Skull and Boning

The Alola sun beat down on the abandoned Thrifty Megamart, but inside, things were heating up for entirely different reasons.

"You're really gonna go through with this, kid?" Rapp leaned back against the dusty checkout counter, her pink hair catching the dim light filtering through boarded windows. She'd ditched her Team Skull bandana—well, mostly ditched it. It still hung loose around her neck, that signature black-and-white pattern that marked her as one of Guzma's grunts.

Ash Ketchum—the Ash Ketchum, Alola Champion, fifteen years old and burning with that impossible earnestness that made Rapp's teeth ache—stood before her, shirt already half-discarded, his famous red cap abandoned somewhere near the entrance.

"I'm not a kid," he said, with that stubborn set to his jaw that she'd seen on TV a hundred times. "I'm the Champion."

"Ooh, Champion." Rapp dragged the word out, smirking behind her mask. She pushed off the counter and sauntered closer, swaying her hips deliberately. At twenty-two, she had years on him—years of petty theft, failed schemes, and late nights that left her with a mouth like a sailor and zero patience for innocence. "That mean you're gonna fuck me like one, or are you gonna blush the whole time?"

Ash didn't blush. Well—he did, furiously, crimson spreading from his collarbone to his ears—but he also stepped forward and grabbed her waist with those surprisingly rough hands. All that training, all those battles. Rapp felt a genuine thrill spike through her.

"You're the one who said I couldn't handle you," Ash reminded her, voice dropping in a way that made her eyebrows rise. Huh. The kid had some game.

"Yeah, well." She reached down, palming him through his shorts, pleased at the sharp intake of breath. "You've got potential, I'll give you that. But potential don't mean shit if you can't—"

He kissed her. Sloppy, eager, all teeth and enthusiasm, and Rapp laughed into his mouth even as she pulled him closer. God, he was warm, radiating that ridiculous Alola heat like a human furnace. She broke the kiss just to breathe, just to look at him—cheeks flushed, eyes bright, that ridiculous hair still somehow defying gravity.

"Okay, Champion," she purred, hopping up onto the counter and spreading her legs. She'd already ditched her shorts somewhere; commando, because Team Skull didn't waste time on underwear when there was mischief to be made. "Show me what you got."

Ash stepped between her thighs, and Rapp had to admit—the view was impressive. He'd freed himself from his shorts, and despite his age, despite his reputation as a dense, oblivious hero, he was hard and thick and clearly desperate. The tip flushed dark, already leaking against her inner thigh.

"Condom," she said automatically, reaching for her discarded bag.

"Do we—" Ash hesitated, that earnestness cracking through. "I mean, I want to feel you. Really feel you. I'll pull out, I promise. I'm—I'm really good at timing things. Battles, I mean. Timing in battles."

Rapp studied him. The kid was a walking disaster in cargo shorts, famous across four regions, and he was asking to rawdog her in an abandoned supermarket. She should say no. She absolutely should—

"You're gonna regret promising that," she said, and grabbed his hips, guiding him forward. "You better pull out on time, kid!"

The first push was bliss. Rapp threw her head back, knocking her skull cap askew, as Ash sank into her with a groan that sounded wrenched from his chest. He was big—bigger than she'd expected, filling her perfectly, stretching her in ways that made her toes curl against the linoleum.

"Fuck," she breathed, and Ash made a choked noise.

"Language," he gasped, and then they were both laughing, breathless and stupid, foreheads pressed together as he started to move.

And oh, he moved. Not like some fumbling virgin, but like someone who understood rhythm, who understood pressure and patience and when to push. Rapp wrapped her legs around his waist, heels digging into his lower back, and met him thrust for thrust.

"Not bad," she managed, though her voice was already breaking. "Not—fuck—not bad at all, Champion."

"You're—" Ash gritted his teeth, hips snapping harder, driving deeper. "You're so warm. Rapp, you're—"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm amazing, I know." She grabbed his face, forcing him to look at her. His eyes were blown wide, pupils huge, that famous determination redirected entirely toward her, toward making her feel good. It was intoxicating. "Come on, kid. Fuck me like you mean it. I can take it."

