[fic post] Bothersome
Title: Bothersome
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Romance/Humor
Pairings or Characters: Morty/Kotone
Warnings: not quite sex, but dirty enough for the rating, methinks
Word Count: 742
Summary: Morty was, however, quite bothered when he woke up one morning with Kotone perched on top of him, wearing naught but his scarf.
Author Notes: For volkner. About damn time, amirite? orz;; And I am still certain that none of the protagonists/rivals in these games are ten. Because there is no way.
Bothersome
Morty wasn't bothered when the cute kid in overalls and pigtails beat him. His job as a gym leader didn't mean he always went undefeated, and her pokemon had fought well. She deserved the badge he handed over while he smiled and pat her head in congratulations.
Morty wasn't bothered when the girl -- Kotone, she had smiled, introducing herself -- kept coming back, even after he told her that he wouldn't fight her again until she had conquered the Elite Four. She would sit on the sidelines with his apprentices and watch when new challengers arrived, cheering when he won and comforting him when he lost.
Morty wasn't bothered when Kotone started popping up in his dreams, even when she was in another region and hadn't been by his gym in ages. He figured it was Gengar pulling a prank, or just a pleasant dream of a friend after a particularly long day of battles.
Morty was, however, quite bothered when he woke up one morning with Kotone perched on top of him, wearing naught but his scarf.
He wondered briefly if he was still asleep -- he would deal with the implications that he was dreaming of a naked Kotone later, preferably when she wasn't staring him in the face -- but he pinched his cheek and realized that no, he was very much awake. He scrambled to crawl out from beneath her, but when he tried to push her off of him, there was nothing but smooth, uncovered skin to lay his hands on, and quickly pulled his hands back to himself.
"K-K-Kotone," he stuttered, voice rough from sleep, "What are you doing? And where are your clothes?"
"On the floor," she provided happily.
"Why aren't you wearing them?"
"Because we can't do anything fun if we aren't naked," she answered with a frown, like it was obvious.
"Fun? I thought you were ten! You shouldn't... be... doing this," he begun to protest, but she had started kneading his dick through the sheets and his boxers while he was talking, and Morty never was good at multitasking.
"I am sixteen, thank you very much," she corrected, sounding only the slightest bit huffy as Morty gnawed on his lip and eased back onto his pillows. "And you shouldn't be complaining."
Morty was too busy grunting as she fondled his growing erection to continue protesting, his hips grinding upward instinctively to let her touch him more. But suddenly her hand wasn't there anymore, and neither were the sheets, and about the time she was tugging away his boxers, his brain finally managed to catch up. He grabbed her by the arms -- the only place he really felt comfortable touching, still a little embarrassed by how naked she currently was -- and held her still.
"Wait," he breathed, closing his eyes. "What are you doing?"
"I think it's fairly obvious what I'm doing."
Morty groaned. Normally her sarcasm was cute, but right now he was struggling too hard between his desire to slam her down on his cock and ride her like there was no tomorrow, and the slightly more reasonable part of his brain that was telling him repeatedly that this was not a good idea, to enjoy it.
"Why me?"
"Why not you?"
His eyes shot open and he stared right into hers, starting to feel desperate.
"Because there are younger boys, better looking boys, more experienced boys, any kind of boys that would be so much more appropriate for you."
His hands fell away from her arms and his eyes dropped back down to his lap as he pulled the sheets over his crotch to cover his erection with a frustrated, embarrassed blush on his face. She didn't move for a moment, and he couldn't bring himself to look at her expression, but soon she was slowly pulling his scarf away from her neck and draping it around his own. But when he thought she would move to get off, he was suddenly being pulled forward into a kiss that would have been almost innocent if she wasn't still sitting naked on his bed.
When she pulled away, she looked deceptively shy, poking her index fingers together and batting her eyelashes at him.
"But I like you. What's more appropriate than that?"
Morty would later be bothered by how easily that persuaded him, but at the moment, buried in her heat, he couldn't quite bring himself to care.
