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  "description": "Emil is a quiet man with a well kept secret; he has little to look forward to but even less to complain about as he works his life away and puts up with his obnoxious wealthy neighbor.\n\nThat is until a once-in-a-lifetime sequence of events threatens to upend everything he has, should he go for the catch. \n\nOh, this is the song Spinel is singing. https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=mP3eC6v3SGI",
  "description_bbcode_parsed": "<span style='word-wrap: break-word;'>Emil is a quiet man with a well kept secret; he has little to look forward to but even less to complain about as he works his life away and puts up with his obnoxious wealthy neighbor.<br /><br />That is until a once-in-a-lifetime sequence of events threatens to upend everything he has, should he go for the catch. <br /><br />Oh, this is the song Spinel is singing. <a href=\"https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=mP3eC6v3SGI\" rel=\"nofollow\">https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=mP3eC6v3SGI</a></span>",
  "writing": "\tHorace finally roused from the alcohol fueled stupor he’d fallen into weeks earlier. He lurched out of bed, pried away from the tantalizing, swanna-feather pillows and those daily changed linens in his suite by only one thing.\n\n\tCompetition. Real, honest competition. Something he’d been kept away from for years.\n\nBright, Kalosian springtime light cut across the room above his head, barely illuminating the grime from weeks of acrid sweat drying to his skin smeared across his face.\n\n\t“Gonna-give-a-keiki-what-ee-need…” his throat rattled around like charred bones on a kapa twine chime. “Gahs-ah-need-a-poala…”\n\n\tOpal’s eyes slowly fluttered awake as an ear twitched at his stirring. She shot up in surprise, looked at the clock reading 05:20, and she squealed with joyous claws pressed into her cheeks.\n\nHer Acey was finally coming back out of the darkness!\n\nShe immediately launched herself from her stowaway guest bed on the other end of the room, ignoring the black, silken dress and golden belt hung over her bed. She opened the suite refrigerator and carried a couple of milk-gallon jugs full of brisk, clean water towards her master with a casual sway of her hips and leaned over him.\n\n“Pun.” She nudged him with one of the jugs.\n\n“Me ke alola mai…” he mumbled, breathing in, then out, and then ruffled his matted mane of hair to catch that itch that managed to evade him all week.\n\nOpal hugged him tightly and nuzzled his forehead, trying to hand him the water. “Pun.”\n\nHe rubbed her behind the ears, wrapped his arms around her waist, and pressed his face into her shoulder. “Alola, Opala.”\n\nShe chuckled, kissed his head, and pulled herself free. His muscles were stiff and sore from all the booze, even with the water she’d started sneaking into his cans and cups. She needed to get him to detoxify his insides. He was so excited for the tournament, and she could tell that his enthusiasm hadn’t waned at all. After all, he’d managed to break out of one of his legendary chemical comas without so much as a wake-up call or a jostle of the bed. \n\nAfter days spent stuck sucking on a horribly generous, bottomless tap, he raised from the dead right on time to give the team a brisk warmup and a spar before their first match.\n\n”Gonna get-a showah, now,” he wheezed and stood, wobbling a bit before catching himself on Opal’s shoulder..\n\n“Pun!” she grouched, smacking his chest with the jug. “Pun-bunee!”\n\nSome light finally started shining through Acey’s eyes again as he fell back onto the bed and let himself finally meet her piercing gaze. “Ah… fool-a-me, sorry baby girl,” he said, grabbing the jug.\n\nHe hung it over his head and let the fountains of life fill his belly. He stopped only for a single breath before finishing the second half, then breathed out a long, satisfied sigh.\n\n“Pau hana he,” he said, and tossed the empty thing aside as she helped him up. \n\nOpal nodded and handed him the second jug, nudging him towards the wash. “Pun. Lon-ee pen obun.”\n\n“Give-a me so much guff, dunno which of us is train-ah somedays, good thing ah love ya.”\n\nShe slipped into her finely-tailored, gold trim dress, born from the skilled hands of some grateful old friends of Acey’s. He barely mentioned to them that she was feeling down in the dumps and they offered to make it for her free of charge. She still remembered it, clear as the moment they draped it over her arms to put on. She smiled as her paws brushed against the smooth, ebony silk while the tailor’s wife stitched a matching golden-silk sash with reverent care, tying the tails of the sash with long rows of rusty, polished jasper beads.\n\nShe treasured the thing so much, it made her feel pretty, appreciated, and important in a world that gave those feelings up in short supply for ‘Mon.\n\nAfter everything they had been through, after all the scars, the betrayals, and the signing of a dotted line in blood, Acey still kept thinking of the people close to him. He cared for them with everything he had at his disposal. But her dearest friend had something inside him that hurt. It hurt him so much that all he wanted in the quiet, pointless moments of life was to drown himself in cheap liquor and let his sorry soul wash out to sea.\n\nHe refused to utter a single word about it, said it wasn’t anybody’s punishment but his, but her master’s body always betrayed his worst intentions in the end. Without some grand, impossible task for them to surmount or a gym full of spunky startups needing whipped ‘til their mettle matched their moxie, he curled up and slowly started dying in her arms. It broke her heart every single time.\n\nThe whole gods damned trip had proven to be nothing but some lengthy, pointless, potentially lethal waste of time.\n\nUntil that moment!\n\nAce busted out of the washroom, totally nude, surfing on a cloud of steam as he chugged more water. Like magic, weeks of humiliation were scraped away. His lively, auburn skin appeared polished under the glow of the morning rays. His hair was washed perfectly clean, brushed into slick fronds of bushy, brown fur that seemed to hug his skull for dear life as it realized the fire in Acey’s gut was heating the boilers once more.\n\nOpal averted her eyes, nailing him in the face with a towel in protest. “Nee! Nee-bun!”\n\nHe cackled and tied it around his waist. “Whaaat? Ain’t’a nothin’ ya neva seen before.”\n\nShe scoffed and wrapped a second towel around his head with a sharp smack. \n\nShe smiled as he lost his balance and frantically gasped for air.\n\nFinally she’d caught a glimpse of those old, mischievous embers glowing behind his eyes.\n\nHorace Giovanni Slate slipped his Gym outfit on.\n\nA crip set of green and gray military fatigues, a fiery orange belt, and a matching jacket inspired by the very same sorts worn in the Alolan Naval Corps. All accented with orange and red filigree around the neckline and the cuffs. Five identical, stone colored pokeballs were popped onto a set of six powerful, magnetic holsters worked into his coat. The last one, a milky white sphere that he rolled around between his fingers, was hidden from view.\n\nHe laced his boots up, tight as a Torracat’s lips, then stuck those dreary aviator shades into a jacket pocket. “Ey, let’s pound some pavah’s ‘fore we get ta work. Need the soles numb fer stomp’n.”\n\nShe nodded with unchecked enthusiasm, crying tears of joy, and chased him down the hotel corridors as he frantically released powerful, exotic Alolan Pokemon. One by one Ace let his friends loose, flagrantly ignoring the city’s one-mon law in place, and a few hotel patrons bolted from the area at the sight.\n\nThe ground rumbled as an Alolan golem stomped about, causing the lights all down the hall to flicker and pop. A scarred-up Alolan Raticate with one eye pinched shut perched onto his shoulder. Ghostly howls harkened the will-o-wisp steps of a Lycanroc with ghostly blue gems socketed into her flesh. A massive, alpha breed Salazzle blew smoke as she peered into open hotel-doors with playful looks. An Alolan Raichu, smooth in her features and strangely hypnotic to behold, leapt into Opal’s arms like a giddy toddler.\n\nWealthy Kalosian children in their pajamas giggled and cheered as the insane parade stormed down the hall at the ass crack of dawn. Crotchety old women who’d barely escaped their eye masks screamed in terror. At the end of the building, an unfortunate crew of breakfast chefs was just about to learn what an Alolan warrior’s appetite was all about.\n\nGods, she’d missed her Acey.\n\nSo very, very much.\n\n\n\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/\n\n\nOutside the rustic plaster walls of Café Amaura’s ancient walnut frames, the murmuring of strolling passersby was overwhelmed by the heartfelt call of a handheld emergency radio set to 102.3, [i]Vivre l'Amour[/i] playing their evening mix of ballroom classics. Its fluffy static introduced a lively desperation to the air of everlasting the old place offered to the lower class of Lumiose. Inaccessible by the many garish motorways marring the grand metropolis, it was known only to the savviest of cultural tourists, becoming a jealously guarded secret of the area.\n\n\n\n[i]“Des yeux qui font baisser les miens,\" the radio woman sang, joined by the smooth, tenor tones of an antique, wooden clarinet and a trio of silver-plated trumpets.[/i]\n\n\n\n“{Eyes that make mine droop,}” a gentle, effeminate Sylveon voice rang, muffled behind the hand-hewn front door that bore a sign of hand-pressed paper dangling from the doorknob.\n\n ‘Réservés,’ it read in floral, hand scrawled Vermillion ink.\n\nA few woolen-scarfed stragglers lapped up shallow puddles of coffee from the bottoms of assorted mismatched, vintage mugs and nibbled upon the last scraps of their genuine, homestyle sweet-bakes. They sighed long, lazy adieus to the cast-iron seats and oaken arm-worn tables. Gazing upon the glowing screen of a Dexnav in their palms or into the beckoning shine of a lover’s eyes, they fluttered away like flocks of Pidove polishing off generous showers of premium pokefruit feed.\n\nEach and every treat served here was carefully crafted with a love for the soil at their feet, a magic cast nowhere but the charcoal ranges tucked within her old, umber walls.\n\n\n\n[i]“Un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche,” she cooed, atop a bed of four-string violins.[/i]\n\n\n\nSpinel leapt from an ultrafine flour fog that clouded the kitchen, draped with an adorable little caparison, the traditional attire of the humble service ‘Mon in the old country, cut from ivory cloth rimmed with silky blue frills and a dark green trim.\n\nHe served up quizzical glances to the leathery old regulars permitted to finish their long-awaited pipes of sour, potent smelling weed relished in the absence of constable and kid.\n\n“{A laugh that gets lost on his mouth,}” he chirped, swiping up generous piles of copper and silver pokedollar coins from the gang of grateful old sinners as they scrapped themselves away from the warmth of the sawsbuck-crested kiddy-corner fireplace.\n\nThe place was marinated in the decadent redolence of a long-awaited dinner for two.\n\n\n\n[i]“Voilà le portrait sans retouches.”[/i]\n\n[i]The song began a cheery, instrumental refrain for the many listeners choosing to dance to her voice.[/i]\n\n\n\n“{There is the portrait without flaw,}” Spinel sang in carefully metered monspeech as he ushered the last, most elderly patrons out the door with gentle prods and then barred the door shut.\n\nThe little ‘Mon sighed with relief, swiping a work-worn ribbon across his sweat-soaked brow. “{Almost time,}” he whispered to himself, checking the hand-wound Vullaby clock hung above the bar.\n\nAfter smacking the top of a polished brass hotel bell, skewering the last stack of order tickets to a stainless steel spike beside the meticulously maintained, mechanical register, he awaited the cafe owner’s approval with a modest, sanguine smile.\n\nThe white-aproned old man with the brown fleece beret gave his helper a wisened nod and started tallying the day’s earnings as Spinel dove back into the powdery haze with a jubilant trill.\n\n\n\n[i]“De l’homme auquel j’appartiens,” her voice slid down weathered Wooloogut Strings.[/i]\n\n\n\n\tHe flexed his tendrils together, popped his neck both ways, then hung his uniform upon a forge welded hoof-shoe rack. “{Of the man to whom I belong,}” A ribbon caressed his cheek as his singing voice maintained a cool, steady vibrato. Then he swung in a circle ‘round the center support of the bakery, checking the fires fueling his stoves with chirpy rolls of the tongue.\n\t\n\t\n\t\n[i]Silence, and the singular stroke of an ivory soprano key. “Quand il me prend dans ses bras.”[/i]\n\n\n\n“{When he takes me in his arms,}” he chittered, wrapping his neck in the straps of a baker's drape with conspicuously sensual rolls of the shoulders. He tucked a freshly laundered towel into his collar and plopped a little baker's hat atop his head. He straightened it with a fluffy nudge of the ears, snagged some finely chopped blocks of firewood, and kicked them beneath the ovens with perky, theatrical flair.\n\n\n\t\n[i]“Il me parle tout bas[/i][i].”[/i]\n\n\n\n“{He speaks to me softly.}” He closed his eyes and bobbed his head as he recited the lyrics, one ribbon stirring pots of spicy smelling stew that crackled with bright-blue ballets of sparks dancing atop the savory, brown sea of fatty meats and sauce.\n\n\n\n[i]“Je vois la vie en rose,” she sighed beside a brassy trumpet serenade.[/i]\n\n\n\n“{I see life in pink.}”  Another strand busily juiced fresh liechi and lemon halves into a great glass pitcher of liquid rouge.\n\n\n\n[i]”Il me dit des mots d’amour.”[/i]\n\n\n\n\tHis head tilted with a giddy smile as he scrubbed his paws in a frothing, soapy basin. “{He tells me words of love,}” he said as the third tendril jiggled metal baskets filled to the brim with bloated balls of fried delight crackling in a cauldron of amber oil.\n\n\n\n[i]”Des mots de tous les jours.”[/i]\n\n\n\nHe ruffled his damp paws in a clean, dry rag and huffed in frustration as they puffed up into bushy, festive mittens. “{Words of everyday life.}” His final ribbon snapped the lock on a steamy oven door at just the right time to rescue four sheets of glossy, golden-brown sweetbread treats coated in glistening, nutty crusts he gingerly sprinkled with sugar and salt.\n\n\n\n[i]”Et ça me fait quelque chose,” she warbled before a confident round of trumptey bleats.[/i]\n\n\n\nSpinel’s eyes looked upon nothing in particular as his mind wandered off to some breezy Butterfree field. “{...and it does something to me,} \n\nAll these intricate tasks he skillfully performed in tandem as his dainty little paws retrieved a tray from the cooler and laid it upon a quadruped-height table. He separated thick-cut strips of Lechok belly bacon, ready to sculpt plump little bundles of what would soon become blobs of oozing, garlic cream-cheese wrapped in meat candy shells.\n\n\tThe busy beat of Bouffalant boots stopped just before the bakery floor.\n\n\tBut Spinel had lost himself in a tantric working flow, operatically reciting the song he’d heard a million times before; a song he’d hummed to himself just as many times in those lonely little moments between the end of the working day and the soothing anesthesia of sleep as he’d sway from the rafters on a threadbare, Cottonee hammock.\n\n“{He’s entered my heart.}” Spinel strafed left and right as he sang melodic, sweet as salac meringue.\n\nHe giggled between verses, sliding the porky appetizers into a smaller stove made to burn low and slow. “{A slice of happiness, and now I know the cause.}”\n\nThe radio’s volume slowly lowered and a brusk throat cleared at the doorway. “Un moment, s'il vous plaît?”\n\n\tSpinel couldn’t hear him above the warmth in his gut and the Cutieflies in his chest. “{It’s him for me, me for him in life,}” he bellowed and spun around in a graceful, white-gowned pirouette that painted the air with wispy streaks of flour. “{He told me, he–}”\n\n\t“Salut!”\n\n\t“Eep!” Spinel squeaked in shock and stumbled mid-twirl, bumping into a column. Several ladles and an empty pot fell to the ground with a heady bong and he barely caught himself against the door of a blazing hot oven, jerking back in a frantic flutter of ribbons with a yipe!\n\n\tThe Cafe Owner stood there, tapping his boot in the passageway with a smirk. “Vous préfères commun?”\n\n\tSpinel smiled bashfully, shrinking on the spot. His ears drooped, letting his hat slide down over his eyes, and he pushed it back up with a mortified wince. “Eon.”\n\n\t“If you like working here this much, I’d gladly take you off the Captain’s hands. Even the regulars didn’t grouse,” he said, sticking a calloused hand with a missing ring-finger into his vest pocket to check the time on an old, gold pocket watch.\n\n\tSpinel chuckled and flopped a ribbon in his direction, shaking his head. “Eeeiion o siveelen.”\n\n\tThe old codger hummed, smiling. “Cannot blame an old plum for asking. I see you have made lots of vittles for the workman rush too, smells real good.”\n\n\tSpinel smiled shyly, giving him a performative, humble wag of the paw.\n\n\t“Readied the morning pastries?”\n\n\tSpinel closed his eyes, trotted over to a heavy cooler door, and heaved it open. He gestured within as mist spilled out, presenting tall, galvanized metal racks stacked top to bottom with uncooked bagel, brioche, macaron, and croissant. He lifted the lids from three bulky steel basins of madeleine batter for inspection with a chirp.\n\n\tThe old man counted the racks, carefully inspected the little shapes of dough, then sniffed the buckets of  batter. “Floral…citrus…vanilla…good.” He nodded, lifted the chef’s hat, and ruffled Spinel’s head in his baseball mitten hands. “Petit à petit, treats are top shelf over there, help yourself tonight, little friend.”\n\n\tFor a moment he grumbled and sneered as the cowlicks on his head were tossed around like a garden salad with the old guy’s hand. Gods, Spinel hated that flagrant, minimalizing condescension so common with Man. But, if he was honest with himself, the guy was pretty nice otherwise. He even let him keep all the tips from the day! Everything considered, he chose not to vocalize his displeasure and instead faked a hysteric, satisfied giggle.\n\n\tThe old man slipped a black, fleece jacket over his slightly hunched back and popped polished Cubone buttons into place. “Leave the key hidden beneath the cobble I showed you when you leave. Thanks for your hard work, little ‘Mon. Let Valerie know I hope her little date goes well tonight.” His voice rattled like a can of secondhand nails as he tied his dusty, vermillion scarf around his collar.\n\n\tSpinel tugged at his jacket just in time to catch him marching out the back.\n\n\tThe guy gasped in surprise, half asleep with fatigue as his long walk home to Southwall Village was interrupted. “Oui?”\n\nThe strange, peculiarly skilled Sylveon who just bussed tables harder than any man or woman he’d ever seen slipped a tiny card between his nobbled, leathery fingers. The handwriting was flowy, immaculate, accented with tiny, heart shaped strokes of the quill at the corners and ivy shaped embellishments around the edge.\n\n\n[i][b]“Merci à toi, mon ami!”[/b][/i]\n\n\nThe aging owner of Café Amaura just stood there for a moment, bemused as Spinel turned the radio back up, continued dancing, and lashed his tendrils all around the kitchen to complete his mysterious evening banquet.\n\n“Mon plaisir…” he said, smiled, and pulled the door shut with a subtle click of the lock.\n\nSneaky ribbons snatched up a fat bottle of highly distilled, white rum from his bags, curled around the neck, and flicked the stopper off. He raised the bottom up above the pitcher of juice and let the liquor empty out in a sloshy, burbling waterfall.\n\nSpinel pushed both paws into the cloth at his chest. “{As soon as I see you, I feel inside me…}”\n\n {...my heart that beats!}” He swayed too and fro, bolstered with confidence in the absence of discerning ears.\n\nThat blue-eyed boy stopped to breathe as a symphony of strings and brass boomed in refrain, gazing into an antique, silver pocket mirror. He patiently plucked away stray hairs as he brushed out his tail, puffed up his fluff, and carefully combed the wild, velvety curls in his downy fur. He batted at a rogue strand until it scurried behind his ear, then sighed with excitement and fear in his lungs. “{Ready.}”\n\n“La la, la la, la la!” His front legs traced an arc through the air as he danced on his haunches, swaying too and fro on plush silken paws.\n\n“La la, la la, ah la!” His apron spread into silken morning glory blooms as he carelessly spun around the kitchen on the tips of his freshly manicured claws.\n\n“La laaa laaaaa laaaaaaaaa!”\n\n\t\n\n\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/\n\n\t“Ring-ring-ring, ring-ring-ring, phone-call phone-call!” Stanley Stone’s dexnav screeched in his pocket as he sat eating a boxed diet-approved salad with a bottle of water on the side. The evening sun glistened off the golden walls of the various incorporated Mauville Holdings, whose lavish complexes were eminently visible from the window of a highrise cafeteria.\n\tHis Gimmighoul, dressed in a tiny, business casual polo and pair of slacks, dove into the pocket of the suit-jacket his master had draped over a nearby chair and pushed the device up.\n\tStanley snatched the thing up from his partner with two fingers and dexterously flipped it open. He sighed with relief as he saw his son’s picture come up on the little screen.\n\t“Ring-ring-ring, ring-ring-ring, phone-call phone-” Beep.\n\t“Stone speaking,” Stanley said in his typical sharp, professional voice.\n\tRichard had been walking down the streets of Lumiose for hours. It was a good thing he left early, because after having asked some locals where Café Amaura was, he was becoming suspicious that none of them actually wanted him to find the damned place. However, one helpful old woman sitting in a rocking chair at the edge of the old-town offered to show him how to get there if he carried some boxes up the stairs for her. So he finally was on his way.\n\tHowever, before he hurdled on to his date with destiny, he had a bone to pick with Dad.\n\t“Heeeey pops, how's it going?” He asked, passively marveling at how he’d suddenly been transported back to the pre-grid era. Children in bodices and tunics scurried around his legs as they chased a Litleo with one of their hats in its mouth. Clay ovens baked loaves of bread and ceramic bowls of cobbler. Middle-aged men in hand-woven clothes and suspender vests bellowed at one another in a language he didn’t understand. \n\tStanley popped a crouton with a heaping mouthful of under-seasoned lettuce into his mouth and swallowed hard, trying to get the not-calories into his aching stomach before getting on with the most boring part of his day; tax day. “Doing well, I suppose. Didn’t expect a call from you this evening, don’t you have a date with that little number you met on the boat-ride to the capital?”\n\tRichard nearly tripped on an upturned cobble as he gawked at an old woman hanging freshly laundered cloth diapers on a line. “Awwww, well, it's a long walk there. Aaaanyway, I wanted to talk about something really important that came up just now.”\n\tStanley flicked a crouton to his Gimmighoul across the table, who intercepted the thing and started eating it like it was a massive, chest-sized sandwich. “Of course, what’s up?”\n\tRichard breathed in. “Why’d you never tell me about Grandma?”\n\tStanley’s stomach dropped to the floor. He chuckled at the question, acting like it was all some practical joke. “Hahaha, well, I’m not entirely sure what about your Grandmother you didn’t already know. You could ask her yourself, you know, though I suppose she might not be back from her trip to the Orange Islands yet. And we both know we’d prefer she stayed there.”\n\tRichard grumbled a little. “No, Dad, you know what I mean.”\n\n\tStanley fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat. “I’m really not sure, Son.”