katiekitten
The Compromise
Rattled in Teeth and Torn from Bone [R] - oneshot
Rating approved by the lovely bobandbill.
Content warning: sexual themes/content from the start. Nothing explicit, though.
This is set at least a decade after the events of Pokemon Black and White 1 - the characters involved are in their 20s.
N starts with her fingertips.
Short-nailed, rough, whispers of long travels and rope - he traces a web of scars along the line of her index finger, kissing the knuckle where it ends; each knuckle, lingering. The fragile splay of bones presses against her skin, arcing to the wrist - and he follows them too, trailing slowly around the swell of her thumb, folding a kiss into the heat of her palm.
Next is the crease of her elbow - just briefly, sweetly, the ghost of soft fingers, open lips - and it’s so tempting to taste (the first, and when he does he know it will not be enough, but it will be, and so he doesn’t stop) but her arms are open, dragging-
He wonders how he deserves this. Deserves her. He was the fool and she was his shadow, and now he is released, diminished. The ice melt of his promised crown has carved hollows into his cheeks while she has shone all the brighter, a beacon of strength in a society he almost fractured, that he still hardly understands. And yet-
A sigh above him, soft, and he looks up to meet her eyes, burning in the lamp light. His smile is unwitting.
Before him, like this, she is -
(unknowing, unknown, blazing, brilliant, the grounding of home in a haze of late beginnings)
He lingers at the sweep of her neck, the juncture of shoulder, hands dropping to smooth the bare curve of her waist. She is breathless, pinned, ensnared within the sheets. He can see her pulse fluttering against the skin, tantalising, a flush painting the tanned skin blood-dark. He grins and settles there, dragging lips and tongue against its beat as she trembles. (Oh how I will make you shake, my champion, shudder and bend until the edge of breath and breaking)
Her hand wriggles free and catches on his shoulders, drawing blunt nails down the length of his back. His skin quivers under her touch and he bites her for it, breath catching at the break in her responding gasp.
“Nat,” she whispers, struggling to unearth her other arm. Her eyes glitter in the dim light when he looks up, a teasing exasperation harboured there. “Are you going to get a move on?”
He laughs (easier, now, when did it become so easy?) - she’s impatient, and caustic, and his, squirming so delightfully when he dips his tongue into the hollow at the base of her neck-
He smooths a hand down to her stomach, slow, weighted, holding her gaze - challenging the challenger, a cocksure bet to be certain.
Yet when she smiles - it’s like dragon fire, demanding, aching, and he licks it from her lips, words half-forming on his tongue to be stolen before breath.
“As you wish.”
(Always)
---
Author’s notes:
Orpheo Looks Back by Andrew Bird is a great accompaniment to this, by the by.
This is a character study; a romantic one, granted, but a character study all the same. I wrote it with the female BW playable character in mind, but it is open to interpretation (and I'd love to hear your ideas): the 'pairing' wasn't the focus of the piece. :3 This is a reworked version of a oneshot posted elsewhere. Once again, evilbunnyking at your service.
Was torn about the rating but better safe than sorry <3
Also N's full name contains 'gropius'. Important discovery.
Rating approved by the lovely bobandbill.
Content warning: sexual themes/content from the start. Nothing explicit, though.
This is set at least a decade after the events of Pokemon Black and White 1 - the characters involved are in their 20s.
Rattled in Teeth and Torn from Bone
N starts with her fingertips.
Short-nailed, rough, whispers of long travels and rope - he traces a web of scars along the line of her index finger, kissing the knuckle where it ends; each knuckle, lingering. The fragile splay of bones presses against her skin, arcing to the wrist - and he follows them too, trailing slowly around the swell of her thumb, folding a kiss into the heat of her palm.
Next is the crease of her elbow - just briefly, sweetly, the ghost of soft fingers, open lips - and it’s so tempting to taste (the first, and when he does he know it will not be enough, but it will be, and so he doesn’t stop) but her arms are open, dragging-
He wonders how he deserves this. Deserves her. He was the fool and she was his shadow, and now he is released, diminished. The ice melt of his promised crown has carved hollows into his cheeks while she has shone all the brighter, a beacon of strength in a society he almost fractured, that he still hardly understands. And yet-
A sigh above him, soft, and he looks up to meet her eyes, burning in the lamp light. His smile is unwitting.
Before him, like this, she is -
(unknowing, unknown, blazing, brilliant, the grounding of home in a haze of late beginnings)
He lingers at the sweep of her neck, the juncture of shoulder, hands dropping to smooth the bare curve of her waist. She is breathless, pinned, ensnared within the sheets. He can see her pulse fluttering against the skin, tantalising, a flush painting the tanned skin blood-dark. He grins and settles there, dragging lips and tongue against its beat as she trembles. (Oh how I will make you shake, my champion, shudder and bend until the edge of breath and breaking)
Her hand wriggles free and catches on his shoulders, drawing blunt nails down the length of his back. His skin quivers under her touch and he bites her for it, breath catching at the break in her responding gasp.
“Nat,” she whispers, struggling to unearth her other arm. Her eyes glitter in the dim light when he looks up, a teasing exasperation harboured there. “Are you going to get a move on?”
He laughs (easier, now, when did it become so easy?) - she’s impatient, and caustic, and his, squirming so delightfully when he dips his tongue into the hollow at the base of her neck-
He smooths a hand down to her stomach, slow, weighted, holding her gaze - challenging the challenger, a cocksure bet to be certain.
Yet when she smiles - it’s like dragon fire, demanding, aching, and he licks it from her lips, words half-forming on his tongue to be stolen before breath.
“As you wish.”
(Always)
---
Author’s notes:
Orpheo Looks Back by Andrew Bird is a great accompaniment to this, by the by.
This is a character study; a romantic one, granted, but a character study all the same. I wrote it with the female BW playable character in mind, but it is open to interpretation (and I'd love to hear your ideas): the 'pairing' wasn't the focus of the piece. :3 This is a reworked version of a oneshot posted elsewhere. Once again, evilbunnyking at your service.
Was torn about the rating but better safe than sorry <3
Also N's full name contains 'gropius'. Important discovery.
Last edited:
