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You Don\'t Meet Nice Girls in Coffee Shops	By : megadeth425 Category: Pokemon > General Views: 3464 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon and make no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
Yes, this is a very cracky pairing, I admit that. I don't even remember where the idea came from, but the mental image I got of them snarking on everything and the strange courtship it entailed, and it just slew me. So bear with me, have some patience, and you may understand, too. And otherwise, there's plenty of completely unrelated sex scenes in the story. This is gonna be a long one; this isn't even a third of the story.

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I never knew how much I hated boats until I spent a week in them.
The ferry between Snowpoint and Sinnoh's Battle Zone sat in the docks idly as just under a hundred passengers disembarked, all lightly bronzed from the midsummer sun and hauling near-identical backpacks with them; those heavy-duty hiking packs meant for long trips, save for some who had smaller backpacks or even large purses. Every one of them was a Pokemon trainer, and most were pretty good--that was a requirement, really. Anybody who didn't at least have a nice collection of gym badges wouldn't even make it through the preliminary qualifier. In that sense, the Battle Frontier was even more exclusive than the Elite Four. You didn't get into these tournaments by collecting bottle caps.
Back home in Unova, we had the Battle Subway. Not nearly so prestigious, and run by two twins with enough issues between them to challenge modern psychology for a few years. All levels of trainer came and weren't really separated, which made dominating it as a Pokemon League champion a breeze. Nimbasa provided me with no challenge, and it ended the same for my friends, White and--to my surprise--Bianca. We needed more, hence the journey to Sinnoh.
"See Cheren, that wasn't so bad," White said cheerily, though stretching that followed betrayed her comfort. She was a wiry girl, tomboyish and energetic, sometimes proving a little more masculine than I at things. Her usual getup of a black vest, white shirt, and a a pair of short shorts may have been fine back home, but even during the summer, Snowpoint was a cold place. It was only then, under the warm sun that she shed the tacky parka she bought in Snowpoint. Her brown hair was tied into some kind of ponytail thing that stuck out the back of her baseball cap.
I scoffed, "We spent six days on a boat just to get to Sinnoh, then another day to get here. In that week, Bianca could have overcome her fear of flying and we'd have a few days to spare."
A wordless sound, something like a small child disagreeing with their parent, came from behind White. No longer shielded from my vision by the bulky parka, Bianca grumbled a little. Standing next to the tomboy, her long white skirt, matching shirt, and frilly orange vest looked even girlier than usual. Her blond hair had this strange, curved bounce to it probably helped by the green hat always atop her head, save for two clumps that curved up like horns or wings or something. I was convinced one day they would start moving and she'd fly off; from Bianca, it wouldn't be a surprise. White had this confident sureness to her, while Bianca seemed a lot less sure, but a lot more enthusiastic.
About everything.
Almost everything, at least. What few things she wasn't brimming with excitement over seemed to make things more difficult than her over-excitement and tendency to--quite literally--run right into problems. One of them, surprisingly, was flying; she was absolutely terrified of getting on a plane. That made going halfway across the globe a bit of a problem, costing me a week of my life in the process. The various boat rides did not set the trip off on the right foot, and I was more than a little frustrated at Bianca for it.
"I feel weird being off the ground," she said, trying her best to readjust the shoulder strap on her bag nonchalantly.
Another scoff, and I adjusted my own shoulders to make the straps on my backpack more comfortable as White motioned for us to start walking. "Of course, can't be so high that the air pressure is even outside the plane and in your head."
The insult soared right by Bianca, but White caught it and a swift smack across the back of my head made lean forward a little. It felt a bit wrong sometimes, sarcastically mocking a girl who sometimes couldn't even tell I was insulting her, but boy was she asking for it sometimes. Still, I begrudgingly shut my mouth to keep White from hitting me again, since she tended to start with a smack and build up to things it hurt just thinking about. My fingers clumsily undid the middle button on my jacket to let it open up--we were far enough from Snowpoint for it to feel warm again.
Bianca let out a gasp as she marvelled at the island's main attraction looming in the distance. The immense complex of the Battle Frontier seemed overwhelming even from the docks, like the pleasure dome rising up from Xanadu. The opulent turrets of the battle castle peeked out over the walls separating the frontier proper from the outside world, almost masturbatory in how utterly beautiful they were, belonging on some scenic countryside instead of being a tourist trap and battle arena. The other structure to rise up over the walls was the battle tower, much more practical in its design, but still more lavish than any sky scrapers back home. It boasted its presence to the world for miles away, voyeuristically watching over the entire island. The sights that lay just beyond the walls were surely just as beautiful, if not more so. I couldn't even fathom the years of dedication and genius that went into making it as majestic as it now stood before me.
"It looks alright," I muttered, continuing to walk forward while Bianca stopped a moment to take things in. White slowed down too, hurrying Bianca when I started to get too far ahead.
At the gates, our trek slowed considerably as all the trainers from the boat lined up. In the past year or so, new standards were added to the frontier, requiring trainers to pass certain tests in order to host only trainers who had proven themselves. Without showing they had all eight gym badges from at least one region, they wouldn't even be allowed into the complex proper. Just that wouldn't be enough to become a fully-fledged contender, but it would start us on the road to it. The registration line killed our brisk pace immediately, and even with our hurried walk over, we were still twenty or so trainers back from the front of the line.
