“Remind me - why did I agree to this again?”
“Uh, because we appealed to your love of experimenting and gathering data?”
“Ah, yes, thank you Candela,” Blanche said dully, “I’d almost forgotten because of how long this is taking-”
“Well, it’d be going a lot faster if someone hadn’t decided to wear the tightest pants ever made!” Spark hissed through gritted teeth. He was struggling to shimmy the offending garment of the other team leader’s body one inch at a time. “No, seriously, how did you even manage to get these on in the first place?!”
“Given your love of leather pants, Spark, I’m not sure you have much room to talk.”
“Not helping, Candela!”
“I am so helping!” she replied tartly, kicking at him lightly with her foot. “Aren’t I, Blanche?”
“I’m not sure if I’d call attempting to debauch me ‘helping’-” They cut themselves off when Spark finally managed to remove their pants, his whoop of victory sliding upwards into a shrill squeal as he almost fell off the bed.
“How on earth are you a team leader, you doofus?” Candela laughed, tugging him back upright, smothering his immediate grumbling with a brazen kiss. Blanche was decidedly entranced by the lovely contrast of their skin tones. (They also may have been a little vicariously smug about the smear of crimson lipstick left behind on Spark's lips.)
Candela caught them staring, hazel eyes glittering as she smirked. “See something you like?” she purred, leaning toward them teasingly. Blanche hummed noncommittally, eyes tracing the curves of her body with blatant appreciation. Her red dress and bra had been shed almost immediately upon the three of them returning to the Go Tower from the charity gala and scrambling back into this upper apartment bedroom, disappearing presumably to the same place Spark’s shoes and Blanche’s entire top had gone.
Their pants joined the presumed pile on the floor as Spark nuzzled his way up into their arms, kissing their neck with enough enthusiasm to make up for the lack of finesse. He jerked suddenly, a low noise emanating from his chest as his eyes slid shut for a moment.
“That’s cheating, Candela!” he rasped, mouthing at Blanche’s throat distractedly.
“Mm, sorry,” she replied, continuing to unzip his pants, “I just thought you were looking a little uncomfortable is all.”
“He is horribly overdressed at the moment,” Blanche supplied helpfully as they tilted their head so Spark could better access their neck. Their fingers danced along his spine just to feel him shudder and breathe out a harsh breath.
“Ah, right you are, Blanche!” Candela cooed, switching focus and tugging at Spark’s shirt instead. “Maybe we should help him - his track record with taking clothes off is a little slow.”
“An astute observation and a logical suggestion? Color me surprised.”
“Ugh, I’ll do it myself!” Spark protested, extracting himself from the cocoon of arms to pull his shirt and vest off in one impatient tug. He paused when Candela let out an appreciative whistle, his blue eyes flicking over to her from under quirked brows.
“Damn, Spark,” she breathed, “You sure you’re not meant to be on my team?”
“Because you’re so hot!”
They resisted the urge to groan while the other two exchanged a high-five.
“Awful team-based idioms aside, who knew lugging eggs around all day could produce such defined musculature,” Blanche murmured, reaching up to ghost a hand down his side. Spark shivered, pressing closer to their palm with an amused huff.
Candela scoffed, reaching out to tug at the waist of his slacks. “Right? I’m making a motion that he should never be allowed to wear shirts ever again!”
“While appealing, I do not believe that suggested change in attire is feasible for his position as team leader.”
“Consider it motivation for his team - I’m certainly feeling more motivated!”
“That’s only because you’re concerned your distinguished position as our group's resident musclehead is being threatened.”
“I feel I should be offended!”
“Would having an arm wrestling competition over it make you feel better?”
“Guys,” Spark whined, pouting, “I’m getting the feeling we’re losing steam here. Mind getting back on track?”
The two of them exchanged glances before shifting and returning to leering up at him. He, in turn, flushed and hunched his shoulders, covering his chest in a goofily feminine manner. “Not like that!”
Candela threw him a teasing smile. “Aw, he’s shy!” she cooed, twirling a finger through Blanche’s hair coyly, “Isn’t that adorable?” Her grin widened as Spark’s pout devolved into a full-blown scowl.
“I am not-”
“It’s alright to be a bit self-conscious, Spark. I do have less clothes on than usual.” Blanche gestured nonchalantly to their own body, bare as it was and decidedly cooler without his warmth on top of them (not that they would ever admit to it). Truly, they weren’t as vain as it may seem - they just knew that their features fell in along the spectrum that was socially deemed ‘attractive’.
“What are you trying to say, Blanche? He could be looking at me!”
Besides, baiting Candela was its own reward.
“A valid point, but ultimately incorrect.”
