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A Dark Night	By : PokemonPr0nPal3000 Category: Pokemon > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 30773 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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A DARK NIGHT

By Pippy Pika

Pippy’s note: everyone totes around the fact that somewhere in Japan there’s a providence where the legal age is 13, even though the prefecture laws around the country raise the age to 17, but in this case I’m going to take advantage of it. Ash is of legal age in this story, even though in any other first-world country I know of this would be classified as statutory rape. (For those that are counting, the ages are Dawn at ten, May at twelve, Ash at fourteen, and Brock at nineteen.)

And I don’t know if this chapter has anything particularly cruel in it, but it has some plot, and I did warn you I was going to have one of those. Please remember this story had been frozen at Sinnoh Episode 72, just before Dawn enters the Wallace Cup and May shows up. This is kinda important. And yeah, for those who like the smexiness, there is some at the end. What’s the point of posting on AFF if you can’t write sex scenes?

— — — — — —

Chapter Three: Jail Time

— — — — — —

“Hey, Terrier,” said Officer Jenny of Bushin Town, smiling. “How are you?”

“Must you always call me that, Jen?” Officer Jenny of Voldale Town complained. “You know I don’t like it.”

“Big sister rule. Big sisters can call little sisters whatever they like. What's up?”

“Oh, not much,” Terrier sighed. “Frustrated. A case of mine’s gone cold.” It doesn’t help Chief closed it as ‘wild Pokémon rape’ even though every bone in my body says it’s more than that, she thought darkly.

“That’s too bad. I’ve got a hot one here, but it probably isn’t yours. Just a trainer always picking fights.”

“Battle hungry?”

“No, fights. Nearly knocked out a kid who tried to get him to stop. Joy called us in three times before I brought him in for a night in the cells. Weird thing is he actually looks a little relieved. Really weird kid. Must do a lot of fighting, too. Looks like one big bruise.” Jen sniffed her disapproval.

“That’s too bad,” Terrier said sympathetically. “Haven’t heard of something like that since the Harker kid. What’s his name?”

“Ketchum. Ash Ketchum. Funny name, isn’t it?”

Terrier felt a pit form in her stomach. “Y-yes. When did he arrive?”

“Yesterday morning. Was quiet ‘til he spent the night, Joy says. Then…”

“Poor thing,” Terrier said softly, wheels turning. “Listen, does he have a record?”

“You bet. I’d better warn the Joy who runs that Pokémon Center—the one just before you get to Valor Lakefront? They’re moving on after this. I’ll tell her to keep me on speed dial.”

“They?”

“Yeah, a little girl and an older boy—young man, I should say—travel with him. The girl’s the one that keeps him in line. The young man just makes him freeze up.”

“Of course he does,” Terrier said quietly. “Listen, I need you to do me a favor. Well, a couple, starting with his record…”

— — — — — —

Jen walked down to the holding cell, dinner tray in hand. When she reached the end of the hallway she looked through the bars to see the boy sleeping fitfully on the prison cot, curled tightly on his side, blanket pulled to his chin.

“Dinner,” she called. The boy stirred and stretched. With a mumbled ‘thank you’ he took the tray, went back to the cot, and began to eat. Jen sat down on a chair and waited patiently. The boy seemed to be familiar with procedure—of course he was, according to his record almost every time he reached a Pokémon Center he ended up in a cell just like this shortly after—because he didn’t even notice. When he was finished he pushed the tray through the slot. She took it and looked at him.

“Well, your friends have just spend quite some time trying to convince me to let you out early tonight. They’ve promised to look after you. The little girl was nearly in tears.”

The boy’s shoulders slumped, and he looked away, suddenly deciding his feet were far more interesting than anything else in the room.

“That young man was especially eloquent. Promised me he’d watch you all night himself to keep you out of trouble.”

The boy stiffened, and his hands tightened into fists. Jen nodded to herself. Her sister, as usual, had been right.

“As it is, I told them no one is above the law. You’re staying here tonight.”

The boy’s entire body relaxed. For the first time he met her eyes. Quick as a snake, Jen reached through the bars and grabbed his wrist, pulling him to face her. He cried out as she squeezed too hard and crushed a bruise.

“Why do you wear long sleeves?” she asked softly. “The little girl said you started that about a month ago.” She bent so she could stare directly into his frightened brown eyes. “And what marks would I see if I pulled off this glove?”

The boy gasped and pulled his hand away. “Please…don’t…”

Jen sighed. “All you have to do is nod. I’ll do everything else. Is he—”

But the boy was shaking his head, his eyes shut. Jen resisted the urge to hit him over the head.

Someone was doing too much of that already.

“Fine,” she said, trying to keep the anger out of her voice. Trying to keep her helplessness out of her voice. She had suspicions, but the boy was of legal age. Unless he pressed charges himself…“It’s a night in the cells for you, young man. I’ll be back in the morning with breakfast.”

She walked away, her heels clicking on the linoleum, not looking back.

