12:47 p.m.
The elevator to the rooftop greenhouse required a retina scan and a thumbprint. Aarav pressed both, still tasting Rhea's slick on his lower lip. The doors parted onto a wall of humid green.
Pulse Dynamics' 34th floor was half lab, half jungle. Glass panels arched overhead; condensation slid in slow tears. Rows of orchids glowed under UV strips—petals the color of bruises, of fresh cream, of spilled wine. The air smelled like crushed figs and wet earth.
Dr. Leela Nair waited at the center aisle, clipboard forgotten in one hand. Her lab coat hung open over a sundress the shade of young mango leaves. The fabric clung to damp skin; beneath, her nipples pressed like punctuation marks.
"You're late," she said, but her smile forgave everything. "The *Dendrobium aphrodisiaca* is in full bloom. I need a… vector."
Aarav stepped closer. Heat rolled off the grow-lights, off her body. "Define vector."
She set the clipboard aside, unbuttoned the coat, let it fall. The sundress followed, pooling at her feet. Naked except for a thin gold chain at her waist, she was all soft curves and darker shadows. Between her thighs, a neat triangle of curls glistened.
"Pollen transfer," she said. "Human-mediated. Prolonged contact." Her gaze dropped to the front of his trousers, where the outline of his cock strained like a second heartbeat. "I've read the Slack thread. Forty-one minutes is… promising."
Aarav loosened his belt. "Show me the flower."
Leela led him down the aisle. The orchid in question sat on a waist-high pedestal: petals thick as tongue tips, center flushed deep pink and dripping nectar. A faint perfume rose—sweet, then sharp, then dizzying.
She dipped two fingers into the bloom, scooped the viscous fluid, and painted it across her lower lip. "Tasteless to most. To the right physiology…" She licked her lip clean, shivered. "Instant arousal. Sustained for hours."
Aarav inhaled. The scent coiled inside his skull, warm and electric. His cock surged, thickening beyond its usual girth, the head pushing past his waistband. Veins stood livid against the skin.
Leela's pupils blew wide. "Perfect."
She pushed him onto a padded worktable—stainless steel warmed by grow-lights. Vines of vanilla orchid trailed overhead; their scent braided with the aphrodisiac. She climbed astride, knees bracketing his hips, and freed him completely.
The first touch of her hand drew a growl from his chest. She coated his shaft with nectar—slow, reverent strokes—until he gleamed like polished wood. Then she sank down.
The stretch stole her breath. Her pussy fluttered, adjusting to the invasion, walls rippling in waves. When her ass met his thighs, she paused, eyes closed, savoring the impossible fullness.
"Move when you're ready," Aarav said, voice rough.
She began to ride—slow rolls of her hips, grinding her clit against his base. Each downward slide forced a soft cry from her throat. The nectar amplified every sensation: the drag of his cockhead across her front wall, the slick friction, the pulse of his heartbeat inside her.
Minutes bled. Five. Ten. She came with a sharp gasp, inner muscles milking him, but he stayed iron-hard. The orchid's chemistry locked his release behind a wall of pure stamina.
Leela leaned forward, breasts swaying, and kissed him. The taste of the nectar exploded—sweet fire. She rode harder, table creaking, metal legs scraping tile. Her second orgasm hit like a sneeze she couldn't stop; clear fluid pulsed around his cock, dripping onto his balls.
"More," she panted. "Need data."
Aarav sat up, arms banding her waist, and flipped their positions. Now she lay beneath him, legs over his shoulders, pussy tilted to take every inch. He thrust deep, steady, relentless. The greenhouse blurred—green smudges, violet flashes. Her third climax blurred into a fourth; she lost count, voice breaking on his name.
He pulled out, flipped her again—onto all fours this time—and re-entered in one slick push. The new angle dragged the ridge of his cock across her g-spot with every stroke. Leela's arms gave out; her cheek pressed to the warm steel, drool pooling.
Outside the glass walls, a small crowd had gathered on the sky-deck—colleagues on lunch break, phones raised, iced coffees forgotten. Someone started a rhythmic clap that matched Aarav's thrusts. The sound vibrated through the panels.
Leela's fifth orgasm tore a scream from her raw throat. She reached back, nails digging into his thigh. "Inside," she begged. "Flood the sample."
Aarav's control snapped—not from weakness, but choice. He buried himself to the root and let go. The first jet was thick, endless; the second painted her walls white. He kept coming—pulse after pulse—until excess spilled out around his base, sliding down her thighs in creamy rivulets.
When he finally withdrew, a soft *pop* echoed. Leela collapsed sideways, trembling, a satisfied mess. Cum leaked from her swollen pussy in slow pulses, pooling beneath her like melted candle wax.
Aarav stood, cock still half-hard, glistening. He scooped a finger through the mess, tasted their combined release—salt, nectar, something floral and filthy. Perfect.
Leela pushed up on an elbow, hair plastered to her cheek. "Yield… exceeds projection by 300%." She laughed, breathless. "I'll need daily trials. For science."
He tucked himself away, trousers ruined beyond salvage. "Schedule it."
As he turned to leave, she called out: "Take a cutting. The white one—*D. pulseus*. Blooms only under prolonged body heat. Consider it a company perk."
Aarav clipped a single stem. The flower trembled in his hand, already opening wider.