“Spike!  Get me another bucket, will you?” Bushroot shouted to his fly trap pet as he set the bucket in his hands down in the spot he had just cleared.  That evening St. Canard was experiencing a particularly violent thunderstorm with driving rain that was leaking through his greenhouse roof in several spots.  Bushroot had been irked to discover that the thunderstorm that had occurred about a week before, with near record-breaking winds, had apparently damaged and loosened some of his greenhouse’s ceiling panels.  At the time he had just been glad that none of them had ripped off during the storm, but now he wished that he’d had the foresight to double-check that there had been no actual damage afterward. 

Spike came over with a bucket in his mouth, and Bushroot set that one up under another stream of water that poured down from the roof.  The rosebush that had been there was still whining in its new spot several feet away about having been stuck under the “sky hose” as it had called it, but privately Bushroot thought that it should grow a thicker stem about the situation.  It wasn’t like the water hurt it, or that the soil couldn’t be replaced, and the leak that had drenched one of his lab benches had been a much higher priority.  Decent lab equipment was harder to come by than potting soil, after all. 

Lightning flashed outside and a booming thunderclap almost immediately followed, making Bushroot jump involuntarily at how close and loud it was.  His greenhouse was well grounded, so he was not worried so much about it being struck by lightning, but storms like that were still unnerving regardless, especially considering that his greenhouse was at a high point on the property.  Anxious whispers ruffled among his plants, most of them sharing his concern about the bad weather, and Spike even dove under one of the lab benches to hide.  “I’ll be glad when this is over,” Bushroot muttered, shaking some of the water off of his hands.  He cast a look around, double-checking to be sure that he had buckets under the worst of the leaks.  It seemed that he did, and he was glad of that, as the place was a mess enough already.  His plants were no longer arranged in any sort of orderly fashion—normally, he kept his leafy friends in positions optimal for their light preferences, company, and his own aesthetic taste—and the floor was covered in puddles of water and his and Spike’s muddy root-prints.

“What a mess,” he remarked aloud, wrinkling his beak in distaste.  Even once the weather cleared up, it would take hours to make it look nice again, he thought gloomily.

There was another flash of lightning and an accompanying crack of thunder, and as Bushroot jumped to see where it had hit, a brief flickering and then complete shutdown of all of his lights and power told him that it must have struck the power transformer just up the street from his property.  “Oh, great.”  He sighed and stomped across the soggy floor, a frown forming on his beak.  Experience told him that it would be a while before he had any power again, and nothing was as annoying or boring as being stuck at home in the dark during a power outage.  “Guess I’d better go find a flashlight,” he said, and headed toward the room in the back.  There was just enough light from the lightning in the clouds above for him to be able to make his way there without tripping over anything.  He was glad that Spike was not underfoot, at least, although he imagined that as soon as he did settle down somewhere with a flashlight, his fly trap would join him, provided the thunder died down enough for him to get brave enough to come out from under the bench.

Bushroot found his flashlight and started to head back to the main chamber of the greenhouse.  He had taken his first steps inside when he slipped on a muddy patch of floor.  He managed to right himself before he fell, but he still cast a glare at the floor nonetheless.  “That’s one drawback to a dirt floor.  When your roof leaks, you get mud.”  He made a mental note to get some grass seed and sprout it on the spot as soon as possible once the power was back, and continued on his way back to his primary lab bench.  He was about halfway there when he felt his foot sink into a puddle that was at least an inch deep.  He shined his flashlight down into the water, and when he saw the size of the puddle, his frown deepened.  He did not remember that being there a little while ago; did that mean the roof had sprung yet another leak?  Bushroot had just turned his flashlight up to look at the ceiling panels to try and spot the source when he felt a sudden and unexpected swirling motion around his feet.  The plant-duck barely had time to let out a startled yelp before his roots were seemingly yanked out from under him and he fell backwards, landing on his back in the middle of the puddle with a graceless splash.

Stunned, Bushroot blinked and reached for the flashlight he had dropped during the fall while the water continued to swirl up, around, and then over him.  “Surprise!” Liquidator’s boisterous voice greeted him as he formed his familiar shape.