“Why, because you’re so perfect?”
“That fact the you brought it up and not me should speak volumes.”
“Excuse you -”
Blanche and Candela paused in their bickering when Spark let out an annoyed huff and flopped down on the foot of the bed. They exchanged glances - Candela’s being concerned, while their own was merely intrigued - before sitting up and peering down at his dejected form.
“You feeling okay there, darling?” Candela asked, poking him with her toe. Spark simply grunted and swatted at her foot, hiding his face in one of Blanche’s calves.
“You guys are awful,” he muttered, shoulders hunched, “Can’t we just agree that we’re all attractive and move on?”
Candela huffed. Blanche rolled their eyes. Still, as they studied the man huffily clinging to their legs, Blanche couldn’t help but feel a small twinge of guilt. They sighed, running a hand through their hair as they cursed their own weakness.
“If we agree to put aside pettiness for the duration of this tryst, will you be satisfied, Spark?”
Candela’s jaw dropped, eyes comically wide as she stared at them. “Woah, what a quick change of heart - and here I thought you were all ice in there!” She rapped her knuckles against their sternum mockingly. Blanche magnanimously opted to ignore her.
Spark looked surprised, his blue eyes glittering as he peeked up from where he was smooshing his face into their calves. “Do you really think you two can actually get along?” he asked, tilting his head.
“Anything can be achieved if there is a common goal,” they said vaguely, jumping when Candela let out an ugly laugh beside them.
“‘A common goal’, huh?” she said, her voice laced with teasing mirth, “Not sure I’ve ever heard orgasms referred to that way!”
Blanche rolled their eyes (again), glancing back down toward Spark to find him grinning. “Syntax aside, I’d like to see you try.” he said, tapping an idle beat on Blanche’s knee.
“I’m down with it!” Candela chirped, slinging an arm around Blanche's shoulders (and pouting immediately when Blanche shrugged off the offending appendage without missing a beat), “So, are you gonna come back up here and join us?” she asked, raising a brow when the other team leader shook his head.
“Nah,” Spark drawled, shifting his position to settle fully between Blanche’s legs with surprising sensuality, “I think I’d like to stay down here for a bit.” He punctuated this statement with a quick kiss to their thighs. (They couldn’t help but think his eyes looked a tad more electric when he was peering up at them after making such a blatant insinuation.)
“Very well,” Blanche said, scoffing, “But I reserve the right to kick you if you do a bad job.”
“Okay!” Spark said resolutely. He looked over at Candela, grinning brightly despite his suddenly sheepish expression. “Mind distracting them top-side so I don’t get kicked?” he chirped, pouting when she snorted.
“Oh, is this an alliance-building exercise? I had no idea!”
She just laughed and flopped back on the bed, tugging Blanche down with her gleefully. They grunted at the rough handling, glaring bitterly at her mischievous expression.
“Oh don’t look at me that way,” she cooed, tracing their jaw with her pointer finger playfully, “Makes me want to eat you up!”
Blanche snorted. “I’m fairly certain that is Spark’s prerogative this evening.” They gestured down to where he was pressing contented kisses along their inner thighs. Candela glanced his way with blatant appreciation before looking back up at Blanche. Her eyes glittered like gold.
“I’m sure there’s plenty to share.”
They scowled, which only served to make her snicker as she started in on their neck - picking up where Spark had left off. Her fingers reached across their chest and traced the edges of their bond-scar.
Their mind went temporarily blank.
Their breath caught in their throat, shaky, and Candela stole even more of it with a slow, leisurely kiss against their lips. There was an urge to melt against her ministrations, to give in and simply be pleased by the tendrils of pleasure her fingertips pressed into their skin.
Yet Candela’s words continued to bounce around annoyingly in their head.
“Wait, are you saying I’m fa-ah!” Blanche yelped when Spark suddenly tugged down their underwear, hips jerking instinctively at being exposed to the cool night air. “Some warning would’ve been appreciated, you ass!” they hissed, swatting at his head.
“Sorry,” Spark replied, looking the picture of unapologetic as he flung the last of Blanche’s clothing somewhere behind him. Out of sight, out of mind. He paused, eyes dark with something like wonder as he gazed at their genitals.
Blanche fought the urge to roll their eyes for the third time that evening.
“You alright down there, Spark?” Candela asked, pausing in her ministrations along Blanche’s neck. They had known her long enough to pick up the small note of protective urgency in her voice that only appeared when they’d deemed another person worthy of seeing their biology. (They immediately beat back the rush of irrational affection upon hearing said tone.)
“Doing great, thanks.” He still didn’t make any moves, expression uncharacteristically unreadable.