\n\n\t“Oh, I dunno… I just met an old [u]champion[/u] today, a really cool old lady running an evolution stone shop, goes by the name [u]Diantha[/u]. Ring any bells?” Richard’s voice was terse at his father’s insistent dumb-play. “She sure seemed to know you, and me too. Said to tell you that your Momma misses you!”\n\n\tStanley winced at the words. “Crazy old Zubatt, son. Probably one of those loony League fans finally getting a chance to talk to someone in the big leagues.”\n\n\tRichard shook his head and huffed. “Nuh uh, no! Something about her looks way too familiar. She doesn’t sound like any of the other money-fishing rubes I’ve run into. She… she gave me a ring; an old thing from that jewelry shop in Lilycove uncle Ryan got his wedding ring at. It has the right maker's mark, the original box, everything.”\n\n\tStanley cleared his throat. “Look son, I’ve got a meeting in a few minutes. We can talk about this later, alright?”\n\n\tRichard raised his voice, startling some children who ran around a corner. “No, Dad, I think we should talk about this right freaking [u]now[/u]!”\n\n\t“Richard, Son, this really isn’t something… Look, we’ll talk about it when you get back, you need to focus on the tournament. Your first match is tomorrow!”\n\n\t“Dad, is Diantha your mom? What the hell happened? I thought my Grandma was Idelia Roger! Is my uncle one of Diantha’s too?”\n\n\tTears started forming at the corner of his eyes and Stanley’s Gimmighoul frowned, tugging on his master’s sleeve with a look of concern. “I’m sorry, I’m not able to do this right now. It was good hearing from you, good luck on your date!”\n\n\t“All the times Grandpa went to Kalos was to be with her, wasn’t it?” Richard said, steamrolling any of his dad’s attempts to wander off. “Why would you keep her a secret from me, what the hell? Is Timmy in the dark too?”\n\n\tStanley clawed his fingers through his hair. “I’m going into a tunnel, gonna lose you. Talk to you l-” he stopped himself short and flicked the dexnav closed.\n\n\tRichard growled and angrily tippy-tapped in place.\n\n\n[i][b]4-483-267-8663 (Richard): Meeting in a tunnel my ass cheeks.[/b][/i]\n[b][i]4-483-267-8663 (Richard): If she’s my real Gran then I’m gonna do some overdue [/i][/b][i][b]catching up.[/b][/i]\n\n\t\n\tHe stomped around, ruffled his hair, and hissed in frustration. Then he took a deep breath and touched his fingertips together in a mock expression of meditation. “Chill, chill, we got something we need to worry about right [u]now[/u].” \n\n\t\n\n\tNearby, around a corner, two young figures tailed Richard Stone behind a crooked alleyway. One boy, one girl, both dressed in caped super suits with beaked masks that cover their eyes with glistening black lenses. \n\n\t“Combuskin are on the prowl,” the little girl peeped, looking through a pair of high-tech binoculars with shiny red plating.\n\n\tThe boy groaned and covered his masked face with his clawed, gloved hands. “This is so humiliating, ugh. Why does dad make us do this?”\n\n\tThe little girl stood up, showing off the yellow boots and utility belt of their uniforms. “He is not ‘father,’ Caw! He is the great Blaziken Masque!”\n\n\t“Bonnie, please, let’s just watch what Dad wants us to watch and get home, we have a match tomorrow!”\n\n\t“I am not Bonnie, I am the swift and stealthy Cheep. And [u]you[/u] are the witty, innovative Caw!”\n\n\t“Whatever, he’s almost there,” Clemont moaned. “Let’s get this over with so we can strategize.”\n\n\n\n\tRichard walked towards the place, following a handwritten bit of instructions the old woman scrawled in horribly broken Common onto a receipt with a pen he accidentally stole from the hotel. “Lean right. Wander forth how the Swanna flies riverwise? See a red wall? Too far.” His face screwed up as he lit the instructions up with the flashlight function on his ‘nav.\n\n\tThe sun was going down, and he was seriously starting to worry about getting mugged. Perhaps some gang of beret-wearing, baguette-wielding hooligans with curly mustaches, striped shirts and suspenders hoisting up their pants accompanied by their Mr. Crime accomplices would abscond with his goods and then toss him behind a crate somewhere with broken ankles. Ain’t a single distorted chance nobody noticed his snazzy clothes and five-thousand-pokedollar haircut.\n\n\tHowever, just as he was beginning to wonder how much two ankle casts were going to cost Team Stone this year, he wandered into a clearing paved in delightful red herringbone brickwork speckled with mismatched colored replacements for those that had broken over the years. An old-fashioned plaster walled building sat nestled in the middle of the clearing, surrounded by cozy cottages and madly stacked townhomes that brought to mind images of wobbly stone wizards towers in those storybooks his mom bought him once.\n\n\tSomething smelled divine. He was pulled forward towards the place as if he’d been hooked by the nose and was being reeled in for the catch, but nobody was there. Its cast-iron chairs and folded-umbrellas accompanying the wooden tables sat lonely in the twilight courtyard while the windows were black, closed like a pair eyes long gone to sleep.\n\n\n\n\t\tSpinel sat by the window, peeking out with a face full of all encompassing anxiety. He looked up at the clock that read ‘6:45’ and started pacing around the building. [i]Oooh, he’s late. Did he get lost? Did he get hurt?[/i] His ears drooped and he slumped down onto his bum.[i] Did he decide[/i][i] I[/i][i]… Val wasn’t worth it, after all?[/i]\n\n\tThen one of his ears snapped upward at the distant sound of designer sneakers across the courtyard. \n\n\tSpinel spotted him across the way through the corner of one of the window panes. Oooh, he looked so wonderful in his black khakis and red dress shirt. He had the top button undone, showing off a little bit of his chest over a white undershirt he wished wasn’t there. His senses weren’t as good as most mon, but he took a long whiff of the air and caught traces of the spicy cinnamon-spelon berry cologne he’d splashed all over his cheeks and sides in a desperate attempt to hide the sweaty odor from the morning workouts he’d done with his team.\n\n\tHe breathed in, tightened his muzzle up with a look of severe intention, and nodded once. “{Ok Spinel, let’s do this.}”\n\t\n\tIn a sudden fit of calm, Spinel started waving his ribbons around, and pink light began glowing around his tendrils and his eyes. Pink mist billowed at his heels and he forced himself to laugh to channel the right mood.\n\n\tThen it started to wane, sputtering out like a failing incandescent bulb.\n\n\t“Hello?” Richard called outside, searching high and low for any signs of someone around to greet him.\n\n\tSpinel grimaced in horror.\n\nOh Gods, why did he have to be so weak, even after all these years of desperate practice? He was the only Pokemon he knew that had to struggle so hard to tap into their source. He was a miserable failure as a Pokemon, he knew that, but he wished that just this once he could get it together to make the evening magical with a little bit of the Fairy’s Whimsy.\n\n\tAgain and again he tried, frantically groaning each time his spark refused to ignite. His ribbons wrapped around his eyes and he started snarling at himself. “{Aaauggghh. C’mon, you’re a Sylveon, dammit; the gift wrap of Kalos, Gods!}”\n\n\t“Anyone there?” Richard asked aloud as he approached.\n\n\tSpinel slapped himself across the cheek with a kitchen-sore ribbon and forced himself to pause as Richard took a seat at one of the Cafe chairs.\n\n\t“{No, no, no, no, no, I have to try. Just this [u]one[/u] time, Xerneas, please Hnnnnng.}” He stomped his paws into the wood plank floor, gritted his teeth, then he breathed slowly again. \n\nSpinel closed his eyes, splayed his ribbons out in breezy spiraling displays, digging deep within himself. It hurt, and he gasped in pain as he finally touched the shallow, underwhelming, muddy puddle that was his natural energy reserve. He shuddered and shivered as pink and white energies swirled around him like pechas and cream in a mixing bowl, filling the air with the sound of wind-chimes, popped corks, heart beats, and the laughter of good friends. \n\nHe smiled, eyes glowing blue, fur blowing with a nonexistent breeze as his Mewish giggles echoed through the air.\n\n\n\nRichard leaned back. This was as good a place as any to wait around for a while, he supposed. He suspected Val was a lot of things, but he didn’t take her for someone that would do him dirty by giving’ him the ol’ Ghastly. He seriously wondered where that smell was coming from too, because holy cow he’d never smelled anything like it in his life. \n\nThen the air sparkled all around him and he nearly fell back onto the pavement as he yelped with surprise as a misty, pink fog rolled through the clearing. Richard’s head spun around at all angles as Spinel’s laughter could be heard around him, mixed with the windy jeers of cheery old men and the wild cackling of children in a heated game of tag. \n\nLittle balls of pastel colored whisps wobbled around in the air, along with long, glowing strings of light that looked like pearls tossed into the ocean. All the umbrellas in the courtyard unfurled in unison, and the oil lamps placed at every one of the outdoor tables all at once ignited with bright, enigmatic, pink and white fire. The smells of rose hips, fountain fresh bubblegum soda, and warm ginger snaps replaced the odors he longed for earlier, and then the windows of the Cafe suddenly thrummed with an homely yellow glow as the fireplace burst back to life.\n\n“Whoa!” Richard gawked as the sound of silver chimes filled his ears, turning left, right, around, and up and down to take in everything that was going on.\n\nThe front door flew open and slammed against the doorstop. Spinel stood in the archway wearing a fluffy baby-blue sash with a bloody red carnation pinned to chest, the very same kind he’d topped the Bouquet with before. He looked fantastic with his fur brushed to a silky-smooth finish, beckoning Richard into the ambiance with a wicked, sensual smile as he wagged a ribbon for him to follow.\n\nThe radio tuned itself, shaking a little with sparkly, blue and pink energy, and slowly rose in volume. “Welcome to the finest night of your lives, guests of Lumiose,” the radio host declared, “Sit on down at let me take you to a little place called love.” The station filled the air with smooth, comfortable jazz classics.\n\nThe atmosphere within was incredible too. Clusters of lightly scented combee-wax candle sticks on pewter plates were laid all around in fantastical arrangements. The place had been scrubbed clean, devoid of the everpresent smell of bread yeast and stale coffee Spinel had detected the moment he showed up in the morning to pay his due for this reservation. In the center of the cafe interior was a single table and two seats placed across from each other. One a normal chair, the other a high-up stool. A single pink and white candle flickered in the center, surrounded by a rich potpourri of roses, spice sticks, and recently cindered incense. \n\nAt one end, a little card was propped up with the words ‘Richard Stone’ hand drawn in red ink, at the other side was another that read, ‘Your Greatest Admirer.’\n\nSpinel barely suppressed a giggle as he peeked at Richard’s crotch on his way into the Cafe. He covered his mouth with a manicured paw and nimbly zipped up his fly.[i] Ogerpon, how long had he been like that?[/i]\n\n“Oh, uh, thanks. Hehehe, whoops. Ah, but… Hey, buddy! Ho-Oh in the sky, did you do all this?”\n\nHe forced a deep blush onto his face and handed him a little paper note.\n\n\n[b][i]“All for you.[/i][/b][i][b]”[/b][/i]\n\n\n\n\n\tBonnie and Clemont climbed up onto the top of a two-storey Cobbler’s workshop with the aid of their grappling hook guns. The brother made it over first with the aid of the mechanical arms attached to his backpack, then helped his sister up the rest of the way before scurrying over to the opposite edge to watch Café Amaura with a perfect, Starapor’s view.\n\n\t“Did you see that light show? Fairy types are just so cool, aren’t they, Caw?”\n\n\tHe sighed. “Yeah, ‘Cheep,’ they sure are.” He realized there was going to be no breaking character this evening, not while his sister and father drew breath with such enthusiasm.\n\n\t“I wonder when that Valorie lady is gonna show up. He got there late and she’s still not even there!” Bonnie scowled.\n\n\t“Maybe she isn't coming at all, Cheep. She doesn’t seem to like him very much.” He dodged a yellow boot being thrown at his head, then pressed the feather-shaped nodule on his mask over his ear. “Caw to the Masque, Masque, do you read?”\n\n\tThe radio crackled a bit, then finally it tuned correctly and both children’s heads jerked down into their necks as they heard gunshots, screams of Men and ‘Mon, Pokeballs being emptied and smashed, and the uncomfortably familiar sound of healthy rows of teeth being crumpled in with titanium-plated fists.\n\n\t“Ccrrrrsskkk- Apologies, Combuskin, a little busy at the– IN THE NAME OF LOVE AND JUSTICE, I CAST YOU [u]DOWN[/u]!” \n\n\tWhat was surely a wanted criminal choked on his own screams and then shrieked in agony as they heard the even more unsettlingly familiar sound of a femur snapping clean in two; then Dad’s Blaziken screeching, a thump, and the ratcheting of cuffs being tightened.\n\n“Sorry about that, dedicated duo! This is Masque, reading you loud and clear, Caw.”\n\n“Is that guy gonna be ok, dad?” Clemont asked.\n\nThe Masque chuckled. “Worry not, crutches are cheap, Caw! He’ll be up with a cast and repenting behind bars in no time.”\n\nClemont nodded. “Right. Anyway, we’ve got eyes on the players, box seating.”\n\n“Excellent, I’ll continue cleaning up here. Let me know if anything goes awry.”\n\n\n\n\n\tRichard grinned and rubbed his palms together. “This is all so incredible. You’re amazing, you know that? I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a ‘Mon with talents like yours.”\n\n\tThose words punched straight past all his cool bravado and he started choking up a little. [i]I really needed to hear that today[/i]. Spinel thought with a very real flush in his cheeks.\n\n “{...thank you...}” he squeaked, averting his eyes out of habit.\n\nHowever, he brought himself back into focus and managed to purr and rub his body against Richard’s leg in thanks. He brushed a ribbon against the man’s cheek, feeling his smooth, youthful cheeks that hadn’t yet been cursed with the end-of-day stubble of middle age.\n\nRichard chuckled nervously and rubbed the back of his head as the ticklish, electric sensation of Spinel’s tendrils brushing against the sensitive nerves of his face wore off. “You’re so funny, are Sylveon normally this lovey? I really appreciate it, everything, you’ve really made this trip something else, little guy. Did Val ask you to set this up?”\n\nSpinel shook his head and then pressed a ribbon to his chest. “{All me, beloved.}”\n\nRichard nodded, laughing. “Well then, I bet she’s gonna be real impressed. I don’t know how anyone wouldn’t be. You know when she’s coming?”\n\nSpinel was tickled by the uncomfortable feeling of giddy Butterfree escaping his stomach in a swarm, but wrangled them back together. He knew this beautiful, beautiful man was dense as Donphan Hide, and it was gonna take more than one swing to crack that nut.\n\nHe shook his head, managing a petite little smirk, and gestured to the table. \n\t\n\tRichard sat down, eyes wandering around in empty-headed amazement at the spectacle.\n\n\tThe door flew shut, and Spinel sighed as he could finally stop projecting the Misty Terrain outside, letting the fog fade and lamps extinguish. He leapt up onto the stool on his end. He waited a while, hoping Richard would realize he needed to open the note, but ended up whistling to get the boy’s attention. He gestured to his own note, then pointed with his paw to Richard's.\n\n\tRichard peeked inside.\n\n\n[b][i]I want you to know how much you mean to me, Richard.[/i][/b]\n\n[i][b]So, I thought we could play a little game during appetizers.[/b][/i]\n\n\n\n\n\tBonnie’s head tilted. “No Valorie, but…\n\n\tClemont stretched, propping his feet up on a crate. “Yep, no show. Sylveon’s just making him comfortable. The waterworks are coming for sure.”\n\n\tShe continued to watch with elated intensity. “I… I think this IS the date, Caw.”\n\n\tHer brother looked at her like she’d sprouted wings for real. “Have you lost your marbles? He’s a trainer, a well known one too! Men and ‘Mon don’t do that. That would be crazy, Cheep.”\n\n\tShe shook her head in defiance. “Look at the way Sylveon is staring at Richard. Oooh, he’s head over heels, I can tell.”\n\n\tClemont rolled his eyes and bit into a chocolate wafer. “It’s a Sylveon, they love everyone.”\n\n\tThe Masque, however, hummed with intense thought. “Was I wrong? Wait, did I misread the programme [u]that[/u] badly?” he mumbled, barely audible over the angry growling of a man cursing in brusque, southern Kalosian.\n\n\t“Come again, Masque?” Clemont said.\n\n\t“Nothing, nothing, continue observing, little ones.”\n\n\n\n\n\tRichard read the note multiple times, confused by what was within, but decided to shrug and play along. “A game huh?”\n\n\tSpinel winked and straightened a little stack of notes against the table, as well as flicking open his brush-tipped calligraphy pen. \n\n “Alright, you wanna be my ‘Mon, huh? Didn’t think I’d be on two dates today, but I’m in.”\n\n\tSpinel’s head bobbed back and forth.\n\n[i]Well, it's a step in the right direction, at least.[/i]\n\n\tHe stretched one ribbon back to the countertop and then presented a pewter platter with a tub-top lid. He removed the cover and Richard suddenly remembered that he hadn’t eaten anything at all since breakfast.\n\n\tRichard plucked up an oozing, cream cheese wrapped bacon ball and placed it into his mouth. It was brittle like sugar candy and exploded in his mouth with a riot of savory, herbal flavors. He swallowed it slowly after letting it sit in his mouth for a while. “Oh my Gods that tastes so good! You’re hired if you cook like that. Haha. Mrbfff.” Richard began punching a second bacon wrap into his mouth as soon as the words left his mouth, then a third. “Mrrr urn urrmil crnt curk nurfffn urt ahll.”\n\n\tSpinel smiled and started scribbling on the paper, deciding to steal and nibble at one of the delectables to calm his nerves.\n\n\nHis tummy lifted up inside and dropped back down as he pushed the first note across the table.\n\n\n[b][i]What do you want most in a lover, Richard?[/i][/b]\n\n\n\tRich took up a conveniently placed salmon-colored napkin and wiped the bacon grease brittle from his lips. He thought about this a lot more than Spinel expected, then said, “I guess I want someone who’ll love me for who I am and not what I am. Looks don’t matter too much, but a well dressed cutie with a bit of fire wouldn’t hurt. I just want someone that won’t lie to me, won’t try to dig into my life just to take the family jewels and run, y’know? Someone playful, maybe a little shy, someone who knows how to laugh and play a prank every once and a while. Work hard, play hard, that’s my pace, after all.”\n\n\tSpinel’s heart clutched itself and squeezed.\n\n\tRichard hummed. “Well, I guess it’s my turn, huh?” He smiled, and his emerald eyes gleamed across the table, making Spinel’s guts melt with infatuation. “Alright, since we’re going with a love theme, little ‘Love ‘Mon.’ How many partners have you had?”\n\n\tSpinel’s eyes went wide with terror, his ribbon shook, trying to figure out how to give him the truth without tainting the activity with a sense of depression. He slipped it across the table, and then his other ribbons placed empty glasses at the table in front of both of them.\n\n\t\n[b][i]Partners? More than I’m proud of.[/i][/b]\n\n[i][b]Lovers?[/b][/i]\n\n[b][i]Only one.[/i][/b]\n\n\n\tHe scrawled another note, terrified to ask but he knew it needed to happen sooner rather than later.\n\n\n[b][i]Are you totally straight or do you [/i][/b][i][b]look both ways[/b][/i][b][i] before crossing the street?[/i][/b]\n\n\n\tRichard opened his mouth right away, but then he pressed his hand to his lips. His mouth opened again, but then he stopped himself twice. “I guess I hadn’t given it much thought.”\n\n\tSpinel’s face lost any and all expression. [i]How? How in your whole life could you possibly have gone without considering your sexuality?[/i]\n\n[i]\t[/i]“I mean, I’ve had sex before, yeah. It’s nice, but, like, I dunno, I’ve met some dudes that are pretty friggin hot, too. Can’t knock something I haven’t tried, right?”\n\n\tSpinel blinked.\n\n[i]That’s not a no![/i]\n[b]\t[/b]\n[b]\t[/b]Richard fiddled with his thumbs as he considered his next question. While he mused, Spinel’s tendrils scooped fresh ice into his glass and then poured a pink concoction. He plopped in a yellow straw and a lemon slice on the rim. \n\n\tAfter both of them had a frosty, adult beverage ready, he handed Richard another note.\n\n\n[b][i]Specialty of mine, Rose Liechi-nade.[/i][/b]\n\n\t\n\tRichard took a long, heavy toke of the straw, discovering the depths of his thirst as well. “Ok, that’s awesome. You need to tell me how to make that before we leave. Oh, oh oh. Ok, ok. Seriously, where did you learn to write so well? I’ve seen ‘Mon talk, but never seen them write.”\n\n\tSpinel took a big sip from his own glass, which irresponsibly was the same size as his date’s, then scribbled onto another sheet.\n\n\n[b][i]I taught myself late in life, Valorie helped some. Real handy, being a service ‘Mon.[/i][/b]\n\n[i][b]What would you say if I told you I wanted to be more than just one of your Pokemon?[/b][/i]\n\t\n\n\tRichard took another couple long sips and helped Spinel finish off the bacon bites. “Hahaha, well, you’re awesome and all, but if you want to be an anchor on my team you’re gonna need to hit the bricks, buddy. Got some mean competition for those six spots on my belt. Don’t have a fairy type, though, so there is hope for you.”\n\n\tSpinel wanted to smack his head against the table.\n\nInstead, he drank. Then he drank some more.\n\n\t“Hmm, What makes you so interested in being with me, Sylveon? Not often ‘Mon walk up and touch the button, y’know?”\n\n\tOh, Spinel’s heart tightened so much it hurt to breathe. He tried to hold himself back, to work the scene with stealth and debonair, to not incriminate himself. But the words left his pen and made it to Richard’s fingers before he knew what was going on.\n\nHe noticed his date’s glass getting empty and stealthily refilled it with another round of cocktails, hoping the liquor would soften the blow.\n\n\t\n[b][i]Because I love you.[/i][/b]\n\n[i][b]I know it’s a bit strange, but…[/b][/i]\n\n[b][i]Do you think you’d be willing to try and see if you love me back?[/i][/b]\n\n\n[b]\t[/b]Richard stared at the paper for a long time, long enough that Spinel was sure his coconut-brained boy had finally cracked. While Richard mused over what he just read, Spinel’s appendages scooped big, fat, heaping bowls of Stew that sparked along the ladle and served them up with another note.\n\n\n[i][b]Old family recipe. Pika-Skrelp Gumbo. [/b][/i]\n\n[b][i]Be careful, it’s got an attitude. [/i][/b][i][b]Hehe.[/b][/i]\n\n\n\tRichard scooped a mouthful of the stuff from the chowder spoon provided and his head shook with a static shock that played with his gums. That along with a heat that opened the nostrils, the flavors within were made utterly irresistible. “Whoa man! That’s crazy, that’s Pikachu? I guess I never thought to try it!”\n\n\tHe jolted back to his senses and finally answered the question that had Spinel tied into knots. “That’s an honor, coming from a Sylveon. I love all my Pokemon, and if you came along with me I’m sure I’d love you too. In a way, I already do. You’ve been a great friend. I’ll talk to the Captain and see if he’d be willing to part with you. If I was him, though, I wouldn’t be so stupid.”\n\n\tSpinel’s paw clutched his stomach, claws digging into his soft belly, and he suddenly felt like he needed to puke.\n\nHe kept suppressing the urge  to purge with rounds of Liechi-nade and mouthfuls of calorie dense food.\n\n\tHe served up a plate of huge, fried dinner rolls onto the table and demonstrated dipping them into the gumbo with a wink.\n\n\tRichard followed suit. At least he appreciated his cooking, that was a small soothing balm.