“You can say that again,” Bushroot said, finally grabbing the flashlight and turning it toward Liquidator’s face. 

“Gah!”  The water dog winced as the light hit him right in the eyes.  He swatted the flashlight away instinctively, knocking it right back out of Bushroot’s hand and sending it rolling a few feet away.  “The surgeon general recommends not blinding your friendly neighborhood Liquidator.”

“Sorry, but you scared me,” Bushroot retorted, leaning up on his vine arms.  “What’s the big idea of uprooting me, anyway?  And I kinda needed that to see.”  Bushroot went to reach for the flashlight again, but Liquidator stopped him by leaning down on top of him, planting one watery arm on either side of the plant-duck and playfully trapping him beneath him. 

Leaning closer with a mischievous smile on his face, Liquidator pooled his water more deeply on either side so that Bushroot sank in an inch or so further.  “Why bother with a mundane entrance, when you can arrive with flash and splash?  And I can see you just fine.”

Although the flashlight had landed in such a way that its beam reflected off of a smooth plastic storage bin, adding a slight bit of light to the immediate area, Bushroot hardly considered that an acceptable substitution.  “You’re two inches from my face.  Of course you can see me.”  He sighed.  “Will you let me up now, please?”

Liquidator’s smile changed to one more affectionate, but he did not move out of the way and instead just leaned closer.  “Having a stressful night?  Fed up with thunderstorms, power outages, and a roof that leaks worse than the average cheap faucet?  Never fear, the Liquidator is here to cheer you up!”

Bushroot groaned.  “Don’t tell me you got in through a leak in the roof.”

“No.  I saw the leaks when I flowed in under the door.  What a mess.  Would you like the number of a good contractor that works on super-villain property without asking nosy questions and who doesn’t charge an arm, leg, leaf, and limb?  I’ll be happy to hook you up, free of charge.”

“Yeah, actually.”  Bushroot let out a tired breath and leaned his head back into the puddle.  “Thanks.”

“Anytime!  The Liquidator is always willing to offer his partner-in-crime a good deal.”  Liquidator grinned down at him.

Bushroot smiled back at the water dog.  “You can let me up now.”

“I could.”  Liquidator chuckled, but he did not move, and when Bushroot realized such, his face resumed its earlier irked expression.  Liquidator then leaned down so that they were beak-to-nose, just barely touching.  “But you’ll have to make it worth my while.”

Something about the way he said it, and the way he looked at him while he did, made Bushroot feel a shiver.  He recognized that look, and that tone.  They were the same he had used the last time they were so close, the last night that Liquidator had been in the greenhouse, the night he had seduced him.  Ironically, that encounter, and their talk the morning afterward, had been on Bushroot’s mind quite a bit in the days that had passed since then.  The thunderstorm and the leaky roof had been the first real distraction he’d had from it, and it figured that Liquidator chose such a time to show up again and complicate things.  Not that Bushroot really minded the complication of such companionship, but the timing…

“Buddy,” Bushroot said softly, “now’s really not a good time…”

Quirking his head to the side, Liquidator peered down at Bushroot with a sly look.  “Really?  Because you have so much to do with no power, no light, and Spike hiding like a scared little puppy under the table?”

“It’s not that.  It’s just been a bad day.”  Bushroot sighed and met Liquidator’s dark fluid eyes.  “I mean, it’s nice to see you, but I’m not in the best mood.”

One of Liquidator’s hands rose out of the water beside Bushroot to touch the side of his cheek by his beak.  “Then let some Liquidator brand stress relief cheer you up.  It’s guaranteed to put a big smile on the saddest beak.”  He tapped the tip of it with a watery finger for effect.

Bushroot found himself smiling a bit despite his sour mood.  “So you did come here for that.”

“That and to see you, Reggie.”  Liquidator leaned closer, pressing Bushroot back down into the puddle, which warmed and swirled against the plant-duck’s skin almost like an embrace.  Liquidator’s wet lips kissed the tip of Bushroot’s beak in a gentle and playful smooch before he spoke again.   “Though I do admit that something about driving rain drives me a little wild.”

“I’ll bet,” Bushroot replied, feeling a rush of warmth in his cheeks at the feeling that Liquidator’s watery touch and kiss inspired.

