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The Bitter Taste of Wine and Defeat	By : megadeth425 Category: Pokemon > General Views: 3022 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon and make no money from this story.

Chapter List
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An aside; go check out Lyraeon's half of the challenge, which is a spin on the same idea but different pairings and handled much differently. http://anime.adult-fanfiction.org/story.php?no=600053522

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The door flung open noisily as the two connoisseurs leaned against each other for support on their way into Cilan's bedroom. Neither were able to stand very well in the aftermath of their drinking contest, and constantly bumped into walls or furniture on the way. It was a miracle they had even made it up the stairs without incident.

Cilan grasped Burgundy's chin with more grace than he should have been able to muster and pulled her into a kiss as they leaned against his bureau. “Such an exquisite taste,” he said, “A depth of passion and flavour waiting to be sampled.”
Less delicately, she grabbed his shoulders as he started to pull away and dragged him right back into a kiss, this one far rougher than his. “Your hunger is overwhelming, seasoned with lust and fury, balanced so perfectly with a side of confusion.” She moaned as his arms seized her and she felt pressed against the dresser. “I would like to taste more of you.”

Nodding, Cilan kissed her again, pushing her against his bureau and snaking a hand down her dress pants. One of her legs clumsily wrapped around his and she moaned into his mouth. Neither was sure if they were so heavily leaning on his furniture because of passion or because they didn't trust the other or themselves to stand upright, but neither seemed to care very much about anything.

Their breath and mouths both tasted strongly of aged whiskey, undercurrents of various flavours of wine staining it and muddling the fine liquor. So drunk, though, neither cared how confusing the taste was, or found any issue with it, only wanting more, to go deeper.

“It's tasting time,” he said hotly into her ear in a tone that made her shiver as his fingers sank down, rubbing against her mound and teasing her entrance with the tip of his middle finger.

Neither expected the challenge to go the way it did, ending with them both trashed and in his bedroom, hands all over each other. Burgundy's insolence had simply been to try and upstage her rival, but as he undid her bow-tie with one hand and began to kiss at her exposed neck, she felt in some way she had won. It was not a great victory, but he no longer saw her as a silly kid below him, as she felt he did. There, feeling her up and tasting her again and again, they were equals.

“Your treatment is ripe,” she moaned, leaning her head back so he could get at her neck easier. “Running deep and expertly cooked.” Her own hands started to clamour for his pants, though she was clumsier about it, being drunker and less experienced with getting someone else's pants off. “But I must have a taste as well.” Cilan moaned into her neck as she fished out his penis, grasping it and saying into his ear lustily, “Bonjour! New tasting time s'il vous plaît!”

She was pressed harder against the bureau as she started to slowly work his shaft, resting it against her thigh as she stroked it. Her arm clumsily kept knocking into his as he fingered her, and she started to scowl at him from just out of his vision. Her head started to wobble a little and her legs weakened a bit more. “You're getting sloppy,” she slurred. “It would appear that I came out the winner of that contest.”
“Your legs can barely hold your body up, and you smell strongly of alcohol and bad decisions.”

“And you're pressing me against furniture, how well do you think you're standing?”

Their ministrations both got faster and harder, their bickering serving to quicken the pace they both moved at. Cilan pulled his face from her shoulder and they locked into a deep stare, reciprocating both the glares and the angry handjobs. Both moved faster as the other did, trying to win out. They began growling and Burgundy tried to lift her upper lip and bare her teeth in a bad decision born of too much alcohol; she didn't look scary or intimidating at all. Neither was willing to give in or concede to the other, though they weren't sure what exactly constituted a loss.

Two fingers plunging in and out of her, thumb working over her clitoris in a way that told her he knew exactly what he was doing, and Burgundy had to fight to keep her scowl on. She had to remember that this was Cilan doing it, and to show no weakness, no pleasure. In keeping her expression, though, everything else betrayed her. The hand that held onto his arm tightly, the breath that grew ragged, the hips that pushed forward slightly to meet every inward motion of his hand. She wasn't aware of any of that though, in her inebriated state, and thought that simply staring a hole through his face would suffice.

