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By this point in his life, Harley is intimately accustomed to having his hands tied behind his back. But the restraints binding his wrists together are the only thing about this scenario that he’s used to. Everything else – the dark hotel room, the uncomfortable chair he’s been forced into, the knot of pure, primal fear forming in his stomach – is unfamiliar.

 

Though the sun looms over the Indigo Plateau outside, casting a brilliant glow over hundreds of coordinators perfecting their appeals, the room Harley finds himself in is pitch-dark. The shades are drawn tight across the window, the only source of light coming from a dingy lamp on a nearby folding table. The tiny puddle of lamplight is just enough to allow him to see the edge of what looks like a large bed, but the rest of his surroundings are cloaked in shadows.

 

He grinds his teeth, silently berating himself for falling into such a nasty trap, and struggles furiously against his restraints. They won’t budge. He cracks a sardonic smile in the dark, thinking over the events that led him here.

 

This morning, as he picked at a dismal breakfast of powdered eggs and syrupy waffles in the lobby of the hotel designated for coordinators competing in the Grand Festival, a folded note had toppled into his lap from above. When he looked up to spot what must have been a flying- or bug-type pokémon, a swirl of pollen clogged his nostrils, making him sneeze. By the time he regained his composure, the only sign of the sender was a flash of lavender hair disappearing around a corner.

 

Smirking to himself, Harley had opened the note, which read:

 

Room 634. Noon. I can’t wait to give you what you deserve.

 

The note was signed with a simple letter J. Perhaps it had only been wishful thinking, but Harley had been sure of his admirer’s identity, and wasn’t about to turn down the chance to devour such a delicious treat. So, he had appeared outside Room 634 at precisely 12:15 – he didn’t want to seem desperate, of course – armed with nothing but a small foil packet and a tiny bottle of lubricant. His darling pokémon were left behind in his suite to get their beauty rest, ensuring that they’d be stunning for the Grand Festival. That had been a catastrophic mistake, he now realizes.

 

He hadn’t knocked twice before he was swept into the room by his assailant – or was it assailants? Whoever it was had knocked his pointed hat over his eyes, shoved him into a chair, and bound his hands behind his back with what felt like a leather band. He had thrashed against the restraints, but only managed to knock his hat to the ground. Now he squints into the darkness, seething.

 

Someone’s trying to sabotage him. Not May and her gang of boy-toys, though he supposes he’d deserve it from her. No, this was the work of someone a bit more sophisticated. More ruthless. He thrashes unsuccessfully again, and his mysterious captor lets out a muffled giggle from where they lurk in the dark. He clenches his fists against the restraints even as his pulse pounds in his ears. The most important competition of his life begins tomorrow, and he’ll be damned if he’s been duped out of victory by his own libido.

 

“Hello?” he calls, and immediately cringes at the quiver in his voice. He despises weakness, in himself most of all.  

 

“Prepare for trouble,” comes a voice from the darkness, lovely and lethal, like a dagger cloaked in velvet.

 

“And make it double,” answers a second voice, sweetly seductive, like rich golden honey.

 

“Fucking hell,” Harley curses. “Not both of you idiots.”

 

“What, were you expecting only one of us?” Jessie steps into view, her smile a crimson gash across her pale features. She’s wearing her uniform, but has removed her long gloves to show off the glossy red polish adorning her pointed nails.

 

“We are a package deal, you know,” James drawls, appearing beside her and sliding an arm around her waist. A pink blush tints Jessie’s cheeks, and Harley fights to keep his shock from appearing on his face.

 

The two of them are together, then. Harley would have staked the Ribbon Cup itself upon the male Rocket being as queer as he is. But there’s more than one way to be queer, he reminds himself. True, he’s noticed James giving him shy bedroom eyes on more than one occasion. The other man is just his type – pretty and submissive and just airheaded enough to be entertaining. But Harley is forced to admit that when James isn’t staring at him, he’s fixated upon his female counterpart’s admittedly spectacular pair of tits.

