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Untitled Quilava Lemon	By : sandlava Category: Pokemon > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 5127 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Don't own Pokemon, Quilava, or any registered trademarks of The Pokemon Company; am not writing for profit, yada yada

Chapter List
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The Quilava pawed at the ‘false’ earth. Every day, after the dark sky light-orb fell from the sky, the grass got wet. And water was bad, so he couldn't rest in water.

He shivered slightly at the thought. Water.

It was enough that those two wrinkles shawls fabric old men rarely fed him, and that so often he was called into this fake-world monster ball, without having to sit in water. But at least whenever those two happy leer monk cruel men did call him into his fake-world, it often meant he was going to meet someone nice. Most of the time they were females. They were always talking nice to him... and they always complimented him.

He blushed.

Sometimes it was males. They weren't always so kind... they were never kind. They talked rough and smelt rough and they touched rough, too... well, the ones that were male-males did. Like they had something to prove.

The ones that were female-males were just like the females.

He hoped he was going to meet someone. He hoped it was a female.

Maybe a female-male.

He flinched as his paw brushed wet grass again. Horrible water. Grass was easy, he could cope with grass. But always, when the light sky-orb rose after the dark-sky light-orb fell, the grass got wet.

He mewled, discomforted. Water!

Fuck it. He focused on himself, his flares bursting into life. If it was a male, they better prove themselves. Enough was enough. Males were never nice.

A final twist, and the bell-jar softly separated from its base. Lifted, the thick glass sparkled lightly, and Turk placed it back down on the table carefully, next to the Pokéball's pedestal. With the slight click of some connecting mechanism, he was able to pull the ball from its base.

With a sigh, he sat down on the soft, low bed again, still holding the ball, clasping it between his hands and staring at the button he knew he should be pushing. But, it just kept looking back at him. The thing was mocking him. Why was he afraid of that button?

He stared at it.

“Fuck.” he muttered, to nobody in particular. With a creeping sense of finality, he pressed the button, letting the ball drop from his fingers. It hit the floor with a hollow snick, bursting open – a jagged stream of white light flowing out of it, pooling with itself, glowing brightly in the already-well-lit room – the glare was too strong to cope with, and the Trainer shielded his eyes behind his arm, grimacing as the bright starburst flared painfully through his shut eyelids.

Slowly, the glow dissipated, the glare diminishing from behind his eyes.

Then, something mewled, a tone that rang as the ting of a low metal chime, tapped lightly.

“Quil-?”

It was an inquisitive sound, like a child raised from sleep. Turk rubbed his eyes, blinking in the aftermath of the bright flare, and looked over the creature he'd just summoned.

He let out a slow breath, admiring the sheen of the Pokemon's golden and blue fur. The Quilava was on all fours, and he gave it a quick guess of some three foot long, its slender body punctuated by two small, curved ears pointing from the sides of its smooth skull, tapering to a rounded snout. Two eyes, their shiny red irises gleaming, looked back at him with a fiery passion, as if intensely curious - or intensely angry...

The Quilava seemed to glance over Turk's face, as if some fierce intelligence was looking through him indifferently, even as he was admiring the creature. Then, as if from deep within the sizable ferret's throat, there was a low rumble. He realised, slowly.

It was growling at him. What had he done wrong-? He hadn't done anything!

A fear gripped him, like a spark that shot through his legs, and up his chest, freezing his mind - emotion left him. The Quilava looked cute at first. Hell, it had sounded cute. But, growling, one was reminded of the feral power that lay latent in the muscle that seemed to ripple slightly under the Quilava's skin, beneath the smooth, glistening lupine fur...

He chuckled, despite himself. "Cute," he said, voicing the thought that was now so ironic to him.

The Quilava stopped growling, blinking up at the Trainer as if taken aback. It tilted its head, as if confused. An ear twitched, flicking humourously at the side of its head. Its eyes unfurrowed. Now, strangely, it seemed... likeable.

Turk couldn't help it. The situation was bizarre. In an ornate hotel room at the top floor of an obscure 'shop', surrounded by antique furniture, he found himself the client of two ancient men and being backed up into the wall the bed he was sitting on was against by nothing less than a sleek, fire-type ferret, and one that had flipped from hostility to something that seemed like an animal pride, just at the term 'cute' - - a laugh, an honest laugh, escaped from his chest.

"Nah," he grinned, looking down at the creature. "You're not just cute, are you-? You look like a pretty powerful Quilava..."