My hands dug into the pockets of my jacket and I leaned against a solid, light grey wall. We waited in relative silence--Bianca made a few impatient complaints every now and then--as a week of uneventful boat rides exhausted virtually all grounds for conversation. We had been friends so long though, that a week of talking made a subsequent hour of silence feel natural, and being on ground made the hour fly right by. The group of three trainers in front of us were all from the same podunk Sinnoh town and had about seven badges between them, but felt it necessary to make a scene and proclaim they were still great trainers who wanted to cut out the middleman of gym leader fights and rock faces on the big stage.
"I'm going to be the best!" the apparent leader exclaimed. "I am the best! Let me in and I'll prove it. Lets battle right now!"
I often got accused of being a bit of a hot head and putting a bit too much emphasis on being the best, whatever vague meaning that accolade was supposed to hold. Compared to this guy, however, I was humble and just looking to have some fun. He was irritating me--though admittedly, that wasn't very hard to do--and I was getting a bit tired of it.
My tongue clicked, and White reached out to grab my wrist and keep me back with that best friend sixth sense that told her exactly what I was going to do. My arm was already up though, and I strode over to the loudmouth. He was a bit younger than me, wearing a spotless white suit that probably cost more than a week of Battle Subway winnings, with blue hair so perfectly coiffed and tended to that one of his two companions was probably his tagalong hair stylist. His face exuded all of the arrogance and self-entitlement that came from the very worst up the upper class, and explained his attitude nicely. He had one of those faces that looked like he was always looking at something disgusting. Both of his companions seemed older than him, probably in their early twenties, both with neutral expressions and clothes less extravagant, a boy and a girl. Hired servants maybe; older, more experienced trainers paid outrageous amounts of money to make sure he never actually had to lift a finger or actually do anything.
"Go home, brat," I snarled. The familiar groan from White and worried gasp from Bianca rang out behind me, a bit more distant than I thought, and everyone else had fallen silent. "You beat a couple gym leaders--or at least, your friends did it on your behalf--with Pokemon your parents probably paid lots of money to have bred to perfection, and you think that entitles you to step past all these people? You probably grew up in a happy bubble where you got everything with less work than the people unfortunate enough to need to learn courtesy when they grew up, but now it's time to grow up and head to the back of the line. Everyone here earned their spot in this line, and mom and dad won't buy your way out of this."
Rich Kid looked at me with what was probably a disgusted, indignant expression. It was hard to tell; he looked the same as he did when we got into the line. His hangers-on looked at me horrified. The man on his left was much bigger than I was, with lots of dull bulk that implied lots of brute force training and little refinement. Most trainers tended to develop lots of lean, spry muscle from walking and biking everywhere, but his build suggested a strength trainer, or as I like to call it, someone who can kick my ass. He looked defensive, which only supported the "hired muscle" idea. Blond hair was cropped to the skull so short it was probably shaved regularly. His suit wasn't nearly as expensive as his client's, but still more than I could afford while actually eating. His shoulders moved around a little, possibly pre-whoop ass stretching.
The woman, on the other hand, looked at me with the sort of vague worry of someone too demure to show much else. His stylist, I guessed. She wore a maid-like outfit, reasonably changed to adapt for the outside, but as spotless as everyone else's. I sincerely doubted there was much in the way of actual walking these three did. Her light brown hair was cut tidily to somewhere just past the neck and tended to expertly, one of those people who worked intently to never get any of the hair problems people without access to expensive hair treatments had to suffer through. At that thought, the locks of black hair that, to my continued annoyance, refused to do anything but stand up, almost seemed to snicker a little. The dress hid a lot of what I assumed were generous curves. She was a very attractive woman, which made it all the worse that she seemed to have her spirit beaten into submission by such an irritating prat.
"What did you just say?" he sneered, taking a step toward me, followed by his lumbering enforcer. "Who are you? You're nobody. Get back in line, shut up, and stop messing with greatness."Most people would have taken one look at the brute and cowered away. I took another step forward, my entire body clenching up. My fingernails turned white from the pressure of being pushed so hard into my palm. Some people would have called it courage, but from where I was standing, it was stupidity. It was the right kind, though. Not the ignorant unknowing I'd been known to ridicule someone for. No, the willingness to stand up against your own better interests simply because someone was being an asshole.
"The only great thing here is the size of your ego, and you don't even have the fights to back it up. Everything you're proud of has been dropped in your lap, and you think that makes you King Dick? What have you ever done? Nothing. You don't get to lord all over people and piss in whatever corner you want just because you bought your way to a whole three gym badges. In a real fight, any decent trainer could cut you to shreds, and I'd hate to see how your self-entitled ass gets when you actually lose a fight. My money's on some tears, lots of screaming, maybe even a few punches thrown. Go home, ask for another Ponyta, and come back when you've actually accomplished something. Or once Daddy buys you enough gym badges."
Noble or not, stupidity was still stupidity at the root of it all.
The dumb muscle was already moving by the time I finished my sentences, and there was nothing I could do about it. He was faster, stronger, and bigger than I was. I could only stand there and make an unsavoury comment about getting blood on his suit that got cut off by his first striking me square in the gut. I fell back, and unsurprisingly, a few red specks splattered onto the white fabric as I stumbled into White and Bianca's waiting grasp. I spat some more blood up, and in my infinite wisdom, responded another smartass remark. "Funny, I thought you'd be rich enough to afford some real muscle, not a Bidoof in a human costume."
