Chapter 1: Part The First
1. Happiness Is A Warm Meowstic
This procedure served as an alternative therapy method, his psychiatrist had informed him. Service Pokemon, if you will. Able to help stabilize one’s emotions (or lack therefore of) and assist with basic tasks.
As Cyrus stared blankly at the male Meowstic which sat upon his doctor’s desk, it seemed to gaze back to him. The creature’s slanted orbs were mainly a sea-foam green hue, with irises of bright teal within their centers.
Their species was referred to as the “Constraint” Pokemon, and it was apparent in this specimen. Though Meowstic tried to remain cool and collected, Cyrus could sense a tumultuous conflict within the creature’s inner self. It was common to joke of Espurr possessing such a quality, but it still lingered in the adult’s form.
Meowstic sat up stiffly, rather like he’d forced himself to do. His movements were calculated and jerky, as evidenced when he rose his dark paw into the air. His eyes reflected a grand storm of power and drive within himself.
As if drawn by an eerie impulse, the man reached out to pat Meowstic’s white, head fur. Worn, bare fingers rubbed against the creature’s plush fur, encouraging it to purr soothingly. On small, tapered legs, it stood up to further partake in Cyrus’ tender caresses. Careful attention was given to avoid his folded ears, which held a great, terrible Psychic power within them.
The longer he petted Meowstic’s soft, fluffy form, the more at ease Cyrus felt with that notion. His face remained as stoic as ever, but within his addled mind, a faint spark of cheer burst forth. It was an ache of sympathy, or something greater.
Though the man instinctively brushed that feeling away, another gentle voice from within chided him for doing so. “No, that’s good!” his conscience cried out sharply. “That’s what Dr. Martin wants from us!” Weary, pale blue orbs peered down to Meowstic, who appeared wholly content in his arms. A small, gentle smile crept onto Cyrus’ face, the likes of which he hadn’t known for ages.
The creature’s twin tails hung upon his limbs, tickling them through the terry cloth robe he wore. Content to keep Meowstic in his possession, Cyrus peered over to his psychiatrist, who sat in her large, cloth chair. She also seemed very much at ease, overjoyed that her most difficult patient had found an outlet of his own.
Maybe there was something to the greater bond between man and Pokemon after all.
2. The Initiation of Gemini
"I stayed ‘pure’ and chaste for this?!" Liza cried out, her voice raw and pulsing with the anger she’d held within throughout her life. In spite of all she and Tate had witnessed in their time, nothing could have truly prepared them for what lay in wait at their "initiation" ceremony.
A red, heated flush had grown upon her pale cheeks, joined by a hard scowl upon her painted lips. “Really, me and Tate trained all these years for this?!” she pressed on, the scent of burnt Pure Incense heavy in the air. “This?!” Within their gathered masses, assorted chatter sprang up: Sabrina argued with their region’s local Psychic Trainers, while others hemmed and hawed over their next move.
Eyes dark as the night’s sky turned their focus upon Lucian and Olympia, who stood firm in their resolve. His glasses acted like a makeshift shield: Clear enough to permit his luminous, mystical orbs to shine through, yet able to withstand any assault that may come. Though the elder woman had no such protection, she remained confident in her own mastery.
Though all present were astonished by Liza’s bold, livid display, most felt they could control her if things became too chaotic. “Yes, that’s it,” Lucian calmly stated to the young woman, a hand raised in the air for self-protection. His sleeve was pulled down, revealing a puncture wound on his lower arm. “Once Psychic ‘officials’ come of age, we do this. Always has been, always will be.”
"Look, I get it," Liza replied back as she eased from the shock and disgust within herself. "I know we’re ‘special’, and need to honor that." She peered back to her sibling, who sat alongside Will and Caitlin in lawn chairs. From the way they carried on, one would think they were on vacation or the like.
Their trio remained bright and relaxed, despite of what they’d forced upon themselves. They bore wounds like Lucian sported, dotted at varying spots. Her blush had begun to drain away, as did the warmth within her slim form. “But, does this have to be so creepy?” Liza asked as she pulled on a strand of her dark hair.
"Nothing comes without consequence," Olympia remarked earnestly as she cradled a clear chalice full of a red liquid. Its texture suggested it was crafted from mashed Berries, but a luminous violet swirl within it said otherwise. "All blessed, we are. We must retaliate for our gifts." Her gaze upon Tate, she mouthed a few words to him. Seemingly encouraged by her speech, the young man eased up from his chair, motioning for Liza to take his place.
With a final, resigned nod to her elders, the woman approached the chair on shaky steps. Her brother stood by its side, his eyes gleaming with a sympathetic tenderness. Once there, she swallowed a gulp of air, her form quaking with fear and ire, as it had before. “If I have to do this,” Liza murmured under her breath while she pulled her loose top away. “Let’s get it over with, then. Still better than the Cult of Goodra.”
Dark sapphire orbs glanced up to Tate, and then to Will, who lay at her left side. Their eyes met, both sparkling with that immutable Psychic allure. “Such beauty,” she thought to herself, enraptured by their gleam. “Such power we have, that it’s come to this.” Though she still felt conflicted over their appointed ritual, Liza began to grow accepting of her ultimate fate. Like she’d done in her youth, the woman instinctively reached for her brother’s hand.
At once, Tate eased himself down to grasp her palm, softly caressing its warm flesh while Lucian examined her pale shoulders. When he’d found a suitable area for the “removal”, he gazed into Liza’s fretful orbs, the question of preparation upon his lips. “It’s fine,” she replied to him softly, clutching her sibling’s hand with fearsome anticipation. “Go ahead.”
In an instant, a thick metal tip bore into the woman’s flesh, causing her to howl in sudden pain. Dark eyes snapped shut as their owner attempted to bear through the racing agony. Liza grasped Tate’s hand for dear life, her senses attuned to his touch and the blood which rapidly escaped her body.
As soon as it had begun, the awful process was over: Liza hesitantly opened her orbs to be greeted by the comforting faces of her Psychic companions. She glanced around to see Tate and Will’s gentle smiles, grateful that she was safe and sound.
Lucian was within sight as well, an appreciative grin on his face. The syringe he used lay in his hand, fresh blood within and upon itself. A dull ache lingered in her shoulder, but Olympia was there to apply a Super Potion on it. “Thanks, Oly,” Liza breathed out, still disoriented from the experience. “It wasn’t that bad, I guess. At least it’s outta the way.”
She did know what was to follow, but couldn’t bear to look: On swift steps, Lucian approached Olympia and injected the syringe’s contents into her chalice, which sat upon a nearby coffee table. Once the wet squirting had ceased, Liza popped her right eye open to witness the aftermath. To her eternal shock, her blood merged seamlessly with that of her companions, forming a bright, crimson elixir.
"Now that Liza’s given her essence," Will exclaimed in that luridly cheerful tone he possessed. "We can finally get started!” A broad smile crept onto his lips, followed by thunderous applause by all present. Her chalice still on the table, Olympia mixed the concoction in its glass frame with a long, glass stirrer.
While she did that, Will fished out a handful of Rare Candies from his pants’ pocket and crushed them in his fist. When they were ground to his liking, they were sprinkled into Olympia’s chalice. The remains in hand, he dumped them into his open mouth. His violet orbs instantly clouded, as though he were under a drug of some sort.
In the distance, the twin siblings could hear Sabrina and Caitlin chanting in an ancient tongue, unknown to mere mortal ears. All were surrounded by the lit candles that had been placed throughout their chamber. The local Psychics they’d gathered were dancing around in a frenzy, having shed their clothes earlier. Shortly after he’d taken the sugar “drug”, Will joined their forces, though he remained fully dressed.
A burst of amethyst light filled the room as a ringing, static-like cry vibrated all about. When the blinding glow became soft, a silhouetted figure became apparent to all there: It was a small, feline-like creature, whose slim form floated in the air. A furred length wound against its body, somewhat like a Skitty’s own puffed tail.
"Meeew, meewww," it cried forth, large blue eyes upon Tate and Liza. A soft titter escaped its snout, which was curled into a soft smile. "Mew! Mew!" The creature’s delicate paws pointed to them, little pink digits wriggling playfully about. The bright, enchanting orbs of all focused on Mew’s form, overcome with joy.
"Great Mew, please accept our gift!" Lucian shouted forth, the chalice having exchanged hands. The man’s lilac eyes had grown even paler, nearly blending with his sclera, as they were want to do. "Please bless Tate and Liza, like you’ve done for the rest of us! Please let them be strong, healthy and the best Psychics they can be!"
As the creature hovered lower to drink his “offering”, the twin siblings peered at each other in equal parts intrigue and fear. Mew turned to gaze at them, its eyes glowing with the enchanting, mystical glow they’d seen among their, now, blood-brothers and sisters. As Tate and Liza awaited the Legendary beast’s blessing, their hands remained locked while a single, shared thought ran through their minds:
"This is where it begins: This is where it starts getting weird, amazing, wonderful-“
3. Rags And Riches
"Seriously, what’s a nice boy like you," May flirtatiously asked of her companion, who sat opposite her in a white, wooden chair. "What’re you doing in a place like this?" His slender form, clad in a fine, steely-blue suit, lay languidly as he mused on how to answer her. Black sunglasses hid his eyes, and (he hoped) his conflicted feelings.
"Winston? Winston? Hey, are you there?!"
When the Rich Boy’s focus returned, May’s bare fingers hung across his face, wiggling ever so slightly. Between their outstretched digits, he could make out her silver orbs, dull with concern. “I’m, I’m sorry,” Winston replied back, his voice soft and shaky. He shook his head, tossing meticulously styled, golden locks around. “Something just came to me, but anyway-“
"I hang around here to kill time," he elaborated as he sat up a bit. "And to get away from my dumb-ass parents." Once he was comfortable once more, the boy faced her head on while Hoenn’s bright sun beamed on them. A stray Wingull’s cry rang through the pure, blue sky. "Why do you care?"
"Nothing, it’s just," May said with a sudden hesitation in her tone. The girl’s stray hand had returned to her person, and now stroked her crimson bandanna "bow" nervously. "You’re always on Route 104, you’re always so fancy and nice!" Winston pulled his sunglasses off in a flash, revealing widened sky blue eyes. "And here I am, looking like a wreck! How can you stand losing to me when we battle?”