He tailed off, admiring the creature's physique for a moment. It was sleek, to be honest to himself. With a grudging admiration, he relented to himself - this Quilava looked, just from this short meeting, like something of a challenger... if this was the Pokémon his daughter was going to grow up with, she would have no trouble. That seemed obvious.

The Quilava preened, his initial anger vanishing. Well, well, well-! This was a surprise... the man he'd been due to meet wasn't like the others. He was still a male, and he looked like a male-male... but no other male had called him 'cute' before...

You look like a pretty powerful Quilava...

Powerful- -! Yes, yes, yes! He liked this man. He liked this man very much. Oh, he was very powerful alright, the females always noticed...

For a moment, the Quilava allowed himself the pleasure of remembering his past conquests.

Then he put the memories away. Enough of the past. Not of all of it was so great. And for now, the present called.

Oh, and the man was making noises. Was he speaking?

You know, little guy - [Little! Maybe this man wasn't so great...] - I was starting to worry...

He chided himself. He could feel an embarrassment... it wasn't flushing in his cheeks, but his emotions were certainly burning.

“I... I'd started to suspect this place of something it's probably not,” he started, before tailing off. Who was he even speaking to- ? The Quilava?

That'd be a mistake. He was, after all, talking about the 'mon he was talking to... He glanced at the ferret, again; this time, he was surprised.

It was sat back on its haunches, looking up at him. Its head was tilted, as if curious, interested; there was a keen intelligence in those deep crimson eyes that shone back at his gaze – and there was something that let him know the Quilava, Pokemon as it was, was listening to him.

He felt heat behind his cheeks. It wasn't something that happened often... but, it was undeniable. There was something indomitable about the Quilava's stare. It was a sharp interest, something that couldn't be denied. He'd got the creature's attention, somehow. And he could tell he didn't want to lose it. And he didn't want to look away from its eyes... there was no other word to describe them, as much as he searched. There was a tempered fury in them, an unmatched intellect, a fiery spirit. It had beautiful eyes.

Shit...

“I-It's nearly my daughter's birthday,” he began, cursing inwardly for the stammer that he couldn't account for. Something about this Quilava was... there just wasn't any way round it. It was intimidating. Yet, the attention... it felt flattering. He couldn't understand it; he was confused.

Why do I feel this way?

“a-and... “

Shit, shit, shit...

“... she's nearly nine. I-I, mean, she will be ten,” he corrected himself, catching his breath. How could he forget that? What on earth? Who was he to forget his own daughter's age?

“- - back when I was ten,” he resumed, trying furiously to hold back a blush that he could tell was creeping up to his cheeks, as the Quilava maintained its intense stare. “There was a professor of Pokemon. A researcher, of creatures like you. S-she asked...”

The Quilava tilted its head to the other side. There was something in the glint of its eyes...

He finds me funny. Of all things, funny.

“... anyway, it doesn't matter, but I got to see the world. My, uh, companion, was a Cyndaquil. Before long, she was a Typhlosion... mean brute, too. She really did some amazing things...”

He caught himself, before he went too far down that road. Memories could hurt.

Turk glanced at his listener. His crimson eyes glittered; an ear flicked. He was paying more attention than ever before, it seemed...

“-- - a-and, I want to do the same thing for my daughter. My, ah, Typhlosion, she had a child. Another Cyndaquil, and my daughter – she was young then – she really loved him. They played every day, until, well...”

He paused, shaking his head. Rambling, dammit.

But why do I care so much? I'm talking to a Pokemon...

He was exasperated, he realised. The day had been long, the week had been hard, and it'd been a while since he'd been with any company. Confused; tired, and shooting the breeze with a flammable ferret.

He collapsed backwards, hitting the soft mattress silently.

This was a surprise.

He’d been taken in a virtual world-ball to see a man. Yet another man who wanted him. Still, there was something about this one...

The man had called him cute. And now, the man was saying lots of words at him. The guy wasn’t even making the first move- and hell, if that wasn’t something he had to deal with way too often...

And even as the man was talking at him, suddenly, the man stopped, choosing not to finish his sentence, but to fall backwards onto the human sleep cushion.

The Quilava blinked. Well, the man certainly liked using his mouth.

A flow of energy passed through his body in excitement; nobody needed to tell him - he was definitely going to be making the first move today. The guy was obviously a first-timer... and they were always, always fun to break in.

And hell if he wasn’t going to put that man’s mouth to proper use.
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Untitled Quilava Lemon