"You're still talking, and you think I won't plug your fucking mouth with my fist? What, do you think I'm stupid?" His voice was a deep, resonant basso with an undercurrent of total cluelessness and ignorance. Maybe I'm just insufferable, but when you get stupid enough; "potato with a mouth", 100% stupid, the voice gives it away immediately.
"I know you don't have the brains that Arceus gave corn." It incensed him enough that he was moving in for another strike, but by that point everyone's attention was square on the mess.
Security guards, likely called while the brat raised a shitstorm, quickly seized the man and pulled him back with only inches to spare. By that point, my heart raced and my head buzzed with the heavy presence of adrenaline, and I probably shouted a few more insults now that I was safe--it was hard to tell what I was doing. I squirmed angrily in Bianca and White's grasp as a few more guards came to deal with the situation, as well as a suited man whose anger was well hidden behind his veneer of civility and reason. Utterly bland-looking in every way, he fit the bill perfectly for "problem solver".
"Sir," he said, regarding the brat. "You and your companions don't have the qualifications to even gain preliminary access to the facility, and a physical assault will not help. I am going to ask you kindly to leave, and if you choose to cause more problems, then I will be forced to ban you permanently, even when you are certified to compete. These guards will escort you out." He turned on his heel to face me. "And you three. I don't think you were really gunning for a fight, but what happened happened, and we don't allow physical confrontations between trainers. I'll let you off without a formal warning this time, but please try to keep your attitude in check next time. There's plenty of braggarts able to complete who will be just as arrogant. Proceed through processing and stay out of trouble.
My head rang, my blood raced, and another cough brought more blood past my lips. I seemed torn between pain and ecstasy and the heavy thump of my heart shaking my body a hundred times a second. Adrenaline raced through every vein with unending excitement. I was king of the world, and spitting up blood was only a challenge to my authority I had ruthlessly slaughtered. Confused, excited, and a little high, I started to laugh one of those heavy, cackling laughs only the insane and the cartoonishly evil would even consider.
"Cheren!" White snapped, and suddenly all of reality violently came back to me with a degree of whiplash that made me gasp and shake a little. We were past the line now, sitting on a bench by the exit, both girls staring at me wide-eyed. "How could you be so stupid?"
"He was a dick." I still wasn't completely aware of my actions, but something told me that I met my friend's angry expression with a shit-eating grin. My hand wiped some blood from my lip and I stared at her with utter conviction. I wasn't wrong in standing up to him, and I didn't resort to violence myself.
She groaned, looked to Bianca for some backup. The blonde fidgeted a little and spoke. "You shouldn't be picking fights like that, you could have gotten really hurt."
"Don't do that again," White added sternly.
"Fine," I muttered, "Next time, I promise I won't not punch someone."
Another scowl from White, and I closed my eyes and widened the grin. Smartass remarks were like a drug me.
"Has Cheren grown some claws?" came a voice behind us that would have surprised me had it not been so distinct I placed it immediately. Also, that we were expecting to meet up with him there helped. We turned our heads to see N, the newest member, so to speak, of our little group of friends. He had a good five or six years on us, but he made up for that with a more childish mind than is probably healthy. His wild and unkempt green hair ran down his back in a loose ponytail while other bits of it poked out of his cap. He wore a loose white shirt of a tighter black one, spitting in the face of the summer heat. His pants were bland, beige, and utterly unremarkable. What drew the eye, aside from the hair, was the assortment of strange accessories he had, none of them too sensible, practical, or stylish, but all quintessentially 'him'. They showed off his childish demeanour and painted him as about as innocent as he really was, the product of a very abusive childhood. He had come to be friends with us in the year and a half since that all went down, and his extremist view on Pokemon and trainers softened greatly. He saw us as shining examples of trainers who were friends with their Pokemon, who didn't abuse them, and he softened up on humanity as a result. He also started dating White and cut in on some of the gang's more 'interesting' activities.
Not much of a competitive battler, while we fought our way through the Battle Subway, he flew over to Sinnoh and somehow lucked into a staff position at the Battle Frontier. He was mainly in charge of the same squishy hippie stuff he always preached about, but now he had a licence to kick people out for abusing their Pokemon. It was a pretty sweet gig; I wish I had a badge that let me yell at people.
All of White's anger vanished as she saw the man child approach, hopping over the bench to tackle him to the ground in a hug that, in more private places, would have gotten a lot less g-rated. They kissed for a moment as Bianca wandered off from the bench at the sight of a trainer and his Charmander walking back. Good, it had been a while since she saw something cute and wandered off.
"Let's go," N said. "I can skip you through the line to room registration and you guys can all relax."
I snorted. N's idea of relaxing was not something that needed a private room.

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The living quarters were surprisingly nice. We got two adjoining bedrooms, one with a massive bed for a couple and another with two still pretty big beds. It was nicer than the Pokemon Center back in Nimbasa, even when you put money down for one of the private rooms for a night. The beds were so lush and soft that the moment we got in I lay down on one, not caring where my bag fell or how hard. It was the softest that I'd ever lay down on, and I could only imagine how divine it would be after a long day, under the blankets; the works. There was a nice television, classy furniture everywhere, and a bathroom that looked like the most expensive place I would ever pee, but all that was second to the incredible bed.
