A snapping of fingers jolted Senya back to awareness. Sylvia was sitting next to him, her hand in front of his face, a smirk sneaking across those flawless lips of hers. Those plump, flawless, kissable lips.
"Hello, Senya?" She giggled. "You in there?"
His whole face went hot. "S-Sorry," he stammered, tearing his eyes off those lips. "I must have... must have, um, drifted off or something."
"Mm, must have!"
Senya squirmed. He'd really not meant to... to lose track of himself like that. He knew how tempting a target he must have been in that moment, and felt flutteringly grateful to Sylvia for not taking advantage.
"So, where were we?" Sylvia asked sweetly.
"Um. Um, I think we were talking about..." Senya bit his lip, trying to remember. It didn't help that the memories were themselves so flustering. "We were talking about drones, I think. Or... or sprites?"
"Oh, right!" She nodded, eyes brightening. "Yeah, we were totally talking about mead sprites. So, like, when a mortal--or sometimes a fey, or even a fiend--gets too much mead, they can go all the way to the fourth stage of addiction." She leaned in conspiratorially. "A lot of people think there's only three stages--like, the first stage, where you're a little addicted but can control it, and the second stage, where you're totally, helplessly desperate for more, and the last stage where you become, like, a mead sprite. But the second stage is where you
think
you can control it... but totally can't. The
third
stage is the one where you're totally addicted and have to seek it out wherever you can get it."
"And... the fourth stage?" Senya licked his lips unconsciously.
Her eyes glimmered. "Well, I'm sure you've heard plenty of
buzz
about that one," she purred.
Senya stared back at her. Something about what she'd just said prickled at a memory, and he tried to snatch at it, but caught nothing but air. He drifted after it, trying to catch the vague sense of deja vu...
"Well? Have you?" She tilted her head quizzically.
"Y-Yes." He nodded weakly. "Um, the fourth stage is where the addict is... ready to change."
"Mm, that's right." Sylvia smirked. "
Some
addicts keep protesting even then, keep thinking they want to resist, of course. But they can't resist the sweetness of the honey, the
buzz
of their Mistresses. They've totally
lost
to us. And that's. How. They. Want it." She pronounced every word with sensuous care.
Senya's head felt weird and staticky. He shifted, trying to subtly clear it. Again deja vu tugged at him, but not wanting to look too dazed again--lest Sylvia get it into her head to try hypnotizing him or something--he did his best to ignore it. "S-So, they... they need Thriae around to turn them into mead sprites, then?"
"Mm, some manage it on their own, if they're able to get ahold of some royal nectar somehow... but a true
honeypet
," she flashed him a dazzling smile as he felt his mind suddenly slow down into ooze, just for a moment, "needs to be trained properly."
Senya's head swam as he pulled back. He stared at Sylvia stupidly, licking his lips of a lingering taste. "Yes. Y-Yes, that... makes sense."
She pulled her neckline up, and Senya dimly wondered why she was smiling like that. Why had her dress been so low?
He blinked. Wait, since when had he been leaning...
He chased the thought, but doing so only made his thoughts blur and warp. His head swirled in uneven spirals until he was dizzy.
Dizzy and buzzy.
Buzz, buzz, buzz...
He giggled faintly, then blushed as he remembered himself. "R-Right. So, um, that's how sprites work."
"That's how sprites work." Sylvia nodded encouragingly. "See, they need the honey
sooo
bad, need to obey
soooo
bad, they just let their brains...
buzz
away~"
Senya blinked. He shook his head a little, trying to clear away some of the cobwebs--the fuzzy, humming cobwebs, each strand of which he pulled at thrumming like a string instrument, resonating through his mind... "Um, yeah. Um..."
"Because it feels
so
good," she went on, giggling. "Just submitting to that nice, soothing
buzz
, letting your thoughts sink and fade beneath the drone..."
Senya blinked blearily. He scooted away. "N-No," he whispered. "No, wait..."
"
Buzz, buzz, buzz,
" she cooed, leaning in after him.
Senya felt his mind getting fuzzier and meltier every time she said the word. What was happening to him? He reached up to cover his ears, shaking his head again, his protests a pathetic plea. "N-Nnno..."
"And those sprites make such... wonderful...
honeypets~
"
Senya felt everything slow down again. This time, he was aware enough to notice, to notice how everything melted into a nice, gooey ooze. The next thing he knew, he was pulling away again, and his brain felt like a muscle massaged into limpness. He licked his lips and tasted honey. Sweet, gooey, wonderful honey. "Wh... whuh..."
"That's it!" Her voice rang with wicked, undisguised glee. "You're getting it. Such a
good boy
."
"No." he whimpered. "No, what are you... what are you d-doing to..."
"
Buzz.
"
Senya clutched his head, gasping as the fuzzy static sent prickles of relaxing pleasure through his mind. "S-Stop..."
"
Buzz, buzz, buzz~
"
"buzz," he thoughtlessly echoed. He heard a little giggle, and realized after a moment it was his own. In a panic, he tried to stand up.
"Oh, no." Sylvia giggled. "You can't be leaving in
this
state, dummy."
"I... y-you're..." Senya shook his head as briskly as he could, forcing his gaze away from her. His mind sloshed with honey with every motion, buzzed delightfully, but he knew, dimly, he had to resist. He had to get out of here, before she... she...
"Not even a
goodbye kiss
?" Even not looking, he could hear the pout in her words.
Senya felt his world tilting. Gods, he felt so dizzy. His head felt so heavy, like a leaden weight, and the thought of even looking at her lips made him feel weak inside.
"N-No," he whispered. He managed another step.
The sound of his footfall briefly echoed through the silent cottage.
Then Sylvia's voice came again, and it was so unbearably, sickeningly, poisonously sweet that Senya trembled and licked his lips unconsciously, as if her very voice was sweet enough to fuel addiction. "You know, Senya, you're such a lovely boy."
Senya gulped.
"So kind and generous with your time, with your
attention
... gosh, like, one
miiight
even call you a
good
boy."
Danger. Danger. Senya took another halting step. It felt like his brain had fallen asleep, like limb that had too long gone unused.
"And do you know," she went on, and she put such special, delicate attention into her words then that Senya already knew he was lost, "
what good boys do?
"
Senya felt the tug of the suggestion, and he tried to fight it, but it was unbearable. The desire to obey rose in him, the honey waves sloshing at the banks of his weak, eroded mind, and from his subdued lips slipped three little words.
"they... say... yes..."
"That's right!" Sylvia giggled. "
Good boys say yes.