\n\n\tYears of forcing his face to betray his inner feelings prepared himself for this shit show. He kept a strong facade up, but deep inside he wanted to weep like a pressed lemon.\n\n[i]It was the longest of long shots, Spinel.[/i]\n\n[i]You knew this was gonna happen. Stop it, don’t cry, you’re a big ‘Mon.[/i]\n\n\n\n\t“Oh no!” Bonnie’s head shook slowly. “He’s smiling, but he’s holding his heart and his ribbons are fidgeting all over the place. Something is wrong. Richard’s just chowing down and doesn’t seem to care at all! What should we do, Caw?”\n\n\tClemont shook his head. “Nothing we can do would change things, Cheep. And this is Valorie’s date, you nutjob.”\n\n\t“But… rrrrr, no!” She went back to watching the two of them through the windows of the cafe, but not before locking her fingers together in solemn prayer. “Oh, Lord Enamorous, don’t let it end like this! Let the hands of these two, disparate lovers come together this night.”\n\n\tClemont sighed. “You’re just like dad,” he whispered to himself.\n\n\t\n\n\tThey both ate in silence for a long while as Rich demolished Spinel’s masterpiece dinner and let some of the hardest lemonade allowed by law run down his throat like an open drain.\n\nThen suddenly Richard picked up where they left off, leaning on his shoulder with a slight slur in his voice. “Right back at’cha. What do [u]you[/u] most want in a partner?”\n\n\tIt took everything he had not to sob into his bowl, knowing he couldn’t help himself responding with the whole, raw truth, being totally unprepared for the fact that Richard’s reply would hurt twice as much now. His ribbons shook as he wrote, half from emotional turmoil and half from the fact he’d absentmindedly choked down three whole tall glasses of Liechi-nade and his vision was starting to blur.\n\n\tRichard had downed five, and Spinel could tell he was riding shotgun with him on their way out of Buzz Town, off to Margaritaville.\n\n\n[i][b]All I want is you, Richard.[/b][/i]\n\n[b][i]More than anything else.[/i][/b]\n\n\n\tRichard smiled, gasped, his eyes drowned in tears, and then he wobbled over to Spinel’s stool and picked him up in a great big Beartic hug. “Oh, jeez, you little ball of mushy gushy fluff. You're making me cry now. We’ll make it happen, I promise. I’ll ask Dad for a loan if I gotta.”\n\n\tSpinel finally broke down and squeaked through clenched teeth as his tears soaked Richard’s shoulder. He could smell the musk on his neck, feel the warmth of his body filling him with desire. He knew this is where he wanted to be, but not like this.\n\nHe wanted to pop the buttons on that garnet colored shirt and lay atop his bare chest, tickling the boy’s lips with his canines as they slowly, sensually kissed at the end of a long day. He wanted to wrap Richard up in a fit of passion and please him senseless; to run behind closed doors whenever he asked and make sweet, filthy, sinful love. He wanted to hold him in those moments when life was hardest, he knew this for certain the very moment Richard did it for him.\n\n\tBut, it turns out the best he could hope for was to be one of the man’s most beloved slaves.\n\n\tBrought into the personal entourage of some gorgeous, wealthy heir to a famous league battling dynasty? Until that week he never would have turned that down, even that unfortunate outcome was a hundred times better than living there in Kalos, a stone's throw away from getting lassoed back into the sex trade…\n\n\tBut it was a far cry from the Nirvana he envisioned, and he was done settling for scraps.\n\n\tHe pressed his paw against Richard’s cheek and brought him nose to nose. He gazed into those glittering, emerald jewels beset into his face. He took his time, longingly running a claw across his chin, feeling the heat of his breath on his muzzle, knowing it might be the very last time he’d have the pleasure of doing so. “{You idiot!}”\n\n\tSpinel jumped him, wrapped his front legs around his neck, and stroked his cheek with one ribbon as the others coiled around his body in a passionate hug.\n\nThen he slowly combed his claws through the hair at the back of Richard’s head and pressed his little lips against the boy’s mouth.\n\n\t\n\n\tBonnie’s palm covered her mouth as she gasped, and then absolutely gushed with excitement. “Oh, Enamorous, They’re hugging all tight, they’re crying and smiling, and they’re [u]kissing[/u]. It’s so cuuute, aaaaaaahhh, it must be true love!” She stamped her feet in place, pressing her knuckles into her cheeks as she squealed.\n\n\tClemont choked on his egg-shaped canteen of water. “Th-they what?!” he coughed.\n\n\tThe Masque’s staticy, stunned silence over the radio lasted for ten whole seconds. Then the two of them heard the sound of someone groaning in pain after a parade of noise that surely must have been the shattering of wooden furniture and cheap pottery.\n\n“Mission accomplished, Combuskin. Excellently done. Return to base for a well earned rest. We speak of this to no one.”\n\n\tClemont stuttered and fumbled as he yanked the binoculars away from Bonnie and saw the scene for himself. “But, whaa? Shouldn’t we tell somebody, anybody? Isn’t this–”\n\n\tHis stammering was interrupted with a delighted, mirthful laughter filling his ears. “No, Son, everything is right with the world. I’ll explain one day, but for now, return home.”\n\n\n\n\tRichard’s eyes went wide as the fiery buzz from Spinel’s ribbon returned and his petite little jowls pushed onto his mouth. The little guy smelled like a bakery and wild rose bushes. His nearly invisible whiskers tickled Richard’s face, and the combination of spirits and surprise made him instinctively wrap his arms around the arch of Spinel’s back. His brain was overwhelmed with strange, passionate emotions that weren’t his, and as the warm, loving, desperate energy fluttered in his chest he somehow couldn’t pull himself away.\n\n\tHis embrace encouraged the desperate ‘Mon, whose ears had folded back behind his head in terror. He felt the brotherly love that Richard had developed over the short period. He could sense the Man’s confusion and apprehension, but also felt some tiny spark of enjoyment that pushed him onward. He slipped his thin, barbed tongue between Richard’s lips, and as parted for him he ran his teeth playfully across the wet, tender flesh within.\n\n\tBesides the medley of everything he’d stuffed the boy with throughout the evening, he tasted so pleasant. The sensation of Richard’s breath passing through his little black nose was entrancing, and he never, ever wanted the sensation to end.\n\n\tIt took every ounce of willpower to stop himself from ripping Richard’s attire away, tearing his pants into worthless strips of cloth, and trying to fuck his naked body into a quivering puddle right there on the Cafe floor.\n\n\tWhen their mouths finally parted in a soft smack, Spinel put his paw against his Man’s cheek again and smiled nervously, brushing that feral strand of mane out of his eyes. His shell of confidence had totally shattered now that his feelings had been laid completely bare.\n\n\n\t[i]This was it, you felt it too. I know you did![/i]\n\n\n\tSpinel practically clawed at Richard’s clothes as the Man set him back down onto the stool and started peeling his ribbons away from his body.\n\nRichard started laughing, long, loud, belly laughing with eyes that wet with hysterical tears as he wobbled on his own two feet. “Damn, you’re a good kisser, Sylveon. Had uh bit too much uh that Liechi-o-nade? Dun worry, I did too. Hahaha. I wun’t tell anuh-one.” He chuckled and steadied himself against the table. “Ah man, ah get why Em duhs whuh he duhs now. U’m having suhssch a good time and U’m gettu’n the ol’ Ghastly from thuh woman I luhb. Hahaha.”\n\t\n\tSpinel’s claws dug into his chest, mouth open as he tried to speak, but knew that this boy had no chance of understanding him, context or not. He started scribbling onto a paper that shook in his clutches, and a couple tears splashed against the hand-pressed fibers, splotching one of his messy strokes of the pen. \n\n[i]No, you Gods damned fool! You’re not getting the Ghastly, you’re being [/i][i]Whiscashed[/i][i], why can’t you see that?[/i] His barely suppressed screams rattled around his skull as they echoed back and forth between his ears.\n\n\n[i][b]Valorie doesn’t love you, but I do![/b][/i]\n\n[b][i]She never[/i][/b]\n\n\nThe bright pink candles all around them slowly snuffed out.\n\n\n\tHe sighed and then dropped his pen and the paper to the floor. His bushy, excited ears drooped, his tail curled up between his legs, and he clenched his jaw as he tried to contain the explosion of anguish fighting to howl out from deep inside his guts.\n\nHe sucked it up, like he’d done a million times before, and bowed to his new master. He unveiled the last course, complete with honey butter spread and the final note of the evening.\n\n\n[b][i]Honey-Toasted-Almond Beignets[/i][/b]\n\n[i][b]A piece of my soul for the man who stole my heart.[/b][/i]\n\n[b][i]Here’s to us.[/i][/b]\n\n\t\n\tWhy did he write that? He knew how unlikely, how ludicrous it was that Richard could look at him as more than anything but a tool. A fuzzy, affectionate, beloved tool… but a tool all the same. Why did he do any of it at all? Gods, he’d opened his heart up to the world and let it cut him so deep it left him trapped, ankle deep in a pool of his own cold, miserable, jilted blood.\n\n\tRichard raised his glass, and drank from the rim, forgetting completely about the straw he’d accidentally dropped to the floor. “Tuh uss, lil guy.” Then he bit into one of the desserts and behaved like a child that had snuck into the banquet kitchen. “Urmayzing, aw mah gawsh.”\n\n\tHe couldn’t take it anymore. Spinel lashed a ribbon around his eyes, trying to hide his tears. Then he squeaked a shrill, visceral cry past his the air-tight seal on his maw as he dashed back into the kitchen. He drifted off course as he careened through the restaurant, toppling over a wooden coat rack and a kitschy, ax-hewn statue of a Hoot-Hoot.\n\n\n\n\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/\n\n\n\nValorie smooched Fenny on the forehead after checking to make sure no stray eyes were watching them in the dark corridors of Old South. “{Seriously, I seriously need you to keep it together, ok? He’s just a naive little boy and we don’t [u]actually[/u] want to hurt him, ok? Don’t need Em and the Old Man jumping on our backs.}”\n\nShe leaned down, pried up a loose cobble, and retrieved a little brass key from the hole.\n\nFenny purred and followed her, sniffing around for people and discarded food. She’d tried her best to stop him from reaching into garbage cans to snatch up people’s freshly-tossed leftovers, but there was no hope when your mate was a walking, talking bottomless pit.\n\n“{I’ll be good. He might be Friend Sylveon’s mate, yes?}” He toyed around with a glittering strand of…stuff hanging from his staff; a leather string bearing all the little beads, baubles, and shiny do-nothings he’d swiped on his visit to the capital, strung together as an intricate memento of their grand journey.\n\nHe’d have many new stories to tell the bushbabies back home! Yes Yes!\n\nVal nodded, cleared her nostrils, and spat behind a barrel. “{With any luck, yeah. Then I won’t have to–.}” She stopped speaking as she unlocked the back kitchen door and took in the scene of devastation before her. \n\nSpinel’s back was leaned against the wall on his bum, tugging at his ears, ugly crying so hard he struggled to suck air into his lungs like he’d been kicked in the stomach. That gorgeous shawl he’d hand-sewn specifically for the occasion was ripped up to tiny, bite sized pieces and thrown around like flakes of snow. Pots, pans, and canisters of powdered spices were juggled around and dropped to the floor.\n\nThe kitchen was a delirious, messy display of raw, emotional turmoil. \n\nValorie sighed. “Dammit.”\n\nFenny jumped right up to Spinel, let his staff clatter to the floor, and opened his arms. “{What is wrong, Friend Sylveon? Come come, tell Delphox all about it.}”\n\nSpinel let Fenny scoop him up in his arms, dripping like half-melted ice cream, and then ragdolled while sobbing into a warm, fluffy shoulder. “{I tried so hard...} hic. {Everything was perfect, I did it all, Val. He doesn’t get it, I told him to his face and he just won’t get it.}” He snorted and coughed before openly bawling again.\n\nIt was then the two of them could smell the copious amount of liquor on his breath.\n\nFenny frowned, his throat rumbling fell and low. Then he nuzzled Spinel, cuddled him, and squeezed him tight as he swayed his torso back and forth. “{It’s ok, we’re here now. We’ll fix him good, won’t we, mighty mate of mine?}”\n\nSpinel sprung back to life and shook his head. “{D-don’t hurt him! Just go break his heart as hard as you can, get it over with so we can get on with our lives and I can try to forget this mistake ever happened.}”\n\nVal’s palm hit her face and she growled. “Thaz it. Time fer the nuclear option.”\n\nSpinel pulled his face out of Fenny’s fluff and looked at Valorie. “{The what?}”\n\nShe pointed to Spinel and Fenny. “{You two clean this mess up, I won’t go losing friends over some thick-headed breeder like him. After that, follow my lead. We’re catching a lift with the White Wings.}”\n\nShe nabbed one of Spinel’s beignets left on a platter for the kitchen staff in the morning and devoured it in one bite.\n\n[i]Mmm mmm mmm, absolutely divine. Wasn’t gonna leave here without [/i][i][u]some[/u][/i][i] of Cherry’s cooking, that's for sure.[/i]\n\nThere he was. Sitting [u]so[/u] patiently. For [u]her[/u]. Drinking from a dewy glass of some neon pink poison Spinel had brewed up to bring the boy to his knees. And down on his knees he was, practically basted in savory nectars and strong rum, surrounded by empty dishes that had been totally licked clean. \n\nAs she stomped out of the kitchen Richard’s eyes lit up and he tried to stand, but he failed and ended up propping himself against the chair. “Valoreh… yoo schow’d up. Ah thuh yuh lef muh hang’n thur… uhhhaaaaa!”\n\nShe clutched the front of his shirt, fist balled up so tight with fury she wasn’t entirely confident she could keep it under control. “Yuh waited, didja? How long wouldja gone on, huh? Til the sun come up? All week?”\n\n[i]C’mon Val, you know how to do this shit. Just one more time, won’t hurt too bad. [/i]\n\nShe yanked Richard forward, locked lips with him, and then smirked as she caught a whiff of Spinel’s pheromones smeared all over his face and mouth.\n\n[i]Oh no, the poor thing managed to [/i][i]get a taste[/i][i]. That’s why it hurt so bad.[/i]\n\nShe glared at Richard with a strange, sultry look so absolutely out of character for her it chilled Richard’s spine. “I’m gonna show you what you’ve been missing,” she said with language totally free of her messy conjunctions and hickish, riverway accent.\n\n\n[b]\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/[/b]\n\n\nShe’d called upon the White Wings, a premium service that swooped in with flying ‘Mon of all shapes and sizes to carry you anywhere you could possibly want to go, servicing the entirety of Kalos. There was a special number you texted with your coordinates and away you went. One of the smoothest run operations in the entire region, probably the only thing not stepped in noble corruption.\n\nIt was the only service she trusted with her life.\n\nThey were scooped up by a trio of Pidgeot that had clearly been bred for their size and wing strength. Valorie and Richard each took the reins of a single bird, and she made sure to buckle his drunken ass in so he didn’t tumble off and paint the cobbles red. The last bird carried Spinel and Fenny, and then they were off.\n\nThe city was gorgeous from the sky, and the air did a lot to calm her fiery temper, but she would’ve appreciated the scenery more if Richard hadn’t ruined the moment whining about feeling nauseous.\n\nShe told Richard if he spewed that she was gonna tear his arms off at the shoulder and that kept his slime inside just fine.\n\nThe Pidgeot were brothers of the same clutch, and told Val they actually didn’t altogether hate their state of affairs. Not something she was used to hearing, and so her typical schtick of grousing with the local ‘Mon about shit treatment didn’t really seem to land too well.\n\nThey did also mention that they weren’t allowed to keep the tips, so she made sure to leave a couple peach pits she had in her pocket in the tip bag tied to their necks for the oh-so-generous masters.\n\nSeveral baggy-eyed night workers in the hotel plaza dashed out of the way as the birds brought them down to their destination and she made sure to give each of them part of an apple she snagged from the breakfast that morning.\n\nBefore she helped Richard get off, she shouted over at Spinel. “{This is your last chance, lover boy. You owe me after this, y’hear? You can pay me back by getting this fool out of my life.}”\n\n\tRichard chuckled as she helped him down. “Haaahaha, is so kyute hearin’ yuh schpeek with the ‘Mon. I shu lurn tuh do tha too…”\n\n\tShe shook her head, making sure to bump hips against his and stroke his sides in that sensual but socially appropriate way her mother taught her all those years ago. “You really should. You’d learn a lot more than a language, big guy.”\n\n\tSpinel followed behind, anxious, practically coming apart at the seams with worry. He had no idea what she was planning, but he hoped with every strand of fur on his body it wasn’t to hurt Richard. There was no point in asking any more questions though, when Val got like that she’d say something and move, and if you didn’t follow she’d wander off into the horizon without you. In this case, with his beloved in her clutches.\n\n\tAs they wandered the halls, she’d take a moment every thirty feet or so to push him against a wall or a pillar and smother him in passionate, breathtaking kisses, nibbles of the neck, and playful tugs of the lips. \n\n\tIt was exhilarating and hotter than molten apple pie, but Richard couldn’t help noticing the embraces felt… empty. Like bags of chips full of nothing but salty smelling air. That moment swapping spit with Sylveon, even though he believed the whole thing was a drunken joke, was absolutely magical in comparison. He could feel the desire in the way he threw himself against his face, the hum of pleasure in his little throat, the ticklish dancing of the tongue.\n\n[i]She really could take some lessons from the little guy.[/i]\n\n\tIn the background, Fenny tailed the three of them, all by himself, growling with a look of disgust. The Rheechard didn’t deserve her lips, her nips, or her hips. It wasn’t like he got jealous like Men were to be, he’d seen Val getting taken by many of the Village males. Encouraged her to, even. But Val detested this Man, she said so herself to his face, and by extension Fenny did too. So seeing his nestmate clamoring all over him like a Slakoth humping a tree made him sick.\n\n\tRegardless of the things his muffled forebrain tried to yell out at him, he was so horny it all drowned in a flood of endorphins. Val wasn’t the greatest kisser, but her body was in-credible to behold. When she touched him and tossed him around, he could feel the iron in her bones crushing him like an industrial machine. He caught himself holding his breath as she dove into his personal space, finding her body odor so unbelievably pungent that he had to dodge the smell. \n\nHowever, even that couldn’t stop the raging boner from forming in his slacks.\n\n\tSpinel stayed underfoot, skittishly scrambling out of the way as Rich barely managed to fumble with his wallet and swipe the keycard to his room in time before Val shoved him inside and forced his shoulders against the wall.\n\n\tShe looked him in the eyes, tapped into that battery of hers, and her serpentine irises glowed a faint indigo color. “Take off the business casual.” It took every ounce of her focus to keep her natural intonation from bleeding through. \n\n\tRichard had no idea what happened, but his body started moving on its own, mechanically unbuttoning the shirt and slipping his pants down his legs. \n\n\tShe pulled her olive green tank top over her head, flailing her fiery braid around as she struggled to undress for some weird reason, showing off matted pits full of bushy red fur that smelled like a locker room from six feet away. She unlatched the belts all around her waist and thighs, letting her denim cargo pants as well as all her satchels of gear and the knives she never went without collapse to the ground with a loud thud.\n\nHer legs were speckled in tiny ginger hairs; he’d never seen a lady without shaven legs, and he silently remarked at how they looked like limbs of a great big cactus. \n\nSpinel quietly let Fenny in, shut the door and started battening down all the hatches, latching, locking, door-stopping, and jamming-a-chair-under-the-doorknobbing so nobody could interrupt them.\n\n\tShe whipped around and pressed her body against his, feeling his dick against her groin. The uncomfortable tightening of her back made her so glad she wasn’t going to let that wretched thing inside her. No way, no how. Just the thought of a Man leaving spunk inside her struck Val with rapid onset stomach flu.\n\n\t“Get on the bed.”\n\nShe put her palms against his abdomen and pushed, launching Richard into the air on a  ballistic trajectory across the suite. He landed on the bed with the wind knocked from his lungs, wide eyed with terror.\n\nShe walked towards the bed, hips swaying, tugging at her exercise bra to wrestle it over her head to expose her top as she pried her socks off with her toes.\n\nHer entire body, head to toe, was covered in gnarly scars from what Richard could only assume must have been potentially life-threatening wounds. How had the crazy bitch survived that long? What kind of insane work was in her past to accrue all those injuries? Her arms, legs, and abdomen were ripped as his! Moreso, even; he was pretty sure if he punched her in the stomach he would’ve ended up breaking his knuckles. \n\nShe must have been a soldier in the Northfront wars, he thought. That’s the only thing that made any kind sense. But even special forces couldn’t hypnotize someone with a gaze or throw a fully grown man fifteen feet away from where they stood.\n\nValorie gazed at him with her indigo eyes again, and he was locked in place as if all the controls to his body were unplugged.\n\nShe let her underwear fall to the floor, exposing a labia hidden deep within a carpet of fiery pubic fuzz.\n\n“Take it all off.”\n\nHe could feel his dick throbbing, his hands moving, his arms wobbling around to strip away his white undershirt and Psyduck print boxers without any input from him. It made his stomach twist and he gasped for air as soon as the lights came back on and his body listened to him again. \n\nShe climbed up onto him, then turned her head back to Spinel, who had crept towards the bed but stayed at a safe distance, knowing damn well that Val had a well-earned reputation for furious retribution that was legendary.\n\n[i]“{You want it? [/i][i]He’s all yours[/i][i]. Got him all warmed up for you.}”[/i] She scooted up his body and turned her gaze to Richard's face, leaving plenty of room above an aching, twitching cock that yearned for a warm wet hole to fill.\n\nSpinel heard her voice in his head. He knew she had some strange abilities, just like all the other people she and that aquarium guy hung around with, but this was something new. New and downright frightening. Was this right? Was this moral? Spinel struggled with himself as he realized what Valorie had planned for him to do.\n\nIt was scary, and kinda horrible, but also downright erotic, and it took all of the courage left in his little heart to jump up behind Valorie’s gloriously toned ass and assume the position.\n\n\tRichard’s dick was long, with a healthy girth to match, and its smooth, peachy red foreskin bulged with pulsing veins amid his body’s desperate cries for intercourse. His balls were tight against his body, locked, loaded, and ready to fire. Spinel was surprised he hadn’t busted a nut already, considering how sensitive his body seemed to be.\n\nThe most stunning thing of all, though, was that Richard had apparently taken a chance in one of the many complementary spas available to the contestant trainers and had all of his body hair waxed away.