“Is your boner still confused?” they asked dully, quirking a brow when Spark shook his head and laid his cheek against their hip.
“Nah, you’re just perfect, is all,” he said, blinking finally and grinning up at them with something akin to fond appreciation. Blanche had the distinct horror of feeling a blush rise on their face at such a sincere statement, scoffing to rid themselves of the awful accompanying tightness in their throat.
“Y-You doubted me? I’m hurt-”
“Aw, Spark, you managed to fluster them!” Candela snickered, sending him a cheeky thumbs up, “Good for you!” Blanche felt no remorse in pinching her side and making her shout out a curse.
Spark took that as his cue to continue, gently nudging Blanche's thighs wider so he could begin to pleasure them. They quickly grabbed a fistful of his hair, lips twitching when he yelped and immediately halted his shifting. “No teeth,” they said simply, sending him their best glare. It worked fairly well, judging from how the other team leader paled and nodded like a bobblehead when they released him.
Candela, annoyed at being ignored, tugged at their hair to get their attention. “Energizer Raichu isn’t the only one that gets to rock your world tonight, you know,” she purred, pressing a kiss to the edge of their mouth.
“What a bold statement,” Blanche replied, palm pressing teasingly along the edges of her own burned scar just to watch her shiver, “One would hope you’d be able to back it up.”
That was apparently the incorrect thing to say - or the correct one, depending on your preference. Candela was admittedly very good at a few things: separating the weak from the strong, coordinating fashionable outfits, setting water on fire while cooking, dancing in 8 inch heels, and making mixed drinks so strong you could sleep for 8 hours and still wake up buzzed.
‘Kissing Blanche breathless’ was a welcome new addition to that list.
She was absolutely ruthless, too. They could barely catch their breath even when she wasn’t attempting to suck their soul out - pressing cheeky kisses along their jaw or sucking dark marks on their neck with the same fiery passion they’d come to associate with the natural intensity of the sun. They palmed her breasts in an attempt to distract her, but that only served to make her purr and bite harder.
(Shit, they’d forgotten to order her not to use teeth. Ah, well, a few bite marks would only serve to spice up the veritable necklace of hickies they’d already received.)
Candela’s marking habits, coupled with Spark’s surprising dexterity with his mouth and hands, forced Blanche to consider that having two intimate partners might be too much for them handle and still be able to keep their composure. Especially intimate partners that were, well, as surprisingly enthusiastic as their fellow team leaders were turning out to be.
Even more surprising was their own resignation to this fact.
There had been some attempt to keep their usual banter going, but that soon gave way to simple encouragements and directions being gasped between moans. Blanche quite liked how Candela’s eyes glittered darkly when they nipped at her jaw, toes curling slightly when her swift and glorious retaliation fell in synch with Spark doing something amazing with his tongue.
Spark shifted, taking a quick breather to tug Blanche’s legs over his shoulders. They made an indignant noise at the treatment - though it could’ve been aimed more toward Candela for biting their bottom lip. Regardless, he placed a quick apology kiss against their hip before getting back to his duty and, oh, the new angle had them seeing stars.
They didn’t allow themselves the luxury to feel embarrassed by the gasps of pleasure that slipped past their lips or the groans that rumbled deep in their chest. What point was there? Intense, intimate stimulation after a (frustratingly long) dry spell produced higher than average susceptibility to verbal responses.
The noises seemed to encourage the other two, at any rate.
“Fuck!” Candela hissed suddenly, eyes dark and breath heavy, “Spark, that feels-”
Blanche glanced down, breath hitching when they saw, well, what there was to see. Spark caught their gaze and winked, one hand keeping their hips down. The other had found its way between Candela’s thighs and was stroking teasingly along the crotch of her underwear.
They watched with erotic fascination as his fingers nudged the cloth away and pressed up, a small noise escaped their lips echoing the dark moan Candela uttered. Spark’s eyes were very dark, the slim electric blue ring of his irises nearly swallowed by the blackness of his pupils.
They’d never considered themselves much of a voyeur, but the idea definitely had some appeal... Blanche broke eye contact with Spark, clearing their throat as Candela moaned again. A project for a later time.
Reaching down, they tugged Candela’s far leg up and over their waist. She grunted at the sudden shift, a half-formed admonishment fumbling down into a throaty cry when Spark’s fingers hit deeper. Blanche also took the change in position to press open mouthed kisses along her breasts, delighted by the silky smoothness. They slid their hand sensually along the length of her scar, ribs to hip, down to her knee, hiding a smile when her breath stuttered.
“Not fair,” she gasped, fingers tangling in Blanche’s hair and urging them down, “You guys aren’t playing f- ah!”