A breathy laugh escaped her twisted lips, but both were aware it was an insincere affect. Winston knew it by heart, as he was “fortunate” enough to witness his parents’ friends during their many exclusive gatherings. Their interactions tended to be showy and artificial, devoid of any true feeling. All he knew was that he didn’t like it there, and certainly didn’t like seeing upon May’s gentle face.
"Listen, don’t feel bad!" he replied tenderly to his companion, reaching across the way to embrace her. Though she squealed in surprise, Winston could sense she was inwardly grateful. "Nobody can help what they are, so just relax!" Their limbs hung upon each other, her tanned flesh upon his milky skin. "Like my dad says, ‘we all have our paths in life’. Maybe I’m destined to be just a Rich Boy, but-"
Sun, sand and sea surrounded them in perfect harmony, creating for a fleeting, perfect moment either wished would end. To them, it was the most natural thing in the world, in spite their disparate nature. “-But I think there’s better things out there for you, May. You just have to go out and find them!”
Chapter 2: Part The Second
And a few more tidbits.
4. The Devil’s Playthings
It sat upon the elder Stone’s desk, back against the stack of geology and mystery tomes he kept there. A perfect imitation of his own flesh and blood, bound to a body of cloth and stuffing. Clad in a miniature version of his signature garb, it was a perfect little Champion. Slate blue eyes, encased by small stitch marks, seemed to peer at the trio in a never-ending gaze.
"Hey, the prototype dolls are here!" Steven exclaimed upon witnessing his pocket sized "clone". On quick, lively steps, he approached his father’s desk to witness the plush toy up close. As he moved even closer, two more figures became apparent despite their face-down positions. Such playthings couldn’t avert his gaze for very long, seeing as they copied his dual lovers, respectively.
Elsewhere in their state of mind, Wallace and Cynthia stood their ground, refusing to lay their eyes upon those toys. Said pair did not share his enthusiasm, as they’d seen their plush doppelgangers prior. When they were just announced, all had high hopes for Devon Corp’s “Champion” dolls. However, such hopes eroded as the months passed on.
When the woman had first seen her cloth-bound self, an involuntary shudder ran through her lithe form, causing her to recoil in fear. It was so unseemly to her that this mere plaything replicated her appearance so well. Meanwhile, the other man suffered in the opposite way. He critiqued their design, claiming Devon Corp’s staff had failed to capture his “true” likeness.
"Aren’t you gonna look?" Steven asked back to his lovers as he stood at his father’s desk. His head tilted in confusion, forcing stray locks to fall from his head. Wallace’s own head bobbed about, silently telling him that "no, he would not." His excitement dashed, he gave Joseph a sad, fleeting look before turning his attention to the woman. "How about you, love?"
"For the last time," Cynthia called out in a sing-song voice, her back turned to her companions and President Stone. "I’m not looking, because those things are creepy!" To further emphasize her point, she smashed her hands where her ears lay, forcing golden locks upon her head. Silver orbs focused upon the nearby display of Hoenn’s sand and excavated fossils to distract herself from those "monstrous" figures.
"Well, I like them," Steven remarked, his own eyes on the plush replica in his hand. "I think you guys did a great job!" From his leather office chair, his father nodded softly in response as he tapped at the other replicas lying on his desk. Aged, bare hands toyed with Cynthia’s cloth doppelganger, propping it up to face him. "It’s just, can we please move their voice-chips somewhere else?”
He felt around for the implanted device before landing upon his plush form’s crotch, pressing it firmly. “When it comes down to it,” the plush toy rang out in a digitized version of his voice. “I’m still the strongest!" With an eyebrow raised quizzically, Steven pushed down once more, curious to what he’d been "programmed" to say.
His own intrigue renewed, Joseph sat up straight, pale blue eyes upon his son and the other Champions. He smiled at them tenderly, coaxing the two to come closer. Meanwhile, mini-Steven’s dialogue continued on with every press to its cloth groin. A flurry of random phrases filled the air, blending into each other on occasion. “Attack the weak points!”
”Hold tight to your Nuggets!”
”I want you to hit me with it all!”
”You haven’t won yet!" There was a prolonged paused as all gradually realized what had occurred. "I won’t let such a fun battle end so easily!"
“When was the last time I was driven into a corner like this?"
That awful, involuntary shudder swept the “absent” woman’s body once more, despite her covered ears. The small, piercing voice that rang though the room was definitely hers. Though she dared not look, Cynthia’s heart pounded in her chest, anticipating some horrible fate to befall them.
“I represent beauty as well as intelligence." There it was again, but it was Wallace’s voice which had received the "toy" treatment. "I want to feel bedazzled by your masterful performance! What a…glorious turn of events-”
"Dear Arceus," Cynthia muttered to herself, finally pulling her hands from her head. "Serves me right for not looking."
As slim digits brushed against dark hair decorations, the woman’s dull orbs came across Wallace’s thumb on “her” chest. The digit lay between her “lovingly” formed plush breasts. Her sight gradually shifted to the Stone men, who appeared as dumbfounded as she was. “Steven’s right, hon,” she fretfully admitted, hands upon her own chest. “Please, please change these things!”
"All right, kids," Joseph wistfully admitted, heavy lids upon his weary orbs. His palms were exposed for all to see, in a humble show of defeat. The elder Stone gave a quick peek to Wallace and Cynthia’s dolls below him, then to his desk’s lower drawer. "You’ve got a point, but these are just prototypes! Plenty of time to sort things out!"
Fleeting thoughts raced to the Lance and Red plush figures in storage, pondering their supposed flaws as well. As he glanced to his “children”, he wondered if the world was truly ready for such things.
5. Lust, And Other Afflictions
When one visited the Elite’s famed restaurant in Anistar city, they expected only the finest delicacies available. After all, their founder, the renowned Siebold himself, took great pride in his culinary skills: Braised Slowpoke tail, a rare entree imported from Johto.
Sharp Leppa/Aspear Berry chutney, to compliment a variety of foods. Revival Herbs, treated to lose their bitterness, sprinkled on fluffy Exeggcute omelets. Lightly poached Basculin, with the kiss of Charti Berry juice imbued in its tender flesh.
Only the best dishes would dare grace his patrons’ tables. However, when people spoke of his food’s “aphrodisiac” qualities, he didn’t intend to be taken seriously in that regard.
"This is a disaster," Siebold rasped out, a ravaged hand upon his curled, flaxen locks. "An absolute clusterfuck." With a quick, cross glance to the debauchery which ran rampant in his restaurant, he took a drink from a spiked Lemonade bottle. Proper etiquette and health concerns be dammed, the master Chef had been driven to his last wits that night.
It seemed like a fun idea at first: For Valentine’s Day, his chef’s specials would contain “sensuous” ingredients. Unfortunately, as the raucous crowd present indicated, he should have better tested their effects. As it stood, the Elite’s dining room looked more like a bordello than a fine dining establishment.
Initially, Siebold had difficulty understanding what’d happened, but a trip outside of the kitchen reaffirmed what his staff claimed. Wine glasses sat on polished tables, occupied by sweaty, partially dressed bodies as far as he could see. When the Elite ventured further, he noted none seemed too distressed by his presence, minds under that intoxicating influence. .
When he came across fellow Elite Malva on her knees with a full, pulsing cock in her mouth, his resolve fully broke. The shameless, lurid expression within her orange eyes could not be denied. With a resigned shake of his head, Siebold reached for the Lemonade bottle they’d left on their table, drinking in its contents directly.
He sank into a nearby chair, oddly “content” to watch the chaos around him. Since he’d made this mess, he figured he would hold responsibility for it. The kitchen’s staff were equipped to handle new orders, anyway.
"Et tu, Malva?" he asked of the woman, who still cradled the Trainer’s shaft in her lips. How could he not recognize dear Calem, a familiar sight at their Pokemon League? A fine young man, cheerful and always optimistic. However, Siebold just didn’t anticipate him being involved in the apparent orgy as well.
Both apparently failed to notice him, temporarily enamored with each other. As she kneaded his balls, the organ within her grew intensely stiff. With a final throb, it released its seed, flooding the woman’s mouth with an ivory torrent. While she swallowed its entirety with expert grace, her partner became fully aware of Siebold’s presence.
Calem tapped at Malva’s head, pleading for her to pull away. She licked her reddened lips lasciviously and eased up from the carpeted floor. With a shake of his straight, taupe locks, the youth approached Siebold. A wide, feral grin graced his lips, as did clouded silver orbs.
"Man, what’re you lookin’ so beat for?" Calem asked out loud, his words slightly slurred and uneven. "This is awesome!" Without hesitation, he sat in Siebold’s lap, hands upon his shoulders for support. There was another kiss spiked with the aroma of Charti Berry, this time upon the man’s lips. His companion’s spent cock ground against him, still wet and partially stiff.
Try as he may, Siebold felt a growing desire to ravish the two right there. “Well, you may think it’s great,” he retorted once the other had broken their kiss. Livid, cerulean orbs stared at Calem, then to Malva by his right side. “But what will become of me and my restaurant? This is absolutely-” The youth’s hands had traveled to his chest, fumbling with his shirt buttons.
"-Um, indecent, but,” he stammered out as he caught of Malva, bare breasts in the open. She flashed him a lascivious grin as well, emphasized by her blood-orange lips. Soon, the other Elite writhed against him, pressing their heated flesh together. Those painted lips brushed on his cheek, threatening to stain his collar with its hue. “Oh, you two are not helping matters at all!”
At once, citrus and silver toned eyes stared pleadingly at his stern face, causing his residual will to fade away. Pale blue orbs upon the lascivious pair, Siebold thrust his growing arousal against Calem, who arched his back reflexively. “Well, that’ll it be?” he asked, a hint of playful snide in his voice. “Are we going to fuck, or what?”
Their simmering lust renewed, the youth eased off his superior’s lap and knelt down on his knees. That expert grace Malva possessed had returned, and soon the other’s cock was out in the open. In their hands, it lay partially rigid, tempting them to bring it to a “delicious” climax.
"I suppose if you can’t beat them," Siebold admitted restlessly to himself, eyes peering around his ravaged restaurant a final time. "Join ‘em, of course." In a display of defeat, he bit into a laced croquette and awaited its lusty effects. He sank into his chair, flaxen curls resting on its top as Malva and Calem worked on his shaft.