“No need to gamble on it.  I’m one hundred percent guaranteed,” Liquidator said with a smirk.  He shortened his arms into the puddle, and the water around Bushroot’s neck rose up and re-formed into them so that Liquidator held him even closer.  Bushroot closed his eyes as Liquidator began to nuzzle against him, his lips and nose touching the edges of his petal hair. 

Although he enjoyed the affectionate attention, Bushroot teased him, “Guaranteed?  To what, get me on my back so you can have your way with me again?”

Liquidator let out a bubbly chortle at Bushroot’s remark.  “Guaranteed to sweep you off your feet, or your roots as the case may be,” he clarified, and re-formed a hand at the base of Bushroot’s neck.  He slid his fingers up into his hair and toward the top of his head.

“You’re good at that,” Bushroot admitted, closing his eyes as Liquidator began to stroke and touch the filaments on his head.  He added in a distracted and breathy murmur, “and that.”

Pleased to discover that his partner in crime did indeed find the gentle touch of his wet fingertips along the length of one of his stamens to be an erotic one, Liquidator smiled.  “See?  You look twenty-five percent less stressed already.”

Bushroot flexed his leaf-hand against Liquidator’s watery torso.  “Is that your new gimmick?  Liquidator brand stress relief?”

“Maybe.  It depends.”  Liquidator brought the tip of the filament to his lips, brushing it against them lightly.

The sensation sent a shiver through Bushroot’s body, and he relaxed further into the water dog’s wet embrace.  “On what?”

Liquidator dabbed the pollen-coated anther with the tip of his tongue before answering.  “On whether you’re buying.”

“Yes,” Bushroot murmured, drawing a sharp and excited breath.  Whatever traces of his earlier foul mood might have remained were effectively dissolved by Liquidator’s delightful watery touch, and the water dog let out a decidedly smug chuckle as he swirled his water against Bushroot on all sides.  He flicked his tongue out again, eliciting another flash of delight in the plant-duck, who groaned, more out of pleasure than the mock protest he had intended.  “You’re going to soak me for it, aren’t you?”

“Not in a way you won’t enjoy.”  As if to drive the point home, Liquidator sloshed down and pinned Bushroot against the greenhouse floor so that he was half immersed in a puddle on his back and completely surrounded by Liquidator’s more solid watery form from the chest down.  “I know from my own market research just how much you like my water… enough to even want it on a night like this.”

“Talk about a hard sell, after what it did to my greenhouse.”  Bushroot curled his vine arms around Liquidator’s chest and kissed him that time.  It was an odd sensation, as his beak dipped slightly into the water dog’s lips before meeting resistance, but not at all unpleasant.  Apparently Liquidator did not think so either, for he responded by swishing his water around the filaments in Bushroot’s hair which now floated on the surface of his water, half-submerged as he was.  It emulated a constant and gentle touch that made Bushroot feel like quivering all over.  

“Hard sells are my specialty.”  Liquidator grinned and then added, “And if you like that, you should have some of my hard water.”

Although he caught the innuendo, Bushroot was too distracted by the way Liquidator was coaxing pollen from his head to think about anything but his touch.  In his days as a regular duck that would have struck Bushroot as logical only in an abstract sense, that being how plants reproduced.  To his mutant plant-duck body, however, it felt not only natural, but incredible, the same kind of incredible it had felt to drink in Liquidator’s water the last time they had been together.  But this time, he thought greedily, they were together and Liquidator was doing that, and he could have his water as well…

With his eyes narrowed in determination, Liquidator half-kissed, half-licked a wanting and wet trail along the underside of Bushroot’s beak as the plant-duck opened the proverbial flood gates and began drawing in his water, slowly but powerfully.  It elicited the same pleasurable rush in Liquidator’s senses as it had the last time he and Bushroot had been intimate, and he instantly moderated his flow and pressure just enough to put a slight resisting pull on it, making Bushroot work for it, giving them each the feeling they wanted.  Liquidator formed the water around Bushroot’s stamens into fingers once more, and curled them around his filaments to rub and touch them as he placed warm and wet kisses up to the tip of his beak.  “Water, water everywhere,” he whispered, meeting the lusting look in Bushroot’s eyes with one of his own, “and I’m what you want to drink.”