Blanche couldn’t help but smirk, tongue lathing over the lovely new mark they’d made on her collarbone. Teasing Candela helped distract them from their increasing arousal, smothering their noises in the softness of her skin. She, however, had apparently discovered their gratified responses to their hair being pulled and retaliated in kind whenever she could.
Heat pooled in their stomach and they soon found their thoughts fading around the edges, blurring together in a messy collage of sensations and desire. Blanche was validated in the fact that Candela seemed to be faring no better, judging from the half-formed curses and praises that tumbled passed her lips as she rut against them fervently.
“Oh, Spark- Right there-” Speaking was becoming increasingly difficult. They tightened their grasp on Candela’s thigh, groaning as a wave of pleasure put another crack in their composure. “More.”
Spark hummed in acknowledgement (something that made them choke and squirm) and redoubled his efforts. Candela’s shout barely managed to drown out their moan. Her fingers clawed restlessly through their hair, digging into their shoulders and sliding along their back. Blanche couldn’t help their own anxious hands from wandering - likely pressing bruises into her thigh and hip with the force of their grasp.
Tension built in them, their thighs twitching and toes curling as the heat in their groin rose to an almost painful crest.
“Blanche, shit,” Candela groaned, lips smearing the last of her lipstick against their temple, “C’mon, nh, I’m so fucking close -”
They sucked in a sharp breath, exhaling shakily as they pawed at her side. “Let go, then.”
Her eyes flashed pure gold, challenging even through the haze of lust.
They would have responded, but Spark chose that exact moment to do some complex (fantastic) move with his tongue, causing the fragile string keeping their thoughts in order to snap and send them tumbling straight into orgasm.
The world ripped away from them in a burst, a hoarse noise rasping out of their throat as coherency left them. They were distantly aware of Candela’s own cry, her fingers tangling in their hair painfully as she arched against them. Heat simmering beneath their skin and there was a brief moment of ecstasy in wondering if they could stay in this sensation forever.
Time stood still as the universe condensed and exploded again behind their shut eyelids, and they could hear nothing but the sound of their own heart pounding. Shuddering, trembling, they gasped and felt every muscle in their body tighten and relax in the waves of their release.
After an unmarked amount of time, Blanche opened their eyes slowly to find Candela staring at them, her flushed expression tellingly sated and relaxed. She reached out to brush their bangs out from in front of their eyes, the rush of affection they felt from such a simple gesture announcing that their composure had been completely blown away by their orgasm and had yet to reassemble itself.
“Well,” they said, clearing their throat, “That wasn’t entirely awful.” They blinked a few times, trying and failing to clear their sight of the vaguely syrupy haze that was tinting their world.
Candela snorted, rolling her eyes. “It was fucking fantastic and you know it!” she replied tartly, her grin less obnoxious when all her signature crimson lipstick had been smeared away.
Blanche chose to ignore her, glancing around and noting they were missing a vital piece of the equation. “Where’s Spark?”
“Getting you two water,” the other team leader chirped, reentering the room with two glasses and a towel.
Blanche sat up to receive the glass he offered, sighing when the cool water touched their lips. Spark flopped down on the bed next to them, grinning brightly when they idly reached over to ruffle his hair. (They were apparently uncharacteristically affectionate post-coitus. Good to know.)
“Aw, didja miss me?” he cooed, yelping when they smacked him. He shifted away from their onslaught and Blanche was suddenly very aware of two things:
1.) Spark was still wearing his pants and boxers.
2.) He was obviously still aroused.
“Oh, Spark, darling,” Candela said, frowning when she apparently noticed this as well. She finished wiping the majority of lipstick smears from her face with the towel and scooted closer. “You didn’t come? What’s with that?”
“Both my hands were a little preoccupied.” Spark paused to snort and roll his eyes good naturedly. He studied them both for a moment, an easy smile on his face. “If you guys are too tired now I can step out and take care of it myself. It’s no big deal, really.”
Logically, Blanche knew he didn’t mean any offense. He was the type to be considerate in bed (obviously) and put the comfort and pleasure of his partner(s) first, even at the cost of his own. They’d noticed this sort of generous personality quirk early on - though, admittedly, it was usually only seen when he was interacting with his eggs. Regardless, he was probably the most sincere person in the room when it came to other people.
And yet it somehow felt like there was an edge of triumph in his voice that did not sit well with them.
Blanche glanced over at Candela and saw she had come to the same conclusion. The universe must’ve truly cracked because in nothing more than a single look, they both agreed on something: Spark was going to regret those words.
The blond team leader seemed to sense something was unfolding (due to his uncanny instincts, no doubt) and sat up. “Why are you guys looking at me like that?” he asked, leaning away from them with a concerned frown, “It’s creepy.”