She had a little sister to call.

— — — — — —

Ash hated the night after a night in jail.

He didn’t mind being in jail. The time in jail was fine—the only time he could sleep undisturbed—but the night after…

He shivered.

He’d thought about Jenny’s offer, hard. She’d meant it. He knew she did. But no one had found the ‘rouge Onix’ that had already taken three more trainers since his horribly publicized rape, and there was no sign of stopping. No, Brock wanted a real alibi—and he probably got off on the fact that Ash felt more guilty because he knew why Brock was doing it.

But he couldn’t let Onix have Dawn. He couldn’t. And he knew if he ever left Brock’s side, even if he ever managed to find some way to be safe—then Onix would—

No. She was the last pure person he knew. He couldn’t let Brock have her, too. It was too late for him, but he could still save her…

“I’m so excited about the Wallace Cup!”

“Huh?” Ash blinked and looked at Dawn. She was nearly skipping with excitement.

“Didn’t you hear? Oh, of course you didn’t, you were—with Jenny. Wallace, the Champion from Hoenn, he’s holding a Contest! And I can enter it! Anyone can! And I know I’ve…lost before, but I’ll win this time! Not to worry!”

Ash gave her a weak smile. “You’re right. Of course you’ll win.”

She smiled. “Thanks, Ash. And we’ll practice hard! Do you think I should use Piplup, or maybe Pachirisu? No! Buneary! Oh, oh, maybe Ambipom? Ambipom would love to show off, wouldn’t it? But Pachirisu could use more training…” she tittered on and on, filling the silence with gossip on her own Pokémon. Ash didn’t care. It was better than hearing Brock’s silence behind him.

It was better than thinking about how they wouldn’t reach that mid-point Pokémon Center tonight. Or how they’d be camping. Or how he’d stayed in a cell last night. Or how they’d be camping.

Ash sighed and tried to pay attention to Dawn. It was better than thinking.

— — — — — —

Brock, Ash thought darkly, you are a sadistic freak. It’s not fair that I have to know it.

He was bound hand and foot flat against his stomach to a wide tree, his arms wrapped as though he was hugging it and his legs spread as wide as Brock could stretch them. Thanks to the tension in the ropes Ash couldn’t move an inch. And, of course, because that was Brock’s way, he was completely naked.

He shivered as a cool breeze blew across his body, goosebumps forming around the scars. He wanted to snarl something at Brock as the young man tied a blindfold around his eyes, but experience gagged him better than any rag.

“Don’t you want to say something? You always do.”

I remember the poker, Ash thought, shivering. You won’t get me that easy.

“Well, this isn’t punishment for you being mouthy. You’re getting much better about that.”

Only because you’ll burn me.

“This is because this fighting has got to stop. Imagine what you’re doing to your trainer’s license! Pretty soon they’ll take it away. What’ll you do after that?”

Go home. Never see you again.

“And this jail thing. I almost think you don’t like spending time with me.”

Ash couldn’t hold back a bitter laugh.

“Really. Me not wanting to spend every day with a sadistic bastard who rapes me every night. Imagine that!”

Silence. Ash’s face paled as he realized the words had come out of his mouth. Oh God, I’m going to pay for that. Please, please, just don’t use the poker, please…

“I should use the poker on you for that,” Brock said softly, and Ash moaned. “As it is, I have this instead…”

“W-what…aaak!” Ash tried to hold back a scream as a sharp pain tore into his back.

“Called a ‘cat-o-nine-tails’,” Brock said calmly as he slashed into Ash’s back a second time. “I’m told it hurts the worst out of all the whips out there…wouldn’t know, of course. Does it? You’re not screaming yet. I guess I’ll have to see how many whips it takes to make an Ash scream, huh?”

“Please stop!”

“But I’m a sadistic bastard. Why should I?”

“Gyyyaaah!”

“It only took five to make you scream. How many does it take to make you bleed?”

“Brock—AAAAAAAH!”

Brock continued to rain down blows as Ash screamed and screamed. He tried to pull at the bonds to get away, but Brock had tied him too tightly. He tried begging but of course it didn’t work, and the blindfold soaked up his tears. Finally he screamed, “Master please stop!”

Brock paused. “That took you longer than usual.” He walked to the tree and pushed Ash’s head up with the whip’s handle. “Do you understand yet, Ashy-boy?” he whispered into Ash’s ear. “No matter how often you run, I will catch you. You’re mine. You’re my slave, and I’m your master. No one will take you from me. Say it.”

“No…”

“Remember the poker…say it.”

Ash shuddered. “I-I belong to you…I can’t run from you…”

“Good boy.” Brock walked away, and Ash’s head drooped back against the tree. A moment later something stinging was sprayed into his wounds. Ash cried out.

“Alcohol,” Brock said simply. Then, a moment later, something much nicer was drizzled over the blood. “Potion.”

Must be really bad, Ash thought dizzily. That’s the stuff he stole from the hospital…

“Wish they’d sell that over-the-counter, huh? Your back’s already scabbing over. Amazing stuff.”