My sweet silence didn't last too long, though. The problem with adjoining rooms is that White can generally make an entire floor aware of what she's doing if she gets worked up enough, and nothing got her worked up like "I've missed you" sex. The two must have been tearing each others' clothes off before the door was even closed, and only a moment after White started to moan did I hear them hit the adjoining wall with such force it shook me a little.
A second later, Bianca climbed onto the bed with all the subtlety of a steam train, not that I really minded. Her lips met mine and, though there was probably still some blood taste in my mouth, it didn't stop her. My hands worked at my belt while she started to wiggle out of her skirt.
We were crazy kids, and, call me a degenerate, but sex is good. Bianca and I weren't in a relationship the same way she and White weren't, or White and I, or even N and I, on occasion. Just in our late teens with tons of hormones and pent-up sexual frustration we liked to resolve regularly and to our complete, mutual satisfaction. Hell, had White and N not been in the room next to us having their alone time, it would probably be a lot more hectic in here. We were friends, and in time that came to encompass looking after each other in other ways. It was all good fun, and in the event one of us got into a relationship with someone who didn't like it, we'd respect that decision and that'd be it. Luckily, White's current boyfriend was completely open to a whole world of things. Sometimes a bit too open.
Bianca and I shuffled up the bed a little so that I could lean against the headboard. Her hat was noticeably missing, but every red-blooded instinct in me took to noticing what else she was missing. Her skirt was off, and her pantyhose were pulled down to her knees. Her vest was also discarded, and she worked at tugging her shirt off as well. It made me feel a little guilty; in that time, all I had accomplished was wiggling out of my pants and unbuttoning my boxers. I had to respect her enthusiasm, as she had to go through a lot more than I did, and as an apology, I helped her out of her shirt. She was quick to get undressed, not one for the kind of slow foreplay and disrobing that I often got in the mood for.
Our kiss resumed, her head moving in a bit too fast and almost hurting a little as a result. I scowled, but it didn't really matter. Our ferry ride hadn't left us much privacy, and it was time to collect on a few missed rounds.
Her hand seized me with all of the swiftness she was known for, and my hips jerked a little as my own hands reached out to her body, my own leaning over in the process. Her body twitched a little as I rubbed along her waist, just above the band of her panties in a slow, tormenting pattern. The study in contrasts of our masturbation was always a fun one. She fidgeted around as the other hand dragged two fingers down the middle of her chest, moving in a slow waving motion that constantly teased stimulation before hooking into her bra and stopping.
That really got her going, and it made her hand move faster in my lap. We kissed, and her mouth was just as impatient as the rest of her, no time for slow building. Most times, I would at least try to go slow with her, even if it meant she'd brute force me to orgasm and I'd go down on her to finish it, but fuck it, I was horny. My hands suddenly snapped into motion like my finesse had been chains they'd struggled at, and now sweet freedom awaited. Her mound was already nice and moist as my fingers brushed against in a couple time before falling into position, sinking two fingers inside of her while the others tended to her outside.
The other hand snuck its way into the cup of her bra and grasped one of her breasts. She was the better endowed--and overall curvier--of the two girls I grew up with, and the seventeen year-old's breast was more than a nice handful for me to knead. My fingertips brushed against her pink nipple and she whimpered a little into my ear.
Her free hand ran up my shirt, which wasn't too arousing a sensation by itself, but any physical contact was wonderful when a girl was giving you a hand job. She didn't like keeping her hands busy, and had I longer hair that's where she'd go to right away. Instead, she merely ran her hand along my skin, soft fingers all moving around in slow, aimless patterns.
My leg stretched out a little as it got a little cramped in its position, awkwardly bent and tucked beneath my other leg. Somehow, an idea came across me, and I pitched myself over, straddling her lap, never drawing my hands out from beneath her undergarments. Our kiss broke briefly, but it started up again, our bodies now close together. Admittedly, it made our masturbation a little more difficult, but damn if the feeling of her warm, soft body against mine wasn't worth all the mild inconvenience in the world.
She looked adorable, Her wide green eyes looking at me, happy as could be, the funny shape of her lips when our kiss broke in the transfer to her lap. We weren't matched too well for an actual relationship in terms of personality or emotion, but she was precisely the kind of girl I would feel up in hotel rooms and join in strange casual sex groups with. We, White, and N were that to a T. Curvy, adorable, and good in bed? I couldn't ask for anything more with her. When White lay atop her, contrasting curves with leanness and an ass not so much round as firm, it was the end of me. Every time.
We started to move our bodies a little, getting a nice grinding motion going, and at that point we were one article of clothing removed from actual fucking. Not that it mattered, we'd have still started with this if she were bottomless. For all her lack of patience, she didn't just jump into direct intercourse. She understood foreplay, just didn't think it should be slow, and the thought of even just doing it to warm up instead of following it through to orgasm was unthinkable. My fingers pumping in and out of her twat grew more slick as her juices really got going, and honestly, I didn't care how she viewed foreplay. The regular, rapid smacking sound of her fist against my pelvis played in with our moans breaths, providing a steady beat for our dance.
