[The good news is that the lingering pollen in the air is all but gone, now; the differently good news is that it's because they've inhaled it all, between the two of them]

[The vines at her chest twitch and curl, a rhythmic sort of squeeze and rustle; the ones in her wings are joined by still more, as though they're trying to touch every part of her]

[He continues to lap at her near desperately; if she has the presence of mind to listen for it, she can pick up the sound of something wet and rhythmic that is not the vine inside her or the urgent working of his tongue]