6. Windows To The Soul
The implement lay upon his kitchen table, an oblong sphere of pristine glass and amethyst dye. Currently, it was nestled within a stack of napkins, nearby a Chansey-shaped sugar holder. China cups sat on small saucers underneath their owner’s hands. There were two of them set out, both filled with freshly brewed herbal tea.
"So, what do you think, Serena?’ the Proprietor asked with great earnest as an amethyst eye peered across the way. Her own silver orbs met his, their lids slightly low as she tried to process what had occurred. Below, she stirred some sugar into her tea as a quizzical smile graced her her lips. "It’s a real doozy, isn’t it?"
To the uninitiated, that orb would have seemed like the many knick-knacks Inver stored within his odd little home along Kalos’ Route 18: Bright, plush Poke Dolls. Replicas of the various Mega Evolution stones. Countless images of those he’d battled in his own unique fashion. But they both knew better.
"Oh, it’s not that bad," she replied back, her tone still somewhat uneasy. "It’s real interesting! I never would’ve thought-" Try as she may, Serena couldn’t help but glance at the open gap where Inver’s glass eye had once sat. Despite the flawless flesh which surrounded it, a dark void remained, hypnotic in its scope. An involuntary spark of intrigue and dismay came across her, causing the woman to draw back.
"Look, I’m sorry," Serena stammered out, her spoon clattering against the tea cup underneath. She took a sharp breath and ceased to stir her drink. From his own seat, Inver gave her a quick, knowing nod and reached for his artificial orb. "I don’t want to be mean or anything, but I just can’t take my eyes off of you!" Silence returned to the pair, its disquiet heavy in the air. "Sorry, again."
"You don’t need to apologize," Inver calmly reassured her as he cradled the glass eye in his hand. His remaining orb stole a glance down to it, bare fingers surrounding its form. The Psychic smiled warmly at her, melting their tension like sugar crystals within their tea. "It was going to come up eventually, and I’m glad you’re cool with it."
"You have no idea how bad it gets," he pressed on with a pained scowl upon his lips. The man shook his form as a fierce shudder pulsed through it. Serena sensed his growing discomfort, and reached across the table to grasp his free hand. "The things they’ve called me when they found out. I’ve gotten stuff thrown at me, Pokemon attacks, you name it! Just terrible, the lot of ‘em!"
"Again, I’m sorry it’s that bad," Serena murmured to her companion, a soft smile upon her painted lips. "What do they know? Fuck ‘em, I say!" Her thoughts raced how kind and generous the man was, even in after his many losses. It pained her to think how he’d suffered for something so out of his control. "You’ll always be fine by me, man."
As their palms lay together, the two sat there, basking in each other’s company. For now, the rest of the world could pass them by in their cozy little nest upon verdant grass and old, mined stones.
7. Bitter Sweets
"Now, Red," the Psychic commanded with the utmost seriousness he could muster. Will opened his balled fists to reveal twin candies in his grasp. His left held a Cheri Berry-like sweet, while the right contained a Rare Candy. Violet orbs peeked at the boy from their mask, making their owner appear like a wicked sorcerer. "I’m still surprised you’re even here, but I’ll leave you to Lance after a question.”
"I don’t ask this of every visitor I get," he said frankly, as though he were reciting a sacred, ancient spell. Red’s attentive gaze remained on his person, wary, yet intrigued by his speech. "But I think you’ll understand it best: I hold in my hands a red candy and a blue one."
"Now, red represents pure truth, while blue is happy ignorance. Which would you choose?"
They stood in silence afterwards, allowing their conflicted, rising emotions to come alive. A Meowth clock’s ceaseless ticking was the only sound present for a few moments. It rang through the cool air within Will’s appointed battle chamber, eventually knocking against amethyst walls.
"I get what you’re saying," Red shakily replied to the Elite, his dull cocoa eyes lowered. "I know people wonder about me. Sometimes, I wonder about myself, too." As if by an invisible instinct, he reached to touch Will’s hands, their digits barely hovering above the candies in his grasp. The boy seemed to deep in thought, contemplating his selection. "You have no idea what it’s been like."
The Elite gave him a quick nod in understanding, his palms still outstretched in eager anticipation. Right next to his elbow sat a large, glass candy jar, partially filled with all manner of sweets. Some purely sweet, others sour, some a mix of the two. A swirled lollipop clung to its interior as a cluster of small, speckled jawbreakers sat below it. To surround them were variety of other candies, including those fated sorts.
At once, Red grasped both of Will’s hands and snatched the candies away. When the boy pulled back from his companion’s space. he held them tightly in his palms. The confections were hard and somewhat warm from where they’d rested. Soon as he’d obtained them, they were unwrapped and dropped into his waiting mouth.
"See, no one knows what it’s like," Red replied back to the Psychic between wet sucks of the candies. "Nobody but me." When saliva and fruit-flavored sugar melded into a sweet elixir, he swallowed hard as Will stared with utter astonishment. Still speechless, he kept his gaze upon the boy’s weathered form.
"I know what you people say," he pressed further as he stuffed the wrappers in his jeans’ pocket. "You say I’m just a kid, a legend, a monster-" There was another deep swallow while the boy drew close to Will once more. Earthy cocoa and mystic violet met, their owners fixed upon each other. "What’s what is that I’m me: I’m Red."
"You may call me a, ‘whatsit’?" the boy continued on, an innocent question upon his lips. He stood in place for a second, pondering the correct term to use. "Right, an enigma." Seemingly stuck in his shock, Will nodded politely, lest he incur Red’s "wrath". "But, I’m not gonna let that get me down. Ya know why?"
The Psychic shook his head “no”, appearing as earnest as Red was in his affirmations. His companion’s gaze suddenly softened, making him appear as any ordinary trainer. “Cause at in the end,” the boy replied back, his bare fingers against his sandy brown locks. “I know where I stand! I know who I am, and if you can’t take it, fine by me.”
He sighed heavily, unsure of what to do next. “I’m sorry I got carried away,” Red softly apologized to the Elite, a hand upon his shoulder. Will nodded yet again to the other as a gentle smile crept on his lips. “I know you’re curious, but I’ve been sitting on it for a while now.” In an instant, Red pulled away from his companion and tipped his hat to him.
"Thanks for listening, though," he murmured tenderly before he turned his back to the Psychic. "Thanks for not freaking out, man." In the corner of his eye, Red could spot Will waving to him, mouthing a few kind words. His spirits now invigorated, the boy walked towards the towering door which led to the other Elite’s chambers. And, ultimately to take Lance’s Champion seat in his upcoming absence.
Chapter 3: Three Across The Way
Ah, some more self-indulgent tripe featuring some underrated games!
8. Worlds Beyond Home, Sins And The Way
Sometimes, when the light is right, his shadow casts the form of that mysterious man. A mere legend, an awful relic of times long past. Slate locks fall upon his face, liberated from their spiked style in the bath. A strip of ice and silvery paint, the likes of which conceal fair cheeks and his right eye. When the light is dim, the air cool enough, his skin takes on his shade as well.
It’s a sickly hue, evocative of severely frostbitten flesh. At times, he can spot patches of rough skin on his shoulders like Bagon possessed. Shades of slate and teal assault his vision, their inhuman reflection pure terror to the man.
Such moments are fleeting, to his eternal relief: When pressed to glance into the bathroom mirror, his face returns to its natural state, fine and fair. A gracious, broad smile emerges on full lips, their corners turned up with ease. As the man stares further on, a voice pulls from within, eloquent and raw in its demands.
“You are a fine vessel,” he states coldly, his tone near inhuman in its affect. Though he speaks modern English, a foreign accent coats his words, drawing up and down hypnotically. “Your strength is wondrous in its scope: You are truly blessed, Steven.” Flattered and cowed by his “benefactor”, all the man can do is nod politely.
As if drawn by the other’s pull, Steven peers out the open door to his beloved in their hallway. Slate eyes begin to glow, turning nearly crimson in their intensity. “A worthy successor to the great Saturos,” the voice presses further, now conniving and smug. “My darling, we shall meet soon. We shall triumph again. We must wait to reveal all, but my memories are as fond as ever.”
His smile becomes twisted, imparting him with a wicked expression. Though a chill permeates his form, Steven grows intrigued, anxious to hear Saturos’ stirring words once more. But for now, he must wait, a phantom of elegance and might contained in his weary mind.
Unbeknownst to Steven, she shares his fate as well: At the dawn’s very light, her reflection catches a like being, cast from a past built of pain and suffering. She brushes the vision off, pushing it aside to brush her unruly golden locks. But, as their strands gave way, her face captures the morning’s glow, soft and pink in its hue. Undeterred by its image, Cynthia attaches her hair clips, laid down where pointed ears would sit.
“I still doubt you’re here,” she calls out into still air, half-expecting a response from her given spirit. Bare hands grip at a brush’s handle, its wood slick in her grasp. Stiff bristles run through gold, unconsciously forcing their locks into the other’s given style. “But, if you are, just tell me what you need! Please, why us? Why now?”
“Please, have mercy and tell us what’s going on! I, I beg of you, why must we suffer as you have, Menardi?”
9. Art Of Darkness
“Mr, Hall, we’re very glad you’ll be representing us,” Karen exclaimed with a teary smile, her hands at her chest. “We know you’ve had your troubles and all, but I hope it treats you well.” She sniffled a bit as the corners of her eyes began to smudge, their mascara pooled into black blots. In her agitated state, her fellow Trainers’ attention darted from her to their esteemed guest.
“To think, our very first Dark-Type Gym Leader,” she pressed on as a wide, shaky smile graced her lips. “And such an experienced one, too!” Gleaming eyes eased shut, their obsidian paint streaming down warm, pale cheeks. A hand rose up to dab it away while her companions chattered among themselves. Hall tried to join them as he could, but the restraints around his limbs hindered any progress,
The sunglasses which typically concealed his dark orbs had been cast aside, revealing their indigo glint to all present. Discarded Escape Ropes lay upon his clothed flesh, their rough hemp digging into obsidian fabric. Despite his bound state, Hall managed to smile politely at his captors, sight set on Karen in particular.