"Cheren," she moaned into my mouth, hot breath with a vague taste of cinnamon--she had a few bakery treats to snack on--filling my mouth. Her mouth was as sweet as the food she always ate, lips soft and trembling against mine. That did it for me--I was a sucker for adorable little reactions like that. I groaned, suddenly rigid in her lap as my seed spurted out, trickling down her clenched fist where it didn't land on her stomach or my shirt.
She pulled her hand from my crotch and smirked, pulling away from our kiss. "You came first," she sang, but I was two steps ahead of her, already making my way down her body, tugging at her panties so I could taste her nectar.

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By the time we were done, a shivering Bianca sat in my lap, huddled in the corner of the shower, my spent penis still limp inside her as we made out. The hot water had been long spent, and we'd endured cold water for the last twenty or so minutes of our shower sex, but neither of us cared enough to kill the water.
After drying off and getting dressed, we decided it was supper time, which meant we could hit the variety of restaurants around the frontier. We knocked on White and N's door, but the only we answer we got was a string of moans, and we decided to leave them to their business.
My head was clearer as we stepped outside than it was earlier, what with the ringing in my head silenced and my vision straight. Now that I was able to perceive things other than smug glory, I could take in just how wonderful the whole place was. This was for the upper crest of trainers, and oh, how it showed. Everything seemed pristine, almost unreal to a small-town boy used to seeing sleepy towns and bustling metropoli. The frontier was pretty much a small, functional town for the most part, though it lacked anything beyond the necessities. The Pokemart was second only to those massive department stores that reached higher than some office building in size. There was a string of restaurants of various cuisines and price point whose smells all wafted right into our direction when we stepped outside. Trainers came and went, moving alone and in small groups, with a whole array of expressions from starry-eyed wonderment to overwhelmed fright, post-victory satisfaction to the moping of crushed dreams.
For the second time in a long while, I felt like I was around peers and equals. The Battle Subway wasn't so large or so challenging, and oh how futile it was challenging wandering trainers on routes between towns. No, for the first time since I challenged the Elite Four, I felt like there was competition, a battle worth fighting. Every part of my fighting instinct, of my desire to be stronger and better and victorious, buzzed with what I could only call childish giddiness at the prospect. I'd start fighting at the first opportunity, and it would be glorious.
Of course, I still had to go through the next round of qualifying. If I flunked it, it would be a year before I could even try again. I was confident, but there was that niggling doubt in the back of my head that said hand jobs weren't going to get me anywhere, that after dinner, I had better go out and start training intensely, to keep pushing myself and grow even stronger.
"White and N seem happy," Bianca murmured as we set foot in the greasy burger joint; sort of the obvious place. You get a good idea of a place's quality by how good the fast food is.
I nodded. "Well, they haven't seen each other in months, of course they're happy. Even if they hated each other, they'd be thrilled."
"I don't-- You're so pessimistic." We came to the back of the line and our voices dropped in volume that way they always did on instinct when you stood still in close proximity with strangers. "No, they're good for each other, it's a happy relationship. I just mean..."
"Wouldn't it be nice if you were happy with someone like that."
"Yeah."
"Don't worry. We all feel like that; waiting until the day we save the world from a sheltered man child’s evil father and fall hopelessly in love. Your time will come."
Bianca sighed, but we reached the counter, so she had to stop so we could order our food. We stayed relatively silent after that, partly because I think she forgot what we were talking about--she did that sometimes. When we got our trays and sat down with them, she had her usual smile back where previously it had soured a little during our conversation. "Is your stomach okay?"
I nodded. "He didn't hit me that hard anyway. I'm fine now."
"Are you sure?" she leaned her free hand over to pat my arm as her other grabbed the drink and took a sip.
"I am." I unwrapped my burger and we started eating. It had been a long day, and sex had further tired us out. It was good to get some food in me. Food was a bit subjective, of course, but hey; it was warm, tasted alright, and didn't upset my stomach. After the craziness of the day--relative to my past few, at least--the pre-processed soullessness tasted better than I remembered.
After about a minute, I looked up at Bianca, pushing my glasses up against my face a little. She was still; not just quiet, itself unusual, but still. Unmoving. She sat there eating her food and didn't make a sound or a single fidgety motion. I had seen Bianca scared shitless, near the point of tears, threatened; the whole nine yards. But silent? When Bianca thought, it was always after the fact, a slow conclusion reached long after there's any excuse to not get it yet. She was too busy living in the moment to ponder the immediate beyond some baseline level of worry and self-esteem issues that didn't usually stop her. Something was bothering her.
"Talk to me." It wasn't something I said often, especially to Bianca, but something was troubling her, so my usual relentless sarcasm could at least wait until after she explained herself. Witty barbs aside, she was my friend and I still cared deeply about her. Resting my food on the wrapper, I leaned in a little in
She looked at me with a raised eyebrow for about ten or fifteen seconds before setting her food down. "You don't really believe in love, do you?"
"You were concerned about my love life this whole time? I'm touched."
Her face flashed with a tinge of embarrassment and just a little frustration. "Do you?"
Sighing, I leaned back a little. "I believe some people feel love. Who am I to tell people who they feel? But at the end of it, we're a series of nerves firing off. I have friends, and I have sex. At the core, isn't that was love is?"