“Oh, hush! There’s nothing to worry about.” Candela cooed, her smirk a tad too predatory to be convincing. She threw the towel onto the floor and downed her water, licking her lips as she set the empty glass on the bedside table.
Spark squinted at her, his nose crinkling in mistrust. “Yeah, okay, I’m not sure if-”
Blanche, having become impatient with all the dancing around (and motivated by an urgent desire to get the other leader to orgasm so they could proceed to pass the fuck out without feeling guilty), set their own glass on the other table and shut him up with a forceful kiss. He made a squeaky noise in his throat that transformed into a happy hum when they tangled a hand in his hair.
Candela took that as her cue to crawl over and tug Spark’s pants and underwear off in a typical Valor flourish.
“Well, hello there!” she greeted coyly, pressing her palm against the length of Spark’s freed cock and making him groan against Blanche’s mouth, “Happy to see me?”
“Always, Candy,” Spark managed, voice rough.
Blanche decided they liked the sound and nipped his bottom lip, making him huff in amusement. They scooted back and around so they could get behind him, kneeling despite their shaky legs, one hand on his jaw and tilting his head back so they could keep kissing. Candela pressed closer, sucking pretty little marks along Spark’s chest and collarbones.
“I’m, nh, not gonna be given the dignity of lasting long, am I?” Spark muttered, stroking down Candela’s spine even as he reached back over his shoulder and tangled his fingers in Blanche’s hair. They scoffed.
“I doubt you would’ve lasted all that long to begin with.”
“It’s just a simple anatomical fact,” Blanche intoned, reaching a hand out to urge Candela’s path down his abdomen to move quicker, “You’ve got to be reaching your limit.”
Spark flashed them a bright, white smile that in no way made their heart skip a beat. “Oh, you’d be surprised by my stamina,” he purred, a rare sense of smugness permeating his features. The effect was immediately ruined by his eyes sliding shut as his mouth went slack-jawed to emit a guttural noise.
Blanche glanced down to confirm that Candela had finally arrived at the ‘prize’, as it were.
Spark curled the fingers of his free hand in Candela’s hair, rolling his hip shallowly and groaning. Candela shot them a look, not pained (or even uncomfortable) so much as it was annoyed. Blanche couldn’t help but snort, lips quirking up in an amused smirk.
Still, they took pity on her and caught Spark’s hand, tugging it away. They hooked their own arms under his upper arms to restrict his movement, biting his neck harshly when he struggled.
“W-Wha?” he whined, squirming when Candela took over at her own pace.
“Impressive as your instincts are,” Blanche murmured, tracing the teeth marks they’d left on his skin with their tongue, “It seems you could use some training.” They caught his stare with half-lidded eyes, a slow smile curling on their lips when he swallowed harshly.
“Don’t, ah, say shit like that,” he hissed, tilting his head away with a groan, his eyes sliding shut briefly, “Your voice- It’s- Ngh!”
“You like it.”
“N-No I do- Ah, fuck, Candela! Watch it with the nhh-”
Blanche scoffed. “Denying it is useless, Spark. You’ve said as much before,” they cooed, sucking another mark on his neck. They glanced down, watching the way his body shuddered from their words (and Candela’s actions), the muscles of his abdomen twitching and jumping under his skin as he struggled to move. “Besides, your reactions betray you.”
Honestly, they should’ve known that Spark would be loud in bed. Blanche nipped his ear just to hear his breath hitch and put a pause in his stuttering monologue of curses and compliments - some of which they weren’t entirely sure were English (an inquiry for a later time, perhaps).
An idea (an awful, depraved, horrifyingly lewd idea - yet, still not the most awful one they’d ever caught themselves thinking) occurred to them and they pressed two fingers against Spark’s lips to ask for permission, kissing his cheek when he groaned and opened his mouth obediently. Keeping one eye on Candela, they pantomimed her actions with their fingers, brushing teasingly past his lips to trace his tongue, fingertips buzzing when he choked out a noise around them.
“Oh, damn,” Candela whispered in a rough voice, licking her lips and watching them with gleaming eyes as she paused to catch her breath, “That’s really fucking hot!”
They caught her stare, smug at the look of rapture on her face, and carefully licked a trail up Spark’s neck just to make him whimper.
Candela scoffed, rolling her eyes despite the appreciative hum she had unintentionally made. Not to be outdone, she then proceeded to pull off the most impressive display of deepthroating Blanche had ever encountered - the loud, broken noise that Spark made was just as gratified as they would expect from such treatment.
Fuck, perhaps they were more into this voyeur thing than they previously thought...