Not that he picked up on much of it either. He had grown angrier as well, his charming, fabulous edge dulled in the face of becoming a belligerent drunk. Burgundy was always a mild irritant, and somehow simply giving her a guiding hand slowly gave way to finding a different way to shut her up. He leaned in to kiss her again, less soft and wistful than before. Like her, his body was showing subtle hints of his enjoyment and attraction that he tried to hide, most notably the rocking of his hips, or the way his heart raced.

“Surely,” he groaned, “There is a new range of flavours left to explore, and to waste our time with the same ones all night is irresponsible. After all, we are here to experience new tastes, expand our horizons as sommeliers.” What he meant, beneath all of the flowery speech, was that he doubted they would ever be this drunk again, and while he had the excuse to, wanted to eat her out.
“Oui oui,” she moaned, stopping the handjob, rubbing her thumb against his tip. “So many new tastes that I cannot deprive myself of.” Her scowl melted away into a coy smile--at least one she thought was coy. What she said was essentially the same as him.

He tried to drop first, slowly sinking to his knees in front of her, slowly undoing the buttons on her vest for no particular reason. As he got down to her pants and began to pull them down, she sank with him, shaking her head. “I wanted to go first. However am I supposed to learn if I cannot taste with a fresh palette?”

He smiled, patting her on the shoulder. “Experience is the greatest teacher, and you can learn as much from experiencing something as from doing it. Please, allow me to taste you.”

In response, she shoved him back so that he fell, leaning uncomfortably against his bed frame. She moved forward, grasping his base and leaning in, purring as she sized him up and was happy with what she saw. “If you are truly the master, would you not rather see the student's best effort first?”

His rebuke was gentler, simply pushing her aside softly, and though she was mostly dead weight, he managed just fine. “I insist, my palette craves a new taste and I simply must have it.”
“Mon chéri, you simply do not refuse a woman willing to please.” She grabbed him forcefully, bringing him to the floor and straddling his chest, hand reaching back to slowly stroke his penis. “After all, you are a host, no? Should what pleases the women not be your top priority?”

“Certainly an experienced connoisseur pleasuring you would be a sweeter, more savoury experience.”

“Is it your place to question a lady?”
“Is it your place to call yourself one?”

Deigning to ignore that remark, she around on him, lying atop him but facing the other way. Her body pressed down hard on him as she leaned in closely to examine his penis more closely. As she did, Cilan grabbed the waist of her pants, digging his fingers in to catch the panties and nearly scratching her sides in the process, and pulled them down. Licking his lips in excitement, he looked at her crotch, raised over him and swaying slightly.

“You are about to see that even a c-rank connaisseuse is nothing to be underestimated!”
“Prepare to feel what a true master connoisseur can do with his mouth!”

“Bonjour! New tasting time s'il vous plaît!”

“It's tasting time!”

The two went on their spiels, so inebriated they weren't even aware the other was talking, and went for it at the same time. Burgundy took a few inches of Cilan into her mouth and he pulled her pussy to his lips and licked down her slit, and it took a few seconds the sensations to register with either of them. Once they did, both shivered a little, but persevered in their individual efforts. If they were both going down on each other, then clearly the only option was to out-do the other.

`Immediately, Burgundy could see how that was a bad idea. She wasn't completely inexperienced, but the instant he started, she immediately had difficulty in so much as focusing. “Merde,” she muttered after finishing dragging her tongue up his shaft. This merely meant there was an even greater challenge to overcome, and as she gripped his base and accepted him into her mouth, she knew there was a lot on the line. She could already picture him, bragging about how much better he was, how many times he brought her to orgasm with his mouth while he never came, cackling cruelly to her and leaving her on the bed to find a woman who could properly satisfy him.