 

No matter. He can still spin this in his favor. Get rid of the redheaded bitch, and then he’ll have his prize. The false hope swells in his chest, even as he continues to struggle against the bands preventing his escape.

 

“When I got the note, I assumed it was from the twink,” he finally says, addressing Jessie. Her partner looks bemused; she’s furious. “I figured he hadn’t gotten a good fuck in quite a while, traveling around with you –”

 

“I can fuck him just fine!’” Jessie snarls, breaking away from James and advancing on Harley like a seviper about to strike. So that’s how it is between the two of them. He’d been right to peg James as a sub, and it seems that his spitfire of a partner is his dom. Harley lets out a bark of a laugh, and Jessie raises one manicured hand, surely ready to tear him to pieces with those crimson talons.

 

Harley can’t resist another jab. “Try to avoid my face, hon. Unlike some people, I take pride in my appearance.”

 

Jessie lunges at him, but James restrains her by grabbing her underneath both arms. She’s secured like a tantruming toddler, and Harley laughs again.

 

“Now, now, Jess, this isn’t part of the plan,” James soothes, releasing Jessie and stroking calming circles across her back. The sapphire inferno recedes from the female Rocket’s eyes, but embers still smolder there, as if to warn Harley that she could incinerate him if she chose.

 

“So why the fuck am I here, if not for him?” Harley asks. He struggles vainly against his restraints, but only manages to chafe the skin at his wrists. “What, are you going to murder me? Strangle me with your hideous giant snake? Stab me to death and bury the body beneath the Indigo Plateau?” He attempts a mocking smile despite the panicked beating of his heart, too terrified to wonder whether he’s happened upon the truth. “Just imagine the tabloids – gorgeous performer destined to be Top Coordinator tragically struck down in his prime by jealous competitor. I’ll be famous across all three regions.”

 

“Now, wouldn’t that be romantic?” Jessie singsongs, crossing her arms and acquiring an air of smugness. “But no. We’re not going to kill you. You overestimate our capacity for carnage.”

 

“We may be criminals, but we’re not heartless,” James says, dramatically bringing a hand to his chest in mock indignation. Harley rolls his eyes. Despite the revelations of the last five minutes, his assumption that the male Rocket batted for his particular Pokémon Base team hadn’t been completely unfounded.

 

“You’re here to pay for the way you humiliated me at the Mulberry City Contest,” Jessie says, bending to Harley’s eye level. He resists the urge to spit in her beautiful face. “Purposefully loaning me disobedient pokémon wasn’t very nice, Harley. You’ve been a bad little bitch, and you deserve to be punished.”

 

Rage bubbles up in Harley’s throat. “My darlings are perfectly trained! It’s no wonder they wouldn’t listen to some dumb slut who belongs in a back alley rather than on a stage –”

 

A sharp crack echoes through the room. Jessie has actually slapped Harley, and his head reels from the force of the blow. Anger has given her astonishing physical strength to match her already vicious temperament.

 

“You don’t backtalk Jessie,” James remarks almost gleefully, and Harley glares at him.

 

“What, then?” he asks tersely. “I don’t have all day, you know. I’ve got appeals to practice and costumes to sew. Not that you’d understand.”

 

“Come on, we all know you’re going to prance around in that whorish cactus outfit like always,” Jessie sneers. She’s right, of course, but Harley won’t dignify her taunt with a response. “James, tell him what he’s got to do if he ever wants to see the light of day again.” Harley snickers. This is all very melodramatic, even for her.

 

For a moment, James doesn’t speak. Instead, he turns his doleful gaze to the floor, studying a run in the carpet. Then he meets Harley’s eyes.

 

“Jessie wants to watch you blow me.”