He arched instinctively, muscles tense, and it was suddenly surprisingly difficult to keep his arms in check. They bit his shoulder harder than intended, a sharp bolt of panic racing through their veins when his slitted eyes briefly flashed yellow, and they swore they felt a few sparks dance along the places where their skin touched. (Even more worrying was the answering swell of ice and snow that stirred within them.)
However, Spark relaxed and sank back against them with a pitiful groan soon after, allowing them the chance to breathe out a sigh of relief. Blanche glanced down his body, taking note of his heaving chest, sweat-slicked skin, trembling thighs, and the way his toes were curling in the sheets.
“Are you close?” they asked, pressing a kiss behind his ear. They removed their fingers from his mouth, trailing the spilt-slick digits against his cheek fondly as he nodded and gasped.
“Fuck- Y-Yeah, so clo- Ngh, Candel-ah!”
Blanche released his arms, amused when he simply tangled his fingers back in their hair with one, the other reaching out to settle on Candela’s head - not a forceful grasp, but simply grounding himself in her presence.
Spark whined and tilted his head back slightly, nosing Blanche’s temple with surprising meekness. They answered by pressing a soft kiss against his jaw and the corner of his mouth, smirking when he whined again and tried to chase their lips.
“Blanche- I, fuck, I’m gonna-”
They spared Candela a cursory glance, swallowing harshly at the hungry look in her eyes. “Go on, then,” Blanche whispered, one hand gripping his hair to tug his head back further, the other trailing sensuously down his trembling chest and abdomen, “Come for us, Spark.” Then they bit down harshly on his neck, feeling him buck and gasp, a high keen signalling the loss of the last of his self-control.
Blanche had never liked pornography. The acting was terrible, the movements systematic instead sensual, and ultimately the faces were dramatically overplayed, almost grotesque, and made a mockery of the genuine expressions people made during intimacy.
They watched Spark’s face as he came, struck by the fragile beauty of his expression. Eyes shut, lashes fluttering against his flushed cheeks. A bead of sweat slipped down from his temple toward his jaw. Mouth open and slack, lips reddened from Candela’s lipstick and their own rough kisses. The picture of pure ecstasy, captured in the memory of those that deserved to see it.
Spark sagged against them, spent, his chest still heaving as he rode out the aftershock of his orgasm. Blanche wrapped their arms around his chest, resting their chin on his shoulder and murmuring inane praises softly to him. Candela, for her part, sat up and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, smirking with obvious smugness as she looked them over.
“Well, this is certainly a pretty picture!” she said lightly, her voice huskier than normal. She laughed when Blanche sent her an annoyed look, ruffling Spark’s damp hair affectionately. He let out a pleased hum, smiling faintly despite his current state as a liquefying being.
Blanche studied his profile for a moment, rolling their eyes and shaking their head. “I don’t suppose we’ll be getting an intelligent conversation out of him anytime soon,” they intoned, lips twitching when Candela scoffed.
“Did we ever?”
“Hm, fair point,” they replied, shifting slightly and tightening their arms around Spark so he’d stop fucking slipping, “Though, I do believe congratulations are in order.”
“Thank you! … Congratulations for what?”
Blanche sent her the closest thing they could to a cheeky grin. “Tell me, how does it feel to have cost Spark the absolute last of his brains?”
Candela snorted, rolling her eyes with a matching amused smile. “Like I need some mouthwash and a gallon of water,” she quipped, sticking out her tongue and scrunching her nose.
“Speaking of which,” they said, shifting so they could shove the currently-more-liquid-than-solid team leader into her arms, “Here, have a Spark.” Spark happily clung to his new support, causing Candela to scoff despite the affectionate hand she ran along his back.
“Gee, thanks. It’s just what I always wanted!” she said dryly, quirking a brow as Blanche stood on surprisingly still-weak legs and started toward the bathroom. “Oi, where are you going?”
“To take a shower.”
They glanced over their shoulder to send her an unimpressed look. “Just because sex sells doesn’t mean it smells good. I’ll only be minute, anyway.”
“Wait, what am I supposed to do with Mr. Limp Noodle here?!”
“Get him to help you change the sheets.” Blanche shut the door to the bathroom and cut off her indignant reply. Chuckling to themselves, they grabbed two towels out of the supply closet and turned on the facet, hanging the towels on the towel rack before they hopped in.
They grimaced at the barely lukewarm water, toeing carefully into the stream as it slowly warmed up. The fatigue was already starting to set in so they wasted no time cracking open the complimentary shampoo and conditioner, snorting at the almost overwhelming smell of lavender and chamomile.