He did. Oh, he did. Ash Ketchum, Alola Champion, buried himself to the hilt and rutted into her with a desperation that made her see stars. The counter creaked beneath them, dust motes dancing in the slanted sunlight, and Rapp could only hold on for the ride, nails scratching down his back, leaving red lines she'd admire later.

"Close," Ash panted, face buried in her neck, breath hot against her skin. "Rapp, I'm—I'm gonna—"

"Pull out," she reminded him, though her legs tightened around him involuntarily. "Pull out, kid, you promised—"

"I will," he groaned, and his hand found her clit, thumb circling with devastating precision. "Just—just let me—"

Rapp came with a cry that probably echoed through the whole abandoned mall, back arching, body clamping down around him in rhythmic pulses. Ash groaned her name—her name, not some hero nonsense, just Rapp—and kept fucking her through it, chasing his own release.

"Now," she gasped, still trembling. "Pull out now, Ash—"

He tried. She felt him try, felt the tension in his shoulders as he started to withdraw, but then he thrust forward again, helpless, lost in the sensation, and Rapp felt the first hot spurt deep inside her.

"Oh, you fucker—" But she was laughing, breathless and wrecked, as Ash spilled himself inside her with a groan that sounded like surrender. Pulse after pulse, filling her, marking her, and Rapp couldn't even pretend to be mad because it felt perfect, felt right, this ridiculous kid claiming her in the most primal way possible.

They stayed like that for a moment, tangled together, Ash's forehead pressed against her shoulder as he caught his breath. Then he pulled back, eyes wide with realization.

"I—I didn't mean to—"

"Relax, Champion." Rapp cupped his cheek, surprisingly gentle. "I'm on the pill. Team Skull plans ahead." She paused, smirking. "Besides, you looked real cute when you lost control like that."

Ash buried his face in her neck again, embarrassed but smiling. "You're not mad?"

"Mad?" She laughed, genuine and warm. "Kid, that was the best lay I've had since I moved to Alola. You got skills."

"Really?"

"Really." She pushed at his chest, and he reluctantly withdrew, both of them hissing at the sensitivity. Rapp looked down at the mess between her thighs—their mess—and felt a flutter of something dangerously like affection. "Though next time, maybe we use a bed. This counter is killing my back."

Ash's head snapped up. "Next time?"

Rapp rolled her eyes, reaching for her clothes. "Don't make me repeat myself, Champion. You're fun, you're hot, and you actually care if I get off. That's a rare combo." She pulled her bandana back up over her nose, eyes crinkling with her smile. "Besides, someone needs to teach you proper technique. You're good, but you're raw. Lots of potential, like I said."

Ash beamed at her—that blinding, genuine smile that had probably launched a thousand shipping wars. "I'd like that. The teaching part. And the... the other parts."

"Yeah, yeah, don't get sappy on me." But she let him kiss her again, sweet and slow, all the urgency spent for now. When they finally separated, she hopped off the counter and stretched, deliberately putting on a show. "Same time next week? Guzma's got us running distraction at the mall, but I'm free after."

"Next week," Ash agreed, pulling his shirt back on. He paused, then reached out and adjusted her skull cap, fixing it properly on her head. "You look good in this."

Rapp stared at him. Then, for the first time in years, she felt her own cheeks heat up. "Smooth, kid. Real smooth."

They walked out together into the Alola afternoon, Pikachu dozing on Ash's shoulder, Rapp's hand tucked casually into his back pocket. Somewhere in the distance, a Yungo howled.

Team Skull's gonna have a field day with this, Rapp thought, and couldn't bring herself to care.

After all, even villains deserved happy endings.

Later, at the Team Skull hideout:

"Where were you?" Plumeria demanded, arms crossed.

Rapp just smiled, mysterious and satisfied. "Recruiting."

"Recruiting what?"

"Talent." She flopped onto the couch, still smelling like sun and sex and that particular soap Ash used. "The Champion's got potential, Plums. Serious potential."

Plumeria stared at her. Then, slowly, she shook her head. "I don't want to know."

"Smart choice." Rapp closed her eyes, already planning next week's "lesson." "You really don't."