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Romance/Humor
Pairings or Characters: Morty/Kotone
Warnings: not quite sex, but dirty enough for the rating, methinks
Word Count: 742
Summary: Morty was, however, quite bothered when he woke up one morning with Kotone perched on top of him, wearing naught but his scarf.
Author Notes: For volkner. About damn time, amirite? orz;; And I am still certain that none of the protagonists/rivals in these games are ten. Because there is no way.
Bothersome
Morty wasn't bothered when the cute kid in overalls and pigtails beat him. His job as a gym leader didn't mean he always went undefeated, and her pokemon had fought well. She deserved the badge he handed over while he smiled and pat her head in congratulations.
Morty wasn't bothered when the girl -- Kotone, she had smiled, introducing herself -- kept coming back, even after he told her that he wouldn't fight her again until she had conquered the Elite Four. She would sit on the sidelines with his apprentices and watch when new challengers arrived, cheering when he won and comforting him when he lost.
Morty wasn't bothered when Kotone started popping up in his dreams, even when she was in another region and hadn't been by his gym in ages. He figured it was Gengar pulling a prank, or just a pleasant dream of a friend after a particularly long day of battles.
Morty was, however, quite bothered when he woke up one morning with Kotone perched on top of him, wearing naught but his scarf.
He wondered briefly if he was still asleep -- he would deal with the implications that he was dreaming of a naked Kotone later, preferably when she wasn't staring him in the face -- but he pinched his cheek and realized that no, he was very much awake. He scrambled to crawl out from beneath her, but when he tried to push her off of him, there was nothing but smooth, uncovered skin to lay his hands on, and quickly pulled his hands back to himself.
"K-K-Kotone," he stuttered, voice rough from sleep, "What are you doing? And where are your clothes?"
"On the floor," she provided happily.
"Why aren't you wearing them?"
"Because we can't do anything fun if we aren't naked," she answered with a frown, like it was obvious.
"Fun? I thought you were ten! You shouldn't... be... doing this," he begun to protest, but she had started kneading his dick through the sheets and his boxers while he was talking, and Morty never was good at multitasking.
"I am sixteen, thank you very much," she corrected, sounding only the slightest bit huffy as Morty gnawed on his lip and eased back onto his pillows. "And you shouldn't be complaining."
Morty was too busy grunting as she fondled his growing erection to continue protesting, his hips grinding upward instinctively to let her touch him more. But suddenly her hand wasn't there anymore, and neither were the sheets, and about the time she was tugging away his boxers, his brain finally managed to catch up. He grabbed her by the arms -- the only place he really felt comfortable touching, still a little embarrassed by how naked she currently was -- and held her still.
"Wait," he breathed, closing his eyes. "What are you doing?"
"I think it's fairly obvious what I'm doing."
Morty groaned. Normally her sarcasm was cute, but right now he was struggling too hard between his desire to slam her down on his cock and ride her like there was no tomorrow, and the slightly more reasonable part of his brain that was telling him repeatedly that this was not a good idea, to enjoy it.
"Why me?"
"Why not you?"
His eyes shot open and he stared right into hers, starting to feel desperate.
"Because there are younger boys, better looking boys, more experienced boys, any kind of boys that would be so much more appropriate for you."
His hands fell away from her arms and his eyes dropped back down to his lap as he pulled the sheets over his crotch to cover his erection with a frustrated, embarrassed blush on his face. She didn't move for a moment, and he couldn't bring himself to look at her expression, but soon she was slowly pulling his scarf away from her neck and draping it around his own. But when he thought she would move to get off, he was suddenly being pulled forward into a kiss that would have been almost innocent if she wasn't still sitting naked on his bed.
When she pulled away, she looked deceptively shy, poking her index fingers together and batting her eyelashes at him.
"But I like you. What's more appropriate than that?"
Morty would later be bothered by how easily that persuaded him, but at the moment, buried in her heat, he couldn't quite bring himself to care.