Bastard. You only heal me so I don’t show marks in the morning.

Ash clenched his teeth as Brock drew near. The young man took a knife and cut Ash free of the tree. Ash fell to the ground, his legs too weak to support himself.

“Good place,” said Brock approvingly. Ash saw that through the boxers the young man had an erection. He always did after doing shit like this.

Oh, no…he isn’t—

Brock grabbed Ash’s head by the hair and pulled him into a kneeling position. With his other hand he pulled down his boxers.

“You know what to do,” he said, smirking. Ash stared at him in horror.

“…no…” It was more a sob than a word. Brock knew he hated this. In a way, Ash didn’t mind the pain. He could hate Brock for the pain, because it was just pain. And even anal sex wasn’t as bad because Brock always forced him to do it, usually with his hands tied behind his back—there was no way he could fight back. But this…sticking that thing in his mouth…he had to let Brock do it…and no matter how many times he’d done it, it was always like that first time, and he…he couldn’t…

And Brock knew that and that’s why he liked it best.

“Do it.”

“…p-please…”

“The poker.”

His eyes shut tightly, even though they were filling with tears, Ash opened his mouth. Brock shoved his penis in and Ash began to suck, thrusting his head up and down as Brock moaned. Brock began to thrust himself in and Ash’s face mashed into his pubic hair. Brock pulled at Ash’s hair and Ash clutched at his legs, trying not to get thrown off balance, until Brock began to thrust faster, and then—

A bitter sludge joined Brock’s penis in Ash’s mouth. He swallowed. He knew Brock liked that, too. He waited until the young man pulled out. Then he collapsed, trying to ignore Brock’s laughter.

“You’re so pretty after a fuck, Ashy-boy,” Brock said, kneeling so he could face Ash. “Do you want me to get you off, too?”

“No,” Ash said. “I want to go back.”

“But I want to make you happy,” Brock said. “And a good master should make sure his slave is always happy.”

“I’ll be happy if I can sleep tonight.”

“That’s not true. You’ll be happy if you get off tonight. You always are.”

God dammit. Why do I ever expect you to listen to me? Why won’t you leave me alone?

Brock grabbed Ash and pulled him into his lap, his chest pushing into Ash’s back. Ash cried out as his chest hair rubbed against the freshly made scabs.

“I’ll be gentle,” Brock said softly, and he almost sounded like he meant it. He pinned Ash’s arms to his side with one arm, and used the other to reach for his penis. Before Ash could react Brock was rubbing his hand up and down his shaft. Ash whimpered.

“Please…Brock…”

“That’s not my name to you, is it?”

“…No…oh, God, s-stop!”

“Maybe I’ll stop if you call me my name. But do you really want me to?”

Ash squeaked as Brock’s pace increased. Brock laughed, as he always did when he jerked Ash off. He loved seeing Ash blush red because of his ministrations. And he loved knowing the boy never knew if he enjoyed this part of their nights or hated it. And he always encouraged that confusion.

“What’s my name, slave?”

“Please!”

“Eh?” He started to rub the head. Ash squealed.

“Please…”

Brock stopped. Ash groaned.

“You don’t want me to stop, do you?”

Ash whimpered and, after a moment, shook his head.

“You like being touched by your master, don’t you?”

No answer. Brock slipped his hand up and down Ash’s penis, and the boy yelped again.

“You do. Say it. Beg me.”

“Please…mas…master…”

Brock increase his pace, and Ash moaned. He twisted in Brock’s grip, and then—

Brock laughed as Ash came, the semen dripping onto his hand and Ash’s inner thighs. He forced the boy to lick it off afterward, and then allowed him to clean himself off in a stream he’d found before he allowed him to dress and return to his sleeping bag.

Ash slept curled in a tight ball, on his side, buried in the blankets. It was just another nightmare night in a nightmare list of dark nights.

— — — — — —

Pippy’s note: I don’t think I’ll ever write down the poker incident. Let’s just say even my version of Brock felt he went a bit far after that particular session. There’s a reason Ash shuts up whenever Brock mentions it. It wasn’t pretty.

It's not uncommon for a male rape victim to become violent or depressed after his rape, or even attempt suicide. (Interesting fact: more women try to kill themselves than men, but men are better at it. Women usually cut their wrists or overdose, which means they might be saved by a speedy trip to the hospital, whereas men are more likely to grab a gun and blow their head off.) Ash's behavior is partly self-defense and partly to get rid of his pent-up aggression...hopefully you figured that one out on your own, though.

I'd also like to thank the reviewers out there. You guys are the only reason this story got past chapter one. (Seriously. I like reviews. They remind me I wrote a story in the first place, and people besides me would like to see more of it.)

Next chapter: Dawn enters the Wallace Cup, and May comes to visit! What does that mean for Ash and Brock? And what will Terrier do to open this ‘case closed’ case?
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A Dark Night