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Counterbalance	By : lyarrah Category: Pokemon > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 2881 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon, nor do I make money off writing any of these stories.

Chapter List
- 1-Counterbalance
- 1
One fateful day, I found out that Harmoniashipping existed. Specifically, the childhood rape side of it. I was so disturbed that I started to write this.

I'm sorry to be uploading yet another porn story in sections, but experience has taught me that it's going to take me long enough to finish this that... well, Sweethearts. For god's sakes, Sweethearts.

Which, y'know, I'm still hoping this won't make that 30 page mark like that did. Aiming for under 20.

Counterbalance

Lyraeon/Lyra Kamiya

Blair and Whitlea both realized, as N sobbed uncontrollably between them, that they knew nothing about the “King of Team Plasma“. A few months' worth of encounters and battles, this past handful of weeks of something loosely resembling friendship, but nothing of his past, his true identity.

Whitlea had, on some level, been afraid to ask. They knew the kind of air that Bianca carried with her from the mild abuse she'd been through; to say that N had taken that aura and plugged it into Nimbasa's power plant would be putting it lightly. She'd known he had secrets. It was hard enough not to know, not to notice, that Blair had realized it as well, but he'd shrugged it off. Boys had that ability, to assume that what wasn't being said was meant to be kept quiet, while girls tended to pry.

Taking this lid off had been accidental though. Entirely unexpected. One moment they'd been enjoying a walk through the forest together; the next, seeing his two friends exchange a gentle kiss had set the older boy off on a torrent of tears and screaming.

“He always said he loved me!” he insisted again, and Blair carefully set down N's hat, figuring by now that he wasn't going to take it back any time soon. He glanced up at Whitlea, whose eyes were wider than a Patrat's by now, and who seemed to be shaking. She'd put together a picture in her head from what N was ranting, and she didn't like it one bit. Blair had a similar image in mind but he was too consumed by disgust to believe what the clues lead to.

“Who?” she whispered, chancing her fingers on his shoulder. He sobbed louder for a moment, and she felt her back go stiff and blood run cold.

“Really?” Blair said, earning a stern glare at his casual tone. He held his hands up helplessly; he wasn't sure what else to say in the situation, and was still in a state of disbelief-induced incomprehension.

N coughed, wiping his eyes. “D-daddy,” he wheezed. “I thought he loved me... I knew he wanted me to grow up to be a good ruler... I thought... I thought that was why... So even though it hurt, I...”

The two friends grabbed him by the arms and back as his knees crumpled, the color drained from his face as he narrowly escaped fainting. Carefully they sat him down, arms linked under his, Whitlea patting his face gently to rouse him.

He snapped back to, no longer sobbing but still looking lost, his eyes more hollow and distant than the others were now used to. “Come on, stay with us,” Blair urged, nudging him to sit up better. N began to shake his head slowly, his breathing shallow. “You're stronger than this.”

“Blair!” Whitlea hushed him. Now wasn't the time for scolding; their friend needed support. She'd been worried that he was headed toward something like this from the moment his questioning had started...

“What... What is love? Between people?” He'd held one of his pokeballs in hand, turning it slowly; he knew love between a human and a pokemon, as far as the bond between friends and compatriots went. But before he'd met Blair and Whitlea, he'd had no human bonds other than that with his own father. Now he had them, and spent every waking moment near them... And through them had started to get to know Cheren and Bianca as well.

/Whitlea had chuckled knowingly, teasing him about an unknown crush, and Blair had joined in for a moment before he'd rephrased his question. “If you love someone, how should you treat them?”

/He'd continued along the line of questioning, becoming a little more distraught with each one. It had only shown in his face at first, until he'd asked the question, “Why would you hurt someone you love?” Neither of them had even been able to answer before the tears had come streaming down his face, his hands sinking into his hair and shoving his hat clean off. “Why... why would...”

“No one can go their whole lives without hurting or being hurt,” Whitlea whispered, finally answering the earlier question. “But if you really love someone... you'll try your best not to hurt them.”

Blair frowned and nodded. “Love feels good,” he offered, feeling helpless as to add more.

“Does it really? Then what was... I don't understand...”

Whitlea nibbled on her lip, taking a deep breath and glancing up at Blair, her eyes baring a look of warning before she opened her mouth. “It... would it be easier to understand if we showed you?”

Both boys looked up at her in shock, Blair gazing at her in confusion while N was surprised out of crying for a moment. “What... do you...”