“Thank you, Miss Bellamy,” he replied back as several forms came into view. Some he recognized as members of his own cloth, Dark-Type specialists. Others were more foreign to his scope, though they wore clothing hued in their kind’s signature obsidian and violet. “I, I’m aware of my misdeeds to Almia: However, as a Gym Leader, I vow never to harm another soul with my actions!”
“So long as I live,” the man recited forth, an earnest, pulsing pride present in his throaty voice. His head raised up, its flowing locks brushing against the stone slab beneath. Indigo orbs bounced from Karen to the gathered Trainers, their gleam fierce and imposing. “I, Blake Hall, shall repent for my dark scourge, born of manipulation and greed! Do with me what you want, for I have seen Arceus’ divine light!”
Upon hearing his impassioned words, all broke out into wild applause, its sound heavy on their ears. During the man’s impromptu speech, Karen had wiped her eyes clean, with nary a bit of paint left on her features. With another slight sniffle, she glanced down to Blake, a question on her lips. “Very good, sir,” she breathed out as slender fingers dipped below to his temples. “But, you do realize you’re bound to all our rules and regulations, correct?”
The man nodded softly, sending her fingertips up and down with every bob. Pale lips parted to allow a stifled gasp, its hot breath spilling on his face. “So be it,” Karen murmured to him as Agatha and Grimsley approached forth. They held Fresh Water bottles in their grasp, its fluid studded with green shards. “We’re ready to ‘purify’ you: Release the blessing at once!”
At her command, the pair poured their water over his clothed form, its liquid saturating it in patches. What didn’t sink into fabric ran off of him in faint rivulets, pooling underneath. As they stepped back from Blake’s side, Morty stepped in, carting a burlap sack in hand. After he set it on cool stone, a hand dug within to reveal charred ashes. Its deep gray taints milky flesh, the likes of which motioned to Karen.
“Okay, get your Sacred Ash outta the way,” she breathed out as her fingers left their captive’s head. Once they returned to her lap, Morty took her place and rubbed the pigment all over Blake’s features. Broad smudges lay on his forehead and cheeks, their image a crude copy of crescent moons. “Great Arceus, hear our cry! Mr. Hall offers himself to your power, to do as you see fit!”
“Please make yourself known,” Karen shouted into the night as the scent of burnt debris and perfume became apparent. “Make it known we’ve cleansed him as we can!” From his seat, Blake glanced around to witness Morty sprinkling his ashes about. Their fine powder hung in the air like so much corrupting smog. The woman’s head jerked upwards, bare limbs raised high to capture them. “I leave it to you, Great One.”
As all remained in place, anxiously awaiting the Legendary’s response, if any. Their space stood silent, with only the flickering of lit candles as a distraction. As Karen and Blake watched their flames glow, they noticed a shift in their hue from burnt gold to a blinding white. Before anyone could speak up, an overwhelming fog cast its shade upon them.
In its wake, the majority of their candles became blank, bearing only scorched wicks to show. Through the now faint light in two, a large wisp of silver emerged, its tip above the fog. As it stood, the cloak itself transformed, gradually taking on a charcoal-hued form. A ragged collar of crimson emerged, as did a lone aqua orb. It glared at the gathered folk before settling on Blake’s form.
“Darkrai, Darkrai!” he shouted aloud, his head set as high as possible. His eyes snapped open, threatening to pop from their sockets as its form swayed about. Wisps of translucent obsidian formed its body, the likes of which moved with an inhuman grace. Karen and her lackeys followed suit, their mouths agape at the Legendary’s presence. “Have you come to torment me further?”
As the creature kept its sight on Blake, their eyes met. A shock of aqua bore into indigo, their gaze singular and encompassing. Behind the man’s dimming orbs, a sequence of images flashed by:
The peak of Altru Tower, shrouded in Darkrai’s given fog. Pokemon Ranger Kate with a Vatonage Styler, commanding the beast as he couldn’t. A burst of pure black, blinding in its scope. Streaks of pure ivory within the darkness, giving way to a clear cerulean sky. His soul returning to Earth, freed from the shadow of doubt and greed which had captured him for so long.
His eyes snapped open, beaming with the light he’d sought in prison and Arceus’ teachings. As the man sat up, he felt Darkrai’s hands upon his temples, like Karen had done. Their pointed tips dug into tanned flesh, teasing him with faint scratches. “We meet again, Blake,” the creature murmured, its voice low and striking. It pulled Blake closer, seemingly pulling his very spirit forth. “On Arceus’ behalf, I shall bestow judgement on you.”
That weightlessness gripped the man yet again, jerking his head skyward. “I have heard your pleas for forgiveness,” Darkrai moaned as its claws ripped tender flesh away. “If you are honest in your intent, I shall leave you be. But, remember what you’ve brought on yourself.” Sudden pain struck Blake’s features, forcing his eyes shut.
Though Karen had released her Umbreon for his aid, Darkrai’s form began to flicker out of sight, fading into the fog once more. It pulled away from its captor, the lone eye as hot as a dying star. “On myself, and all of Almia’s Pokemon,” the creature cried forth, its words raw and menacing. “Never forget your own darkness, no matter how ‘pure’ you may have become.
“Your eyes flash with Arceus’ light,” Darkrai announced for all, its arms raised in the air. The lone orbs reflected its sentiment, now soft in its gleam. As an ethereal calm swept over Blake and his captors, the creature’s faded from view, leaving only its voice present. “Pure and mighty in its power. Just as the Vatonage Styler had. I shall leave you be, as you’ve freed yourself from our ties.”
“Go forth, and serve the world anew, Blake!”
10. A Drunken Sailor, Or Their Leader
“It figures,” Maxie scoffed to himself, eyes rolling as a spirited tune rang through his ears. As he sat on his bar stool, his colleague’s raucous voice following its lyrics. Henna orbs lay still, now focused upon the other’s swaying form. He moved like the very sea itself, fluid and strangely alluring. “Of course he’d love this song!”
Despite Archie’s lively movements, he carried himself in a ludicrous manner, hips swaying all about. Likewise, his limbs and rear followed suit, moving of their own accord, with nary a thought to the song’s rhythm. “Way hay and up she rises,” he chimed in as he glided to Maxie’s side. “Early in the morning!”
Once there, the song continued, without his “assistance”: Against the tropical backdrop of the Battle Resort, it served as a suitable, if not silly soundtrack. However, it was all Maxie could do to remain composed, especially when his former rival sauntered up to him, a smug grin on his face.
“Come on, landlubber!” Archie commanded on a heady voice, eyes on the other’s bemused face. Though Maxie wore an expression of exasperation, fiery orbs betrayed his demeanor: Within them lay a familiar spark, one the former Leader knew intimately well. “You know you want to!”
Before Maxie could protest, he was pulled out of his seat, boot-clad feet dragging on the sandy ground. Though his mind coaxed him to resist, he couldn’t help but ease into Archie’s firm grasp. As the other’s hand lay on his back, rough digits toyed with flowing locks.
“I told ya so!” he rasped out as Maxie shifted against him on a teasing affect. Their eyes met again, both heavy with longing and playful snide. “Just like old times!” Now within his rival’s aching grip, his inhibitions faded away, doomed fall to the very sea Archie so adored. Just it had been, and would be.
“Ah, I love ya, Maxie, even if you have two left feet and a stick up your ass!”
Chapter 4: Four And Many More Stories
Even more junk-
11. Bibarel’s Enlightenment
“Since when do you read?” Morty asked of his languid companion, who lay deep within his couch’s cushions. As the other’s form pressed against plush fabric, sapphire eyes peered up, just barely above the papers he held. Ivory pages, dog-eared at certain points, sat at his chest, blending with his dress shirt. “Anythin’ but gossip rags, I mean.”
“If you must know,” Eusine shot back, cradling his burden with a firm hand. Soft orbs met the other’s, melting into their tender, violet pools. “Lucian sent it over; He wrote a short story and wants me to beta it!” Aware of what his companion held, Morty gave him a quick nod, senses enveloped by a self-satisfaction and ease.
“What’s it about, then?” he asked once more as the scent of Lax Incense and weed clung to their forms. As it stood, the latter had been prepared, its fumes wafting about to relax their nerves. Though the proper supplies had been set about, Morty became aware of the book’s potential. Senses astir, he eased onto his couch, landing beside his companion.
“Trust me,” Eusine breathed out, his own mind lax from their crafted elixir. ”I couldn’t do it justice!” As he jerked forward, he released the pages, spilling them on the ground. Some lay at his feet, while others landed at Morty’s coffee table, falling upon a Servine-shaped bong and stray cheese puffs.
Though partially intoxicated, the Gym Leader reached down, careful to keep crisp paper from the warm implement. As he picked up the pages, violet orbs darted up and down, scanning their text. Through his haze, Eusine stared at his companion, silently musing on his thoughts. When Morty released them, he peered back, mouth set slack and open.
“Man, what’s he smokin’,” the Gym Leader drawled out, his finger upon their given text. “To write like this? I need some of that!” Now taken back by his revelation, Eusine drew forward, eyes upon the words among their plain brethren. Bloodshot eyes stared at it, inwardly ordering what it stated forth.
“That’s the weird thing,” the other elaborated further as he reached down for their bong. With a swift motion, he held its emerald handle up and breathed in its alluring fumes. When it was cast aside, Eusine stared at his companion, his gaze light, yet purposeful. “It was laughing gas!” Astounded by his admission, Morty peered back, his left eye twitching as he processed it.
“No, really,” Eusine shot back, a broad, open smile on his face. Though his left hand rose up to steady himself, he laughed aloud, aimless in his pursuit. All too familiar with his affliction, Morty stayed put, waiting as it passed them by. “Right, it was after he came from the dentist! Said it’s kinda like passin’ through space and time.”
“Maybe it wasn’t the gas,” the Gym Leader abruptly suggested, his eyes coming into focus. “Maybe Dialga and Palkia were usin’ him for- Some reason!” In a fit of clarity, he reached down to a nearby bowl and grabbed some cheese puffs. As they rose up, Eusine watched their path intently, following their supposed journey to the stars and beyond. “Maybe there’s this conspiracy, and, and-”
“And maybe we’re just out of it,” Morty pressed on, a glimmer of awakened hope and concern in his senses. Be it as it may, they melded with his other thoughts, bending until all became united. With a carefree shrug, he turned to Eusine, the puffs in hand. On a soundless lead, the other opened his mouth, ready to capture their snacks. “But, whatever. You don’t know what you don’t know, after all.”