Normally-collected Cilan wasn't much better off. The whiskey had all gone to his head and made him just as frustrated as she was. He'd show her once and for all, finally shut her down, and have fun doing it. He could feel her eagerness, both in how she acted and subtly within her taste. She wanted to prove herself, and while she stood little chance of doing so, he knew she would throw everything she could into giving him something nice to remember her by. And then hopefully go away. His fingers parted her folds, opening her up as his tongue caressed her insides lovingly.

She was so inebriated, between the marathon of shots and the wine before, that it was a wonder she was conscious and able to give him a decent blowjob. The fact she could even stay atop him was a miracle, though she wobbled and swayed enough that he hardly had to move at all, merely letting her grind on his tongue. Her face was red, part of it from frustration, part of it from drunkenness, and part of it, she realized, from the fact she had four inches of her rival in her mouth and his head between her legs. Not only was she supposed to hate him, but there was something about it all that felt disturbingly right, made her weak in the knees and press her body harder against him out of something other than laziness or spite.

Cilan came to similar conclusion, horrified at himself as his hips rocked upward gently, not simply out of a desire to get more into her mouth, but a gesture passion with a complex flavour running deeper than the mere skin. It was an act that spoke volumes and satisfied the whole palette, which worried him deeply. The smugness in his face started to ebb a little bit and he found himself earnestly eating her out not simply to prove his point, but because he wanted to hear her muffled moans, feel her hand grab at his thigh a little bit harder. It began to transcend the simply physical and enter a new course, one that spoke to more than the taste buds.

Slowly, Burgundy's technique grew more confident and refined, fed into by slow, encouraging feedback. Whenever she did something he really enjoyed, she found her clitoris under a blissful assault, and knew to do more of that. Her evaluation grew wordier, and though he was so deep in her mouth she didn't even think of trying to speak a single word, they fluttered around her mind wildly and without pause. Savoury. Exquisite. Love. More. Take me. She shut her eyes tightly, rocking back and forth against his body, moaning not in pleasure but in satisfaction of a more emotional sort. The competitive edge ebbed away, and she didn't care so much about beating him or proving she was his equal. She merely wanted to make him feel good.

Something clicked for those two, heads buried in each others' legs and lavishing each other. His fingers plunged into her as he made quick, sucking kisses against her clit. She was careful not to hit herself in the lips with the upper portion of her hand as it and her mouth moved quicker. Pretence slipped away and an eternity of frustrations melted on the floor beneath them, warming them. Or perhaps that was the whiskey. Their drunken tryst had gone from competitive to passionate in a way that spoke to both of them. Things settled so perfectly and both seemed to cool off, and surely the next thing said would be some concession or declaration, end the feud between them.

Burgundy slowly pulled up, kissing his tip. “A shame,” she slurred. “I expected you to be more experienced and refined. Your oral technique is like a shallow appetizer that does not speak well of the main course.”
The slow build toward something better than arguing snapped in half when she spoke. She knew immediately that something had gone wrong when she found herself rolled to the floor, shouting in surprise. Just as soon as she could figure out where she was, Cilan grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her up. She felt her back against the wall, legs kept loosely together by the pants down around her knees. He pressed her harder against it, hands still on her shoulders, spit-soaked penis against her thigh.

She made a low whimpering sound, though she wasn't sure if it was fright or shock or if she wondered how hard the retribution for her words was going to be. Her legs shook, which wasn't out of fear but simply to have free use of her legs again. She spread them a little and drew in a sharp breath, looking him right in the eye, seeing the fire.

“Bonjour! New tasting time s'il vous plaît!”

“It's tasting time!”

Again, they spoke in unison, this time ending on the same second, final syllable stressed a little harder as he plunged into her. She moaned, leaning harder against the wall as his next thrust rattled her. She knew what was coming, knew what she had stirred up, and for some reason that thought excited her. It was in poor judgement that she made that comment and ruined their mutual moment, but seeing the hungry smile he gave her, she knew that she had done the right thing. Had he not been pressed up against her already, that expression would have made her cross her legs and wince with arousal.