\n\n\tHis toned, infinitely lickable body was smooth as the shell of a freshly laid egg. \n\n\tSpinel nuzzled his penis, brushed his whiskers against the delectable thing, and was delighted to find that it had his natural scent instead of that putrid, rotten smell some men got when they went an hour or two beyond the shower curtain. Richard’s hips shifted and shuddered at his touch, and that prompted Spinel to lay down, get comfy, and gently kiss at the base.\n\nValorie leaned in and kissed Richard’s neck. “Is this all you’ve wanted?”\n\nSpinel worked his way up the shaft, caressing his beloved’s hips with his paws as he tickled and dragged his tongue all the way up. A little pink button peeked out from the slit hidden between his own hind legs and his heart started racing.\n\nRichard’s back arced at the electric sensation of her lips against his neck and the uncanny melody playing below his waist. “I want you, all of you.”\n\nSpinel started from the bottom again, wanting to get another noseful of his sweaty musk. He climbed his way up Richard’s cock with a staircase of smooches and licks that made the Man’s legs tighten up. Finally, as he started heaving hot, heavy breaths, he slipped that fat, pulsing tip between his lips.\n\n\tShe smiled as Spinel pushed Richard’s cock into his mouth and wrapped the end of one of his ribbons around the base. She watched Richard’s expression turn from that of a self satisfied jock to something akin to a Treecko snagged up in a Dewpider’s snare. \n\n\tHe tasted so good.\n\n\tActually, if Spinel was honest with himself, it tasted like dick. He had learned that there was a tiny amount of variation between species, people, and their recent diets, which made for interesting pillowtalk. In the end, though, dicks tasted like dicks. If it was a dick you didn’t want shoved in your mouth, it was the most vile, gag inducing taste imaginable. \n\n\tBut your deepest, most cherished heartthrob squirming in your clutches?\n\nHeavenly.\n\n\tVal moved her hips up and down, pretending that she was the one trying to milk him dry while Spinel was behind her sucking him off like he'd been dying of thirst for days and finally stumbled upon a runny faucet.\n\nShe bit his earlobe and he gasped at how hard she got him, having left red welts in the skin. “Yeah? Well, let me tell you what I think, stud,” she cooed, pressing him into a sea of fresh, white linens with her steel clad, washboard abs rumbling against his own.\n\n\tSpinel took as much of Richard's immensity as he possibly could, audibly moaning in a very sincere state of rapture. He purred as his ribbons stroked the base of his shaft in time with the tiny unconscious thrusting motions of Richard’s hips, bobbing his head up and down to take in shallow breaths on the upstroke.\n\nHe loved how Richard writhed at his touch, back arched, practically gasping for air each and every time his tiny lips and textured tongue swallowed him down to half-mast.\n\n\t“Yea, bootiful, ah do,” Richard panted and then grabbed at Valorie’s hips, thrusting up as if he was actually balls deep in his terrifying warrior maiden.\n\nSpinel squeaked in surprise, finding the boy’s head jammed so hard into his throat that he had to pull him out to the tip, rolling his tongue across the head to recoup and readjust to the wild, dominant tempo.\n\nVal could hear Fenny’s rumbling of distaste, and she realized that perhaps she’d taken this charade further than was necessary. Perhaps it was the taboo, perhaps it was some kind of wicked sense of control, perhaps she was just broken in the head, but it was unbelievably erotic watching some good looking rube unknowingly get his Pokeflute played by his favorite Bro ‘Mon.\n\nShe was dripping wet, her nipples could split logs, and she wanted to reassure her real mate that he was the one who actually belonged with his pecker jammed up inside her.\n\nThe smile on her mouth loosened into an unimpressed frown. “Ah think yer in love with uh fantasy version uh me, and yer so blind widdit yeh can’t see straight.”\n\nShe crawled off of him, and as her waist slipped free from his clutches his eyes bugged out of his head as he saw Sylveon. Perched atop his groin. Snogging his rod.\n\n“Wh- Wha?” he gasped, mouth agape with stupor.\n\nSpinel panicked under his gaze, caught red muzzled with a heaping mouthful of Richard’s dick. He squeaked a quiet apology and stopped, looking away in cherry-faced shame.\n\nShe marched back to the door, naked as a hatchling, and plucked her clothes up one by one. “Yeh played yerself ah mighty fine fool, Rich.”\n\nFenny scurried in, grabbing up some of her clothes too, then glared Richard’s way.\n\n“Ye dunno a damn thing about me. Ah told’ja once and ah meant it. Ye’ll never be anythin’ more te me than ah hotshot trainer boy, maybe ah pal if’n ya stop hump’n mah leg.” \n\nShe pressed the side of her hips and waist against Fenny’s wonderful warm fur as he wrapped one arm around her waist, digging his claws into her skin in that way they both knew riled her up for a good tussle and a long, steamy fuck. [i]Medicine for the soul,[/i] she thought as he nuzzled her bare stomach and she calmly rubbed him beneath his neck.\n\n“Ah’m gonna go be with mah mate, an by tomorruh I hope ye gone an broke that spell yer under,” she said. Then she slipped into Richard’s freshly laundered, extra-large, hotel bathrobe that housekeeping had left hung by the door.\n\n\t“In the meantime, why not get a taste o’ what I got? Who knows? Maybe ye’ll like it.” She gestured to Spinel with her head and smiled as they left the room. “He sure likes [u]you[/u] alright.”\n\n\tClick.\n\n\tRichard’s breath was heavy, still trying to support the rush of his heart frantically beating to fuel his sex drive and the terror he suddenly felt at getting the best blowie of his life from someone else’s Pokemon.\n\nHe tried to find the words, any at all, but nothing he imagined could possibly unravel the tension they both felt in the air.\n\n\tSuddenly it all snapped into focus. Everything Syvleon had done for him was, in fact, [u]for him[/u]. The little guy put his freedom in jeopardy by showing them around the city and catered to his every need. Sylveon spent every waking moment in his company because he enjoyed his company, made bouquets of garden-fresh flowers for him, bathed in fire at his behest, hosted a magical banquet in his honor, and then bore his crying heart out in blood-red ink, only for him to… \n\n\tSpinel turned his head back towards Rich, brushed that pesky, wild strand of mane from his face again, and flashed him a timid, side-eyed smile. He chirped in a rising, quizzical tone, looked left and right, then raised his eyebrows as his cheek rested against Richard’s throbbing, rock hard shaft.\n\n\tRichard breathed in, long and slow, and tried his hardest to make good choices as his head swirled with intoxication, infatuation, dissolution, and self preservation.\n\n\t[i]That kiss [/i][i][u]was[/u][/i][i] really nice…[/i]\n\n[i]\t[/i]Spinel jumped with surprise as Richard leaned forward and brushed his fingers down his velvety, white cheek. “Ok, Sylveon… I choose you.”\n\n\tSpinel’s eyes leaked, finally glossing over with a little bit of joy instead of pain, sorrow, or loneliness for the first time since Val and Cap set him free. He nodded, reached for his hand, and passionately kissed his palm.\n\n\tOne ribbon stuffed an extra pillow behind Richard’s head. Another beckoned him to lean back and relax with a gentle push of the chest and a sensual stroke of the cheek. A third reached across the room and dimmed the lights. The final ribbon returned to its post around the base of Richard’s cock.\n\nEcstatic he could finally relish in the flesh of his desires, he swallowed Richard again. With unconcealed glee. Now that his beloved knew the source of his pleasure, he kept his hips in place, choosing instead to twist and squirm from the waist up. Perfection.\n\nSpinel’s ribbons finally went for that which they’d been craving for weeks. One wrapped around his neck like a collar, caressing the boy’s cheek. Richard gasped as those spooky, amorous thoughts swirled around in his skull, mixing with his own feelings of bewilderment and out of control arousal.\n\nThe other two spiraled around his arms like a barber’s poles and then rested in his palms. Spinel giggled as Rich held them tightly in his grip, and decided to prod Richard's ass with a tiny, sharp claw just to see him squirm as he looped the back of the ribbon around his cock under the Man’s balls and gently squeezed them.\n\nRichard moaned, his abdomen shuddered, and his legs splayed out.\n\nSpinel could feel the intense heat of his pleasure thrumming through his tendrils, and he could faintly hear his cries for more at the back of his mind.\n\n“{Oooh, you like that, honey?}” he chirped, then pressed a little harder, tightened his grip on the base of his shaft, and suckled him with audible gasps and salacious moaning that let his partner know they both were having an amazing time.\n\nHe wanted to take it slow, who knew what might happen when he came out of his neurochemical bliss? He let a fat bead of precum form at the tip of the penis, then licked it up with a long, singular brush of his tongue, back to tip. He would stop from time to time to kiss and  stroke his scrotum, playfully nibble at his inner thighs, and he even crawled up onto his body once to lick his abs and suck on his nipples as his ribbons stayed behind to beat his meat.\n\nRichard wiggled and writhed under the masterful display of fellatio. With the signals rushing between their minds, Syvleon was touching buttons he never even knew he had. Then he’d turn the dial up to eleven and smash the buttons over and over again. He could sense at the very edges of his mind just how much this Sylveon actually, truly loved him. The ‘Mon’s romantic desire for him was an all encompassing, white hot fire that was hard to focus on for too long. But even as he focused on something else, he could still sense its warmth in his chest as the pillowy folds of his mouth sent him soaring to levels of arousal that he could only describe as narcotic.\n\nSpinel listened in to the distant echoes of Richard’s mind as he started to break, inhibitions shattering bit by bit between rounds of slowing his stimulation to keep from popping his load too soon. Spinel’s own dick curled in on itself, leaking egg-whites onto the sheets beneath him, and he realized after the sixth round of playful edging that he needed to seal the deal right.\n\n\tRichard writhed around in a mindless, lusty haze. “Aaaahhh, it’s so good!”\n\n“Mmmm hmmmm…” Spinel replied as he gently bobbed his head over Richard’s member, swallowed three quarters down, hungrily sucking as his barely retracted claws flirted with his Man’s tender ass cheeks.\n\n[i]More thoughts rushed into his mind. He felt appreciation for all the risks he’d taken, sorrow for missing the obvious signs put before him, fearful of the chance that he might lose the tournament and fade into obscurity.[/i]\n\nThere was a rush of orgasmic pleasure, Richard cried out as his cock began twitching, and Spinel held back one last time to see deeper still. As he nursed his manhood, keeping his beloved inches from relief, the ribbon around Richard’s dick looped again, this time around Spinel’s own sex.\n\n[i]A mind shattering need for sexual release, concern for his cousin as she got involved with an underground movement none of them understood, anger at his father for hiding his grandmother from him, contented elation at the honest, loving companionship he’d found.[/i]\n\nAnd then he realized something…\n\nThe entire time, at least since Val made her exit, Richard was thinking about him. He wasn’t pretending the ‘Mon latched onto his nethers was Valorie, nor some gorgeous ex girlfriend, nor his go-to porn star. In fact, he was at the forefront of Richard’s mind as his fingers clutched at the sheets, his legs and toes curled up, and his hips bucked upward. His head fell back into the pillow, and his eyes rolled back into his head.\n\nSpinel let him push down into his throat, for a brief moment letting it have the nice tight hole his dick expected. Then he slid Richard’s cock out of his throat and he stroked him as the telltale pulse of pleasure told him it was time to open wide.\n\nHis Man gasped and cried with ecstasy as his muscles shook in his grasp.\n\nThe first wave of fresh, hot, human cum shot into his open maw, splashing against the roof of his mouth, and then the rush of Richard’s orgasm sizzled down his tendrils like a trail of gunpowder fuses smoking towards an open powder keg. \n\nSpinel gasped, shuddered, and wrapped his lips around the head of Richard’s penis as every single muscle in his body was wracked with an indescribable euphoria. He couldn’t help but hump at the empty air as his pecker shot strings of cum all over the bed sheets and Richard’s bare thighs as he greedily sucked up gouts of warm, sweet, liquid love.\n\nRichard’s mind was assailed with the echoes of his Pokemon cumming too. He yelled out, mind warping with the strange sensation of having a prehensile penis for a few seconds, and then thrust up into Sylveon.\n\nSpinel was all too happy to oblige, tightening his tendrils around Richard's arms as he felt gush after gush of pent up sex running down his throat.\n\nBack and forth, like the striking of a bell in an echo chamber, they were hit with orgasm, after orgasm, after orgasm. Each slightly softer than the last.\n\nWhen the storm of involuntary spasms finally passed, the tension in Richard’s body unwound and he slumped into the bed, gasping for air.\n\nSpinel stood up on wobbly legs. The comforter was soaked with his seed and Richard’s rear-end glistened in a runny, white mess. He yanked Richard’s cock free from his throat, gently licked it clean, and then swallowed with a self-satisfied flourish. \n\n“Hhhh…hhhholy fuck…” Richard heaved between labored breaths, delirious and sedated.\n\nThe top cover was carefully swept out from under him by neat, attentive ribbons and left folded on the floor. Spinel would launder that himself in the morning; he’d hate to be the servant ‘Mon stuck dealing with that little surprise. Humming cheery little tunes under a glow of deep satisfaction, he cleaned his lover up with warm, moistened towels and then tucked him into some spare sheets from the closet.\n\nRichard mumbled some unintelligible word-salad in a post-nut coma as Spinel wiggled under the sheets atop his chest, and the little fey couldn’t help but chuckle and tag him with a gentle peck on the cheek.\n\n[i]That makes things pretty clear, I think.[/i] Spinel thought as he curled up, closed his eyes, and nestled his head between Richard’s pecs. [i]Whatever happens tomorrow, at least we’re finally on the same page.[/i]\n\nSpinel was busy prancing across a platform loading of passenger trains to slumberland when something stirred beneath him.\n\nWith almost no warning, Richard sleep-snatched a squeaking, flailing, bottlebrushed Sylveon up into his arms. Then he rolled onto his side with his prize held close to the chest and snuggled him like a plus-size stuffy.\n\nSpinel waited for his heart to stop pounding, but it never did, and he hopped aboard the Hypnosis Express with a Whooper’s grin on his face.\n\n\n\n\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/\n\t\n\t\n\tAce stood side by side with his opponent, marching toward the gates of glorious battle.\n\n\tWayne Harrison. Lots of weight behind that name. He’d scrimped and saved his way out of poverty, left rural Hoenn after a short apprenticeship with Professor Birch, and then proceeded to carve his name across the sorry surface of Johto for all to see.\n\t\n\tHorace ran his palm across the five pokeballs hanging from his top, counting them one by one, checking for the warmth that meant it was occupied, making sure for the thousandth time that all his Pokemon were there.\n\nOpal’s plain, white ball rested in his palm. He hated not having her by his side, but as was tradition in the big leagues. Entertainment directors loved the spectacle of both contestants unveiling their teams just before the action started, as if they hadn’t already been required to disclose each other’s rosters the day before.\n\nHe glanced over at Harrison, whose head was locked straight with a face frozen into a some kinda stern, frustrated scowl.\n\n[i]Waz yer prollem, Kahuna man?[/i]\n\n\tAs they walked the dark tunnel leading out to the arena, he turned and hunched over in that way Ace always did when he was sizing someone up.\n\n\t“Real on-ah tradn’ blows with yah tuh-day.”\n\n\tGym Leader Harrison barely glanced over at him, and then shook his head. “Thanks.”\n\n\tAce turned to his opponent and smiled as he reached out to shake the legend’s hand. “Make sure tuh whoop mah ass, y’hear?” he said, begging the same favor he did to all his foes.\n\n\tHarrison’s wrist brushed Ace’s palm aside as he huffed in disgust. “Yeah. With pleasure.”\n\n\tAce grimaced and his body swung backwards at the man’s hostile energy. “Ya aight, lolo?”\n\n\t“You really want to know?” Harrison stopped them just before the old, iron, castle gates and turned to face him, illuminated by strips of sunlight shining through the bars. “You can tell everyones been watching you this entire time, wondering why you’re even here, right?”\n\n\tAce pushed his hands into his pockets. “Dun much cay-uh wha peep-al think-a me.”\n\n\tHarrison scoffed. “Good for you. I’ll have you know I don’t much care what everyone else thinks either, even if they happen to be right.”\n\nHe looked out through the bars, onto the field. “I bet there’s a thousand worthy trainers in Kanto with the chops to stand out here. But no! Instead here [u]you[/u] are, stumbling in with a can of Pecha Punch like you accidentally wandered into someone else’s house.”\n\nAce’s back straightened and his head slumped forward, looming,  glaring, listening real close to Wayne’s little speech.\n\n\t“You’ve got a reputation, Horace [u]Giovanni[/u] Slate, and you know that better than me. How’d you get that letter, huh? Rich uncle up in the executive suites at Sylph? Dump a giant donation into some college dean's lap?” He paused for a moment, and then leaned forward. “Or did Daddy Cress call in a favor?”\n\n\tAce clenched his teeth, squeezing Opal’s pokeball in his pocket.\n\n\tHarrison nodded as the gates slowly rose with a noisy rattle. “Thought so. Hope you maxed your tab out on the Prince’s dime, because I’m sending you packing.”\n\nWayne looked Horace straight in the eyes. “...and when you get back, do us all a favor and win your battle with the bottle before you waste everyone's time like this again. Ask Arceus for help while you’re at it, because the competition with the liquor store is steep I hear.”\n\n\tA dark, vicious animosity replaced his prototypical cool, Alolan composure at hearing Arceus’ name. “Ah, yeah?” he hissed under his breath.\n\nAce watched from the shadows as Harrison waltzed out into the sunlight. Confident, proud, waving to a crowd of fans that knew his name like some popular cereal box brand. \n\n“Heh, thas really too bad…” he said, slipping his aviators over his angry eyes.\n\t\n[i]\t…looks like ahm the only one have’n fun tu-day.[/i]\n",
  "writing_bbcode_parsed": "<span style='word-wrap: break-word;'>\tHorace finally roused from the alcohol fueled stupor he&rsquo;d fallen into weeks earlier. He lurched out of bed, pried away from the tantalizing, swanna-feather pillows and those daily changed linens in his suite by only one thing.<br /><br />\tCompetition. Real, honest competition. Something he&rsquo;d been kept away from for years.<br /><br />Bright, Kalosian springtime light cut across the room above his head, barely illuminating the grime from weeks of acrid sweat drying to his skin smeared across his face.<br /><br />\t&ldquo;Gonna-give-a-keiki-what-ee-need&hellip;&rdquo; his throat rattled around like charred bones on a kapa twine chime. &ldquo;Gahs-ah-need-a-poala&hellip;&rdquo;<br /><br />\tOpal&rsquo;s eyes slowly fluttered awake as an ear twitched at his stirring. She shot up in surprise, looked at the clock reading 05:20, and she squealed with joyous claws pressed into her cheeks.<br /><br />Her Acey was finally coming back out of the darkness!<br /><br />She immediately launched herself from her stowaway guest bed on the other end of the room, ignoring the black, silken dress and golden belt hung over her bed. She opened the suite refrigerator and carried a couple of milk-gallon jugs full of brisk, clean water towards her master with a casual sway of her hips and leaned over him.<br /><br />&ldquo;Pun.&rdquo; She nudged him with one of the jugs.<br /><br />&ldquo;Me ke alola mai&hellip;&rdquo; he mumbled, breathing in, then out, and then ruffled his matted mane of hair to catch that itch that managed to evade him all week.<br /><br />Opal hugged him tightly and nuzzled his forehead, trying to hand him the water. &ldquo;Pun.&rdquo;<br /><br />He rubbed her behind the ears, wrapped his arms around her waist, and pressed his face into her shoulder. &ldquo;Alola, Opala.&rdquo;<br /><br />She chuckled, kissed his head, and pulled herself free. His muscles were stiff and sore from all the booze, even with the water she&rsquo;d started sneaking into his cans and cups. She needed to get him to detoxify his insides. He was so excited for the tournament, and she could tell that his enthusiasm hadn&rsquo;t waned at all. After all, he&rsquo;d managed to break out of one of his legendary chemical comas without so much as a wake-up call or a jostle of the bed. <br /><br />After days spent stuck sucking on a horribly generous, bottomless tap, he raised from the dead right on time to give the team a brisk warmup and a spar before their first match.<br /><br />&rdquo;Gonna get-a showah, now,&rdquo; he wheezed and stood, wobbling a bit before catching himself on Opal&rsquo;s shoulder..<br /><br />&ldquo;Pun!&rdquo; she grouched, smacking his chest with the jug. &ldquo;Pun-bunee!&rdquo;<br /><br />Some light finally started shining through Acey&rsquo;s eyes again as he fell back onto the bed and let himself finally meet her piercing gaze. &ldquo;Ah&hellip; fool-a-me, sorry baby girl,&rdquo; he said, grabbing the jug.<br /><br />He hung it over his head and let the fountains of life fill his belly. He stopped only for a single breath before finishing the second half, then breathed out a long, satisfied sigh.<br /><br />&ldquo;Pau hana he,&rdquo; he said, and tossed the empty thing aside as she helped him up. <br /><br />Opal nodded and handed him the second jug, nudging him towards the wash. &ldquo;Pun. Lon-ee pen obun.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Give-a me so much guff, dunno which of us is train-ah somedays, good thing ah love ya.&rdquo;<br /><br />She slipped into her finely-tailored, gold trim dress, born from the skilled hands of some grateful old friends of Acey&rsquo;s. He barely mentioned to them that she was feeling down in the dumps and they offered to make it for her free of charge. She still remembered it, clear as the moment they draped it over her arms to put on. She smiled as her paws brushed against the smooth, ebony silk while the tailor&rsquo;s wife stitched a matching golden-silk sash with reverent care, tying the tails of the sash with long rows of rusty, polished jasper beads.<br /><br />She treasured the thing so much, it made her feel pretty, appreciated, and important in a world that gave those feelings up in short supply for &lsquo;Mon.<br /><br />After everything they had been through, after all the scars, the betrayals, and the signing of a dotted line in blood, Acey still kept thinking of the people close to him. He cared for them with everything he had at his disposal. But her dearest friend had something inside him that hurt. It hurt him so much that all he wanted in the quiet, pointless moments of life was to drown himself in cheap liquor and let his sorry soul wash out to sea.<br /><br />He refused to utter a single word about it, said it wasn&rsquo;t anybody&rsquo;s punishment but his, but her master&rsquo;s body always betrayed his worst intentions in the end. Without some grand, impossible task for them to surmount or a gym full of spunky startups needing whipped &lsquo;til their mettle matched their moxie, he curled up and slowly started dying in her arms. It broke her heart every single time.