“Heads up, man!” he called out, to the other’s impatient cries. What followed was a torrent of puffs upon the other’s person: Those that missed his mouth fell upon caramel locks and his frame, coating them with orange dust. But, in spite of it all, their sated laughter returned, the pair merely delighted to be in each other’s ready company.
12. Infestation Destination
“And if you’ll look to your left,” Clyde announced to the crowd of people trailing behind him. “You’ll see Benny and his Beedrill- Handsome pair, those two.” All had gathered within Azalea Town’s Gym, their forms snug against the cart which guided them through its earthy depths. Intrigued by his call, they turned to his side, eyes aglow. In their hands lay numerous devices- Some adjusted their smartphones, others toyed with Holo-casters, and others still manipulated plain cameras.
“Now Bugsy’s comin’ up,” he stated with a wave of hand forward. “Flash photography is allowed, but within reason. Remember, keep all hands and limbs in the vehicle.” Across the way, the Gym Leader stood in place, fidgeting as though he were gravely concerned. As Clyde and his group drew closer, he locked onto his face, searching for signs of distress. Though he couldn’t sort out Bugsy’s unease, a sharp, persistent hum grasped at his senses.
“Clyde, something’s wrong,” Bugsy stated through strangled breath as an overpowering rumble burst forth. “I can’t hear anything, and Old Oaky’s shakin’ like crazy! It’s like something’s in there-” Before Clyde could speak up, a horde of Joltik emerged from the aged tree behind his charge. They spilled against the boy’s form through their attempt to break free. Their golden forms soon flooded the platform, sparking as they scrambled along. In their haste, some sprang up from their wave, landing on the visitors across their path.
A frenzy of sparks met flesh, forcing their guests to knock the beasts away. As Tourists and Trainers writhed about, Bugsy motioned to Clyde, wordlessly urging him to pull away. The greeter nodded back, saluting him as he scrambled to get his bug nets. “Okay, that concludes today’s tour,” Clyde said shakily as he guided the cart towards the Gym’s front. “Remember to shake all Joltik off before exiting, and no refunds!”
13. Of Silencing Wild Beasts
In a turn of events, his anger had been struck, by manner of an overeager paparazzo. As the Champions sat around their table, all others grew silent, paralyzed by fear and intrigue.
“What the hell was that?” Lance cried out, his eyes appearing as though they would burst. “So, you think I’m a cheater too?! A cheater cheater, pumpkin bitch face?! I ought to kick your ass all the way to Orre for that!” Their inner flame burned on, at once crimson, laced with splashes of gold and ivory. As his speech faltered, rough hands balled into fists, ready to strike at his supposed foe.
Though he refrained from lashing out at the moment, his fellow Champions were unsure of their safety. Before all others could react, Iris got up from her seat and approached him. Amidst his blazing fury, Lance caught wind of her presence below him, stoic and cool. Before she spoke, her hand rose up, its palm exposed to demonstrate her trust. As his eyes met her own, he froze, struck by her serene grace. Memories of himself alongside the beasts he’d trained flashed by, humbling him just so.
“Lance, man, just chill,” Iris suggested, her voice calm and tender, as though she commanded her beloved Dragons. “Let it go. He’s just provoking you for the fun of it. It doesn’t mean anything.” She paused to take a breath, allowing Lance to take her words to heart. Though his inner flame still raged on, he huffed to himself and dismissed the paparazzo. As he turned back to Iris, she grinned back, glad to have “tamed” yet another challenge.
14. Laid To Rest
“Archie, I’ve known you for far too long now,” Maxie stated with blatant ire as he adjusted his glasses. “I’ve watched you and Aqua fall, alongside my Magma. I’ve seen you go through countless setbacks.” Their dark metal lay between his fingers, of which he stroked as the other stared on. Through smudged glass, eyes of like henna met, illuminated by intrigue and doubt. From his seat, Archie eased back, eager to tease his beloved further.
While fascinated by the other’s claims, Maxie remained stoic, unwilling to encourage him further. “Look, the point I’m trying to make is,” he growled as a Castform bobbed up and down in front of them. “This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had.” He poked at the creature’s head, drawing a spry giggle from it. As wisps of smoke wafted from it, he rolled his eyes. “I know it ‘controls’ weather, but do you really want Rayquaza mad at us, too? Really, just think about it!”
Archie’s face instantly fell, leaving him to bury his face in his hands. His beloved’s features softened as he reached out to pat his head. “Well, Archie, I didn’t say no,” Maxie shot back with a sly grin. Maroon brows waggled in kind, alerting the other to his playful nature. “Of course I’m in. It’s just, I’ve never even heard of Mega Castform prior, and this seems very suspicious to me. Where’d you even get the stone-?”
“Look, I promise if this goes bust,” Archie coaxed as he drew his strength. “I’ll eat my words, and that rock, too!” At his call, Maxie merely nodded back and prepared his Mega Glasses. Likewise, Archie prepared his Mega Anchor and waited for Castform to react. Though it held the stone in its mouth, only additional smoke came from its form. Both waited for several minutes, only for Maxie to realize they’d been duped. As he pinched his temples, Archie reached for the stone, and tossed it aside.
Defeated in their endeavor, Archie summoned Castfrom to its Pokeball, of which he kept away for safe keeping. As they left the Cove Lily, an azure convertible sped by, its open top revealing Lisia alongside a frazzled Pikachu in heavy makeup. The creature sat in the passenger seat, bound to it by way of countless ropes. It struggled against them, bobbing about. Though the glimpse they caught was fleeting, they could make out some of her frenzied words.
“Wallace, just get your ass down here!” she cried into a nearby blinking screen. “I got the cosplay Pikachu away, I dressed it like a clown, like you said! I’m going to Mossdeep, where Tate and Liza dragged in the other performers. Once he’s there, we’ll be gold! They won’t get a Pokemon in the circus, right?” Before either could decipher more, she sped away, leaving dark marks against the pavement. They blinked to themselves for a moment, unsure if what they’d witness was true.
With a slight shake of his head, Archie began to speak, only for the other to chime in. “Okay, that’s one plan dumber than yours,” Maxie retorted as he shot a finger into the air. “Just the one, don’t you forget that!” With a knowing huff, Archie nodded back and gave him a playful smack on the back.
Chapter 5: Working In Fives
And the natter I've done from elsewhere-
15. Pirates And Pinaps
All Archie desired was some pizza to compliment his evening at home. But while the notion was to be, his takeout was not. As soon as it’d arrived, it vanished when he set it down. After some searching, he came upon his lover with the warm box in his lap. Maxie sank into their couch, just as cozy as ever with a remote in his hand.
“Hey! That’s my pizza!” Archie exclaimed once he’d caught wind of the other’s haughty smirk. “Put. It. Down.” Eyes like his own glared back, their gleam tainted by smug pleasure. “I mean it, put it back!” Undeterred by his cries, Maxie rolled his eyes and reached into the box. Once he’d captured a slice, he shoved into his mouth and bit deep into into it.
Though incensed by his lover’s behavior, Archie kept civil and waited for him to swallow his morsel. “Make me,” Maxie shot back as his lips gleamed with warm oil. “If you won’t let me watch my show, you don’t get your pizza! Sounds fair to me.” He instinctively licked them, further taunting Archie. As the other man stared at him, his mind reeled with confusion. “Your loss, too- The Pinap Berries are to die for!”
“What are you goin’ off on now?” Archie asked aloud, his mouth partially slack. “I thought you wanted to watch Sharpedo Tank, and-” His eyes snapped open as a thought sparked within. “Oh, I get it! That Mega Evolution Showcase is on tonight! Hell, we’ll watch that instead, okay?” He smacked his head playfully, prompting Maxie to grin back. Satisfied by his “victory”, he set the pizza box aside and invited Archie to his side.
As they sat side by side, Maxie drew close, the sweet scent of Pinap on his lips. What ire had risen between them was quickly discarded, leaving the Showcase to play as they kissed tenderly.
16. Slip Of The Tongue
It’d all been a stroke of fate: As commanded by Nintendo’s tribute to Pokemon’s 20th anniversary, the rift between their realms had temporarily been broken. Now in the presence of countless worlds, their folk were free to come and go as they desired. Of them were the Mushroom Kingdom’s residents, who’d set off to explore the Kanto/Johto regions.
Yoshi hadn’t meant to depart from his group, but he found the allure of his fellow beasts to irresistible. Once he ventured into Indigo League’s tall grass, it became Mario’s task to seek him out. As he and his companions roamed around its confines, Yoshi managed to run free once more. Now in the open, he shambled around until a man’s figure caught his eye.
Likewise, the creature’s presence captivated Lance, who’d been on his daily stroll. By instinct, he called Yoshi over, prompting him to bound to his side. Though he closely resembled the creatures he knew so well, he possessed a quality unlike them. Still assured in his gratitude, Lance found some Berries in his pocket and offered them forth. Delighted by them, Yoshi drew close and set his lengthy tongue forward. When its bulb met bare flesh, Lance’s eyes snapped open, struck by a sensation like being stung by Tentacruel.
He instantly jerked back and cried out to the heavens. As a shock of pain ran through his hand, Yoshi pulled back and put his tongue back. In an effort to lessen his distress, Lance shook his hand about, its digits now stiff. It was only when his screams saturated the air did Yoshi’s companions return.
Mario and company bounded out of the grass, sending scores of dried blades and dander forth. When Peach caught wind of Lance’s agony, she knew what had been. “There’s Yoshi!” she exclaimed as she trailed behind her companions. “And there’s the man we were arranged to meet, Lance!” With a soft sigh, she dug in her handbag and pulled out a small vial. As the Mario brothers surrounded him, Yoshi stepped away, his gaze downcast.
Despite the creature’s sheepishness, he allowed Mario to pat him affectionately. At his side, Luigi’s gaze switched between him and their new companion. “My deepest apologies, Lance,” Peach said on soft breath as she reached for his hand. “It’s us, Princess Peach and the Mario brothers here. We meant to call earlier, but one thing led to another!” The vial’s contents met his skin, allowing it to lift his pain.