“Stop me if you don't like it,” she spouted, quickly leaning forward and pressing her lips to N's, a little more firmly than she meant to, clearly acting before she could lose her nerve. He froze, spine going rigid under her hand, and she stroked his back softly as she pulled away. “...S-sorry,” she whispered, guessing she'd managed to do more harm than good, as tears were now streaming down his cheeks again.

“No... It's...” N blinked, coming to his senses momentarily. “...But you... Love?” His fingers rose to his lips, touching them softly.

“At the very least, you're our dear friend. Yes, N. I love you.”

“We love you,” Blair corrected, blushing and staring at a tree a ways off. He sighed heavily, pulling his courage together so it could overcome his shame, and leaned a little closer to his friend. “And... what... happened to you? Sucks. So we want to make up for it.” He glanced up to Whitlea for guidance, making sure he was on the right track with what he was saying.

She nodded, placing her fingers lightly on N's chin and bringing her lips close to his again. “Stop us if you want to, any time you want to. Until then, just let us make you feel good.”

Whitlea pressed her lips into N's again, more tenderly before, restraining any want or force she might have shown were the lips against her Blair's. Though she was entirely loyal to Blair, she'd fantasized about this moment more than once, no matter how crept out the older boy once made her feel. Those thoughts had been kept under for a long time, so now she found herself struggling not to take advantage of the situation; indeed, it was only the feel of Blair's hand alongside hers on N's back that assured her she wasn't taking advantage.

Then N kissed back, finally, and she gasped softly, smiling ever so gently into his lips. Her eyes drifted open, hoping to gauge his expression, and she was startled to find his eyes wide and nervous. He jerked back as soon as their pupils locked, pressing his knuckles to his lips again before lowering his head in shame. “I'm... I'm sorry,” he stammered.

“Don't be,” Blair snapped, his stomach tight at seeing the normally confident man shrivel. “I was nervous the first time she kissed me too.” It wasn't a total lie, either; it had been nothing like what he was witnessing here, but it had taken a handful of kisses from Whitlea before he'd dared to initiate one. “Do whatever feels right.” He closed his eyes, holding his lips slightly puckered in a way he hoped didn't look completely idiotic, and gently poked Whitlea, urging her to do the same.

The feel of N's mouth against his was less different from the feel of Whitlea's than he'd expected, but mostly in that it was different in ways he hadn't expected. The touch was too unsteady, his lips thinner and drier than hers ever were. But there was a warmth in his veins from the touch none the less, adrenaline making its way to his lips before N had pulled away again.

He didn't get a chance to ask if things were okay before the lips had returned, smoother now that they'd been dampened by a quick lick. The fingers that rested on his shoulder were unfamiliar; they were too long compared to his girlfriend's. Conflict found its way to the surface of his mind just long enough for him to recognize it before there was a more familiar hand on his thigh.

Blair glanced to the side, finding her leaning close to them, watching their kiss with more fascination than he felt it merited. But he knew his girlfriend to be one of “those” girls, who found the idea of two men kissing to be hot the same way most men felt about lesbians. It was a theory he'd tested one night a month before, when a shared foray into underage drinking had left him just drunk enough to lay the dare onto Cheren, and Cheren just drunk enough to follow through on it. The things Whitlea had done to him minutes later had been more than worth the things he and his best friend had nearly done to each other right then.

The idea that he was considering them again, with a man five years his senior, and without intoxication, managed to surface during a hiccup in the flow of adrenaline.

Blair shut his eyes again, parting his lips and wrapping them lightly around N's. This wasn't about him, or Whitlea, or the heated gaze she'd gained in the past five minutes. This was about helping their friend and perhaps forging some sort of bond he didn't fully understand yet.

His hand pressed more firmly into the man's back, causing him to notice for the first time how thin he really was. His palm formed to ribs and scapula even through the linen of N's shirt. He wondered how visible they'd be without the shirt there, then chanced a lick across his lips to make him think about something else. Whitlea stifled a moan at his side.

Then N was closer to him, in an unsteady way – his hand tightened on Blair's shoulder, grappling for balance – that told him Whitlea had pushed him on accident. The fingers on his thigh had tightened too, so he set his free hand atop it to stroke her hand. Instantly it moved, gripping his sleeve instead, fingers slipping under the elastic and tugging at it, tickling his wrist.

It took her no time to have the sleeve pulled over his hand, her arm snaking up his inside the fabric. He let her play as she pleased, trying to focus his attention on their friend instead. He knew why she had left him to it – Blair was generally the gentler of the two lovers, even when he wasn't letting Whitlea lead.