<br /><br />The whole gods damned trip had proven to be nothing but some lengthy, pointless, potentially lethal waste of time.<br /><br />Until that moment!<br /><br />Ace busted out of the washroom, totally nude, surfing on a cloud of steam as he chugged more water. Like magic, weeks of humiliation were scraped away. His lively, auburn skin appeared polished under the glow of the morning rays. His hair was washed perfectly clean, brushed into slick fronds of bushy, brown fur that seemed to hug his skull for dear life as it realized the fire in Acey&rsquo;s gut was heating the boilers once more.<br /><br />Opal averted her eyes, nailing him in the face with a towel in protest. &ldquo;Nee! Nee-bun!&rdquo;<br /><br />He cackled and tied it around his waist. &ldquo;Whaaat? Ain&rsquo;t&rsquo;a nothin&rsquo; ya neva seen before.&rdquo;<br /><br />She scoffed and wrapped a second towel around his head with a sharp smack. <br /><br />She smiled as he lost his balance and frantically gasped for air.<br /><br />Finally she&rsquo;d caught a glimpse of those old, mischievous embers glowing behind his eyes.<br /><br />Horace Giovanni Slate slipped his Gym outfit on.<br /><br />A crip set of green and gray military fatigues, a fiery orange belt, and a matching jacket inspired by the very same sorts worn in the Alolan Naval Corps. All accented with orange and red filigree around the neckline and the cuffs. Five identical, stone colored pokeballs were popped onto a set of six powerful, magnetic holsters worked into his coat. The last one, a milky white sphere that he rolled around between his fingers, was hidden from view.<br /><br />He laced his boots up, tight as a Torracat&rsquo;s lips, then stuck those dreary aviator shades into a jacket pocket. &ldquo;Ey, let&rsquo;s pound some pavah&rsquo;s &lsquo;fore we get ta work. Need the soles numb fer stomp&rsquo;n.&rdquo;<br /><br />She nodded with unchecked enthusiasm, crying tears of joy, and chased him down the hotel corridors as he frantically released powerful, exotic Alolan Pokemon. One by one Ace let his friends loose, flagrantly ignoring the city&rsquo;s one-mon law in place, and a few hotel patrons bolted from the area at the sight.<br /><br />The ground rumbled as an Alolan golem stomped about, causing the lights all down the hall to flicker and pop. A scarred-up Alolan Raticate with one eye pinched shut perched onto his shoulder. Ghostly howls harkened the will-o-wisp steps of a Lycanroc with ghostly blue gems socketed into her flesh. A massive, alpha breed Salazzle blew smoke as she peered into open hotel-doors with playful looks. An Alolan Raichu, smooth in her features and strangely hypnotic to behold, leapt into Opal&rsquo;s arms like a giddy toddler.<br /><br />Wealthy Kalosian children in their pajamas giggled and cheered as the insane parade stormed down the hall at the ass crack of dawn. Crotchety old women who&rsquo;d barely escaped their eye masks screamed in terror. At the end of the building, an unfortunate crew of breakfast chefs was just about to learn what an Alolan warrior&rsquo;s appetite was all about.<br /><br />Gods, she&rsquo;d missed her Acey.<br /><br />So very, very much.<br /><br /><br />\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/<br /><br /><br />Outside the rustic plaster walls of Caf&eacute; Amaura&rsquo;s ancient walnut frames, the murmuring of strolling passersby was overwhelmed by the heartfelt call of a handheld emergency radio set to 102.3, <em>Vivre l&#039;Amour</em> playing their evening mix of ballroom classics. Its fluffy static introduced a lively desperation to the air of everlasting the old place offered to the lower class of Lumiose. Inaccessible by the many garish motorways marring the grand metropolis, it was known only to the savviest of cultural tourists, becoming a jealously guarded secret of the area.<br /><br /><br /><br /><em>&ldquo;Des yeux qui font baisser les miens,&quot; the radio woman sang, joined by the smooth, tenor tones of an antique, wooden clarinet and a trio of silver-plated trumpets.</em><br /><br /><br /><br />&ldquo;{Eyes that make mine droop,}&rdquo; a gentle, effeminate Sylveon voice rang, muffled behind the hand-hewn front door that bore a sign of hand-pressed paper dangling from the doorknob.<br /><br />&nbsp;&lsquo;R&eacute;serv&eacute;s,&rsquo; it read in floral, hand scrawled Vermillion ink.<br /><br />A few woolen-scarfed stragglers lapped up shallow puddles of coffee from the bottoms of assorted mismatched, vintage mugs and nibbled upon the last scraps of their genuine, homestyle sweet-bakes. They sighed long, lazy adieus to the cast-iron seats and oaken arm-worn tables. Gazing upon the glowing screen of a Dexnav in their palms or into the beckoning shine of a lover&rsquo;s eyes, they fluttered away like flocks of Pidove polishing off generous showers of premium pokefruit feed.<br /><br />Each and every treat served here was carefully crafted with a love for the soil at their feet, a magic cast nowhere but the charcoal ranges tucked within her old, umber walls.<br /><br /><br /><br /><em>&ldquo;Un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche,&rdquo; she cooed, atop a bed of four-string violins.</em><br /><br /><br /><br />Spinel leapt from an ultrafine flour fog that clouded the kitchen, draped with an adorable little caparison, the traditional attire of the humble service &lsquo;Mon in the old country, cut from ivory cloth rimmed with silky blue frills and a dark green trim.<br /><br />He served up quizzical glances to the leathery old regulars permitted to finish their long-awaited pipes of sour, potent smelling weed relished in the absence of constable and kid.<br /><br />&ldquo;{A laugh that gets lost on his mouth,}&rdquo; he chirped, swiping up generous piles of copper and silver pokedollar coins from the gang of grateful old sinners as they scrapped themselves away from the warmth of the sawsbuck-crested kiddy-corner fireplace.<br /><br />The place was marinated in the decadent redolence of a long-awaited dinner for two.<br /><br /><br /><br /><em>&ldquo;Voil&agrave; le portrait sans retouches.&rdquo;</em><br /><br /><em>The song began a cheery, instrumental refrain for the many listeners choosing to dance to her voice.</em><br /><br /><br /><br />&ldquo;{There is the portrait without flaw,}&rdquo; Spinel sang in carefully metered monspeech as he ushered the last, most elderly patrons out the door with gentle prods and then barred the door shut.<br /><br />The little &lsquo;Mon sighed with relief, swiping a work-worn ribbon across his sweat-soaked brow. &ldquo;{Almost time,}&rdquo; he whispered to himself, checking the hand-wound Vullaby clock hung above the bar.<br /><br />After smacking the top of a polished brass hotel bell, skewering the last stack of order tickets to a stainless steel spike beside the meticulously maintained, mechanical register, he awaited the cafe owner&rsquo;s approval with a modest, sanguine smile.<br /><br />The white-aproned old man with the brown fleece beret gave his helper a wisened nod and started tallying the day&rsquo;s earnings as Spinel dove back into the powdery haze with a jubilant trill.<br /><br /><br /><br /><em>&ldquo;De l&rsquo;homme auquel j&rsquo;appartiens,&rdquo; her voice slid down weathered Wooloogut Strings.</em><br /><br /><br /><br />\tHe flexed his tendrils together, popped his neck both ways, then hung his uniform upon a forge welded hoof-shoe rack. &ldquo;{Of the man to whom I belong,}&rdquo; A ribbon caressed his cheek as his singing voice maintained a cool, steady vibrato. Then he swung in a circle &lsquo;round the center support of the bakery, checking the fires fueling his stoves with chirpy rolls of the tongue.<br />\t<br />\t<br />\t<br /><em>Silence, and the singular stroke of an ivory soprano key. &ldquo;Quand il me prend dans ses bras.&rdquo;</em><br /><br /><br /><br />&ldquo;{When he takes me in his arms,}&rdquo; he chittered, wrapping his neck in the straps of a baker&#039;s drape with conspicuously sensual rolls of the shoulders. He tucked a freshly laundered towel into his collar and plopped a little baker&#039;s hat atop his head. He straightened it with a fluffy nudge of the ears, snagged some finely chopped blocks of firewood, and kicked them beneath the ovens with perky, theatrical flair.<br /><br /><br />\t<br /><em>&ldquo;Il me parle tout bas</em><em>.&rdquo;</em><br /><br /><br /><br />&ldquo;{He speaks to me softly.}&rdquo; He closed his eyes and bobbed his head as he recited the lyrics, one ribbon stirring pots of spicy smelling stew that crackled with bright-blue ballets of sparks dancing atop the savory, brown sea of fatty meats and sauce.<br /><br /><br /><br /><em>&ldquo;Je vois la vie en rose,&rdquo; she sighed beside a brassy trumpet serenade.</em><br /><br /><br /><br />&ldquo;{I see life in pink.}&rdquo;&nbsp;&nbsp;Another strand busily juiced fresh liechi and lemon halves into a great glass pitcher of liquid rouge.<br /><br /><br /><br /><em>&rdquo;Il me dit des mots d&rsquo;amour.&rdquo;</em><br /><br /><br /><br />\tHis head tilted with a giddy smile as he scrubbed his paws in a frothing, soapy basin. &ldquo;{He tells me words of love,}&rdquo; he said as the third tendril jiggled metal baskets filled to the brim with bloated balls of fried delight crackling in a cauldron of amber oil.<br /><br /><br /><br /><em>&rdquo;Des mots de tous les jours.&rdquo;</em><br /><br /><br /><br />He ruffled his damp paws in a clean, dry rag and huffed in frustration as they puffed up into bushy, festive mittens. &ldquo;{Words of everyday life.}&rdquo; His final ribbon snapped the lock on a steamy oven door at just the right time to rescue four sheets of glossy, golden-brown sweetbread treats coated in glistening, nutty crusts he gingerly sprinkled with sugar and salt.<br /><br /><br /><br /><em>&rdquo;Et &ccedil;a me fait quelque chose,&rdquo; she warbled before a confident round of trumptey bleats.</em><br /><br /><br /><br />Spinel&rsquo;s eyes looked upon nothing in particular as his mind wandered off to some breezy Butterfree field. &ldquo;{...and it does something to me,} <br /><br />All these intricate tasks he skillfully performed in tandem as his dainty little paws retrieved a tray from the cooler and laid it upon a quadruped-height table. He separated thick-cut strips of Lechok belly bacon, ready to sculpt plump little bundles of what would soon become blobs of oozing, garlic cream-cheese wrapped in meat candy shells.<br /><br />\tThe busy beat of Bouffalant boots stopped just before the bakery floor.<br /><br />\tBut Spinel had lost himself in a tantric working flow, operatically reciting the song he&rsquo;d heard a million times before; a song he&rsquo;d hummed to himself just as many times in those lonely little moments between the end of the working day and the soothing anesthesia of sleep as he&rsquo;d sway from the rafters on a threadbare, Cottonee hammock.<br /><br />&ldquo;{He&rsquo;s entered my heart.}&rdquo; Spinel strafed left and right as he sang melodic, sweet as salac meringue.<br /><br />He giggled between verses, sliding the porky appetizers into a smaller stove made to burn low and slow. &ldquo;{A slice of happiness, and now I know the cause.}&rdquo;<br /><br />The radio&rsquo;s volume slowly lowered and a brusk throat cleared at the doorway. &ldquo;Un moment, s&#039;il vous pla&icirc;t?&rdquo;<br /><br />\tSpinel couldn&rsquo;t hear him above the warmth in his gut and the Cutieflies in his chest. &ldquo;{It&rsquo;s him for me, me for him in life,}&rdquo; he bellowed and spun around in a graceful, white-gowned pirouette that painted the air with wispy streaks of flour. &ldquo;{He told me, he&ndash;}&rdquo;<br /><br />\t&ldquo;Salut!&rdquo;<br /><br />\t&ldquo;Eep!&rdquo; Spinel squeaked in shock and stumbled mid-twirl, bumping into a column. Several ladles and an empty pot fell to the ground with a heady bong and he barely caught himself against the door of a blazing hot oven, jerking back in a frantic flutter of ribbons with a yipe!<br /><br />\tThe Cafe Owner stood there, tapping his boot in the passageway with a smirk. &ldquo;Vous pr&eacute;f&egrave;res commun?&rdquo;<br /><br />\tSpinel smiled bashfully, shrinking on the spot. His ears drooped, letting his hat slide down over his eyes, and he pushed it back up with a mortified wince. &ldquo;Eon.&rdquo;<br /><br />\t&ldquo;If you like working here this much, I&rsquo;d gladly take you off the Captain&rsquo;s hands. Even the regulars didn&rsquo;t grouse,&rdquo; he said, sticking a calloused hand with a missing ring-finger into his vest pocket to check the time on an old, gold pocket watch.<br /><br />\tSpinel chuckled and flopped a ribbon in his direction, shaking his head. &ldquo;Eeeiion o siveelen.&rdquo;<br /><br />\tThe old codger hummed, smiling. &ldquo;Cannot blame an old plum for asking. I see you have made lots of vittles for the workman rush too, smells real good.&rdquo;<br /><br />\tSpinel smiled shyly, giving him a performative, humble wag of the paw.<br /><br />\t&ldquo;Readied the morning pastries?&rdquo;<br /><br />\tSpinel closed his eyes, trotted over to a heavy cooler door, and heaved it open. He gestured within as mist spilled out, presenting tall, galvanized metal racks stacked top to bottom with uncooked bagel, brioche, macaron, and croissant. He lifted the lids from three bulky steel basins of madeleine batter for inspection with a chirp.<br /><br />\tThe old man counted the racks, carefully inspected the little shapes of dough, then sniffed the buckets of&nbsp;&nbsp;batter. &ldquo;Floral&hellip;citrus&hellip;vanilla&hellip;good.&rdquo; He nodded, lifted the chef&rsquo;s hat, and ruffled Spinel&rsquo;s head in his baseball mitten hands. &ldquo;Petit &agrave; petit, treats are top shelf over there, help yourself tonight, little friend.&rdquo;<br /><br />\tFor a moment he grumbled and sneered as the cowlicks on his head were tossed around like a garden salad with the old guy&rsquo;s hand. Gods, Spinel hated that flagrant, minimalizing condescension so common with Man. But, if he was honest with himself, the guy was pretty nice otherwise. He even let him keep all the tips from the day! Everything considered, he chose not to vocalize his displeasure and instead faked a hysteric, satisfied giggle.<br /><br />\tThe old man slipped a black, fleece jacket over his slightly hunched back and popped polished Cubone buttons into place. &ldquo;Leave the key hidden beneath the cobble I showed you when you leave. Thanks for your hard work, little &lsquo;Mon. Let Valerie know I hope her little date goes well tonight.&rdquo; His voice rattled like a can of secondhand nails as he tied his dusty, vermillion scarf around his collar.<br /><br />\tSpinel tugged at his jacket just in time to catch him marching out the back.<br /><br />\tThe guy gasped in surprise, half asleep with fatigue as his long walk home to Southwall Village was interrupted. &ldquo;Oui?&rdquo;<br /><br />The strange, peculiarly skilled Sylveon who just bussed tables harder than any man or woman he&rsquo;d ever seen slipped a tiny card between his nobbled, leathery fingers. The handwriting was flowy, immaculate, accented with tiny, heart shaped strokes of the quill at the corners and ivy shaped embellishments around the edge.<br /><br /><br /><em><strong>&ldquo;Merci &agrave; toi, mon ami!&rdquo;</strong></em><br /><br /><br />The aging owner of Caf&eacute; Amaura just stood there for a moment, bemused as Spinel turned the radio back up, continued dancing, and lashed his tendrils all around the kitchen to complete his mysterious evening banquet.<br /><br />&ldquo;Mon plaisir&hellip;&rdquo; he said, smiled, and pulled the door shut with a subtle click of the lock.<br /><br />Sneaky ribbons snatched up a fat bottle of highly distilled, white rum from his bags, curled around the neck, and flicked the stopper off. He raised the bottom up above the pitcher of juice and let the liquor empty out in a sloshy, burbling waterfall.<br /><br />Spinel pushed both paws into the cloth at his chest. &ldquo;{As soon as I see you, I feel inside me&hellip;}&rdquo;<br /><br />&nbsp;{...my heart that beats!}&rdquo; He swayed too and fro, bolstered with confidence in the absence of discerning ears.<br /><br />That blue-eyed boy stopped to breathe as a symphony of strings and brass boomed in refrain, gazing into an antique, silver pocket mirror. He patiently plucked away stray hairs as he brushed out his tail, puffed up his fluff, and carefully combed the wild, velvety curls in his downy fur. He batted at a rogue strand until it scurried behind his ear, then sighed with excitement and fear in his lungs. &ldquo;{Ready.}&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;La la, la la, la la!&rdquo; His front legs traced an arc through the air as he danced on his haunches, swaying too and fro on plush silken paws.<br /><br />&ldquo;La la, la la, ah la!&rdquo; His apron spread into silken morning glory blooms as he carelessly spun around the kitchen on the tips of his freshly manicured claws.<br /><br />&ldquo;La laaa laaaaa laaaaaaaaa!&rdquo;<br /><br />\t<br /><br />\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/<br /><br />\t&ldquo;Ring-ring-ring, ring-ring-ring, phone-call phone-call!&rdquo; Stanley Stone&rsquo;s dexnav screeched in his pocket as he sat eating a boxed diet-approved salad with a bottle of water on the side. The evening sun glistened off the golden walls of the various incorporated Mauville Holdings, whose lavish complexes were eminently visible from the window of a highrise cafeteria.<br />\tHis Gimmighoul, dressed in a tiny, business casual polo and pair of slacks, dove into the pocket of the suit-jacket his master had draped over a nearby chair and pushed the device up.<br />\tStanley snatched the thing up from his partner with two fingers and dexterously flipped it open. He sighed with relief as he saw his son&rsquo;s picture come up on the little screen.<br />\t&ldquo;Ring-ring-ring, ring-ring-ring, phone-call phone-&rdquo; Beep.<br />\t&ldquo;Stone speaking,&rdquo; Stanley said in his typical sharp, professional voice.<br />\tRichard had been walking down the streets of Lumiose for hours. It was a good thing he left early, because after having asked some locals where Caf&eacute; Amaura was, he was becoming suspicious that none of them actually wanted him to find the damned place. However, one helpful old woman sitting in a rocking chair at the edge of the old-town offered to show him how to get there if he carried some boxes up the stairs for her. So he finally was on his way.<br />\tHowever, before he hurdled on to his date with destiny, he had a bone to pick with Dad.<br />\t&ldquo;Heeeey pops, how&#039;s it going?&rdquo; He asked, passively marveling at how he&rsquo;d suddenly been transported back to the pre-grid era. Children in bodices and tunics scurried around his legs as they chased a Litleo with one of their hats in its mouth. Clay ovens baked loaves of bread and ceramic bowls of cobbler. Middle-aged men in hand-woven clothes and suspender vests bellowed at one another in a language he didn&rsquo;t understand. <br />\tStanley popped a crouton with a heaping mouthful of under-seasoned lettuce into his mouth and swallowed hard, trying to get the not-calories into his aching stomach before getting on with the most boring part of his day; tax day. &ldquo;Doing well, I suppose. Didn&rsquo;t expect a call from you this evening, don&rsquo;t you have a date with that little number you met on the boat-ride to the capital?&rdquo;<br />\tRichard nearly tripped on an upturned cobble as he gawked at an old woman hanging freshly laundered cloth diapers on a line. &ldquo;Awwww, well, it&#039;s a long walk there. Aaaanyway, I wanted to talk about something really important that came up just now.&rdquo;<br />\tStanley flicked a crouton to his Gimmighoul across the table, who intercepted the thing and started eating it like it was a massive, chest-sized sandwich. &ldquo;Of course, what&rsquo;s up?&rdquo;<br />\tRichard breathed in. &ldquo;Why&rsquo;d you never tell me about Grandma?&rdquo;<br />\tStanley&rsquo;s stomach dropped to the floor. He chuckled at the question, acting like it was all some practical joke. &ldquo;Hahaha, well, I&rsquo;m not entirely sure what about your Grandmother you didn&rsquo;t already know. You could ask her yourself, you know, though I suppose she might not be back from her trip to the Orange Islands yet. And we both know we&rsquo;d prefer she stayed there.&rdquo;<br />\tRichard grumbled a little. &ldquo;No, Dad, you know what I mean.&rdquo;<br /><br />\tStanley fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m really not sure, Son.&rdquo;<br /><br />\t&ldquo;Oh, I dunno&hellip; I just met an old <span class='underline'>champion</span> today, a really cool old lady running an evolution stone shop, goes by the name <span class='underline'>Diantha</span>. Ring any bells?&rdquo; Richard&rsquo;s voice was terse at his father&rsquo;s insistent dumb-play. &ldquo;She sure seemed to know you, and me too. Said to tell you that your Momma misses you!&rdquo;<br /><br />\tStanley winced at the words. &ldquo;Crazy old Zubatt, son. Probably one of those loony League fans finally getting a chance to talk to someone in the big leagues.&rdquo;<br /><br />\tRichard shook his head and huffed. &ldquo;Nuh uh, no! Something about her looks way too familiar. She doesn&rsquo;t sound like any of the other money-fishing rubes I&rsquo;ve run into. She&hellip; she gave me a ring; an old thing from that jewelry shop in Lilycove uncle Ryan got his wedding ring at. It has the right maker&#039;s mark, the original box, everything.&rdquo;<br /><br />\tStanley cleared his throat. &ldquo;Look son, I&rsquo;ve got a meeting in a few minutes. We can talk about this later, alright?&rdquo;<br /><br />\tRichard raised his voice, startling some children who ran around a corner. &ldquo;No, Dad, I think we should talk about this right freaking <span class='underline'>now</span>!&rdquo;<br /><br />\t&ldquo;Richard, Son, this really isn&rsquo;t something&hellip; Look, we&rsquo;ll talk about it when you get back, you need to focus on the tournament. Your first match is tomorrow!&rdquo;<br /><br />\t&ldquo;Dad, is Diantha your mom? What the hell happened? I thought my Grandma was Idelia Roger! Is my uncle one of Diantha&rsquo;s too?&rdquo;<br /><br />\tTears started forming at the corner of his eyes and Stanley&rsquo;s Gimmighoul frowned, tugging on his master&rsquo;s sleeve with a look of concern. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m sorry, I&rsquo;m not able to do this right now. It was good hearing from you, good luck on your date!&rdquo;<br /><br />\t&ldquo;All the times Grandpa went to Kalos was to be with her, wasn&rsquo;t it?&rdquo; Richard said, steamrolling any of his dad&rsquo;s attempts to wander off. &ldquo;Why would you keep her a secret from me, what the hell? Is Timmy in the dark too?&rdquo;<br /><br />\tStanley clawed his fingers through his hair. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m going into a tunnel, gonna lose you. Talk to you l-&rdquo; he stopped himself short and flicked the dexnav closed.<br /><br />\tRichard growled and angrily tippy-tapped in place.<br /><br /><br /><em><strong>4-483-267-8663 (Richard): Meeting in a tunnel my ass cheeks.</strong></em><br /><strong><em>4-483-267-8663 (Richard): If she&rsquo;s my real Gran then I&rsquo;m gonna do some overdue </em></strong><em><strong>catching up.</strong></em><br /><br />\t<br />\tHe stomped around, ruffled his hair, and hissed in frustration. Then he took a deep breath and touched his fingertips together in a mock expression of meditation. &ldquo;Chill, chill, we got something we need to worry about right <span class='underline'>now</span>.&rdquo; <br /><br />\t<br /><br />\tNearby, around a corner, two young figures tailed Richard Stone behind a crooked alleyway. One boy, one girl, both dressed in caped super suits with beaked masks that cover their eyes with glistening black lenses. <br /><br />\t&ldquo;Combuskin are on the prowl,&rdquo; the little girl peeped, looking through a pair of high-tech binoculars with shiny red plating.<br /><br />\tThe boy groaned and covered his masked face with his clawed, gloved hands. &ldquo;This is so humiliating, ugh. Why does dad make us do this?