“If we’d known Yoshi was here, we’d have told you!” she elaborated, he eyes dull with remorse. Blazing henna met cerulean, its owner perplexed and horrified. “He’s got poisonous spit! His bite’s much worse than his ‘bark’, to speak.” She set a hand to her forehead, appearing as though her mind were racked by guilt. As Peach sighed to herself, Lance approached her and set his refreshed hand on her shoulder.
Despite the pain which racked his side, he couldn’t help but feel bad for his new companion. “Your Majesty, there’s no need to apologize for Yoshi,” he consoled her, to her great relief. “You wouldn’t have known he and I would meet like this. I wouldn’t have known about it beforehand. I do appreciate your kindness, so thank you.” Across the way, the Mario brothers smiled and nodded back to him.
“That said, I have to ask,” Lance remarked as he met the pair’s gaze. “How do you manage Yoshis as they are? I’m surprised you all have hands at this point!” Amused by his inquiry, all eyed him head on, their bright orbs roaming along his battered form.
As a titter rose in Peach’s throat, she drew back and set a hand on her mouth. “Why do you think we wear gloves?” Mario replied as he rose a clothed hand to the light. “They ain’t for show, ya know.” Luigi and Peach followed suit and waggled their fingers for further affect. Cowed by their earnest reply, all Lance could do was nod dumbly back.
As he peered at his companions, he couldn’t help but dwell on how own escapades in Pokemon training. “I guess we’re not so different after all,” Lance remarked with a casual shrug. “Everything has eyes, and it’s all nuts, right? Eh, live and let live, I suppose.” At that moment, Mario and company began to laugh, all too aware of his realm’s struggle. Even Yoshi understood, for he nodded back with a hint of his infernal tongue peeking out.
17. Love Me Harder
Some would say Wallace was soft, and it was true to an extent.
His voice, demeanor could be soft whenever needed. He favored soft pastels for his clothing, elegant and ethereal in appearance. His locks were soft, made to flow like the very sea itself. And as Steven so intimately knew, his lover’s skin was soft indeed. Silky, pliant, as smooth as polished ivory. He knew the soft touches Wallace gave him, like petals on his own skin.
But, for all the “softness” his beloved evoked, he knew of Wallace’s inner strength as well. As the old adage claimed, it was like silk hiding steel, mighty in its elegance. For, beneath Wallace’s soft, elegant demeanor, a fierceness lay, brilliant and engaging. When needed, his words followed suit, at once tender and earnest. And underneath his smooth skin lay hard muscle, the body he desired and worshiped.
And through it all lay the man Steven loved, a force of nature. One formed of contrasts, a delight to know so well. While it seemed a contradiction in terms, he wouldn’t have it any other way.
18. Works In Red
All gathered together, hidden from the world’s gaze.
Red greeted them from a makeshift throne.
A ringed hand rose, initiating their ritual.
Another set Sacred Ash aflame, releasing its potent fumes.
All breathed in, allowing an ancient force to possess them.
It paralyzed Red, leaving him mute.
He could only watch as all danced about in a frenzy.
They appeared mad, corrupted by power.
Their features were twisted, stained by crushed Berries.
Only when all threatened to consume one another did all cease.
They froze, cowed by a higher power.
Blinding light engulfed all, frightful in scope.
Only then did Red speak, his voice equal to Arceus’ own.
By his command, the force returned, invigorating all.
The light dissipated, leaving all to gaze upon Red.
They smiled, for their ritual had succeeded.
Only he could bless them, just he’d been anointed.
And only through him could they be just as powerful.
19. The Beauty Of Sin
“You’re so selfish,” Bella breathed out, her words laced with a teasing spark. “Even with your boys, you still crave me, don’t you?” She ran her fingers along Cynthia’s chin, their bronze hot against pale ivory. She knew her touch magnetic, knew the other irresistibly drawn to it. Like clockwork, Cynthia obliged, nodding along with a dreamy smile. “It’s a woman’s touch you desire, is it not?”
Bella’s hands pulled back, leaving her wanting for more. Unable to force the command, she merely stood back, content to linger in the moment. Their very meeting was forbidden, a fluke of their separate universes. But no matter the reason, neither could deny their pleasure, their shared lust for one another. Silver orbs fell upon her beloved, admiring her refined features.
Bella was such a contrast to herself, one which demanded exploration. Carved of bronze and coal, she exuded a sort of mystic, elegant allure. Unable to resist her innate charm, Cynthia drew in close, her own eyes lidded. Their noses barely touched, leaving a palpable warmth to envelop them. In an instant, she reached for Bella’s cheeks, her fingertips along smooth bone. The other melted under her touch, at once pliant and lovely.
“Speak for yourself, darling,” Cynthia teased back as their eyes met. “You do it worse, you know.” A dark brow rose, imparting its owner with a rakish expression. “You’ve more at stake than I do, Bella. Two kids, a husband, a legacy, and for what?” Her fingers shifted, only to run across a stray lock of umber. “A single moment of pleasure, hidden from the eyes of all. Selfish, selfish, indeed, you beautiful little-”
Her hands moved lower until they reached Bella’s chin, a mirror of what had been earlier. Much like before, she melted under her touch and grinned back. As she nodded to her beloved, Cynthia knew the moment was just right. She couldn’t hold back any longer, or deny Bella their pleasure. With a soft moan, her hands dropped below, pulling both intimately close. As their lips met, both drowned in the moment, their desire raw and aching.
Chapter 6: Revenge Of The Sixth
And even *more* assorted writings from elsewhere-
20. Chasing Dreams
It’s just how it is. I know Morty like the back of my hand, know him better than any Legendary out there. I love him so much, but he doubts me sometimes. I can’t blame him, though. We both know it, I’m selfish, I admit.
But, not anymore. Not on purpose, at least.
I’ve missed him a lot since I’ve been away. Always do. I know he does too, but that’s how life is. We’re sleeping in the same bed for once, thank Arceus. It’s been a while since we’ve been able to, but it’s all the same.
We hung out earlier, had dinner, then washed up for bed. Before I got in with him, Morty was already asleep. It figures he’d be, just how he is. He sleeps like he’s dead, fittingly enough.
I do not. I can’t, actually.
There’s always something on my mind, but tonight’s not the time to dwell on it. All I want is peace, to be here with him. Even if he’s conked out, I can’t complain: I’ve always thought he looks gorgeous like that, away from the world’s guff. It’s a calm he rarely has nowadays, despite all the pot he smokes.
The longer I gaze at him, the guiltier I get. I’m the cause for all this, no matter how much Morty denies it. I shouldn’t roam, shouldn’t be so far from him. He’s humble enough not to demand it of me, but I’m not. Work aside, I just want to commit to him, to cast my guilt aside.
But, now’s not the time for that. I don’t want to upset him any more, to disturb his artificial peace. As I try to sleep, Morty moves a bit, his face to my own. His eyes are still shut, but their lids flutter slightly. I can’t tell if he’s conscious or not, but I smile at him. He grins back, his lips parted. I nod as his breath spills upon us:
“Don’t leave me, don’t leave me- You promised. I just want us to be happy together, Eusine. Isn’t that enough? Please, let us be, just as we were meant to-”
I freeze, my eyes wide open. He probably doesn’t know what he’s said, but I do. And it just kills me. But, then I notice his face again. He’s actually at ease now, like nothing can hurt him anymore. And I know I’ve caused that.
It’s a bittersweet ache, but I can’t complain.
So, I lean in close, my lips at Morty’s cheek. His eyes are still shut, but he’s still calm. I give him a tender kiss, a sweep against pale skin. He’s still asleep, but he smiles, his Seer’s sense awake. All I can do grin back, my voice soft against the still night:
“I won’t break my promise, Morty. I swear, even if it kills me, we’ll always be together. I love you so much-”
21. Sleep When You're Fainted
“I’ve oft been asked of my strength, my resilience.”
“Nothing to it, really. I just follow the way of Pokemon-”
Everyone watches him, entranced by his slim, imposing form.
They pull back in awe and fear, struck by his deathly serious words.
“Yes, just be hard and cold! What’s the use in caring, in love?!”
He spits forth, his voice like piercing, bitter venom.
“No, it’s all worthless!”
“Trust me, it’s easier to be hard than to love in this world. Love only leads to shame, to weakness-”
He pauses, now seemingly out of breath.
His eyes are narrow, face painted with the wear of countless, desolate years.
It’s enough to draw pity, to inspire awe and fear.
And yet, he sees none of this.
As he gazes into the astonished crowd, his soul hardens a little more.
It’s all Lance knows now, all he can accept of his fate.
22. Greenie Boy
We had to get back from the lake in a hurry then.
Mom hauled us into the car, drying everything as we went.
Then we left, none the wiser.
But we had to stop for gas.
Mom reached back to unbuckle Billy.
"Ew, why are your hands so icky-?"
Then, she pulled away in shock.
I turned back, too.
There was no Billy.
Just a Lombre in my brother's spot!
He looked as confused as we were.
Mom was just mad, though.
So, back we went, with her grumbling all the way.
Me and Lombre found it pretty funny though!
23. Our Lucid Loves
I’ve loved from afar before, but Luican’s different.
He’s a Psychic, after all.
I don’t understand my mind, but he could.
I fear my transparency, my love for him.
I think he knows, and doesn’t care.
I’m nothing to him.
It pains me to admit it, but-
What is, is.
I brought this on myself.
I should’ve asked Karen how she felt.
But I kept silent, to her dismay.
I know she loves me, as I do her.
Could all have gone differently?
I want to start anew, but I’m afraid.
I don’t even know if Karen’ll have me anymore.
24. Make Me (A Umbreon's Defiance)
She’d already been pushed to her wits end that day. The last thing she needed was another little voice nagging in her ear. And she certainly didn’t appreciate her Umbreon’s whining either.
“Lester, if you pop my Poke Toys again, I swear, I’ll pop you!”
There was a low growl, then silence. Will had stopped fighting Lester for now, which comforted Karen for the moment. But, it wouldn’t last. She knew it, Will knew it, Lester knew it. Already fed up, she summoned her strength for one last time.