"No!" she said louder than she should have, but was unshaken by the several heads turning to look at her. "Not at all. Love is saying you want to spend your life with someone. It's romantic and sweet. You don't want any of that?"
I took a sip of my drink as she spoke. "Not really, no. It's not for me. At least not now. Maybe when I'm 40, balding, and chained to a desk in Nimbasa, writing reports and avoiding sarcasm biting down on my tongue harder than White does when she gets going. Waking up every day lonely and desperate for companionship. But I'll stick to what I've got for now."
Bianca shook her head as she finished off her last few bites. "So what now? Go back to the hotel?""I think I'm going for a run, actually. My Pokemon haven't gotten any exercise in a while, and I want them to be in good shape."
My friend leaned in and kissed me on the cheek before setting off hurriedly, as was usual for her, leaving her tray, empty cup, and wrapper for me to deal with. I slid all of it onto my tray and actually followed basic fast food etiquette by throwing my garbage out before setting off. Quick to consult a map, I found a great trail that started and ended next to the hotel. I tossed the Pokeball on my belt out and shouted, "Emboar, let's go jogging."
Emboar was my first Pokemon and the star of my team. The qualifier fight would involve a one-on-one battle, one Pokemon each, and there was never a doubt in my mind about who it would be. He would lay on the hurt better than Liepard or Unfezant would. He had seen very little life over the week-long trip, and he only smirked at me a minute before darting off down the trail. I shouted, "Hey!" and followed him.
Maybe it was seeing nothing but water for days, but the path was wonderful. Everything seemed so alive as we went, thriving and healthy. A fragrant smell of flowers filled my nostrils and nature was loud and happy all around us, with leaves rustling lightly. A few trainers took leisurely strolls, and one couple out the corner of my eye seemed to be just coming back on the trail after likely doing unspeakable things.
Running gave me lots of time, and I spent most of it thinking. Thinking about the future mostly, about winning my next battle. That had been a lot less frequent as the battle subway stopped challenging me, but this was a new place, a stronger place. And again, being stronger became everything. Alder had tempered my rage and passion a little, teaching me how much more there was than just being better and winning battles through strength. It may not have been everything, but it still mattered, especially where my next year of life was concerned. I couldn't do much longer at the Battle Subway, and the next best thing would be challenging the Sinnoh League, which still wasn't nearly as exciting. I had to win, had to get stronger.
Bianca's words rang in my head, but I pushed them away. No, doubt and wondering about love wouldn't help. I had to be stronger, and stuff like that would get in the way. Relaxing and having time to do things I enjoyed was great; there was a cafe that looked nice and quiet, so it would be worth checking that out. And of course, plenty of unspeakable things would occur in our room. But not doubt. Not love. Not thinking about if I really believed in something. A lot of battling was about the psychological, how you felt going in and how clear your head was through it all. If I didn't keep myself together, it would be a repeat of my first round at the Battle Subway.
Alder told me that strength wasn't everything, and he was right. But he also told lots of half-truths and outright lies. Strength was still important. Strength being a general term here, applying to speed and tactics as well. Bonds were important, but never an issue for me. Alder had told me lots of things, and not all of them were to be taken seriously.
"Love is saying you want to spend your life with someone."
"Oh yeah?" I panted, running along my fire-type, whose concept of a leisurely jog was a bit different than mine. "Well once you hit thirty, your metabolism will fail and you'll get fat from eating all those sweets."
Emboar turned to look at me. It wasn't a sign of mental health, insulting your friends' echoed words out loud, and Emboar didn't even understand I was doing that. He thought I was calling him fat or something, I guess.
"Bianca," I muttered breathlessly.
He shook his head and we continued the rest of our walk in silence, while I tried my best not to think. By the time we finished, I was exhausted, and the sun had gone down. Being mid summer, that meant it was late enough to go to sleep, so I trooped up to my hotel room, stripped down to my t-shirt and boxers, and just lazily waved Bianca off when she asked if I was up for some more sex. There was a low hum when I closed my eyes, followed by a gasp just as I began to drift off.

..................................................................

It can't have been long after I fell asleep that I was rudely awoken. A heavy weight against my body, warm and soft, made its presence known, followed soon after by a kiss to the neck, a hand in my hair, and another in my underwear.
"I want to sleep," I muttered, trying weakly to shake the person off of me. "Come on, it's been a long day."
The wordless response was merely to feel me up.
"N," I murmured. His touch was distinctive. Bianca was too fast and less subtle, so that ruled her out. And of course, White wasn't big enough to be that heavy. But above all, N's hand was familiar, and he had a strange way of touching people. It was a fleeting sort of sensation, and his hands were always gentle and soft from never having too much to use them for. And if it made any sense, they sort of spoke, conveyed emotion that no other touch ever did. It was a thousand kinds of indescribable and pretentiously poetic, and... And--
"So good."
My body pushed against his a little, and his kisses trailed up from my neck. He was so gentle with me at the beginning, ruffling up my hair a little. "I think White and I have had enough alone time," he purred with that soft voice of his, and my eyes shut tightly.