They really needed to talk to the Professor about getting better toiletries here - these rooms were meant to house guests and dignitaries for the Go Program, not strangle them to death via pungent body wash.
Blanche shampooed and conditioned their hair as quickly as their lethargic limbs would let them, clicking their tongue in annoyance at the mess of tangles someone - or, rather, a pair of someones - had managed to put in their hair. Cleaning their body took longer than they’d liked, fingers tracing bitemarks and soothing hickies, sighing as the warm water soothed the new and familiar aches. They lingered in the spray a few moments more than necessary, indulging in a small moment blissfully solitary peace.
Ah, but they needed to make sure the other two hadn’t managed to set the place on fire.
Or worse - fallen asleep on filthy linens.
Stepping out of the shower took an unfortunate amount of peptalk, hissing bitterly when their feet met the cold tiles once more. Blanche could hear the soft murmur of voices beyond the closed door, lips twitching into a small smile despite themselves as they dried off. They tucked the driest towel around them and stepped toward the door, catching sight of their reflection and pausing with their hand on the handle.
Well, it certainly would be more than obvious they’d gotten laid. Even though their normal attire would cover the marks, they couldn’t hide their abused lips or the glassy, sated look to their eyes that had the unfortunate tendency to linger.
Perhaps, when the marks began to fade, they could convince one or both of the other two team leaders to make new ones...
Blanche scoffed and opened the door.
“-all I’m saying is that we could really benefit from it!”
“Benefit from what?” they asked with a quirked brow, leaning against the doorway and folding their arms. Candela and Spark turned toward them, surprise evident on both their faces. Blanche resisted the urge to cover their eyes. “Other than the two of you putting your clothes back on.”
Candela scoffed, rolling her eyes as she tossed the assumably clean sheets on the stripped bed. “We were discussing the pros and cons of having a fully-trainable Porygon,” she explained, waving a hand.
Blanche blinked. Well, that certainly wasn’t something they’d expected to hear.
“Yeah! One with, like, a more advanced coding so it could learn more moves,” Spark said, grinning despite the tired slope of his shoulders. He haphazardly tucked the corners of Candela’s discarded sheet around the foot of the bed, continuing in his rambling. “Porygon’s a man-made Pokemon, right? It should be possible. Theoretically, at least.”
“Ah, like artificial intelligence,” they said, stepping further into the room and swatting Spark’s hands away so they could tuck the sheet properly, “That gets into some pretty grey areas, Spark. Porygon’s existence already has some more than a little concerned. I’ve even read reports that some scientists attempted to change their programming, despite the copy-protection. They failed, and the Porygons were reduced to little more than glitchy VIs as a result and had to be put down.”
“Oh yeah! I remember hearing something about that!” Spark said slowly, crossing his arms and rubbing his chin. He grunted, shrugging and running a hand through his hair. “Well in that case I guess we’ll never know, huh? Not that I ever wanted to try - experimenting on Pokemon is just plain wrong!”
“Agreed.” Blanche smoothed out the sheet, frowning speculatively as they turned to look at the other two. “Just out of curiosity, why did you want one?”
“Cleaning protocol droids.” The fact that Candela and Spark answered simultaneously was both amusing and sad.
Blanche rubbed a hand down their face, sighing.
They sensed movement to their right and caught Spark before he could flop onto the clean sheets. “Oh, hell no. You need a bath.” They firmly shoved him away from the bed in the direction of the bathroom.
Spark pouted at them.
“But it’s late and I’m tired! Getting you two off was exhausting!”
“C’mon, Sparky,” Candela said, grabbing his hand and dragging him toward the bathroom, “I’ll wash your back if you wash mine!”
“I’d much rather wash your front, thanks,” Spark mumbled, taking a not-so-subtle peek at her breasts.
Candela’s answering grin showed far too many teeth, puffing her chest up proudly. “That can be arranged.”
“No fornicating in the guest bathroom!”
“That would hold more weight if we hadn’t just fucked on the bed, darling.” Candela closed the door to the bathroom before they could respond, muffling Spark’s bark of laughter.
They huffed, annoyed, before finishing setting up the bed. Spark had shown surprising foresight (or been a victim of sheer dumb luck) and kicked off the duvet when they’d first arrived in the room, so that had thankfully been spared any unfortunate contact with bodily fluids. They didn’t know where the other two had put the soiled sheets, and honestly they weren’t in any hurry to find out.
Once they were satisfied with the bed, Blanche went around the room, picking up the explosion of shed clothing and draping them across the small sitting area the bedroom had near the corner window. (Their underwear was retrieved and slipped back on first, however, and their damp towel was hung on the back of a chair.) They studied the wrinkles in their jacket with a sense of weary malaise, resigned to fact that their entire suit would need dry cleaning before the next event.