In the distance, she could hear Will admonishing her Umbreon yet again. Their’s was a complicated relationship, to say the least. Lester knew her beloved meant well, but the creature was a selfish and prideful one. He knew Will angered easily, a fact he used to his advantage. Before either of them could spar again, Karen stood beside them.
“Both of you, just stop it! I’m sick of babysitting you day in, day out! Will, I’m not getting rid of Lester, so just tell me why you hate him! What’s your problem?!”
As she clutched her temples, Will shot her a knowing glance. Despite his own anger, he knew what was to be. In an instant, he embraced her, to Karen’s surprise. Lester remained close, bearing a smug grin on his face. His ears were set high, ready for what may pass.
“No, it’s not like that! It’s not like I haven’t tried to like him! It’s all his fault, he’s the one who always starts drama!”
“Wait, what are you talking about? You don’t like fighting with him, Will?”
“Of course not! Karen, if he’d stay out of my hair, I wouldn’t mind! But Lester’s not like that; He’s always had it out for me, can’t you see it?”
Faced with his honesty, Karen took a moment to pause. Was it so? Had she spoiled her Umbreon to the point of no return? Though their scuffle had settled, she couldn’t deny it any longer. She knew Will only cared for her well being, only wanted what would be best for them.
With a quick, weary sigh, she turned to Lester. His eyes met her own, their gleam like rubies. She’d often admired their sparkle, their insatiable vitality. But, the longer she peered at him, the more apparent it became.
“Lester, be honest with Mommy: Why can’t you be nice to Will? Please, don’t make him hate you, okay?”
The creature merely huffed, adamant in his distaste. Will was right all along.
Without another sound, Umbreon glared at her. His gaze pierced through both of them, defiant and cold. If he could speak, there was only one thing Lester would say then: Make me.
25. Far And Away
“So then PokeMedia Zone called me out of the blue? You know what they said, Morty? Um, Morty-?”
Morty nodded to him as he tried to keep himself upright. He sank into his bed, allowing his laptop to lie flat on his belly. It warmed his body, a pale imitation of his lover’s skin. He lifted his head, trying to make out Eusine’s face on-screen. When he saw it, Morty saw slight surprise, laced with understanding.
Neither of them spoke for a moment; It was a concession Eusine knew to offer, given their conflicting schedules. He often found himself in other Regions for his work photographing Legendary Pokemon. As such, their time-zones differed from Johto’s. They tried to sync with each other because of this.
However, today hadn’t been one Morty could compromise with.
It was far too late for him to be up then. He’d had a long day at his Gym, followed by a meet-up with Johto’s Elite Four. Though his work’s results were satisfying, Morty was nearly drained. Yet, he found himself fighting off sleep, weighed down by exhaustion.
It was enough to make him pass out right there. However, he focused on Eusine’s distant image. He could see that spark in his lover’s eyes, that one which grasped at his very soul. It burned with vigor, that sense of the world’s greater gifts. Morty spoke up, well aware Eusine had important news.
“Oh, right, PMZ. Well, they want me to work for them! Said I’d be covering Pokestar Studios’ hottest stars and movies! Isn’t that great?”
He peered at Morty through his own laptop’s screen. That weariness remained upon his lover, despite his joy. Just then, Eusine felt a bit ashamed of himself. Though he was flattered by PMZ’s offer, it also had some downsides. For instance, he’d be separated from Morty even more so, given their hectic schedule.
The longer he gazed into his lover’s weary eyes, the more it weighed on him. Life was fleeting already; Why “waste” any of it without Morty by his side? Eusine’s focus returned to reality, where he saw his lover’s pleading expression.
“Anyway, enough about me. How’s your day been, Morty?”
“Hella busy, man. Got a bunch of Trainers at the Gym today. There was some kid named Joey who fought with a Raticate, of all things! Type Immunity, much?”
Morty shook his head and smiled, causing Eusine to nod back. He knew his life wasn’t nearly as thrilling as Eusine’s was, but he didn’t mind. Morty just liked telling him about it, watching his lover’s eyes light up with every word. It tied them together, despite their usual distance.
“And then after that, I had dinner with the Elite Four. So, I was stuck listening to Lance yap about his Dragonite while Will shoved straws up his nose-”
Eusine held back a quick laugh to think of such things. They brought to mind Johto’s quirks, those which he knew by heart. All made his longing even more intense. He wasn’t sure what to do about PMZ, all said. As he thought on it, Morty continued to speak.
“It wasn’t all ‘bad’, though. Koga showed off his knitting for Janine, so I asked if he could make me something. I got a new scarf out of it, and-”
His voice broke off as he caught Eusine’s curious expression. It seemed detached from the world, as if “bored” of it. Morty wondered what bothered him so deeply. Was Eusine as uneasy as he was now? He tried to voice his concern, but Eusine spoke up.
“That’s nice, but I need to tell you something. I think I know what to do now.”
Morty’s eyes shot open, despite his weariness. A creeping dread came over him to consider his lover’s deepest thoughts. Though their love was important, so was Eusine’s career. However, he tried to remain positive, faced with such reality.
“I’m done fooling around, Morty. I’ve been out of your life for too long now. I’m gonna try to negotiate with PMZ. See if they can’t have me in Johto for a change!”
He took a quick breath, taken back by the gravitas of it all. PMZ’s offer was too good to pass up, as fickle as they were. Eusine knew they could easily turn him down for such demands. However, Morty’s love was worth more than any salary or accolades they could offer.
It even rested above finally photographing Suicune, as strange as it was to admit. He’d avoided the truth for long enough; He needed Morty in life, as chaotic as it could be. For him, Morty was the one constant in it. Others came and went, but he remained faithful.
Meanwhile, Morty was taken back by his claim. Though he was glad to have Eusine within reach, he worried about his career. As he spoke on the issue, Eusine just shot him a tender smile.
“It’s okay, Morty. Celebs and movies go, but you’re always there. I don’t want to pass up a life with you. if PMZ will have me, then that’s great! If not, it’s no big deal!”
Morty felt faint with glee just then. He hoped for the best of both situations, but could accept whatever they got. As long as they were together, it’d be good enough for them.
With his remaining strength, he sat up and gazed into Eusine’s eyes. They still burned on, aglow with that alluring promise he held. He set a hand on the screen, his fingers at Eusine’s distant face.
“Thanks for that. Hope everything works out. But until then, I love you. So, take care, man-”
Chapter 7: Lucky Number Seven?
And even *more* stuff I found from elsewhere!
26. Breathe On, Carry On
It began with a muffled grunt, which eased into a strangled cry as they slept in their bed. While that alone would have been alarming enough, the worst part of it was who it fell upon-
From underneath their blanket, Wallace thrashed about, his eyes tightly shut. Though his beloved grew faintly aware of what had happened, it was when his arm struck him did he know. “The hell-?” Steven breathed out, his voice heavy with discontent and lingering weariness.
Bleary eyes snapped open, their focus upon the other’s writing form. Milky lids concealed their sea-side gleam, affixed tightly in place. Wallace’s mouth fell slack, as though he struggled to breathe. “Wallace, Wallace!” Steven cried as he reached out to grasp his lover.
With hands firmly on the other’s arms, he began to shake him about in attempts to rouse his senses. “It’s okay,” he called out, labored breaths upon his ear. “Please, wake up! Look at me- just breathe, okay?” At his desperate command, Wallace grew still, his breathing having slowed to a calmer level.
As he fell upon Steven’s frame, he returned his embrace. Bit by bit, Wallace grew aware of what’d happened. His eyes revealed themselves, just as weary as the other’s were. “What the, it was just a dream!” he exclaimed, a residual dread in his voice. “How bad was it?!”
“Very much so,” Steven replied as they held each other close. A somberness lay within his eyes, strained by its very nature. “Must’ve been real bad for you to wake up like that.” He paused for a moment, allowing their minds to process it all. “If you’d like to talk, I’m up for it. It’s just-”
Wallace immediately nodded back, though not without some hesitation. The other picked up on it, and gave him a tender smile.
“-I’m just glad you’re okay!” the other exclaimed as he ran his fingers along Steven’s back. “I, I thought I lost you there for a second!” Slate met dull teal, their owners brimming with a fresh sense of relief and gratitude. “I don’t know, but it’s good to have you back, love.”
27. To Cast A Calm Mind
They'd been just as they always were that night.
He rested alongside her, with his back turned.
She dared not bother him then, though her heart ached.
It'd just become another facet of their life she accepted now.
Their's was more a marriage of circumstance than anything.
Steven "needed" a wife, while Cynthia "wanted" security.
It'd come from their lives under the public's discerning eye.
They figured they could go along with it for approval's sake.
However, neither quite expected the other's reaction to their marriage.
Once it was official, Steven reteated into his hobbies even deeper.
She'd known of his thirst for the unknonwn, his penance for caving.
She'd brushed if off before as a mere quirk, much like her own.
But as time passed, she learned its true cause: Freedom.
Living under his family's strict demands had shattered Steven within.
All he craved was silence, that which being in nature provided him.
Though he remained kind during their co-existence, his priorities were clear.
Theirs was a union best treated from a distance.
While it pained her to admit it, Cynthia agreed with him to an extent.
After all, they'd mainly been companions up until their wedding.
The lines of "romance" and kinship had never quite blurred before.
Even with the luxuries her life afforded her, Cynthia knew it was fragile.
Perhaps one of these days, either of them could just walk away from it all.
Their lives would continue on, even without the other's presence.
But until that day came, she stood back and fell into her own life.
Sometimes their paths met, whether to sate a desire for lust or companionship.
More often than not, Steven retreated into his duties, such as they were.
In turn, she tried to do the same for herself.
She tried to abandon herself in fantasy, only for reality to come upon her.
No matter how much she willed it away, her dissatisfaction always returned.
That ache of the unknown haunted her, tearing at her soul.
However, another need arose, one rooted in beauty and desire.
In the back of her mind, she felt an intense attraction towards Steven.
It only seemed natural enough, given his innate beauty and charms.
However, even as their facade wore on, she still desired his attention.
At times, he felt the same way, whisking her away for nights of passionate desire.
It was always the same afterwards, with both reeling from their release.
She just couldn't undertand why it couldn't be as such more often.
For all their frustrations, why couldn't they just enjoy one another?
It seemed only natural, just as she'd held faith in before.
However, things never turned out so readily in life.
Strain and control did strange things to the mind.