“Yes.”  Bushroot’s answer was distracted, demanding, and to the point.

Smugly pleased with that confirmation, Liquidator let out another bubbly chuckle.  “One helping of liquid sex, coming right up.”

In the next instant Bushroot felt a powerful surge of water push into his body, harder and faster than his draw, from all sides.  He arched his back and clutched at Liquidator where he was substantial enough to grab, pressing his leaf-fingers past the tension barrier of his skin and urging him to do it again.  The water dog was all too happy to oblige, drawing Bushroot against him as he forced his water against his body, pushing in and penetrating, making him twist and gasp and groan even as he released a current against his stamens.  A light film of pollen dusted that water, releasing a sweet summery scent into the air, one that Liquidator from that moment forward would always associate with Bushroot in the bloom of passion. 

Liquidator drove a torrent against Bushroot again, and then again, lost in his own flood of desire as the plant-duck writhed in thirsty want beneath him.  Invisible water fingers clutched at the back of Bushroot’s head beneath the surface, taking tighter hold of him, and Liquidator drove himself into him until Bushroot wrenched and twisted against him in a way that caught Liquidator by surprise that time.  Fluid as he was, he could feel the plant-duck’s every movement with the way he surrounded him, and he swirled back for a moment eyeing Bushroot with a curious look.

“Well, what have we here?”

Bushroot’s eyelids drooped and his beak curled into a sheepish and embarrassed smile.  “Um, well... I kinda wondered if that would happen if we, uh, did this again…”

Liquidator’s other hand formed around the curiosity in question, a phallic-looking root that had sprouted out of nowhere between Bushroot’s woody thighs.  “I knew my water was good, but I didn’t know I was Miracle-Gro.”

If Bushroot had been capable of blushing, he would have been doing so furiously.  As it was, he just felt the sap hot behind his cheeks as he explained.  “You know how I can grow myself to fit a situation, like make my arms longer or get taller if I need to when we’re out on a caper?”  Liquidator gave a slight nod, his eyes sparkling with fascination as he listened.  “I don’t know how it is for you when you change shape with your water, but for me some of it’s subconscious as well as conscious.  Sometimes I just react to a situation, like a reflex.”  He shifted a bit under Liquidator’s touch.  “While my pollen works like a plant’s and that’s technically how I’d do that sort of thing, I did spend most of my life as a duck, thinking like a duck, in a duck’s body…”

Sliding his fingers sensuously along the length of Bushroot’s new root and eyeing it with interest, Liquidator remarked, “There was no hard wood seeking a Liquidator brand polish last time.”

The play of Liquidator’s watery fingers on his newly sprouted stalk made Bushroot tremble inside like a leaf in the spring breeze.  “That’s because last time I wasn’t thinking about… well, you know… when we,” he faltered, feeling his cheeks burn hotter, “you know!”

Liquidator raised an eyebrow.  “But you were a thoroughly satisfied customer of the Liquidator full body treatment, you know.”

“I don’t need this to do that,” Bushroot explained with a gesture toward his recent growth, closing his eyes and enjoying the sensation of Liquidator’s continued stroking.  “Like I said, it’s a reflex.  Last time what happened was so sudden, and it was so intense that I just enjoyed it for what it was at the time.  This time’s different.”  He met Liquidator’s gaze.

“This time you’re an informed consumer.”  A grin spread across Liquidator’s face as he felt a slight pull on his water upon his fingertips while he stroked Bushroot’s newly grown appendage.  Bushroot smiled back at him, and to Liquidator’s surprise, the woody prize in his hands grew a little bigger.  “Informed and eager.”  Liquidator cast Bushroot a sly look.  “I suppose you’d like that new growth watered.”

“What do you think?”  Bushroot wriggled against his touch, and Liquidator caught the scent of a fresh burst of his pollen in the air.

An excited flurry of bubbles rippled through Liquidator’s body and the water surrounding Bushroot as he leaned over him once, immersing him and drawing him close.  He swirled a pleasing and teasing current around his ready root.  “I’d be happy to, but it’ll cost you.” 

“How much?” asked Bushroot, his eyes half-lidded with pleasure as Liquidator’s inviting current enveloped him once more.

