And now for some purty flowers
Sex and Pollen - For hullfire: sunflower/tulip, Fertilizer
Do I have to mention that biologically, this is completely impossible? Thought so. *g*
Follows the events of Flight of the Bumblebee. If, by any chance, you haven't come across the greenhouse verse yet, you might want to check out the index post and start from the beginning.
ETA: There's one more prompt fic left which I'm going to put here. After that, this kind of stuff is going to be posted directly to greenhouse_au - you might want to keep an eye open. :)
ETA2: If you want a visual of what sunflower's so avidly staring at, click here
~~~
When sunflower dipped his roots into the fresh, warm mixture of water and fertilizer that cool summer morning and started to drink, it took him a few swallows to realise that the taste was a little… different. Not bad, different, just unfamiliar, like no fertiliser they'd ever had before. Sunflower let his roots suck again, thoughtfully, this time consciously tasting the new stuff. Faintly metallic, kind of sweet, with a dark note that was probably a organic component. Not bad at all, and he drank deeply, enjoying the fresh water running through his xylem along with the nutrients, basking in the warm feel of the early morning sun on his leaves and taking pleasure in the tingly fuzziness spreading through his… wait a minute.
Sunflower shook his head, but the fuzziness continued to rise, swelling through his tracheids and passing through his sieve tube members until his thoughts were a haze and all he wanted to do was pollinate.
This was definitely not guano.
"Uh. Do you feel… strange, too?" tulip called hesitantly, and sunflower groaned. Of course, with the cleaning and the glass repairs the breeder had going on most of the other plants weren't even in the greenhouse at the moment and tulip had been placed two shelves over, so there was no way for them to touch, no way a helpful frisky bumblebee might find its way in and oh Sun, do something about this.
"What say we try something new?" he rasped, ignoring the way tulip's voice had made the little hairs on his leaves stand up and take notice.
"Something… something new?" Tulips voice sounded unsteady and his petals were fluttering slightly.
"Yeah. You could," sunflower swallowed another rootful of fertilised water, feeling about to keel over with want, "you could touch yourself."
"What, here?" tulip squeaked. "But you'd see me!"
"That's kind of the point."
"But-"
"Come on, tulip, it's gonna be fun. Trust me."
Slowly, almost shyly, tulip unfolded his petals, his bulbous flower opening until sunflower could see his long, fleshy style, crowned by a star-shaped carpel and surrounded by six slightly shorter stamens with dark, pollen-covered anthers on top. The soft insides of tulip's petals were of an almost translucent blue that turned into a soft yellow at the very bottom of the flower. He was beautiful, and sunflower loved him for that, loved him for being sarcastic and mean and smart and funny and beautiful, so beautiful that for a moment or two, sunflower couldn't even photosynthesise. His wide-spread petals trembling, tulip curled the filaments of his stamens inward, anthers rubbing over his stigma, smearing the colourless fluid that had collected at the tips and leaving pollen grains on the sticky surface. Sunflower shuddered, watching each movement greedily, wishing it were him who swayed under those caresses, who made tulip quiver and jerk. He started to rub his inner florets against each other, transpiring heavily as he tried to imagine trailing his leaves over the waxy length of tulip's stem, stroking his outer florets along tulip's petals, feeling the other flower shiver against him.
Then tulip stiffened, his style rigid between his stamens as he gasped, "Sun! I think I just pollinated myself!"
Sunflower jerked, anthers erupting into a cloud of pollen that covered him head to stem in fine, yellow grains. He groaned as he felt some of them settle down into his own florets, sticking to his clenching stigmas.
"Don't say things like that!" he panted without really meaning it. If it were up to him, tulip could say stuff like that all the time.
"What? That I can feel a pollen tube ever so slowly growing down my stigma, opening me up and filling my style?" tulip teased, laughing as his words made sunflower groan again.
"You're going to make me pay for asking you to perform for me, aren't you." It wasn't the question, but tulip answered nevertheless.
"Yes. But think of it this way: five hours, and the breeder is going to hit us with another dose of fertiliser."
Sunflower tried not to look too eager, really, he did.
And if tulip's elaboration on what, exactly, they'd be doing once they were standing on the same shelf close to one another again made the fertiliser completely unnecessary, well. Who was to know?