 

Harley can’t help it. He laughs. He laughs so hard that he chokes, until his eyes sting and tears stream down his cheeks. He moves to wipe away his mirth, then remembers that he’s still tied up. Blinking up at the Rockets, he says, “Let me get this straight. You’re angry at me because you got frustrated and made a fool of yourself at Mulberry City. So, the two of you came up with a plan to lure me here and make me suck you off?” Both Rockets nod. “And that’s your idea of a punishment ?”

 

“He doesn’t seem very humiliated, Jess,” James says, casting a nervous glance in his partner’s direction. Jessie remains perfectly still, wearing an expression of impassive disdain.

 

“I should have known. He’s such a pervert,” she says. “Never mind. We brought him here to do it, and he’s not leaving until he does.” She nods at James, and he unbuttons his pants, reaching into his underwear to pull himself out. He’s not wearing his purple belt, and Harley realizes that they must’ve used the item to tie him up.  

 

He heaves a dramatic sigh, ruffling his bangs. “And what if I don’t want to?”

 

“I don’t think you’ve got much choice,” Jessie answers. “Besides, I’ve seen the way you look at him. So fucking hungry for his cock.” She’s behind her partner now, one hand up his shirt as she kisses his neck. Her hyperbolic words aren’t entirely untrue, but they’re clearly for James’ benefit. The male Rocket begins to stroke his swelling erection, releasing a breathy sigh.

 

Fine then,” Harley says. Unlike certain people, he knows when he’s been beaten. Even if he’s being held captive, he might as well have some fun. “As long as there aren’t any pokémon around. I don’t want that big dumb blob watching.”

 

It’s Jessie’s turn to roll her eyes. “We’re not stupid. The rest of the pokémon are with Meowth.”

 

“We sent them to the groomers. It’s complimentary at this hotel,” James explains. He’s staring down at Harley now, his pupils blown wide even in the dim light. Harley wonders if he’s ever been with a man before, and feels a stab of pride, knowing that he’ll make the first time so good.

 

“Enough chitchat. Let’s begin,” Jessie commands, and gently shoves James towards Harley. The male Rocket adopts a comically wide stance before the chair, his erection bobbing right in front of his face. Harley usually avoids comparing his own anatomy to that of his sexual partners, but fuck if James isn’t big – a bit bigger than his own cock, and certainly bigger than he had imagined. The blushing cockhead is mere inches from Harley’s lips, as succulent as a ripe strawberry, and his mouth waters despite himself.

 

“Open up,” Jessie says, and Harley obeys, feeling intermingled excitement and humiliation buzzing through him. James is characteristically gentle, pushing gradually into Harley’s mouth to about halfway up his shaft, then beginning a series of shallow thrusts. Before long, the cock in Harley’s mouth is slick with saliva, and its owner is whimpering softly. The male Rocket alternates between looking down to see Harley’s head bobbing between his thighs and burying his face in Jessie’s neck to hide his embarrassment.

 

If he could speak, Harley would deny it. But he’s enjoying this task even more than usual. Unlike most of the men he finds himself kneeling for, James is shaven clean, and his cock tastes faintly of soap. Harley takes care to moan exaggeratedly whenever the other man is brave enough to meet his eyes, but he’s having no trouble pretending that the cock in his mouth is absolutely delectable. The delicious noises the male Rocket makes in response to every suck and slurp only heighten Harley’s enjoyment, boosting his already magnificent ego.

 

For her part, Jessie seems content to observe the scene from the sidelines. Occasionally she strokes James’ side or sucks a kiss into his pulse point, but for the most part she appears transfixed, that fire blazing in her eyes once again. Harley is familiar with the woman’s insatiable lust for power. He isn’t surprised that she gets off on commanding the two of them to perform this little act of depravity for her.

 

“Take him deeper,” Jessie urges, and Harley does, willing his throat muscles to relax and swallowing even more of the thick cock. James begins to babble nonsense when Harley finally manages to deepthroat him, swallowing around him to increase the suction. He begins to bob his head more vigorously, ignoring the pain of his lips stretched tight around his mouthful of cock. By now, James’ length is completely stuffed down his throat. An hour ago, he’d been swept up in fantasies of fucking the male Rocket until he screamed. Now he can’t help envisioning the throbbing erection in his mouth buried somewhere else.