“We’ll work out a deal that’s gratifying to both of us,” Liquidator answered.  He covered the plant-duck’s body almost completely with his own, holding him down against the greenhouse floor.  His wet lips closed around the tip of Bushroot’s beak once again, giving him another thirsty kiss.  Bushroot wrapped his arms around Liquidator’s formed body, as if to pull him closer even though he was already almost completely immersed in Liquidator’s watery form.  He drank him in from all over, thrusting instinctively in a way decidedly more animal than plant, a way that Liquidator found irresistible.  The water dog quickened the flow of his water around Bushroot once again, steadily increasing the pressure and rhythm to the pace it had risen to before their interruption.  Bushroot’s draw became increasingly demanding, and the current between them grew strong enough to form swirls and then whirlpools in the water surrounding them, as if they were caught in turbulent rapids in one spot.

Bushroot’s breath came faster, his body rigid but yielding as Liquidator forced more water into him, faster than he could pull it in.  Liquidator grew dizzy and intoxicated with the sheer pleasure of taking Bushroot and filling him, of being consumed and thirsted for on every level imaginable.  His water bubbled hotter, swirled faster, and penetrated harder.  Bushroot thrust his head back, closing his eyes as Liquidator’s delightful water flooded his senses.  He gave himself over completely to the pleasure of the act, and his stamens tingled as Liquidator’s rushing water stripped them clean of pollen, sending flashes of sensation though his body that made him gasp aloud in ecstasy, and then again as it pushed him over the edge.

Liquidator tightened his hold on Bushroot so that only his face and beak remained above water.  He drove his water against Bushroot’s body in a frenzy until he also reached his breaking point, and his senses flooded with an orgasmic rush.  For a moment it felt as though his essence was both holding and held captive by the plant-duck’s body at once, and as Liquidator reached his peak, his water sprayed out and splashed all around, against Bushroot, inside and out.  He held him there, immersed, and as the physical pleasure began to ebb, Liquidator relaxed until the water around them settled and flowed into a warm little pool in which they were at the center, entangled with Bushroot’s vine arms and root legs curled around and against the parts of Liquidator’s body that remained substantial. 

The sound of the rain hitting the greenhouse panels above them beat a gentle and relaxing rhythm as the two of them lay there together in the darkness.  “Right now, the rain sounds kind of nice,” Bushroot mused as he dipped his fingertips lightly through Liquidator’s back.  The touch was almost like a tickle to the water dog, but fortunately he was not ticklish enough that it was unpleasant. 

With a smug and satisfied smile, Liquidator remarked, “I told you it was guaranteed to ease your stress, improve your mood, and put a smile on your beak.  Not even a power outage or a leaky roof can stand up to the amazing powers of the Liquidator.”

Bushroot could not help but chortle at Liquidator’s shameless ego, although he did not challenge his statement.  Instead he just said, “If you could also stop the leaks, I’d be really impressed.”

Liquidator did not miss a beat.  “Roofing is strictly manufacturer’s warrantee only.  However,” a devious smirk crept across his face, “tonight I do have a special deal for the plant of the house!  If you act now, you can receive the full services of the Liquidator and his exclusive brand of water manipulation abilities in removing all unwanted storm water from your home once the power comes back on, all for one unbelievably low price.”

“Which is…?”

Liquidator’s sly smile broadened to a grin, and he leaned in close to Bushroot once more, his face over top of his as they lay nose to beak.  Bushroot felt the water around him pool against his body and immerse him in soothing comfort.  “You can receive this unbeatable offer by opting into the patented Liquidator leak protection plan.  When roof panels fail and the lights go out, cover yourself with the Liquidator until the siege is over and your home is up and running.”

Bushroot’s eyebrows rose as he regarded his partner in crime.  “Cover myself with the Liquidator, huh?”

“You won’t receive an offer this good anywhere else.”  Liquidator’s water swished against Bushroot in an affectionate caress.

Smiling up at him, Bushroot leaned back into the wet embrace and circled his arms around Liquidator’s torso.  “Sign me up.”


The End


~~~~~~~~ Back to Darkwing Duck ~~~~~~~~


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