They picked at the smear of crimson lipstick Candela had managed to leave on their collar, thoughts turning dark now that they’d been given enough time to stew. Blanche knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Noire had been at the charity gala - had seen them dance with both Candela and Amelie at different parts of the evening before Spark had spirited them off to Arceus knew where.
That he’d returned much later, rumpled and sheepish at their scrutiny- Well, Candela wasn’t the only one with an aggressive streak.
That’s where their malcontent lay. They were annoyed that Noire had avoided them all evening, incensed that they would seek to antagonize Candela over even acknowledging their presence, and perhaps even a little envious that, despite everything, their relationship with Spark seemed to be progressing far quicker than Blanche’s own.
And Blanche had taken it out on their fellow team leaders - staking their claim so that their twin could not. Try as they might, they could not deny that tonight had been a decision based in part on pettiness rather than genuine affection, and-
And they felt Candela and Spark deserved better than that.
But what did they know?
Afterall, what were they to each other? Coworkers? Friends? Neither of them had been exactly subtle with their admiration of their appearance, and their usual banter appeared born only out of a sense of shared camaraderie and light-hearted competition. But beyond that Blanche couldn’t - wouldn’t - comprehend the extent of their relationship, and how this one evening could potentially change everything.
Guilt and anxiety hung heavy in Blanche’s gut.
“I know you don’t like dirty clothes, but freezing your shirt won’t get that stain out any faster, darling.”
Blanche flinched badly when Candela plucked the shirt out of their hands, shaking off the light layer of frost that had accumulated under their hands on the collar. Her eyes were too bright, too scrutinizing, for them to meet, gleaming in the light from the open bathroom door.
They did, however, notice her damp, lavender-smelling hair and the towel tucked neatly around her.
“You’re done showering? That was quick.”
“Yeah, well,” Spark drawled, shamelessly flouncing out of the bathroom and not even bothering with a towel, “Neither of us have long flowing locks to worry about.”
“But, there were two of you...”
“That just makes it go faster!” Spark chirped, a cheesy grin on his face. He then went over to the clothing pile and tugged out his underwear, slipping into them without a trace of remorse.
Blanche turned back just in time to see Candela shrugging on their shirt. “What are you doing?”
“Well, I can’t exactly wear my dress to bed, now can I?”
“Granted - but why my shirt?”
Candela simply smiled, sniffing delicately at the collar with half-lidded eyes. Blanche bit the inside of their cheek and had to look away.
She was far to sultry for her own good - for anyone’s good, honestly.
They made an indignant noise when something suddenly covered their head and obstructed their view, tugging the cloth off their head reflexively. They paused to stare at the large white button-up in their grasp before turning to glare at Spark, shaking the shirt at him in wordless annoyance. He just grinned and moved over to the bed, flopping down on top of it with a gusty sigh.
Candela giggled and finished buttoning Blanche’s shirt to the middle of her breasts, shooting them one last flirty look before moving to scold him for not getting under the covers first.
They swallowed back a chuckle when Spark’s arm shot out and tugged her down, something tightening in their chest as her sharp, shrill curse turned into laughter as Spark pressed playful kisses on all the skin he could reach. Those two, so fiery and electric, complemented one another. They fit, and Blanche would only-
“Hey, Blanche, quit spacing out!”
They blinked, looking up to see two sets of eyes - one a warm golden hazel and the other a deep electric blue - meeting theirs from across the room.
“C’mere,” Candela cooed, crooking a finger at them. Spark had scooted to the other side of the bed, the space between them warm and inviting.
Their throat was suddenly very, very tight.
Scoffing, they donned Spark’s shirt and trotted over to the bathroom to turn off the light. Temporarily night-blind, they tiptoed over to the bed, hesitantly crawling up to the other two and scooting into the space they’d made for them. The covers got rearranged and fluffed, fingers ‘accidentally’ slipping over skin in an almost-giddy intimacy beneath them.
Blanche turned on their side, Candela’s familiar warmth settling along their back as Spark tugged them both closer. His nose bumped against theirs, awkward and searching, a huff of amusement being met with a proper kiss soon after.
“What was that for?”
“A goodnight kiss.”
(Simple, sincere, and a little bit childish - how very like him.)
Another, pressed to the back of their shoulder by a different pair of lips.
“And that one?”
“So you’ll stop thinking too much and actually get some sleep, darling.”
(There was a threat in there somewhere, they were sure of it.)
Blanche decided that all the questions and concerns they had swirling in their mind could wait until morning. For now, they were content to listen to Spark gasp when they pressed their icy cold toes against his calves, Candela snickering into their hair.