softly expanding and contracting toadstools and soon he saw nothing but the fractals exploding and coalescing above him again.
He couldn't breathe again. She was above him, pressing into him, phasing into him. She was going to swallow him whole, eaten alive through the abyss opening between the soft mounds on her chest.
But the colors were fading now. And the roaring wisps that exploded out of her were falling to the earth, leaving a trail of winking dust behind. She was heaving, shuddering, quiet - the world began to right itself. Cold grays. Bright lights. Mechanical whirs. Electrical hums. His lungs still burned, and his eyes were watering, but he focused on her as she dislodged him from her body. Uneven torrents of him fell from her as she stood up and moved away. Upright and still. Waiting. Irreverent of how he still fell slowly down her soft thighs.
He sat up, panting, coughing and hacking.
"Ordis," he said, his voice feeble, "A reminder for me." He coughed again and rubbed his eyes furiously. "Don't drink it." He coughed again. "And a gas mask."