Do I have to mention that biologically, this is completely impossible? Thought so. *g*
Follows the events of Flight of the Bumblebee. If, by any chance, you haven't come across the greenhouse verse yet, you might want to check out the index post and start from the beginning.
ETA: There's one more prompt fic left which I'm going to put here. After that, this kind of stuff is going to be posted directly to greenhouse_au - you might want to keep an eye open. :)
ETA2: If you want a visual of what sunflower's so avidly staring at, click here
~~~
When sunflower dipped his roots into the fresh, warm mixture of water and fertilizer that cool summer morning and started to drink, it took him a few swallows to realise that the taste was a little… different. Not bad, different, just unfamiliar, like no fertiliser they'd ever had before. Sunflower let his roots suck again, thoughtfully, this time consciously tasting the new stuff. Faintly metallic, kind of sweet, with a dark note that was probably a organic component. Not bad at all, and he drank deeply, enjoying the fresh water running through his xylem along with the nutrients, basking in the warm feel of the early morning sun on his leaves and taking pleasure in the tingly fuzziness spreading through his… wait a minute.
Sunflower shook his head, but the fuzziness continued to rise, swelling through his tracheids and passing through his sieve tube members until his thoughts were a haze and all he wanted to do was pollinate.
This was definitely not guano.
"Uh. Do you feel… strange, too?" tulip called hesitantly, and sunflower groaned. Of course, with the cleaning and the glass repairs the breeder had going on most of the other plants weren't even in the greenhouse at the moment and tulip had been placed two shelves over, so there was no way for them to touch, no way a helpful frisky bumblebee might find its way in and oh Sun, do something about this.
"What say we try something new?" he rasped, ignoring the way tulip's voice had made the little hairs on his leaves stand up and take notice.
"Something… something new?" Tulips voice sounded unsteady and his petals were fluttering slightly.
"Yeah. You could," sunflower swallowed another rootful of fertilised water, feeling about to keel over with want, "you could touch yourself."
"What, here?" tulip squeaked. "But you'd see me!"
"That's kind of the point."
"But-"
"Come on, tulip, it's gonna be fun. Trust me."
Slowly, almost shyly, tulip unfolded his petals, his bulbous flower opening until sunflower could see his long, fleshy style, crowned by a star-shaped carpel and surrounded by six slightly shorter stamens with dark, pollen-covered anthers on top. The soft insides of tulip's petals were of an almost translucent blue that turned into a soft yellow at the very bottom of the flower. He was beautiful, and sunflower loved him for that, loved him for being sarcastic and mean and smart and funny and beautiful, so beautiful that for a moment or two, sunflower couldn't even photosynthesise. His wide-spread petals trembling, tulip curled the filaments of his stamens inward, anthers rubbing over his stigma, smearing the colourless fluid that had collected at the tips and leaving pollen grains on the sticky surface. Sunflower shuddered, watching each movement greedily, wishing it were him who swayed under those caresses, who made tulip quiver and jerk. He started to rub his inner florets against each other, transpiring heavily as he tried to imagine trailing his leaves over the waxy length of tulip's stem, stroking his outer florets along tulip's petals, feeling the other flower shiver against him.
Then tulip stiffened, his style rigid between his stamens as he gasped, "Sun! I think I just pollinated myself!"
Sunflower jerked, anthers erupting into a cloud of pollen that covered him head to stem in fine, yellow grains. He groaned as he felt some of them settle down into his own florets, sticking to his clenching stigmas.
"Don't say things like that!" he panted without really meaning it. If it were up to him, tulip could say stuff like that all the time.
"What? That I can feel a pollen tube ever so slowly growing down my stigma, opening me up and filling my style?" tulip teased, laughing as his words made sunflower groan again.
"You're going to make me pay for asking you to perform for me, aren't you." It wasn't the question, but tulip answered nevertheless.
"Yes. But think of it this way: five hours, and the breeder is going to hit us with another dose of fertiliser."
Sunflower tried not to look too eager, really, he did.
And if tulip's elaboration on what, exactly, they'd be doing once they were standing on the same shelf close to one another again made the fertiliser completely unnecessary, well. Who was to know?