It did not take long at all for his thrusts to become quick, rapid, and powerful. There was nothing sensitive or passionate in what he did, and everything was in stark contrast to his normal methods, but he was too drunk and high on the moment to care. One of his hands grabbed her thigh, pulling her leg up so it rested in the crook of his hip, and dug his fingernails into her skin. She tried to suck in a harsh breath but instead she found his lips pressed to hers, tongue forcefully invading her mouth. She could taste herself all over him and the sentiment was mutual, but neither cared much about that. The more pressing matter was when she bit on his tongue and a warm, metallic taste thrilled her mouth. Her eyes shut tightly with excitement. He pressed her harder against the wall and she made little effort to fight back.

“Your inexperience is showing,” he snarled, hand grabbing her breast through her shirt and working it roughly. “Should I take your lack of resistance as proof that I am indeed the superior sommelier?”

She snapped right back. “Take it as proof you're slamming a drunk girl against a wall, salop.” Wrapping her arms around him, she matched him in the nails department, pressing harder to compensate for the fact he still wore his vest and dress shirt. As his cock slammed into her, filling her so utterly every time and making her inner thoughts moan despite her facade, she pressed even harder.

She did a fairly good job about it, seeing as the moment he began to hiss, he responded by leaning down and biting her shoulder, pushing his whole body against her to slam harder against the wall. He let go of her thigh and breast only for a moment, grumbling as he pulled his bow tie off. He seized her hands, shoved them behind her back, and with a surprising amount of dexterity for a drunk man, tied them up tightly. He smiled, resuming his groping and clawing, and giving her another heavy bite.

“Nique ta mere!” she screamed, and though it was clearly driven by anger, lust dripped from it just as it dripped between her legs. Being hatefucked against the wall, she had to admit, was the single most intense thing she had ever done, sexually.

The heavy thrusts meant that her backside hit the wall repeatedly, thumping loudly on the other side, to where Chili tried to sleep. It didn't take long, especially as they hurled insults at each other, for the redheaded gym leader to take issue with it. He got out of bed, banging on the other wall furiously. “Come on! You got the crazy chick, Cress is downstairs with Burgh causing a health code violation, I didn't score, let me sleep!” He continued the banging, occasionally shouting, “Hey!” in hopes they would listen.

“Shut up!” the two shouted back, and seemingly in spite, the sound of their fucking grew louder. Moans rose amidst the curses and insults and screams of pain. She had never taken Cilan for a biter, but the pain her shoulders told her otherwise. Or maybe he was just drunk. None of this seemed like Cilan at all, so it seemed fair to blame the alcohol. Of course, having been both the catalyst for this one-night-stand and for making him ravage her so furiously, she wasn't mad at alcohol.

Neither could last much longer. They both moaned, thighs soaked, pain all around, heads buzzing from the booze, and the intensity had seized them. Burgundy came first. “Merde!” she screamed, shaking against him as her pussy tightened hard on his penis and her body tingled with bliss. He followed soon after, slamming the hardest yet before burying himself inside her and finishing, spreading warmth through her. He groaned, biting her neck one last time before easing up a little on her.

He rested against her, both bathing in the afterglow, and kissed furiously. Not with anger or hate; neither tried to bite down on the other's tongue again. It was mere passion, a need to be together and hold tightly.

When the dust settled, though, and Cilan found himself still completely rigid, he pulled out of her and flashed another devilish smile. He grabbed her again, this time pushing her down hard over his desk. She groaned, bent over it, hands still tied back, cum leaking down her thigh, and struggling. “I'd certainly hope you were not full yet, that was a very uninteresting first course.”
In response, Cilan merely gave her ass a loud, heavy smack. This was going to be the most filling meal of their lives.
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The Bitter Taste of Wine and Defeat