But having two pairs of lips in front of her was just too much temptation for the girl, her face drifting closer every time Blair glanced her way. Then the brim of her hat knocked against his, startling them all, N most of all. Her only apology was a nervous laugh as she let go of N to take off her cap while her right hand remained up Blair's sleeve. He smiled, reaching up to remove his own as soon as her hand was back on N, only for it to be gingerly lifted away by the man before his hand could leave his back.

He let out a long sigh, lacking words for what was passing through his head as Whitlea's lips brushed his cheek again. He closed his eyes at last, resting his hands back on their shoulders. The two teens let their heads set together at the temples as they leaned toward him, trying to minimize the chances of collision as N trailed his fingers toward their necks, chancing his first brush of their bare skin. Whitlea moaned from the touch, even before their lips all met, and this time N only hesitated for a breath...

They surrendered to the feel of each others' lips. Where each set began and ended was blurred, a trivial concern compared to the simple pleasure of it, and the slight challenge of keeping their teeth free from the equation. N's inexperience left him knocking into each of them at different moments, but Blair's hand on his back kept him close to them, even when he thought about fleeing in embarrassment at the mistake.

Whitlea broke from the triangle of lips for a second, nudging each of their mouths to steal kisses individually. As hot as the experience was in its own way, she was too hedonistic not to try and steal each boy's attention for herself at least occasionally, and she heard Blair chuckle when he was momentarily left out for the second time. She heard a zipper pull and opened one eye to see Blair opening his jacket, so when his face returned to theirs she pulled her hand out of his sleeve and tugged on it until his arm was free.

N's thumbs dragged uncertainly across their hairlines as the kisses continued. He was unsure of where he should be holding on, too nervous to sit still or keep quiet but afraid that asking questions would only ruin the moment. He tried to copy their hands, touching as gently as he could, but Whitlea still shuddered when he touched her collar and it scared him. She giggled when she felt his hand jump free of her skin, tilting her head and shrugging her shoulder to rub her cheek to his fingers. “It's okay,” she murmured into the kiss, sliding her hand up his chest to touch his neck the same way. “Sensitive...”

He got halfway through a nod before reeling back slightly. Whitlea's fingernails grazed his neck between the tendons, the pressure too much to tickle but too fine to hurt. N felt his pulse race at the unfamiliar sensation, his chest tightening as the fact that it truly felt good... Any touch there before had been to choke or restrain, and part of him still wanted to cough at the sensation, but he held it back.

When he opened his eyes again, after a few seconds of just breathing and holding loosely to his friend's shoulders, he found two sets of eyes gazing worriedly back at him, the two still pressed temple to temple in front of him.

“N...?”came Blair's voice, then he swallowed, stroking the older boy's back gently. He glanced between the couple, feeling his hands drift toward their necks of their own volition, and let his fingertips press lightly to their throats. N could feel their skin. He could feel their pulses, different from each other, different from his, but still hurried. But neither recoiled at the touch. They weren't afraid.

He let himself lean forward, their foreheads all meeting again as tears silently fell down his cheeks. Whitlea scooted closer, wrapping her arm around his back and rubbing it gently, her fingers brushing past Blair's on their way down. They each kissed one corner of his mouth, and he gasped to hold back a sob and force back the tears.

Blair's lips began to travel across N's cheek, leaving the kissing to Whitlea for a moment, a privilege she took with pleasure. Her head tilted, letting their lips mesh together more easily, and N mimicked her, stopping only when he felt Blair's breath across his jaw. Whitlea pushed onward, trying to distract him to help him relax, her tongue running across his lips softly but deliberately.

He tried the same after the third time she repeated the lick, and was surprised at how much softer than his own her lips felt. He went rigid again for a moment as Blair's kisses reached his neck, but this time Whitlea didn't relent, pulling at his tongue with her lips. He couldn't focus on both at the same time, so he chose to work with her kisses, playing with the wet feeling of her tongue against his. His mouth was open too wide, his teeth grazing her lips, but she didn't scold N for it; she simply chose a lip to concentrate on, guiding him with her experience.

Blair's heart was racing at the unfamiliar smell and flavor of the skin his tongue was tracing, but the more he thought about it the more he realized it was as much from excitement as it was from nerves. A piece of that excitement was from knowing how riled up Whitlea was probably getting – even with the tense emotions behind the tryst, he could hear her little gasps between the wet noises of their lips, and felt her hand tightening on his leg again. But just as much was from his own actual enjoyment of the act. He'd never really thought of himself as bisexual, despite occasionally being accused of being effeminate, and he'd thought that his strong desire not to repeat his drunken makeout session with Cheren had sealed his “straight” label for good. The fact N was a guy had barely even crossed his mind, however, and while the few times it had there was a distant sense of disgust... it didn't matter enough to slow him down for more than a breath at a time. His bond with N had been a strange one from day one, so maybe this was just proof of the adage that sex was better with someone you loved.