&rdquo;<br /><br />\tThe little girl stood up, showing off the yellow boots and utility belt of their uniforms. &ldquo;He is not &lsquo;father,&rsquo; Caw! He is the great Blaziken Masque!&rdquo;<br /><br />\t&ldquo;Bonnie, please, let&rsquo;s just watch what Dad wants us to watch and get home, we have a match tomorrow!&rdquo;<br /><br />\t&ldquo;I am not Bonnie, I am the swift and stealthy Cheep. And <span class='underline'>you</span> are the witty, innovative Caw!&rdquo;<br /><br />\t&ldquo;Whatever, he&rsquo;s almost there,&rdquo; Clemont moaned. &ldquo;Let&rsquo;s get this over with so we can strategize.&rdquo;<br /><br /><br /><br />\tRichard walked towards the place, following a handwritten bit of instructions the old woman scrawled in horribly broken Common onto a receipt with a pen he accidentally stole from the hotel. &ldquo;Lean right. Wander forth how the Swanna flies riverwise? See a red wall? Too far.&rdquo; His face screwed up as he lit the instructions up with the flashlight function on his &lsquo;nav.<br /><br />\tThe sun was going down, and he was seriously starting to worry about getting mugged. Perhaps some gang of beret-wearing, baguette-wielding hooligans with curly mustaches, striped shirts and suspenders hoisting up their pants accompanied by their Mr. Crime accomplices would abscond with his goods and then toss him behind a crate somewhere with broken ankles. Ain&rsquo;t a single distorted chance nobody noticed his snazzy clothes and five-thousand-pokedollar haircut.<br /><br />\tHowever, just as he was beginning to wonder how much two ankle casts were going to cost Team Stone this year, he wandered into a clearing paved in delightful red herringbone brickwork speckled with mismatched colored replacements for those that had broken over the years. An old-fashioned plaster walled building sat nestled in the middle of the clearing, surrounded by cozy cottages and madly stacked townhomes that brought to mind images of wobbly stone wizards towers in those storybooks his mom bought him once.<br /><br />\tSomething smelled divine. He was pulled forward towards the place as if he&rsquo;d been hooked by the nose and was being reeled in for the catch, but nobody was there. Its cast-iron chairs and folded-umbrellas accompanying the wooden tables sat lonely in the twilight courtyard while the windows were black, closed like a pair eyes long gone to sleep.<br /><br /><br /><br />\t\tSpinel sat by the window, peeking out with a face full of all encompassing anxiety. He looked up at the clock that read &lsquo;6:45&rsquo; and started pacing around the building. <em>Oooh, he&rsquo;s late. Did he get lost? Did he get hurt?</em> His ears drooped and he slumped down onto his bum.<em> Did he decide</em><em> I</em><em>&hellip; Val wasn&rsquo;t worth it, after all?</em><br /><br />\tThen one of his ears snapped upward at the distant sound of designer sneakers across the courtyard. <br /><br />\tSpinel spotted him across the way through the corner of one of the window panes. Oooh, he looked so wonderful in his black khakis and red dress shirt. He had the top button undone, showing off a little bit of his chest over a white undershirt he wished wasn&rsquo;t there. His senses weren&rsquo;t as good as most mon, but he took a long whiff of the air and caught traces of the spicy cinnamon-spelon berry cologne he&rsquo;d splashed all over his cheeks and sides in a desperate attempt to hide the sweaty odor from the morning workouts he&rsquo;d done with his team.<br /><br />\tHe breathed in, tightened his muzzle up with a look of severe intention, and nodded once. &ldquo;{Ok Spinel, let&rsquo;s do this.}&rdquo;<br />\t<br />\tIn a sudden fit of calm, Spinel started waving his ribbons around, and pink light began glowing around his tendrils and his eyes. Pink mist billowed at his heels and he forced himself to laugh to channel the right mood.<br /><br />\tThen it started to wane, sputtering out like a failing incandescent bulb.<br /><br />\t&ldquo;Hello?&rdquo; Richard called outside, searching high and low for any signs of someone around to greet him.<br /><br />\tSpinel grimaced in horror.<br /><br />Oh Gods, why did he have to be so weak, even after all these years of desperate practice? He was the only Pokemon he knew that had to struggle so hard to tap into their source. He was a miserable failure as a Pokemon, he knew that, but he wished that just this once he could get it together to make the evening magical with a little bit of the Fairy&rsquo;s Whimsy.<br /><br />\tAgain and again he tried, frantically groaning each time his spark refused to ignite. His ribbons wrapped around his eyes and he started snarling at himself. &ldquo;{Aaauggghh. C&rsquo;mon, you&rsquo;re a Sylveon, dammit; the gift wrap of Kalos, Gods!}&rdquo;<br /><br />\t&ldquo;Anyone there?&rdquo; Richard asked aloud as he approached.<br /><br />\tSpinel slapped himself across the cheek with a kitchen-sore ribbon and forced himself to pause as Richard took a seat at one of the Cafe chairs.<br /><br />\t&ldquo;{No, no, no, no, no, I have to try. Just this <span class='underline'>one</span> time, Xerneas, please Hnnnnng.}&rdquo; He stomped his paws into the wood plank floor, gritted his teeth, then he breathed slowly again. <br /><br />Spinel closed his eyes, splayed his ribbons out in breezy spiraling displays, digging deep within himself. It hurt, and he gasped in pain as he finally touched the shallow, underwhelming, muddy puddle that was his natural energy reserve. He shuddered and shivered as pink and white energies swirled around him like pechas and cream in a mixing bowl, filling the air with the sound of wind-chimes, popped corks, heart beats, and the laughter of good friends. <br /><br />He smiled, eyes glowing blue, fur blowing with a nonexistent breeze as his Mewish giggles echoed through the air.<br /><br /><br /><br />Richard leaned back. This was as good a place as any to wait around for a while, he supposed. He suspected Val was a lot of things, but he didn&rsquo;t take her for someone that would do him dirty by giving&rsquo; him the ol&rsquo; Ghastly. He seriously wondered where that smell was coming from too, because holy cow he&rsquo;d never smelled anything like it in his life. <br /><br />Then the air sparkled all around him and he nearly fell back onto the pavement as he yelped with surprise as a misty, pink fog rolled through the clearing. Richard&rsquo;s head spun around at all angles as Spinel&rsquo;s laughter could be heard around him, mixed with the windy jeers of cheery old men and the wild cackling of children in a heated game of tag. <br /><br />Little balls of pastel colored whisps wobbled around in the air, along with long, glowing strings of light that looked like pearls tossed into the ocean. All the umbrellas in the courtyard unfurled in unison, and the oil lamps placed at every one of the outdoor tables all at once ignited with bright, enigmatic, pink and white fire. The smells of rose hips, fountain fresh bubblegum soda, and warm ginger snaps replaced the odors he longed for earlier, and then the windows of the Cafe suddenly thrummed with an homely yellow glow as the fireplace burst back to life.<br /><br />&ldquo;Whoa!&rdquo; Richard gawked as the sound of silver chimes filled his ears, turning left, right, around, and up and down to take in everything that was going on.<br /><br />The front door flew open and slammed against the doorstop. Spinel stood in the archway wearing a fluffy baby-blue sash with a bloody red carnation pinned to chest, the very same kind he&rsquo;d topped the Bouquet with before. He looked fantastic with his fur brushed to a silky-smooth finish, beckoning Richard into the ambiance with a wicked, sensual smile as he wagged a ribbon for him to follow.<br /><br />The radio tuned itself, shaking a little with sparkly, blue and pink energy, and slowly rose in volume. &ldquo;Welcome to the finest night of your lives, guests of Lumiose,&rdquo; the radio host declared, &ldquo;Sit on down at let me take you to a little place called love.&rdquo; The station filled the air with smooth, comfortable jazz classics.<br /><br />The atmosphere within was incredible too. Clusters of lightly scented combee-wax candle sticks on pewter plates were laid all around in fantastical arrangements. The place had been scrubbed clean, devoid of the everpresent smell of bread yeast and stale coffee Spinel had detected the moment he showed up in the morning to pay his due for this reservation. In the center of the cafe interior was a single table and two seats placed across from each other. One a normal chair, the other a high-up stool. A single pink and white candle flickered in the center, surrounded by a rich potpourri of roses, spice sticks, and recently cindered incense. <br /><br />At one end, a little card was propped up with the words &lsquo;Richard Stone&rsquo; hand drawn in red ink, at the other side was another that read, &lsquo;Your Greatest Admirer.&rsquo;<br /><br />Spinel barely suppressed a giggle as he peeked at Richard&rsquo;s crotch on his way into the Cafe. He covered his mouth with a manicured paw and nimbly zipped up his fly.<em> Ogerpon, how long had he been like that?</em><br /><br />&ldquo;Oh, uh, thanks. Hehehe, whoops. Ah, but&hellip; Hey, buddy! Ho-Oh in the sky, did you do all this?&rdquo;<br /><br />He forced a deep blush onto his face and handed him a little paper note.<br /><br /><br /><strong><em>&ldquo;All for you.</em></strong><em><strong>&rdquo;</strong></em><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />\tBonnie and Clemont climbed up onto the top of a two-storey Cobbler&rsquo;s workshop with the aid of their grappling hook guns. The brother made it over first with the aid of the mechanical arms attached to his backpack, then helped his sister up the rest of the way before scurrying over to the opposite edge to watch Caf&eacute; Amaura with a perfect, Starapor&rsquo;s view.<br /><br />\t&ldquo;Did you see that light show? Fairy types are just so cool, aren&rsquo;t they, Caw?&rdquo;<br /><br />\tHe sighed. &ldquo;Yeah, &lsquo;Cheep,&rsquo; they sure are.&rdquo; He realized there was going to be no breaking character this evening, not while his sister and father drew breath with such enthusiasm.<br /><br />\t&ldquo;I wonder when that Valorie lady is gonna show up. He got there late and she&rsquo;s still not even there!&rdquo; Bonnie scowled.<br /><br />\t&ldquo;Maybe she isn&#039;t coming at all, Cheep. She doesn&rsquo;t seem to like him very much.&rdquo; He dodged a yellow boot being thrown at his head, then pressed the feather-shaped nodule on his mask over his ear. &ldquo;Caw to the Masque, Masque, do you read?&rdquo;<br /><br />\tThe radio crackled a bit, then finally it tuned correctly and both children&rsquo;s heads jerked down into their necks as they heard gunshots, screams of Men and &lsquo;Mon, Pokeballs being emptied and smashed, and the uncomfortably familiar sound of healthy rows of teeth being crumpled in with titanium-plated fists.<br /><br />\t&ldquo;Ccrrrrsskkk- Apologies, Combuskin, a little busy at the&ndash; IN THE NAME OF LOVE AND JUSTICE, I CAST YOU <span class='underline'>DOWN</span>!&rdquo; <br /><br />\tWhat was surely a wanted criminal choked on his own screams and then shrieked in agony as they heard the even more unsettlingly familiar sound of a femur snapping clean in two; then Dad&rsquo;s Blaziken screeching, a thump, and the ratcheting of cuffs being tightened.<br /><br />&ldquo;Sorry about that, dedicated duo! This is Masque, reading you loud and clear, Caw.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Is that guy gonna be ok, dad?&rdquo; Clemont asked.<br /><br />The Masque chuckled. &ldquo;Worry not, crutches are cheap, Caw! He&rsquo;ll be up with a cast and repenting behind bars in no time.&rdquo;<br /><br />Clemont nodded. &ldquo;Right. Anyway, we&rsquo;ve got eyes on the players, box seating.&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Excellent, I&rsquo;ll continue cleaning up here. Let me know if anything goes awry.&rdquo;<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />\tRichard grinned and rubbed his palms together. &ldquo;This is all so incredible. You&rsquo;re amazing, you know that? I don&rsquo;t know if I&rsquo;ve ever seen a &lsquo;Mon with talents like yours.&rdquo;<br /><br />\tThose words punched straight past all his cool bravado and he started choking up a little. <em>I really needed to hear that today</em>. Spinel thought with a very real flush in his cheeks.<br /><br />&nbsp;&ldquo;{...thank you...}&rdquo; he squeaked, averting his eyes out of habit.<br /><br />However, he brought himself back into focus and managed to purr and rub his body against Richard&rsquo;s leg in thanks. He brushed a ribbon against the man&rsquo;s cheek, feeling his smooth, youthful cheeks that hadn&rsquo;t yet been cursed with the end-of-day stubble of middle age.<br /><br />Richard chuckled nervously and rubbed the back of his head as the ticklish, electric sensation of Spinel&rsquo;s tendrils brushing against the sensitive nerves of his face wore off. &ldquo;You&rsquo;re so funny, are Sylveon normally this lovey? I really appreciate it, everything, you&rsquo;ve really made this trip something else, little guy. Did Val ask you to set this up?&rdquo;<br /><br />Spinel shook his head and then pressed a ribbon to his chest. &ldquo;{All me, beloved.}&rdquo;<br /><br />Richard nodded, laughing. &ldquo;Well then, I bet she&rsquo;s gonna be real impressed. I don&rsquo;t know how anyone wouldn&rsquo;t be. You know when she&rsquo;s coming?&rdquo;<br /><br />Spinel was tickled by the uncomfortable feeling of giddy Butterfree escaping his stomach in a swarm, but wrangled them back together. He knew this beautiful, beautiful man was dense as Donphan Hide, and it was gonna take more than one swing to crack that nut.<br /><br />He shook his head, managing a petite little smirk, and gestured to the table. <br />\t<br />\tRichard sat down, eyes wandering around in empty-headed amazement at the spectacle.<br /><br />\tThe door flew shut, and Spinel sighed as he could finally stop projecting the Misty Terrain outside, letting the fog fade and lamps extinguish. He leapt up onto the stool on his end. He waited a while, hoping Richard would realize he needed to open the note, but ended up whistling to get the boy&rsquo;s attention. He gestured to his own note, then pointed with his paw to Richard&#039;s.<br /><br />\tRichard peeked inside.<br /><br /><br /><strong><em>I want you to know how much you mean to me, Richard.</em></strong><br /><br /><em><strong>So, I thought we could play a little game during appetizers.</strong></em><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />\tBonnie&rsquo;s head tilted. &ldquo;No Valorie, but&hellip;<br /><br />\tClemont stretched, propping his feet up on a crate. &ldquo;Yep, no show. Sylveon&rsquo;s just making him comfortable. The waterworks are coming for sure.&rdquo;<br /><br />\tShe continued to watch with elated intensity. &ldquo;I&hellip; I think this IS the date, Caw.&rdquo;<br /><br />\tHer brother looked at her like she&rsquo;d sprouted wings for real. &ldquo;Have you lost your marbles? He&rsquo;s a trainer, a well known one too! Men and &lsquo;Mon don&rsquo;t do that. That would be crazy, Cheep.&rdquo;<br /><br />\tShe shook her head in defiance. &ldquo;Look at the way Sylveon is staring at Richard. Oooh, he&rsquo;s head over heels, I can tell.&rdquo;<br /><br />\tClemont rolled his eyes and bit into a chocolate wafer. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s a Sylveon, they love everyone.&rdquo;<br /><br />\tThe Masque, however, hummed with intense thought. &ldquo;Was I wrong? Wait, did I misread the programme <span class='underline'>that</span> badly?&rdquo; he mumbled, barely audible over the angry growling of a man cursing in brusque, southern Kalosian.<br /><br />\t&ldquo;Come again, Masque?&rdquo; Clemont said.<br /><br />\t&ldquo;Nothing, nothing, continue observing, little ones.&rdquo;<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />\tRichard read the note multiple times, confused by what was within, but decided to shrug and play along. &ldquo;A game huh?&rdquo;<br /><br />\tSpinel winked and straightened a little stack of notes against the table, as well as flicking open his brush-tipped calligraphy pen. <br /><br />&nbsp;&ldquo;Alright, you wanna be my &lsquo;Mon, huh? Didn&rsquo;t think I&rsquo;d be on two dates today, but I&rsquo;m in.&rdquo;<br /><br />\tSpinel&rsquo;s head bobbed back and forth.<br /><br /><em>Well, it&#039;s a step in the right direction, at least.</em><br /><br />\tHe stretched one ribbon back to the countertop and then presented a pewter platter with a tub-top lid. He removed the cover and Richard suddenly remembered that he hadn&rsquo;t eaten anything at all since breakfast.<br /><br />\tRichard plucked up an oozing, cream cheese wrapped bacon ball and placed it into his mouth. It was brittle like sugar candy and exploded in his mouth with a riot of savory, herbal flavors. He swallowed it slowly after letting it sit in his mouth for a while. &ldquo;Oh my Gods that tastes so good! You&rsquo;re hired if you cook like that. Haha. Mrbfff.&rdquo; Richard began punching a second bacon wrap into his mouth as soon as the words left his mouth, then a third. &ldquo;Mrrr urn urrmil crnt curk nurfffn urt ahll.&rdquo;<br /><br />\tSpinel smiled and started scribbling on the paper, deciding to steal and nibble at one of the delectables to calm his nerves.<br /><br /><br />His tummy lifted up inside and dropped back down as he pushed the first note across the table.<br /><br /><br /><strong><em>What do you want most in a lover, Richard?</em></strong><br /><br /><br />\tRich took up a conveniently placed salmon-colored napkin and wiped the bacon grease brittle from his lips. He thought about this a lot more than Spinel expected, then said, &ldquo;I guess I want someone who&rsquo;ll love me for who I am and not what I am. Looks don&rsquo;t matter too much, but a well dressed cutie with a bit of fire wouldn&rsquo;t hurt. I just want someone that won&rsquo;t lie to me, won&rsquo;t try to dig into my life just to take the family jewels and run, y&rsquo;know? Someone playful, maybe a little shy, someone who knows how to laugh and play a prank every once and a while. Work hard, play hard, that&rsquo;s my pace, after all.&rdquo;<br /><br />\tSpinel&rsquo;s heart clutched itself and squeezed.<br /><br />\tRichard hummed. &ldquo;Well, I guess it&rsquo;s my turn, huh?&rdquo; He smiled, and his emerald eyes gleamed across the table, making Spinel&rsquo;s guts melt with infatuation. &ldquo;Alright, since we&rsquo;re going with a love theme, little &lsquo;Love &lsquo;Mon.&rsquo; How many partners have you had?&rdquo;<br /><br />\tSpinel&rsquo;s eyes went wide with terror, his ribbon shook, trying to figure out how to give him the truth without tainting the activity with a sense of depression. He slipped it across the table, and then his other ribbons placed empty glasses at the table in front of both of them.<br /><br />\t<br /><strong><em>Partners? More than I&rsquo;m proud of.</em></strong><br /><br /><em><strong>Lovers?</strong></em><br /><br /><strong><em>Only one.</em></strong><br /><br /><br />\tHe scrawled another note, terrified to ask but he knew it needed to happen sooner rather than later.<br /><br /><br /><strong><em>Are you totally straight or do you </em></strong><em><strong>look both ways</strong></em><strong><em> before crossing the street?</em></strong><br /><br /><br />\tRichard opened his mouth right away, but then he pressed his hand to his lips. His mouth opened again, but then he stopped himself twice. &ldquo;I guess I hadn&rsquo;t given it much thought.&rdquo;<br /><br />\tSpinel&rsquo;s face lost any and all expression. <em>How? How in your whole life could you possibly have gone without considering your sexuality?</em><br /><br /><em>\t</em>&ldquo;I mean, I&rsquo;ve had sex before, yeah. It&rsquo;s nice, but, like, I dunno, I&rsquo;ve met some dudes that are pretty friggin hot, too. Can&rsquo;t knock something I haven&rsquo;t tried, right?&rdquo;<br /><br />\tSpinel blinked.<br /><br /><em>That&rsquo;s not a no!</em><br /><strong>\t</strong><br /><strong>\t</strong>Richard fiddled with his thumbs as he considered his next question. While he mused, Spinel&rsquo;s tendrils scooped fresh ice into his glass and then poured a pink concoction. He plopped in a yellow straw and a lemon slice on the rim. <br /><br />\tAfter both of them had a frosty, adult beverage ready, he handed Richard another note.<br /><br /><br /><strong><em>Specialty of mine, Rose Liechi-nade.</em></strong><br /><br />\t<br />\tRichard took a long, heavy toke of the straw, discovering the depths of his thirst as well. &ldquo;Ok, that&rsquo;s awesome. You need to tell me how to make that before we leave. Oh, oh oh. Ok, ok. Seriously, where did you learn to write so well? I&rsquo;ve seen &lsquo;Mon talk, but never seen them write.&rdquo;<br /><br />\tSpinel took a big sip from his own glass, which irresponsibly was the same size as his date&rsquo;s, then scribbled onto another sheet.<br /><br /><br /><strong><em>I taught myself late in life, Valorie helped some. Real handy, being a service &lsquo;Mon.</em></strong><br /><br /><em><strong>What would you say if I told you I wanted to be more than just one of your Pokemon?</strong></em><br />\t<br /><br />\tRichard took another couple long sips and helped Spinel finish off the bacon bites. &ldquo;Hahaha, well, you&rsquo;re awesome and all, but if you want to be an anchor on my team you&rsquo;re gonna need to hit the bricks, buddy. Got some mean competition for those six spots on my belt. Don&rsquo;t have a fairy type, though, so there is hope for you.&rdquo;<br /><br />\tSpinel wanted to smack his head against the table.<br /><br />Instead, he drank. Then he drank some more.<br /><br />\t&ldquo;Hmm, What makes you so interested in being with me, Sylveon? Not often &lsquo;Mon walk up and touch the button, y&rsquo;know?&rdquo;<br /><br />\tOh, Spinel&rsquo;s heart tightened so much it hurt to breathe. He tried to hold himself back, to work the scene with stealth and debonair, to not incriminate himself. But the words left his pen and made it to Richard&rsquo;s fingers before he knew what was going on.<br /><br />He noticed his date&rsquo;s glass getting empty and stealthily refilled it with another round of cocktails, hoping the liquor would soften the blow.<br /><br />\t<br /><strong><em>Because I love you.</em></strong><br /><br /><em><strong>I know it&rsquo;s a bit strange, but&hellip;</strong></em><br /><br /><strong><em>Do you think you&rsquo;d be willing to try and see if you love me back?</em></strong><br /><br /><br /><strong>\t</strong>Richard stared at the paper for a long time, long enough that Spinel was sure his coconut-brained boy had finally cracked. While Richard mused over what he just read, Spinel&rsquo;s appendages scooped big, fat, heaping bowls of Stew that sparked along the ladle and served them up with another note.<br /><br /><br /><em><strong>Old family recipe. Pika-Skrelp Gumbo. </strong></em><br /><br /><strong><em>Be careful, it&rsquo;s got an attitude. </em></strong><em><strong>Hehe.</strong></em><br /><br /><br />\tRichard scooped a mouthful of the stuff from the chowder spoon provided and his head shook with a static shock that played with his gums. That along with a heat that opened the nostrils, the flavors within were made utterly irresistible. &ldquo;Whoa man! That&rsquo;s crazy, that&rsquo;s Pikachu? I guess I never thought to try it!&rdquo;<br /><br />\tHe jolted back to his senses and finally answered the question that had Spinel tied into knots. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s an honor, coming from a Sylveon. I love all my Pokemon, and if you came along with me I&rsquo;m sure I&rsquo;d love you too. In a way, I already do. You&rsquo;ve been a great friend. I&rsquo;ll talk to the Captain and see if he&rsquo;d be willing to part with you. If I was him, though, I wouldn&rsquo;t be so stupid.&rdquo;<br /><br />\tSpinel&rsquo;s paw clutched his stomach, claws digging into his soft belly, and he suddenly felt like he needed to puke.<br /><br />He kept suppressing the urge&nbsp;&nbsp;to purge with rounds of Liechi-nade and mouthfuls of calorie dense food.