"Where'd she go?" I grunted, trying to contain myself as his clenched fist moved in a slow, elliptical motion and capped each downward stroke with a light kiss. It was just my luck that every guy I was with had a penchant for being taller and heavier than I was, pinning me against the mattress as they did things to me. Every last one. His head moved and his hair dropped down from his shoulder, brushing against my face. I relented, giving him a haphazard kiss on the cheek and giving myself to him.
The kiss seemed to really get him going, as suddenly the presence of his thumb made itself known at my tip, and suddenly everything was maddening. "On Bianca's bed," he said smoothly, pulling away from my face so I could turn my head.
On the other bed, a half-asleep Bianca made little sounds as White basically did the same as her boyfriend to wake up the sleeping blonde. Bianca had no problems with waking up, though, and her own hands began to feel along White's sinewy body. The bright lights outside shone through--nobody closed the blinds--and it cast a jaw-droppingly gorgeous silhouette of White's back arching. Her whole body seemed to move with an inexplicable grace atop Bianca's and the shadow it cast alone would be something to masturbate to.
I was so caught up in watching girls make out that I forgot about my own bed mate. N had slipped down my body without me even noticing, until the thought of masturbating snapped my attention back to my own situation as N's tongue flush against my dick, pressing against the skin as it moved. His hand rested on my thigh, holding a solid grasp on it that almost felt like he was worried I would drift away if he didn't hold onto me. It was a strange sentiment, but the pressure on my thigh was strangely soothing and more arousing than I'd like to admit.
There were times when I wondered if White bringing N into the fold with this was a bit wrong. He barely knew anything about sex during their first time, and by their third, Bianca and I were involved. Maybe he was a little too innocent for such things and we had corrupted him. None of those worries mattered, though, whenever I felt his hand or his mouth or--oh, Arceus--even his thigh against me. The memory of N taking White's blowjob lesson--with me as the guinea pig--and ending up overshadowing her was a dear one, though the two had come to be about equal by that point.
His mouth must have had about half of me in him when my shoulders pushed back and my body arched upward. My hand found its way to his messy green mane and just lazily toyed with his hair as his lips and his tongue and his hands all danced their beautiful dance in worship of my penis. I sort of envied how good he could give head if only because I wanted to repay him in kind every time.
A short distance away from me, Bianca writhed without any attempt at restraining herself, and I sort of feared she'd end up kicking White off of her eventually. Until that accidental kick gone wrong, though, the brunette dutifully ate her out. She really got into it--in more ways than one--when she went down on someone. It was an art to her, and one she took as much pride in as a battle, although it certainly felt more fulfilling afterwards. Bianca's legs bent upward a little and hid her crotch and White's head from my view. Dammit, Bianca looked so adorable squirming around like that, just enough of her innocence breaking through to be a charm point. Every little whimper and errant jerking motion dripped with, quite frankly, inappropriate amounts of eroticism.
"Oh, yes! White, that feels so--Ah!" Bianca wasn't too creative with bedroom talk, but her voice sounded so sweet with that pleasured tinge to it. Her hair was all ruffled and all the movements she made while unable to stay still messed it up more. Not that she cared at all, seizing White's head and bucking her hips fervidly as she rode her way through the pleasure.
Watching White go down on Bianca, a position which only a week ago would have seen me grab White's hips and push her harder against our friend, got to me. Just on instinct, my body started to push into the direction of the other bed, not even anything conscious, just something I had learned to do after years of routine. N's presence was still rather recent by comparison, especially since we hadn't seen him in about eight months, and my hips lifted a little.
The push against him body must have made something snap in him. Sometimes, N was overcome by this possessive impulse, and the thought of me trying to move away apparently sparked it. His hands pressed to my waist and pushed me down onto the bed with surprising strength. I wasn't really leaving, but he wasn't going to take that risk. His tight-sealed lips suddenly pushed down all the way to the base of my cock, and my body was just thrown into something incredible. He was skilled, but he always had a certain pace to his treatment. When his animal side came through, everything changed. His head bobbed so fast as his hands felt all over, knowing every little corner of my body that set me off.
It was shameful that I blew it so soon, but... Ugh. "F-f-f-fuck!" I spat as my whole body grew rigid and his lips pressed to my skin, staying still just a moment. The quick surge of pleasure faded just as quickly as it arrived, and I was left breathless. Slowly, his lips drew up my shaft until I was out of his mouth and he eyed me predatorially, just a little bit of my cum dripping from the corner of his mouth. I could barely even see it coming as he pushed forward in one motion, again putting all of his weight on my body, though this time he was anything but gentle. I
could taste my own semen as he forced his tongue down my throat, fingers digging into sensitive flesh. The result of it was that I was still hard, almost painfully so as my body tried to negotiate between my refractory period and the deep, feral arousal. His own erection rubbed against my own, still sensitive post-orgasm, and it did nothing to let the pain ebb. His cock a bit longer and thicker than mine, as he was done puberty and I had just a little longer to go, and the pressure was intense as his weight forced ours together so tightly, and I could feel my warm, throbbing penis against my midsection. Curiously, there was a certain slick feeling to his length, not the messy kind of saliva and semen, but the slipper kind.
My eyes widened as the weight left me, only for an instant; barely enough time to catch a breath. When it pushed against me again, I knew precisely what was coming, but it didn't make it any easier. I was on my stomach now, my painful erection just as unhappy as two mens' weight pushed it against the mattress before it could even attempt to work out the dual pain and pleasure. It didn't matter, because there were other things to deal with.