 

“Wow, Jess, he’s pretty good at this,” James pants, finding his voice at last.

 

“He should be, with all the cocks he’s taken,” Jessie replies, glaring down at Harley as his nose brushes James’ abdomen. “At least I have standards.”

 

A realization strikes Harley like a lightning bolt to the brain, and he fights the urge to giggle around the cock in his mouth. Jessie doesn’t hate him for thwarting her Top Coordinator dreams. She hates him because she’s jealous. If Harley had known about James’ little crush, he could have had him weeks ago. He wonders idly how the duo discusses him behind closed doors, wishing he could be a ledyba on the wall during their conversations.    

 

Harley pulls back, swirling his tongue around the head of James’ cock while fluttering his lashes up at him. James’ hips twitch towards Harley’s mouth, seemingly of their own accord, and Harley obliges him by taking him deep into his throat once more. With a gentle hand, James brushes a stray curl from Harley’s eyes. The gesture is surprisingly tender, and Harley trembles.

 

Jessie’s voice shatters the moment. “Eyes on me, James,” she snarls, grasing a handful of Harley’s hair to pull his head back. She moves to stand behind the chair, yanking sharply at his curls. “I’m going to hold him down while you fuck his face.”

 

Harley wishes he could scold her for tangling his hair. He’d spent a fortune at the salon having his amethyst tresses snipped and glossed and primped to perfection for the Grand Festival. But with James’ dick effectively gagging him, he can’t manage anything more than a muffled growl.

 

James takes a few tentative strokes before he finds his rhythm, his cock nudging the back of Harley’s throat at the apex of every thrust.

 

“Harder. I want to see him cry,” Jessie orders, giving Harley’s hair another rough tug. James obliges, and Harley winces as the Rocket’s thick cock begins slamming roughly in and out of his throat, the heavy balls slapping against his chin. Tears well in his eyes, threatening to spill over, but he steels himself against them, determined not to give Jessie the satisfaction of seeing him break. Worse still, his own cock begins to stir in his pants, and Jessie notices almost immediately.

 

She laughs, bending to speak directly in Harley’s ear. “You’re nothing but a stupid slut, do you hear me? Forget contests. This is the only thing you’re good for. Just a hole to be fucked.” James’ hard thrusts punctuate Jessie’s words, and Harley can do nothing but whimper, feeling his cock stiffen fully and throb almost painfully. No woman has ever has this effect on him, and he tells himself that it’s only the result of being so thoroughly debased and abused.

 

Jessie gives Harley a satisfied smirk, then straightens, turning her attention back to James. The male Rocket is staring dreamily at her as if she’s some sort of savage goddess. Harley tries to glare up at the duo, but they pay him no attention as they lean in to kiss sloppily above his head. The sticky sounds of their kisses blend with the harsh, wet sounds of James pounding Harley’s throat. Harley’s hips thrust up uncontrollably, desperate for a touch that never comes. He’s just a prop in their sick sexual game, just a useless fucktoy, and he’s never been so turned on in all his life.

 

James breaks away from Jessie with a smacking sound, moaning still louder. “Jessie… Harley… oh, oh.” He hasn’t forgotten about Harley after all. Irrational euphoria makes the coordinator's heart leap.

 

“Yes, that’s right,” comes Jessie’s voice, candy-sweet and poisonous. “Give him all you’ve got for me. You’re doing so well, that’s my good boy.”

 

James lets out a high-pitched cry at the praise. “I’m close, Jess, I’m gonna –”

 

“Not yet,” Jessie says firmly. “Not until you beg.”

 

James complies in earnest, frantic words tumbling from his lips. Harley’s still a bit miffed that he has to share the male Rocket with a woman, but he’s got to admit that she’s done an enviable job training him. “Please, Jessie, please, let me come, please!”