<br /><br />\tHe served up a plate of huge, fried dinner rolls onto the table and demonstrated dipping them into the gumbo with a wink.<br /><br />\tRichard followed suit. At least he appreciated his cooking, that was a small soothing balm.<br /><br />\tYears of forcing his face to betray his inner feelings prepared himself for this shit show. He kept a strong facade up, but deep inside he wanted to weep like a pressed lemon.<br /><br /><em>It was the longest of long shots, Spinel.</em><br /><br /><em>You knew this was gonna happen. Stop it, don&rsquo;t cry, you&rsquo;re a big &lsquo;Mon.</em><br /><br /><br /><br />\t&ldquo;Oh no!&rdquo; Bonnie&rsquo;s head shook slowly. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s smiling, but he&rsquo;s holding his heart and his ribbons are fidgeting all over the place. Something is wrong. Richard&rsquo;s just chowing down and doesn&rsquo;t seem to care at all! What should we do, Caw?&rdquo;<br /><br />\tClemont shook his head. &ldquo;Nothing we can do would change things, Cheep. And this is Valorie&rsquo;s date, you nutjob.&rdquo;<br /><br />\t&ldquo;But&hellip; rrrrr, no!&rdquo; She went back to watching the two of them through the windows of the cafe, but not before locking her fingers together in solemn prayer. &ldquo;Oh, Lord Enamorous, don&rsquo;t let it end like this! Let the hands of these two, disparate lovers come together this night.&rdquo;<br /><br />\tClemont sighed. &ldquo;You&rsquo;re just like dad,&rdquo; he whispered to himself.<br /><br />\t<br /><br />\tThey both ate in silence for a long while as Rich demolished Spinel&rsquo;s masterpiece dinner and let some of the hardest lemonade allowed by law run down his throat like an open drain.<br /><br />Then suddenly Richard picked up where they left off, leaning on his shoulder with a slight slur in his voice. &ldquo;Right back at&rsquo;cha. What do <span class='underline'>you</span> most want in a partner?&rdquo;<br /><br />\tIt took everything he had not to sob into his bowl, knowing he couldn&rsquo;t help himself responding with the whole, raw truth, being totally unprepared for the fact that Richard&rsquo;s reply would hurt twice as much now. His ribbons shook as he wrote, half from emotional turmoil and half from the fact he&rsquo;d absentmindedly choked down three whole tall glasses of Liechi-nade and his vision was starting to blur.<br /><br />\tRichard had downed five, and Spinel could tell he was riding shotgun with him on their way out of Buzz Town, off to Margaritaville.<br /><br /><br /><em><strong>All I want is you, Richard.</strong></em><br /><br /><strong><em>More than anything else.</em></strong><br /><br /><br />\tRichard smiled, gasped, his eyes drowned in tears, and then he wobbled over to Spinel&rsquo;s stool and picked him up in a great big Beartic hug. &ldquo;Oh, jeez, you little ball of mushy gushy fluff. You&#039;re making me cry now. We&rsquo;ll make it happen, I promise. I&rsquo;ll ask Dad for a loan if I gotta.&rdquo;<br /><br />\tSpinel finally broke down and squeaked through clenched teeth as his tears soaked Richard&rsquo;s shoulder. He could smell the musk on his neck, feel the warmth of his body filling him with desire. He knew this is where he wanted to be, but not like this.<br /><br />He wanted to pop the buttons on that garnet colored shirt and lay atop his bare chest, tickling the boy&rsquo;s lips with his canines as they slowly, sensually kissed at the end of a long day. He wanted to wrap Richard up in a fit of passion and please him senseless; to run behind closed doors whenever he asked and make sweet, filthy, sinful love. He wanted to hold him in those moments when life was hardest, he knew this for certain the very moment Richard did it for him.<br /><br />\tBut, it turns out the best he could hope for was to be one of the man&rsquo;s most beloved slaves.<br /><br />\tBrought into the personal entourage of some gorgeous, wealthy heir to a famous league battling dynasty? Until that week he never would have turned that down, even that unfortunate outcome was a hundred times better than living there in Kalos, a stone&#039;s throw away from getting lassoed back into the sex trade&hellip;<br /><br />\tBut it was a far cry from the Nirvana he envisioned, and he was done settling for scraps.<br /><br />\tHe pressed his paw against Richard&rsquo;s cheek and brought him nose to nose. He gazed into those glittering, emerald jewels beset into his face. He took his time, longingly running a claw across his chin, feeling the heat of his breath on his muzzle, knowing it might be the very last time he&rsquo;d have the pleasure of doing so. &ldquo;{You idiot!}&rdquo;<br /><br />\tSpinel jumped him, wrapped his front legs around his neck, and stroked his cheek with one ribbon as the others coiled around his body in a passionate hug.<br /><br />Then he slowly combed his claws through the hair at the back of Richard&rsquo;s head and pressed his little lips against the boy&rsquo;s mouth.<br /><br />\t<br /><br />\tBonnie&rsquo;s palm covered her mouth as she gasped, and then absolutely gushed with excitement. &ldquo;Oh, Enamorous, They&rsquo;re hugging all tight, they&rsquo;re crying and smiling, and they&rsquo;re <span class='underline'>kissing</span>. It&rsquo;s so cuuute, aaaaaaahhh, it must be true love!&rdquo; She stamped her feet in place, pressing her knuckles into her cheeks as she squealed.<br /><br />\tClemont choked on his egg-shaped canteen of water. &ldquo;Th-they what?!&rdquo; he coughed.<br /><br />\tThe Masque&rsquo;s staticy, stunned silence over the radio lasted for ten whole seconds. Then the two of them heard the sound of someone groaning in pain after a parade of noise that surely must have been the shattering of wooden furniture and cheap pottery.<br /><br />&ldquo;Mission accomplished, Combuskin. Excellently done. Return to base for a well earned rest. We speak of this to no one.&rdquo;<br /><br />\tClemont stuttered and fumbled as he yanked the binoculars away from Bonnie and saw the scene for himself. &ldquo;But, whaa? Shouldn&rsquo;t we tell somebody, anybody? Isn&rsquo;t this&ndash;&rdquo;<br /><br />\tHis stammering was interrupted with a delighted, mirthful laughter filling his ears. &ldquo;No, Son, everything is right with the world. I&rsquo;ll explain one day, but for now, return home.&rdquo;<br /><br /><br /><br />\tRichard&rsquo;s eyes went wide as the fiery buzz from Spinel&rsquo;s ribbon returned and his petite little jowls pushed onto his mouth. The little guy smelled like a bakery and wild rose bushes. His nearly invisible whiskers tickled Richard&rsquo;s face, and the combination of spirits and surprise made him instinctively wrap his arms around the arch of Spinel&rsquo;s back. His brain was overwhelmed with strange, passionate emotions that weren&rsquo;t his, and as the warm, loving, desperate energy fluttered in his chest he somehow couldn&rsquo;t pull himself away.<br /><br />\tHis embrace encouraged the desperate &lsquo;Mon, whose ears had folded back behind his head in terror. He felt the brotherly love that Richard had developed over the short period. He could sense the Man&rsquo;s confusion and apprehension, but also felt some tiny spark of enjoyment that pushed him onward. He slipped his thin, barbed tongue between Richard&rsquo;s lips, and as parted for him he ran his teeth playfully across the wet, tender flesh within.<br /><br />\tBesides the medley of everything he&rsquo;d stuffed the boy with throughout the evening, he tasted so pleasant. The sensation of Richard&rsquo;s breath passing through his little black nose was entrancing, and he never, ever wanted the sensation to end.<br /><br />\tIt took every ounce of willpower to stop himself from ripping Richard&rsquo;s attire away, tearing his pants into worthless strips of cloth, and trying to fuck his naked body into a quivering puddle right there on the Cafe floor.<br /><br />\tWhen their mouths finally parted in a soft smack, Spinel put his paw against his Man&rsquo;s cheek again and smiled nervously, brushing that feral strand of mane out of his eyes. His shell of confidence had totally shattered now that his feelings had been laid completely bare.<br /><br /><br />\t<em>This was it, you felt it too. I know you did!</em><br /><br /><br />\tSpinel practically clawed at Richard&rsquo;s clothes as the Man set him back down onto the stool and started peeling his ribbons away from his body.<br /><br />Richard started laughing, long, loud, belly laughing with eyes that wet with hysterical tears as he wobbled on his own two feet. &ldquo;Damn, you&rsquo;re a good kisser, Sylveon. Had uh bit too much uh that Liechi-o-nade? Dun worry, I did too. Hahaha. I wun&rsquo;t tell anuh-one.&rdquo; He chuckled and steadied himself against the table. &ldquo;Ah man, ah get why Em duhs whuh he duhs now. U&rsquo;m having suhssch a good time and U&rsquo;m gettu&rsquo;n the ol&rsquo; Ghastly from thuh woman I luhb. Hahaha.&rdquo;<br />\t<br />\tSpinel&rsquo;s claws dug into his chest, mouth open as he tried to speak, but knew that this boy had no chance of understanding him, context or not. He started scribbling onto a paper that shook in his clutches, and a couple tears splashed against the hand-pressed fibers, splotching one of his messy strokes of the pen. <br /><br /><em>No, you Gods damned fool! You&rsquo;re not getting the Ghastly, you&rsquo;re being </em><em>Whiscashed</em><em>, why can&rsquo;t you see that?</em> His barely suppressed screams rattled around his skull as they echoed back and forth between his ears.<br /><br /><br /><em><strong>Valorie doesn&rsquo;t love you, but I do!</strong></em><br /><br /><strong><em>She never</em></strong><br /><br /><br />The bright pink candles all around them slowly snuffed out.<br /><br /><br />\tHe sighed and then dropped his pen and the paper to the floor. His bushy, excited ears drooped, his tail curled up between his legs, and he clenched his jaw as he tried to contain the explosion of anguish fighting to howl out from deep inside his guts.<br /><br />He sucked it up, like he&rsquo;d done a million times before, and bowed to his new master. He unveiled the last course, complete with honey butter spread and the final note of the evening.<br /><br /><br /><strong><em>Honey-Toasted-Almond Beignets</em></strong><br /><br /><em><strong>A piece of my soul for the man who stole my heart.</strong></em><br /><br /><strong><em>Here&rsquo;s to us.</em></strong><br /><br />\t<br />\tWhy did he write that? He knew how unlikely, how ludicrous it was that Richard could look at him as more than anything but a tool. A fuzzy, affectionate, beloved tool&hellip; but a tool all the same. Why did he do any of it at all? Gods, he&rsquo;d opened his heart up to the world and let it cut him so deep it left him trapped, ankle deep in a pool of his own cold, miserable, jilted blood.<br /><br />\tRichard raised his glass, and drank from the rim, forgetting completely about the straw he&rsquo;d accidentally dropped to the floor. &ldquo;Tuh uss, lil guy.&rdquo; Then he bit into one of the desserts and behaved like a child that had snuck into the banquet kitchen. &ldquo;Urmayzing, aw mah gawsh.&rdquo;<br /><br />\tHe couldn&rsquo;t take it anymore. Spinel lashed a ribbon around his eyes, trying to hide his tears. Then he squeaked a shrill, visceral cry past his the air-tight seal on his maw as he dashed back into the kitchen. He drifted off course as he careened through the restaurant, toppling over a wooden coat rack and a kitschy, ax-hewn statue of a Hoot-Hoot.<br /><br /><br /><br />\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/<br /><br /><br /><br />Valorie smooched Fenny on the forehead after checking to make sure no stray eyes were watching them in the dark corridors of Old South. &ldquo;{Seriously, I seriously need you to keep it together, ok? He&rsquo;s just a naive little boy and we don&rsquo;t <span class='underline'>actually</span> want to hurt him, ok? Don&rsquo;t need Em and the Old Man jumping on our backs.}&rdquo;<br /><br />She leaned down, pried up a loose cobble, and retrieved a little brass key from the hole.<br /><br />Fenny purred and followed her, sniffing around for people and discarded food. She&rsquo;d tried her best to stop him from reaching into garbage cans to snatch up people&rsquo;s freshly-tossed leftovers, but there was no hope when your mate was a walking, talking bottomless pit.<br /><br />&ldquo;{I&rsquo;ll be good. He might be Friend Sylveon&rsquo;s mate, yes?}&rdquo; He toyed around with a glittering strand of&hellip;stuff hanging from his staff; a leather string bearing all the little beads, baubles, and shiny do-nothings he&rsquo;d swiped on his visit to the capital, strung together as an intricate memento of their grand journey.<br /><br />He&rsquo;d have many new stories to tell the bushbabies back home! Yes Yes!<br /><br />Val nodded, cleared her nostrils, and spat behind a barrel. &ldquo;{With any luck, yeah. Then I won&rsquo;t have to&ndash;.}&rdquo; She stopped speaking as she unlocked the back kitchen door and took in the scene of devastation before her. <br /><br />Spinel&rsquo;s back was leaned against the wall on his bum, tugging at his ears, ugly crying so hard he struggled to suck air into his lungs like he&rsquo;d been kicked in the stomach. That gorgeous shawl he&rsquo;d hand-sewn specifically for the occasion was ripped up to tiny, bite sized pieces and thrown around like flakes of snow. Pots, pans, and canisters of powdered spices were juggled around and dropped to the floor.<br /><br />The kitchen was a delirious, messy display of raw, emotional turmoil. <br /><br />Valorie sighed. &ldquo;Dammit.&rdquo;<br /><br />Fenny jumped right up to Spinel, let his staff clatter to the floor, and opened his arms. &ldquo;{What is wrong, Friend Sylveon? Come come, tell Delphox all about it.}&rdquo;<br /><br />Spinel let Fenny scoop him up in his arms, dripping like half-melted ice cream, and then ragdolled while sobbing into a warm, fluffy shoulder. &ldquo;{I tried so hard...} hic. {Everything was perfect, I did it all, Val. He doesn&rsquo;t get it, I told him to his face and he just won&rsquo;t get it.}&rdquo; He snorted and coughed before openly bawling again.<br /><br />It was then the two of them could smell the copious amount of liquor on his breath.<br /><br />Fenny frowned, his throat rumbling fell and low. Then he nuzzled Spinel, cuddled him, and squeezed him tight as he swayed his torso back and forth. &ldquo;{It&rsquo;s ok, we&rsquo;re here now. We&rsquo;ll fix him good, won&rsquo;t we, mighty mate of mine?}&rdquo;<br /><br />Spinel sprung back to life and shook his head. &ldquo;{D-don&rsquo;t hurt him! Just go break his heart as hard as you can, get it over with so we can get on with our lives and I can try to forget this mistake ever happened.}&rdquo;<br /><br />Val&rsquo;s palm hit her face and she growled. &ldquo;Thaz it. Time fer the nuclear option.&rdquo;<br /><br />Spinel pulled his face out of Fenny&rsquo;s fluff and looked at Valorie. &ldquo;{The what?}&rdquo;<br /><br />She pointed to Spinel and Fenny. &ldquo;{You two clean this mess up, I won&rsquo;t go losing friends over some thick-headed breeder like him. After that, follow my lead. We&rsquo;re catching a lift with the White Wings.}&rdquo;<br /><br />She nabbed one of Spinel&rsquo;s beignets left on a platter for the kitchen staff in the morning and devoured it in one bite.<br /><br /><em>Mmm mmm mmm, absolutely divine. Wasn&rsquo;t gonna leave here without </em><em><span class='underline'>some</span></em><em> of Cherry&rsquo;s cooking, that&#039;s for sure.</em><br /><br />There he was. Sitting <span class='underline'>so</span> patiently. For <span class='underline'>her</span>. Drinking from a dewy glass of some neon pink poison Spinel had brewed up to bring the boy to his knees. And down on his knees he was, practically basted in savory nectars and strong rum, surrounded by empty dishes that had been totally licked clean. <br /><br />As she stomped out of the kitchen Richard&rsquo;s eyes lit up and he tried to stand, but he failed and ended up propping himself against the chair. &ldquo;Valoreh&hellip; yoo schow&rsquo;d up. Ah thuh yuh lef muh hang&rsquo;n thur&hellip; uhhhaaaaa!&rdquo;<br /><br />She clutched the front of his shirt, fist balled up so tight with fury she wasn&rsquo;t entirely confident she could keep it under control. &ldquo;Yuh waited, didja? How long wouldja gone on, huh? Til the sun come up? All week?&rdquo;<br /><br /><em>C&rsquo;mon Val, you know how to do this shit. Just one more time, won&rsquo;t hurt too bad. </em><br /><br />She yanked Richard forward, locked lips with him, and then smirked as she caught a whiff of Spinel&rsquo;s pheromones smeared all over his face and mouth.<br /><br /><em>Oh no, the poor thing managed to </em><em>get a taste</em><em>. That&rsquo;s why it hurt so bad.</em><br /><br />She glared at Richard with a strange, sultry look so absolutely out of character for her it chilled Richard&rsquo;s spine. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m gonna show you what you&rsquo;ve been missing,&rdquo; she said with language totally free of her messy conjunctions and hickish, riverway accent.<br /><br /><br /><strong>\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/</strong><br /><br /><br />She&rsquo;d called upon the White Wings, a premium service that swooped in with flying &lsquo;Mon of all shapes and sizes to carry you anywhere you could possibly want to go, servicing the entirety of Kalos. There was a special number you texted with your coordinates and away you went. One of the smoothest run operations in the entire region, probably the only thing not stepped in noble corruption.<br /><br />It was the only service she trusted with her life.<br /><br />They were scooped up by a trio of Pidgeot that had clearly been bred for their size and wing strength. Valorie and Richard each took the reins of a single bird, and she made sure to buckle his drunken ass in so he didn&rsquo;t tumble off and paint the cobbles red. The last bird carried Spinel and Fenny, and then they were off.<br /><br />The city was gorgeous from the sky, and the air did a lot to calm her fiery temper, but she would&rsquo;ve appreciated the scenery more if Richard hadn&rsquo;t ruined the moment whining about feeling nauseous.<br /><br />She told Richard if he spewed that she was gonna tear his arms off at the shoulder and that kept his slime inside just fine.<br /><br />The Pidgeot were brothers of the same clutch, and told Val they actually didn&rsquo;t altogether hate their state of affairs. Not something she was used to hearing, and so her typical schtick of grousing with the local &lsquo;Mon about shit treatment didn&rsquo;t really seem to land too well.<br /><br />They did also mention that they weren&rsquo;t allowed to keep the tips, so she made sure to leave a couple peach pits she had in her pocket in the tip bag tied to their necks for the oh-so-generous masters.<br /><br />Several baggy-eyed night workers in the hotel plaza dashed out of the way as the birds brought them down to their destination and she made sure to give each of them part of an apple she snagged from the breakfast that morning.<br /><br />Before she helped Richard get off, she shouted over at Spinel. &ldquo;{This is your last chance, lover boy. You owe me after this, y&rsquo;hear? You can pay me back by getting this fool out of my life.}&rdquo;<br /><br />\tRichard chuckled as she helped him down. &ldquo;Haaahaha, is so kyute hearin&rsquo; yuh schpeek with the &lsquo;Mon. I shu lurn tuh do tha too&hellip;&rdquo;<br /><br />\tShe shook her head, making sure to bump hips against his and stroke his sides in that sensual but socially appropriate way her mother taught her all those years ago. &ldquo;You really should. You&rsquo;d learn a lot more than a language, big guy.&rdquo;<br /><br />\tSpinel followed behind, anxious, practically coming apart at the seams with worry. He had no idea what she was planning, but he hoped with every strand of fur on his body it wasn&rsquo;t to hurt Richard. There was no point in asking any more questions though, when Val got like that she&rsquo;d say something and move, and if you didn&rsquo;t follow she&rsquo;d wander off into the horizon without you. In this case, with his beloved in her clutches.<br /><br />\tAs they wandered the halls, she&rsquo;d take a moment every thirty feet or so to push him against a wall or a pillar and smother him in passionate, breathtaking kisses, nibbles of the neck, and playful tugs of the lips. <br /><br />\tIt was exhilarating and hotter than molten apple pie, but Richard couldn&rsquo;t help noticing the embraces felt&hellip; empty. Like bags of chips full of nothing but salty smelling air. That moment swapping spit with Sylveon, even though he believed the whole thing was a drunken joke, was absolutely magical in comparison. He could feel the desire in the way he threw himself against his face, the hum of pleasure in his little throat, the ticklish dancing of the tongue.<br /><br /><em>She really could take some lessons from the little guy.</em><br /><br />\tIn the background, Fenny tailed the three of them, all by himself, growling with a look of disgust. The Rheechard didn&rsquo;t deserve her lips, her nips, or her hips. It wasn&rsquo;t like he got jealous like Men were to be, he&rsquo;d seen Val getting taken by many of the Village males. Encouraged her to, even. But Val detested this Man, she said so herself to his face, and by extension Fenny did too. So seeing his nestmate clamoring all over him like a Slakoth humping a tree made him sick.<br /><br />\tRegardless of the things his muffled forebrain tried to yell out at him, he was so horny it all drowned in a flood of endorphins. Val wasn&rsquo;t the greatest kisser, but her body was in-credible to behold. When she touched him and tossed him around, he could feel the iron in her bones crushing him like an industrial machine. He caught himself holding his breath as she dove into his personal space, finding her body odor so unbelievably pungent that he had to dodge the smell. <br /><br />However, even that couldn&rsquo;t stop the raging boner from forming in his slacks.<br /><br />\tSpinel stayed underfoot, skittishly scrambling out of the way as Rich barely managed to fumble with his wallet and swipe the keycard to his room in time before Val shoved him inside and forced his shoulders against the wall.<br /><br />\tShe looked him in the eyes, tapped into that battery of hers, and her serpentine irises glowed a faint indigo color. &ldquo;Take off the business casual.&rdquo; It took every ounce of her focus to keep her natural intonation from bleeding through. <br /><br />\tRichard had no idea what happened, but his body started moving on its own, mechanically unbuttoning the shirt and slipping his pants down his legs. <br /><br />\tShe pulled her olive green tank top over her head, flailing her fiery braid around as she struggled to undress for some weird reason, showing off matted pits full of bushy red fur that smelled like a locker room from six feet away. She unlatched the belts all around her waist and thighs, letting her denim cargo pants as well as all her satchels of gear and the knives she never went without collapse to the ground with a loud thud.<br /><br />Her legs were speckled in tiny ginger hairs; he&rsquo;d never seen a lady without shaven legs, and he silently remarked at how they looked like limbs of a great big cactus. <br /><br />Spinel quietly let Fenny in, shut the door and started battening down all the hatches, latching, locking, door-stopping, and jamming-a-chair-under-the-doorknobbing so nobody could interrupt them.<br /><br />\tShe whipped around and pressed her body against his, feeling his dick against her groin. The uncomfortable tightening of her back made her so glad she wasn&rsquo;t going to let that wretched thing inside her. No way, no how. Just the thought of a Man leaving spunk inside her struck Val with rapid onset stomach flu.<br /><br />\t&ldquo;Get on the bed.&rdquo;<br /><br />She put her palms against his abdomen and pushed, launching Richard into the air on a&nbsp;&nbsp;ballistic trajectory across the suite. He landed on the bed with the wind knocked from his lungs, wide eyed with terror.<br /><br />She walked towards the bed, hips swaying, tugging at her exercise bra to wrestle it over her head to expose her top as she pried her socks off with her toes.