That thought did stop him in his tracks for a second. Not the idea that he loved N – he'd already said the words, there was no going back on that, so he'd just have to sort the extent of that out on his own later. It was the sex part. He'd known from that first kiss that this was very likely headed that way, but he hadn't put it into words until now. A little part of him cringed at the idea of seeing another man touch Whitlea... He shook his head and took a deep breath, pulling his jacket the rest of the way off to cover for his pause. He'd be touching her, too. He'd be touching N, too. And N would be...

He felt a little dizzy as his tongue pressed back to the older boy's neck, trailing toward his shirt collar. N would be touching him. Already was, just less intimately; the two of them were running their hands slowly along each other's shoulders, arms rubbing where they crossed, though N's moved slower than Blair's. He was too distracted by the younger teens' kisses to keep up with anything else. Increasingly, he was also too caught up in the heat rising through his blood, making his breath come in rough pants against Whitlea's mouth. His fingers surged upward, moving from their light traces of her neck into her nape until they cradled her head near his. The intricacies of kissing were all far more instinctive than he'd expected, his body moving of its own accord, drowning out the threats his memory tried to whisper until he could barely hear them over his own heartbeat.

And Whitlea, she was content to push his boundaries far quicker than most would dare. She kept her most lustful urges restrained to her right arm, pushing Blair to a low boil but never quite teasing him outright, while her left slid all over N's chest, trailing a little further under his white shirt each time until she started undoing the few buttons he kept fastened.

With no buttons left, she moved on to guiding his shirt off his shoulders as she'd done to Blair. The sharp edges of his collar bone and shoulder were apparent against her palm even though the thick fabric of his turtleneck. She literally had to guide each arm out of its sleeve individually for him, but soon enough his shirt landed atop Blair's jacket.

Whitlea held onto the arm she'd undressed last, twining her fingers with his and letting their palms rub together. It was about this time that Blair came up to rejoin their kiss, having run out of uncovered skin to dote upon. Their heads tilted to let him in again, individual kisses passing between each pair between the meeting of all their lips in the middle. One of Blair's hands ran up his girlfriend's side, rubbing gently there and encouraging her groping of him to continue. She let out a single chuckle at the touch, back arching and bringing her body closer to both the boys'.

To push N any further now would be to fully invade his personal space, a step even Whitlea was unsure he was ready for. Still, she let her knees slide forward to brush along his thighs, moving their chests even closer and leaving all their legs at least a little tangled together. She licked her lips when she was pushed back from the kiss for a second, a particularly passionate brush passing between the boys and making her stomach glow with heat. She was starting to go mad with need, and while she'd yet to “check up” on N, a quick brush of her hand revealed Blair to be in a similar state. Her hand dwelled on the tent for only a second before she was drawn back into the kiss, the feel of two tongues at her mouth at once distracting her to the point of lost balance.

There was no turning back in her mind. The fact that this was for N was a chant in her mind by now, but it was one that was losing rhythm as her breathing hastened. She wanted him, wanted them both, and wanted to watch them as well. Whitlea's brain hadn't worked out the mechanics of how this would work, but there were flashes whenever she let her eyes close fully, and it was a goal she wanted to push toward, well-planned or not.

She pulled N's hand closer and pressed it to her chest, switching her grip to cup it to one breast.

His hand sunk against her, not processing the foreign sensation at first, then hesitantly squeezing, as though trying to decide if he was really feeling what he thought he was.

N's arm jerked back. He was startled from having touched someone so intimately, even if she had coaxed it, even if they were kissing. It still seemed forbidden, and while it was nowhere the same, he still remembered...

Whitlea's breath whispered his name against his lips, soft and soothing and not at all demanding. “It's o-”

There was a rough squeeze to her thigh, causing her to gasp and lose her words before she could finish her reassurance. A glance to the side revealed Blair's brown eyes glaring at her, pointedly but subtly. “Don't force him. Let him go at his own speed,” he whispered, fingers brushing the red mark on her leg apologetically. He pressed his lips to N's cheek, eyes traveling to where his hand was still poised a few inches in front of Whitlea's breast as though he was a child debating stealing a cookie. 'No,' Blair realized, rubbing the older boy's shoulder gently, 'Like a child who doesn't know if the stove is still hot...'
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