It was just something Steven could never quite escape.
Neither could she, all things considered.
They'd both held their vows as sacred, even if their relationship wasn't.
Though the option to leave remained, it didn't quite seem right.
They'd both made their choice then, knowing the consequences in part.
Matters of decorum and reputation aside, neither could part with the other.
They fulfilled their given roles, in both society and the other's lives.
It wasn't a matter of happiness, sorrow or feeling anymore.
It'd just become an act to them, one they performed for all.
So long as they could stand it, their show would continue.
As such, Cynthia kept quiet, trying to rest her busy mind.
In time, she found slumber, falling beside Steven.
While she rested, he awoke with his own racing thoughts.
In the night's cover, she seemed so frail, broken from within.
He gazed upon her, thinking of how alike they really were.
Perhaps they were meant to be together, even free of outside pressure.
Both understood the demand to bend to society's wills.
In turn, she'd remained kind and patient, even when she had no right to be.
As he studied her blank face, a great sorrow rose within him.
Perhaps he'd grow to love her one day, casting aside his own torment.
They both deserved better than this, even in their false union.
As his heart sank, Steven wrapped his arms around her.
He sighed to himself, drowning in her warmth as he fell back to sleep.
28. Hunger Is The Best Source
Several weeks had passed since that inane Valentine's Day at Siebold's restaurant. He'd managed to save face following the aphrodisiac "incident", but it still embarrassed him. It'd become a running joke around Kalos, how his food drove patrons mad with desire. While it irritated him, Siebold opted to lay low, shifting his focus to his work.
Meanwhile, such alluring effects lingered in another's mind, even without aphrodisiac influence. During that evening, Calem had the pleasure of pleasing both Malva and Siebold. Though she'd done well, Siebold struck a deeper chord within him. Much like a dish he craved, he couldn't cast the very thought aside.
Though he knew it improper, he couldn't help himself. He just wanted to taste all Siebold had to offer; It only seemed natural to Calem, given the Elite's status as a master chef. Such thoughts led him to Siebold's Anistar restaruant that night, hoping to see him. As he walked in, he came upon the master himself, working one of his famed presentations.
"For tonight's grand finale," Siebold announced with a grin. "Alola has graced us with a fine sculpture to craft!" He pointed below, where various chocolate parts lay in wait. As the guests applauded him, Calem shivered with longing. Watching the Elite set such sweets flawlessly only wet his dual appetites. He soon got the first section in place, allowing his staff to prepare for the next one.
As they wheeled out sliced fruits and nuts, Siebold got up and walked around. Within moments, he noticed Calem, who waved to him. "Oh, hello there!" the Elite called out as he approached him. Once he was within reach, he shook Calem's hand. Their eyes met, sparking his own hidden desire. He'd been entranced that night as well, though it'd been lost in his duties.
However, seeing Calem's soulful eyes and milky skin drove his passions forth. It was all Siebold could do to keep himself collected. "What brings you in, Calem?" he asked as their hands detached. "If you're here for dinner, I'll be glad to find you a table. I can't stay and chat, since I've got a show to do, and-" Calem shook his head, prompting the Elite to fall silent.
"I've been thinking about something since Valentine's," Calem replied hesitantly. "But, but I won't bug, since you're busy now." His voice was laced with lust, which Siebold caught immediately. Though he presumed their feeling was mutual, his work soon called. Unwilling to lose face again, he gave Calem a quick, knowing nod. As he returned to his station, he felt the other's gleaming eyes upon him.
The night's end couldn't come soon enough, to his great relief. Once he was done with the sculpture, Siebold let the guests have bits of it. As they did so, he turned his attention back to Calem. They sat together in an empty booth, adding to their intmacy. "Now, what was on your mind, Calem?" the Elite asked tenderly. Calem's hand suddenly brushed against his own.
"It's *you*, Siebold," he admitted, his eyes lidded. "Ever since then, I couldn't help it! I, I don't know why, but you got to me!" As he peered at the Elite, his heart froze. He couldn't quite read Siebold's stunned expression then. From within, he geared up for the worst, only to see the Elite's sensous grin. On hushed breath, Siebold shared the sentiment, inviting him to his apartment in Anistar.
Soon enough, they sat within it, now on Siebold's leather couch. The whole space was neat and tidy, made up like a quaint sea-side cottage. As they discussed that Valentine's Day, a bit of tension rose. Even their bright surroundings couldn't dispel it fully. "I mean, if I've gone too far, I'll go," Calem offered with disappointment. "You're just so hot, I couldn't stop thinking about it! Even without that food, I mean!"
Siebold stared at him blankly then, unsure of how to process it. While he desired Calem as well, he didn't like such attraction being linked to that incident. As he tried to speak up, his face seemingly gave all away. "Fuck, I knew it!" Calem exclaimed. "This was a mistake! I'm sorry for wasting your time, Siebold!" As he got up, the Elite reached for his arm.
"Sit down, Calem," he advised him playfully. "You haven't offended me at all. It's just, I'd like our attraction to be clear. Free from such strange business, you see?" Calem nodded as he sat beside Siebold. The Elite grasped his chin, drawing them closer. As their eyes locked, he leaned into kiss Calem. In the midst of their embrace, Siebold felt the other's hands against his back.
Aware that his affection was genuine, the Elite's mind began racing. Though he wanted to keep those memories away, he also wanted to tease Calem. When they pulled back, Siebold noticed a lingering hunger in his eyes. It was then something clicked in his mind. "Say, have you eaten tonight?" he asked of Calem. "I can't assume, since you dropped by, after all."
As the other shook his head, Siebold shot him a sultry grin. "Well, let me make you something, then-" he offered, reaching for Calem's hand. As he licked his lips, Calem's urges became confused. He wasn't sure if the Elite referred to food, or rather sex. Both called to him, but he was rather famished now. Unwilling to decline his hospitality, Calem took his hand and let Siebold lead him to the kitchen.
Once there, he sat at its counter while Siebold stood at the now open fridge. "I've a few things I'd like you to try," he said, grabbing several containers. "So let's treat it like a 'proper' meal, then." He straddled a white wine bottle alongside them as he approached Calem. While he set them down, the other watched with intrigue. Within moments, Siebold poured them some wine, offering a glass to him.
"Now, I'd like to feed you myself," the Elite said coyly. "To get the full experience, you see?" Calem just nodded back, sipping his wine. "I'd like you to keep your eyes shut, though. The flavors come more cleanly that way." Though his confusion returned, Calem held his faith in his new lover. As he shut his eyes, Siebold dipped some bread into spiced oil.
He asked Calem to open his mouth, allowing him to slip it inside. As peppery warmth filled it, he bit down on the bread. "That's a Tamato berry infused blend," Siebold said, listening to the other's soft moans. "Nice, isn't it?" Calem nodded back and took the bread slice. As he chewed it, the Elite got more bold with his options. He spooned some caviar on the web between his thumb and index finger.
Once Calem was done with his bread, the Elite asked him to open his eyes. "This is Milotic caviar," Siebold said as he drew his hand closer. "Experts serve it like this to preserve the seasoning." Calem caught the caviar in his mouth, allowing its salty sweetness to paint it. He swallowed it and grasped Siebold's fingers, sucking them hungrily.
Faced with such a sight, the Elite struggled to keep his composure. Though he felt his cock get hard, he wasn't done with their "meal". He pulled his fingers out, leaving Calem to peer at him longingly. "No, no, there's more-" Siebold teased him, sweeping his hand towards a container. He opened it, only to dip his fingers within its creamy contents. Once coated, they returned to Calem's mouth, where he lapped at them.
"That's a vegetable spread," Siebold remarked, trying to stay focused. "Made of fresh Gogoat milk-" He bit his lip as Calem eased down on his fingers. All he could envision was that mouth around his aching cock. When their eyes met, that hunger remained, laced with pure lust. Once Calem had sucked them clean, the Elite slipped them out.
In an instant, his hand swept below, brushing against his clothed cock. Calem caught onto it instantly, and shot him a wanting grin. "Got something else you want me to try?" he asked with desire. As Siebold nodded back, Calem got up and fell to his knees insantly. His fingers fell upon his zipper, letting him feel the cock beneath. He then freed the Elite's length, holding it in his right palm.
As he peered at its reddened tip, he licked his lips. He kissed its tip, only to ease its length into his mouth. It shifted into a vigorous sucking, just as he'd done with Siebold's fingers. Faced with his affections, the Elite stood back in awe. He'd wanted a "grand finale" for his teasing, but his mind was shaken now. It was only when Calem pulled off to breathe did an idea come.
"I figure if Arceus made anything better than sex," Siebold noted with a grin. "He's keeping it for himself. Otherwise, Tapu Cocoa sauce is pretty close, you know?" Calem shrugged, unaware of such culinary pleasures. Glad for his untouched palette, Siebold reached for a little jar. He opened it, only to dip a finger into its contents. He offered it to Calem, who sucked its tip again.
The flavor of an idyll paradise struck him insantly; It tasted of a rich sweetness, laced with a floral, earthy undertone. He craved more, of which Siebold instantly noticed. "See what I mean?" the Elite asked as Calem nodded feverishly. "You need more, yes?" When the other nodded again, Siebold followed suit. He dipped his fingers into the jar and dotted his cock with the sauce.
"There you go, love," he purred, his eyes gleaming. "Knock yourself out!" At his command, Calem swallowed his cock again. He took it slower now, savoring the sauce along its length. However, his mouth remained tight, drawing out Siebold's own pleasure. The Elite felt sparks dance across his skin, tickling his most sensuous core.
Once Calem was at his base, he knew he couldn't hold out anymore. With a sharp thrust into Calem's mouth, his seed coated the other's throat. He tried to swallow it all, but some lingered on his lips and tongue. Despite that, he shot Siebold a coy grin once he'd pulled out. The Elite's heart raced then, glad to have sated their dual pleasures.
Before Siebold could speak up, his lover did for him. "You don't have to explain it now," Calem said, his voice breathy. "This one's fresh 'cream', right?" He panted for a moment, allowing some seed to drip from his tongue. As uncouth as it was, Siebold felt his own hunger rise again. His lover's body offered its own pleasures, that which he wanted to taste as well. Such was the thrill of pleasures both culinary and carnal.