<br /><br />Her entire body, head to toe, was covered in gnarly scars from what Richard could only assume must have been potentially life-threatening wounds. How had the crazy bitch survived that long? What kind of insane work was in her past to accrue all those injuries? Her arms, legs, and abdomen were ripped as his! Moreso, even; he was pretty sure if he punched her in the stomach he would&rsquo;ve ended up breaking his knuckles. <br /><br />She must have been a soldier in the Northfront wars, he thought. That&rsquo;s the only thing that made any kind sense. But even special forces couldn&rsquo;t hypnotize someone with a gaze or throw a fully grown man fifteen feet away from where they stood.<br /><br />Valorie gazed at him with her indigo eyes again, and he was locked in place as if all the controls to his body were unplugged.<br /><br />She let her underwear fall to the floor, exposing a labia hidden deep within a carpet of fiery pubic fuzz.<br /><br />&ldquo;Take it all off.&rdquo;<br /><br />He could feel his dick throbbing, his hands moving, his arms wobbling around to strip away his white undershirt and Psyduck print boxers without any input from him. It made his stomach twist and he gasped for air as soon as the lights came back on and his body listened to him again. <br /><br />She climbed up onto him, then turned her head back to Spinel, who had crept towards the bed but stayed at a safe distance, knowing damn well that Val had a well-earned reputation for furious retribution that was legendary.<br /><br /><em>&ldquo;{You want it? </em><em>He&rsquo;s all yours</em><em>. Got him all warmed up for you.}&rdquo;</em> She scooted up his body and turned her gaze to Richard&#039;s face, leaving plenty of room above an aching, twitching cock that yearned for a warm wet hole to fill.<br /><br />Spinel heard her voice in his head. He knew she had some strange abilities, just like all the other people she and that aquarium guy hung around with, but this was something new. New and downright frightening. Was this right? Was this moral? Spinel struggled with himself as he realized what Valorie had planned for him to do.<br /><br />It was scary, and kinda horrible, but also downright erotic, and it took all of the courage left in his little heart to jump up behind Valorie&rsquo;s gloriously toned ass and assume the position.<br /><br />\tRichard&rsquo;s dick was long, with a healthy girth to match, and its smooth, peachy red foreskin bulged with pulsing veins amid his body&rsquo;s desperate cries for intercourse. His balls were tight against his body, locked, loaded, and ready to fire. Spinel was surprised he hadn&rsquo;t busted a nut already, considering how sensitive his body seemed to be.<br /><br />The most stunning thing of all, though, was that Richard had apparently taken a chance in one of the many complementary spas available to the contestant trainers and had all of his body hair waxed away.<br /><br />\tHis toned, infinitely lickable body was smooth as the shell of a freshly laid egg. <br /><br />\tSpinel nuzzled his penis, brushed his whiskers against the delectable thing, and was delighted to find that it had his natural scent instead of that putrid, rotten smell some men got when they went an hour or two beyond the shower curtain. Richard&rsquo;s hips shifted and shuddered at his touch, and that prompted Spinel to lay down, get comfy, and gently kiss at the base.<br /><br />Valorie leaned in and kissed Richard&rsquo;s neck. &ldquo;Is this all you&rsquo;ve wanted?&rdquo;<br /><br />Spinel worked his way up the shaft, caressing his beloved&rsquo;s hips with his paws as he tickled and dragged his tongue all the way up. A little pink button peeked out from the slit hidden between his own hind legs and his heart started racing.<br /><br />Richard&rsquo;s back arced at the electric sensation of her lips against his neck and the uncanny melody playing below his waist. &ldquo;I want you, all of you.&rdquo;<br /><br />Spinel started from the bottom again, wanting to get another noseful of his sweaty musk. He climbed his way up Richard&rsquo;s cock with a staircase of smooches and licks that made the Man&rsquo;s legs tighten up. Finally, as he started heaving hot, heavy breaths, he slipped that fat, pulsing tip between his lips.<br /><br />\tShe smiled as Spinel pushed Richard&rsquo;s cock into his mouth and wrapped the end of one of his ribbons around the base. She watched Richard&rsquo;s expression turn from that of a self satisfied jock to something akin to a Treecko snagged up in a Dewpider&rsquo;s snare. <br /><br />\tHe tasted so good.<br /><br />\tActually, if Spinel was honest with himself, it tasted like dick. He had learned that there was a tiny amount of variation between species, people, and their recent diets, which made for interesting pillowtalk. In the end, though, dicks tasted like dicks. If it was a dick you didn&rsquo;t want shoved in your mouth, it was the most vile, gag inducing taste imaginable. <br /><br />\tBut your deepest, most cherished heartthrob squirming in your clutches?<br /><br />Heavenly.<br /><br />\tVal moved her hips up and down, pretending that she was the one trying to milk him dry while Spinel was behind her sucking him off like he&#039;d been dying of thirst for days and finally stumbled upon a runny faucet.<br /><br />She bit his earlobe and he gasped at how hard she got him, having left red welts in the skin. &ldquo;Yeah? Well, let me tell you what I think, stud,&rdquo; she cooed, pressing him into a sea of fresh, white linens with her steel clad, washboard abs rumbling against his own.<br /><br />\tSpinel took as much of Richard&#039;s immensity as he possibly could, audibly moaning in a very sincere state of rapture. He purred as his ribbons stroked the base of his shaft in time with the tiny unconscious thrusting motions of Richard&rsquo;s hips, bobbing his head up and down to take in shallow breaths on the upstroke.<br /><br />He loved how Richard writhed at his touch, back arched, practically gasping for air each and every time his tiny lips and textured tongue swallowed him down to half-mast.<br /><br />\t&ldquo;Yea, bootiful, ah do,&rdquo; Richard panted and then grabbed at Valorie&rsquo;s hips, thrusting up as if he was actually balls deep in his terrifying warrior maiden.<br /><br />Spinel squeaked in surprise, finding the boy&rsquo;s head jammed so hard into his throat that he had to pull him out to the tip, rolling his tongue across the head to recoup and readjust to the wild, dominant tempo.<br /><br />Val could hear Fenny&rsquo;s rumbling of distaste, and she realized that perhaps she&rsquo;d taken this charade further than was necessary. Perhaps it was the taboo, perhaps it was some kind of wicked sense of control, perhaps she was just broken in the head, but it was unbelievably erotic watching some good looking rube unknowingly get his Pokeflute played by his favorite Bro &lsquo;Mon.<br /><br />She was dripping wet, her nipples could split logs, and she wanted to reassure her real mate that he was the one who actually belonged with his pecker jammed up inside her.<br /><br />The smile on her mouth loosened into an unimpressed frown. &ldquo;Ah think yer in love with uh fantasy version uh me, and yer so blind widdit yeh can&rsquo;t see straight.&rdquo;<br /><br />She crawled off of him, and as her waist slipped free from his clutches his eyes bugged out of his head as he saw Sylveon. Perched atop his groin. Snogging his rod.<br /><br />&ldquo;Wh- Wha?&rdquo; he gasped, mouth agape with stupor.<br /><br />Spinel panicked under his gaze, caught red muzzled with a heaping mouthful of Richard&rsquo;s dick. He squeaked a quiet apology and stopped, looking away in cherry-faced shame.<br /><br />She marched back to the door, naked as a hatchling, and plucked her clothes up one by one. &ldquo;Yeh played yerself ah mighty fine fool, Rich.&rdquo;<br /><br />Fenny scurried in, grabbing up some of her clothes too, then glared Richard&rsquo;s way.<br /><br />&ldquo;Ye dunno a damn thing about me. Ah told&rsquo;ja once and ah meant it. Ye&rsquo;ll never be anythin&rsquo; more te me than ah hotshot trainer boy, maybe ah pal if&rsquo;n ya stop hump&rsquo;n mah leg.&rdquo; <br /><br />She pressed the side of her hips and waist against Fenny&rsquo;s wonderful warm fur as he wrapped one arm around her waist, digging his claws into her skin in that way they both knew riled her up for a good tussle and a long, steamy fuck. <em>Medicine for the soul,</em> she thought as he nuzzled her bare stomach and she calmly rubbed him beneath his neck.<br /><br />&ldquo;Ah&rsquo;m gonna go be with mah mate, an by tomorruh I hope ye gone an broke that spell yer under,&rdquo; she said. Then she slipped into Richard&rsquo;s freshly laundered, extra-large, hotel bathrobe that housekeeping had left hung by the door.<br /><br />\t&ldquo;In the meantime, why not get a taste o&rsquo; what I got? Who knows? Maybe ye&rsquo;ll like it.&rdquo; She gestured to Spinel with her head and smiled as they left the room. &ldquo;He sure likes <span class='underline'>you</span> alright.&rdquo;<br /><br />\tClick.<br /><br />\tRichard&rsquo;s breath was heavy, still trying to support the rush of his heart frantically beating to fuel his sex drive and the terror he suddenly felt at getting the best blowie of his life from someone else&rsquo;s Pokemon.<br /><br />He tried to find the words, any at all, but nothing he imagined could possibly unravel the tension they both felt in the air.<br /><br />\tSuddenly it all snapped into focus. Everything Syvleon had done for him was, in fact, <span class='underline'>for him</span>. The little guy put his freedom in jeopardy by showing them around the city and catered to his every need. Sylveon spent every waking moment in his company because he enjoyed his company, made bouquets of garden-fresh flowers for him, bathed in fire at his behest, hosted a magical banquet in his honor, and then bore his crying heart out in blood-red ink, only for him to&hellip; <br /><br />\tSpinel turned his head back towards Rich, brushed that pesky, wild strand of mane from his face again, and flashed him a timid, side-eyed smile. He chirped in a rising, quizzical tone, looked left and right, then raised his eyebrows as his cheek rested against Richard&rsquo;s throbbing, rock hard shaft.<br /><br />\tRichard breathed in, long and slow, and tried his hardest to make good choices as his head swirled with intoxication, infatuation, dissolution, and self preservation.<br /><br />\t<em>That kiss </em><em><span class='underline'>was</span></em><em> really nice&hellip;</em><br /><br /><em>\t</em>Spinel jumped with surprise as Richard leaned forward and brushed his fingers down his velvety, white cheek. &ldquo;Ok, Sylveon&hellip; I choose you.&rdquo;<br /><br />\tSpinel&rsquo;s eyes leaked, finally glossing over with a little bit of joy instead of pain, sorrow, or loneliness for the first time since Val and Cap set him free. He nodded, reached for his hand, and passionately kissed his palm.<br /><br />\tOne ribbon stuffed an extra pillow behind Richard&rsquo;s head. Another beckoned him to lean back and relax with a gentle push of the chest and a sensual stroke of the cheek. A third reached across the room and dimmed the lights. The final ribbon returned to its post around the base of Richard&rsquo;s cock.<br /><br />Ecstatic he could finally relish in the flesh of his desires, he swallowed Richard again. With unconcealed glee. Now that his beloved knew the source of his pleasure, he kept his hips in place, choosing instead to twist and squirm from the waist up. Perfection.<br /><br />Spinel&rsquo;s ribbons finally went for that which they&rsquo;d been craving for weeks. One wrapped around his neck like a collar, caressing the boy&rsquo;s cheek. Richard gasped as those spooky, amorous thoughts swirled around in his skull, mixing with his own feelings of bewilderment and out of control arousal.<br /><br />The other two spiraled around his arms like a barber&rsquo;s poles and then rested in his palms. Spinel giggled as Rich held them tightly in his grip, and decided to prod Richard&#039;s ass with a tiny, sharp claw just to see him squirm as he looped the back of the ribbon around his cock under the Man&rsquo;s balls and gently squeezed them.<br /><br />Richard moaned, his abdomen shuddered, and his legs splayed out.<br /><br />Spinel could feel the intense heat of his pleasure thrumming through his tendrils, and he could faintly hear his cries for more at the back of his mind.<br /><br />&ldquo;{Oooh, you like that, honey?}&rdquo; he chirped, then pressed a little harder, tightened his grip on the base of his shaft, and suckled him with audible gasps and salacious moaning that let his partner know they both were having an amazing time.<br /><br />He wanted to take it slow, who knew what might happen when he came out of his neurochemical bliss? He let a fat bead of precum form at the tip of the penis, then licked it up with a long, singular brush of his tongue, back to tip. He would stop from time to time to kiss and&nbsp;&nbsp;stroke his scrotum, playfully nibble at his inner thighs, and he even crawled up onto his body once to lick his abs and suck on his nipples as his ribbons stayed behind to beat his meat.<br /><br />Richard wiggled and writhed under the masterful display of fellatio. With the signals rushing between their minds, Syvleon was touching buttons he never even knew he had. Then he&rsquo;d turn the dial up to eleven and smash the buttons over and over again. He could sense at the very edges of his mind just how much this Sylveon actually, truly loved him. The &lsquo;Mon&rsquo;s romantic desire for him was an all encompassing, white hot fire that was hard to focus on for too long. But even as he focused on something else, he could still sense its warmth in his chest as the pillowy folds of his mouth sent him soaring to levels of arousal that he could only describe as narcotic.<br /><br />Spinel listened in to the distant echoes of Richard&rsquo;s mind as he started to break, inhibitions shattering bit by bit between rounds of slowing his stimulation to keep from popping his load too soon. Spinel&rsquo;s own dick curled in on itself, leaking egg-whites onto the sheets beneath him, and he realized after the sixth round of playful edging that he needed to seal the deal right.<br /><br />\tRichard writhed around in a mindless, lusty haze. &ldquo;Aaaahhh, it&rsquo;s so good!&rdquo;<br /><br />&ldquo;Mmmm hmmmm&hellip;&rdquo; Spinel replied as he gently bobbed his head over Richard&rsquo;s member, swallowed three quarters down, hungrily sucking as his barely retracted claws flirted with his Man&rsquo;s tender ass cheeks.<br /><br /><em>More thoughts rushed into his mind. He felt appreciation for all the risks he&rsquo;d taken, sorrow for missing the obvious signs put before him, fearful of the chance that he might lose the tournament and fade into obscurity.</em><br /><br />There was a rush of orgasmic pleasure, Richard cried out as his cock began twitching, and Spinel held back one last time to see deeper still. As he nursed his manhood, keeping his beloved inches from relief, the ribbon around Richard&rsquo;s dick looped again, this time around Spinel&rsquo;s own sex.<br /><br /><em>A mind shattering need for sexual release, concern for his cousin as she got involved with an underground movement none of them understood, anger at his father for hiding his grandmother from him, contented elation at the honest, loving companionship he&rsquo;d found.</em><br /><br />And then he realized something&hellip;<br /><br />The entire time, at least since Val made her exit, Richard was thinking about him. He wasn&rsquo;t pretending the &lsquo;Mon latched onto his nethers was Valorie, nor some gorgeous ex girlfriend, nor his go-to porn star. In fact, he was at the forefront of Richard&rsquo;s mind as his fingers clutched at the sheets, his legs and toes curled up, and his hips bucked upward. His head fell back into the pillow, and his eyes rolled back into his head.<br /><br />Spinel let him push down into his throat, for a brief moment letting it have the nice tight hole his dick expected. Then he slid Richard&rsquo;s cock out of his throat and he stroked him as the telltale pulse of pleasure told him it was time to open wide.<br /><br />His Man gasped and cried with ecstasy as his muscles shook in his grasp.<br /><br />The first wave of fresh, hot, human cum shot into his open maw, splashing against the roof of his mouth, and then the rush of Richard&rsquo;s orgasm sizzled down his tendrils like a trail of gunpowder fuses smoking towards an open powder keg. <br /><br />Spinel gasped, shuddered, and wrapped his lips around the head of Richard&rsquo;s penis as every single muscle in his body was wracked with an indescribable euphoria. He couldn&rsquo;t help but hump at the empty air as his pecker shot strings of cum all over the bed sheets and Richard&rsquo;s bare thighs as he greedily sucked up gouts of warm, sweet, liquid love.<br /><br />Richard&rsquo;s mind was assailed with the echoes of his Pokemon cumming too. He yelled out, mind warping with the strange sensation of having a prehensile penis for a few seconds, and then thrust up into Sylveon.<br /><br />Spinel was all too happy to oblige, tightening his tendrils around Richard&#039;s arms as he felt gush after gush of pent up sex running down his throat.<br /><br />Back and forth, like the striking of a bell in an echo chamber, they were hit with orgasm, after orgasm, after orgasm. Each slightly softer than the last.<br /><br />When the storm of involuntary spasms finally passed, the tension in Richard&rsquo;s body unwound and he slumped into the bed, gasping for air.<br /><br />Spinel stood up on wobbly legs. The comforter was soaked with his seed and Richard&rsquo;s rear-end glistened in a runny, white mess. He yanked Richard&rsquo;s cock free from his throat, gently licked it clean, and then swallowed with a self-satisfied flourish. <br /><br />&ldquo;Hhhh&hellip;hhhholy fuck&hellip;&rdquo; Richard heaved between labored breaths, delirious and sedated.<br /><br />The top cover was carefully swept out from under him by neat, attentive ribbons and left folded on the floor. Spinel would launder that himself in the morning; he&rsquo;d hate to be the servant &lsquo;Mon stuck dealing with that little surprise. Humming cheery little tunes under a glow of deep satisfaction, he cleaned his lover up with warm, moistened towels and then tucked him into some spare sheets from the closet.<br /><br />Richard mumbled some unintelligible word-salad in a post-nut coma as Spinel wiggled under the sheets atop his chest, and the little fey couldn&rsquo;t help but chuckle and tag him with a gentle peck on the cheek.<br /><br /><em>That makes things pretty clear, I think.</em> Spinel thought as he curled up, closed his eyes, and nestled his head between Richard&rsquo;s pecs. <em>Whatever happens tomorrow, at least we&rsquo;re finally on the same page.</em><br /><br />Spinel was busy prancing across a platform loading of passenger trains to slumberland when something stirred beneath him.<br /><br />With almost no warning, Richard sleep-snatched a squeaking, flailing, bottlebrushed Sylveon up into his arms. Then he rolled onto his side with his prize held close to the chest and snuggled him like a plus-size stuffy.<br /><br />Spinel waited for his heart to stop pounding, but it never did, and he hopped aboard the Hypnosis Express with a Whooper&rsquo;s grin on his face.<br /><br /><br /><br />\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/-\\|/<br />\t<br />\t<br />\tAce stood side by side with his opponent, marching toward the gates of glorious battle.<br /><br />\tWayne Harrison. Lots of weight behind that name. He&rsquo;d scrimped and saved his way out of poverty, left rural Hoenn after a short apprenticeship with Professor Birch, and then proceeded to carve his name across the sorry surface of Johto for all to see.<br />\t<br />\tHorace ran his palm across the five pokeballs hanging from his top, counting them one by one, checking for the warmth that meant it was occupied, making sure for the thousandth time that all his Pokemon were there.<br /><br />Opal&rsquo;s plain, white ball rested in his palm. He hated not having her by his side, but as was tradition in the big leagues. Entertainment directors loved the spectacle of both contestants unveiling their teams just before the action started, as if they hadn&rsquo;t already been required to disclose each other&rsquo;s rosters the day before.<br /><br />He glanced over at Harrison, whose head was locked straight with a face frozen into a some kinda stern, frustrated scowl.<br /><br /><em>Waz yer prollem, Kahuna man?</em><br /><br />\tAs they walked the dark tunnel leading out to the arena, he turned and hunched over in that way Ace always did when he was sizing someone up.<br /><br />\t&ldquo;Real on-ah tradn&rsquo; blows with yah tuh-day.&rdquo;<br /><br />\tGym Leader Harrison barely glanced over at him, and then shook his head. &ldquo;Thanks.&rdquo;<br /><br />\tAce turned to his opponent and smiled as he reached out to shake the legend&rsquo;s hand. &ldquo;Make sure tuh whoop mah ass, y&rsquo;hear?&rdquo; he said, begging the same favor he did to all his foes.<br /><br />\tHarrison&rsquo;s wrist brushed Ace&rsquo;s palm aside as he huffed in disgust. &ldquo;Yeah. With pleasure.&rdquo;<br /><br />\tAce grimaced and his body swung backwards at the man&rsquo;s hostile energy. &ldquo;Ya aight, lolo?&rdquo;<br /><br />\t&ldquo;You really want to know?&rdquo; Harrison stopped them just before the old, iron, castle gates and turned to face him, illuminated by strips of sunlight shining through the bars. &ldquo;You can tell everyones been watching you this entire time, wondering why you&rsquo;re even here, right?&rdquo;<br /><br />\tAce pushed his hands into his pockets. &ldquo;Dun much cay-uh wha peep-al think-a me.&rdquo;<br /><br />\tHarrison scoffed. &ldquo;Good for you. I&rsquo;ll have you know I don&rsquo;t much care what everyone else thinks either, even if they happen to be right.&rdquo;<br /><br />He looked out through the bars, onto the field. &ldquo;I bet there&rsquo;s a thousand worthy trainers in Kanto with the chops to stand out here. But no! Instead here <span class='underline'>you</span> are, stumbling in with a can of Pecha Punch like you accidentally wandered into someone else&rsquo;s house.&rdquo;<br /><br />Ace&rsquo;s back straightened and his head slumped forward, looming,&nbsp;&nbsp;glaring, listening real close to Wayne&rsquo;s little speech.<br /><br />\t&ldquo;You&rsquo;ve got a reputation, Horace <span class='underline'>Giovanni</span> Slate, and you know that better than me. How&rsquo;d you get that letter, huh? Rich uncle up in the executive suites at Sylph? Dump a giant donation into some college dean&#039;s lap?&rdquo; He paused for a moment, and then leaned forward. &ldquo;Or did Daddy Cress call in a favor?&rdquo;<br /><br />\tAce clenched his teeth, squeezing Opal&rsquo;s pokeball in his pocket.<br /><br />\tHarrison nodded as the gates slowly rose with a noisy rattle. &ldquo;Thought so. Hope you maxed your tab out on the Prince&rsquo;s dime, because I&rsquo;m sending you packing.&rdquo;<br /><br />Wayne looked Horace straight in the eyes. &ldquo;...and when you get back, do us all a favor and win your battle with the bottle before you waste everyone&#039;s time like this again. Ask Arceus for help while you&rsquo;re at it, because the competition with the liquor store is steep I hear.&rdquo;<br /><br />\tA dark, vicious animosity replaced his prototypical cool, Alolan composure at hearing Arceus&rsquo; name. &ldquo;Ah, yeah?&rdquo; he hissed under his breath.<br /><br />Ace watched from the shadows as Harrison waltzed out into the sunlight. Confident, proud, waving to a crowd of fans that knew his name like some popular cereal box brand. <br /><br />&ldquo;Heh, thas really too bad&hellip;&rdquo; he said, slipping his aviators over his angry eyes.<br />\t<br /><em>\t&hellip;looks like ahm the only one have&rsquo;n fun tu-day.</em><br /></span>",
  "pools_count": 1,
  "title": "Forbidden Waters - 21",
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      "name": "Sexual Themes",
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