N pushed into me with one motion, and I trembled. He just slid right into me, apparently having lubed up before waking me up, and going overboard just so he could give it to me as rough as he wanted. As his fingers pushed against my skin with even more force than before, I felt like I was going to burst under all the pressure. My head turned to see how the girls were doing, hoping it would make me feel a bit better if I ogled some boobs.
I had apparently missed Bianca's orgasm in being pinned down and objectified by N. They had switched, and apparently deemed my violation important enough that White sat on the edge of the beds, totally naked and illuminated by the dim table lamp. Bianca sat behind her, with her legs against White's and her hands roaming the more slender girl's body. One hand worked over her pert, small breast as the other disappeared between two clenched legs. Bianca kept her eye on us as well, kissing at White's shoulder while they watched hungrily together.
Now, don't get me wrong. I had nothing against N pounding me into the mattress as hard as he wanted. Hell, it had been a while since I'd been with N and I was glad to feel it again. But hell, was it really necessary for the girls to watch it happen with huge grins? Vague whispers didn't help as I wondered what they were saying about me, and the shuddering man child atop my tried to say things that, in all the confusion, sounded like gibberish.
I was confused, exhausted, still a little groggy, and N gave little consideration to how comfortable I was as he just kept going at me. A girl was getting off to watching her boyfriend fuck me as hard as he wanted, as my penis still ached as it was all just too soon after my last orgasm for any of this to happen.
All in all, the best lay I'd had in a while.
"I've missed this so much," N groaned, his hands now on my shoulders and my forearms as his body lay fast against mine and he kissed at the back of my neck with the expected level of grace. All quick, kisses that would have been light on any other day, but had too much force behind them to be called 'soft'. There was no pattern to them, unlike his thrusts--which, while savage and intense, were consistent and rhythmic--just a random stream of kisses that left the skin in its wake a little upset and tingly.
Speaking of tingly, each push into me rocked my body back and forth. Flush against the bed, it made for a lot of friction as my cramped dick rubbed against my body and the bedsheets in time with every motion of his hips. It didn't help any; exacerbating the ache and demands to stop as well as the growing arousal. I was going to blow my load by the time he was done, that much was certain. Whether or not it was wholly pleasurable remained to be seen, but something had to give, and previous experience told me that it was me.
"Right there, Bianca," White crooned, the two friends' bodies heaving in unison, Bianca's bare, round breasts rubbing against White's back. Breathing was laboured, and White's legs were crossed now, so tight together I wondered how Bianca could even move around down there, but the redness on the brunette's face told me that they managed just fine. Bianca's other hand was now lost in White's hair as they kissed very, very sloppily while watching N and I fuck. White's own hands now worked over her breasts. They were strong hands--she did a lot with them--and they kneaded her breasts and teased at her nipples with more gradual slowness and force, compared to Bianca's less reserved, less forceful, faster treatment.
The basic differences between all of us in bed always interested me, how we had our own techniques and approaches that reflected our personalities and spoke volumes about who we were.
"Cheren's always on the receiving end," White muttered. "He's all mighty and forceful up until a boy grabs him by the wrist. It was the same with Alder."

I wanted to say something, but instead a choked moan came up and my body trembled. Each rocking of N's hips pushed him to the hilt inside of me, and each thrust ended with a radial wave of pleasure that made me jerk and twitch beneath him impotently. I wanted to say something sarcastic and abrasive that made it sound like I hated every minute of this wonderland, that I was just doing it so that N could feel good, maybe throw in a comment about White's ass not being as tight as mine.
"I missed it too."
Oh yeah, top-tier tsundere wit right there.
To make it worse, I didn't really say it. I shouted it. Loud. My fingers dug into the bed and seized fistfuls of it as my body trembled. There was a hand on my chest and a hand on my thigh and oh, Arceus, I wasn't going to last. N still carried on, apparently intent on fucking me flat into the mattress. The girls reached their own fever pitch and what I wouldn't give to just stop time and remain in this perfection forever. Another push, and N sputtered a little, his fingernails suddenly digging into me. The beginnings of an orgasm blindsided him, but I was too close behind to notice.
All in one motion, N jerked his hips back fast enough that only a few drops were actually loosed inside of me. A sudden feeling of emptiness was jarring enough, paired with a warm splashing feeling against my buttocks, but they all took a backseat to the most unexpected part of the night. He bit me.
He fucking bit me.
His teeth dug into my neck as his orgasm rocked his body, and the sudden pain and vague knowledge in the back of my head that animals sometimes did it to mark mates just ended me. It seemed I had finally passed my refractory period, though the hypersensitivity ensured the pain was there and I could do absolutely nothing to stop it. Pain and pleasure mixed all over my body and my vision dimmed as my orgasm shook my body, now alleviated of some of the weight atop it and free to writhe as I wanted to as I felt a warmth against my lower body that could have only been my cum. I didn't care. Wet and sticky as it may be, I could have passed out by thinking about it.
N came back down onto me, panting, again pinning me. He leaned his head over a little to kiss me.
I missed it in all of the commotion, but it seemed that White came as well, panting and tired-looking in Bianca's arms as she watched us with shock. "He wasn't that intense with me."
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