 

In his frenzied state, James thrusts wildly, his cock battering Harley’s bruised throat. And Harley finally breaks, hot tears spilling over his cheeks and saliva dribbling down his chin. He gags helplessly, but James is so far gone that he fucks him through it. Sniffling, Harley attempts to maintain his dignity and slurps fiercely at James’ cock, daring him to disobey his dom.  

 

“I want you to come on his face,” Jessie says, voice rising in excitement. “Come, James. Do it for me.”

 

James obeys, pulling out and painting Harley’s tearstained face with spurt after spurt of hot ejaculate. The male Rocket moans Jessie’s name when he comes, and Harley feels a twinge of envy as he gasps for air. When James is finally finished, Harley’s face and hair are completely coated in sticky cum. He coughs and splutters, blinking furiously in a vain attempt to regain his composure.

 

Jessie finally releases Harley’s hair, and James stares down at him, looking almost bewildered. Harley licks his lips to taste the salt of the other man’s orgasm, and James averts his eyes, blushing. Harley grins, feeling triumphant.

 

Jessie steps to the front of the chair again, and she leans down to scrutinize the mess before her. “Satisfied, bitch?” Harley rasps, but Jessie ignores him, turning to look at James.

 

“I hate to admit it, but you were right,” she says.

 

“Hmm?” James answers, fumbling back into his pants.

 

Jessie glances at Harley again, pursing her lips in amusement. “He is awfully pretty.”

 

So that’s what they had said about him. Harley wants to melt from the praise, but manages to contain himself.

 

“Yes. But you are too, Jess.” James looks at his partner as if she’s hung not only the moon, but the sun and the stars as well.

 

Jessie blushes, and Harley pretends to retch. “I know.”

 

“Good.” They kiss again. Harley struggles vainly against his restraints, stamping his feet on the floor to get their attention, but the Rockets only deepen their embrace. James gropes Jessie’s ass, and she moans in response. It’s the most horrifying sound Harley’s ever heard.

 

“I’m going to be sick,” he finally screeches. The duo breaks apart, and Jessie fixes Harley with another fiery glare.

 

“Are you going to apologize?” she asks, looming over the chair.

 

Harley laughs. “What for?”

 

Jessie slaps him again. “Apologize.”

 

Harley’s mouth quirks up into a smile. “I’m sorry your boyfriend can’t get me off his mind.”

 

Another slap. This time he can feel her talons dragging across his cheek, and wonders if she’s drawn blood. To his shame, his cock twitches in his pants. He’s beginning to understand the appeal of this violent, complicated woman. “Apologize,” she repeats.

 

Harley rolls his eyes, but his instinct for self-preservation is stronger than his desire to provoke another tantrum. “I’m soooorry,” he says, his words flatly insincere.

 

Jessie looks heavenward. “I give up. James, untie him,” she says, turning away from Harley to recline on the bed. “He can go,” she adds, wiping her right hand on the duvet cover.

 

“Why do you let her do this shit?” Harley asks James as the other man works at the knotted belt.

 

“James doesn’t let me do anything,” Jessie snaps. Harley ignores her.

 

James giggles girlishly. “Because it’s so much fun.” He finishes untying Harley, then hurries back to Jessie’s side, managing to fold his lanky frame into her lap.

 

“C’mere, baby,” Jessie purrs, and Harley turns away from the pair, flexing his stiff fingers and wiping his face as best he can with a few scratchy tissues from a box on the nightstand. As he’d suspected, he’s bleeding a bit from the wound Jessie inflicted. He’ll have to book an appointment for a facial. A different sort of facial.

 

Before he leaves, he gives the Rockets one last look. James’ head is pillowed on Jessie’s chest, an expression of idiotic bliss on his face. Jessie is serene, absently stroking his hair.

 

Her blue eyes flick towards Harley, and his stomach twists in anticipation. “Remember, Room 634,” she tells him. “Don’t be a stranger.”