A buzzer blared, announcing the end of the third quarter. Oliver pulled back his goggles and swam for the Carracosta edge of the pool. The team was habitually forming a huddle, not that the coaches would have anything new for them since halftime. Thoughts of reaching the World Cup were slipping from his mind as surely as the Malie Mareanies had been slipping through their defense.
Vick sighed in the general direction of the scoreboard as he joined Oliver. The blonde man was a year older than him, Unovan born, and the first friend Oliver had made in Nimbassa upon arriving two years ago. His goofy personality and easy smile made him the emotional pillar of the team, but even he was dour in the face of their current odds.
Alolan teams were fierce competitors, known the globe over for producing the best aquatic athletes. Of the past ten years the Unovan team advanced from Regionals only twice, in each other instance losing out to Alola. The Mareanies were making no exceptions. An early Unovan lead in the first quarter had been soundly stifled the following two quarters. Despite their perfect season, the Carracostas were floundering, watching helplessly as the gulf between their scores swelled.
“Is it too late to accept that offer from Hulbury? Playing Kalos in Regionals sounds like a dream right about now,” Vick murmured.
Oliver shrugged in response. Knowing Vick, he wasn’t entirely joking, but no serious athlete would waste their time playing for the water polo leagues in Galar or Kalos. Unova offered a much better shot at winning the World Cup, even if they were usually weeded out by Alola at Regionals. Besides, Galar simply had very little interest in water polo at the community level; the professional matches Oliver went to growing up had always been poorly attended. Instead, everyone seemed to place their enthusiasm in the Galar League Gym Challenge, which attracted a global fanbase thanks to Dynamaxing and corporate partnerships.
“Well, at least we can drown our sorrows tonight,” Vick perked up slightly, “the only silver lining here is the start of the off-season.”
Oliver reluctantly nodded.
The buzzer rang out again, announcing the start of the final quarter. Oliver dove into the pool and took his place in the pit.
----------------------------------------
“Are you one-hundred percent certain of this?” Elesa asked, fighting to keep her voice level.
“She didn’t have a Psychic type available, but the officer on the case felt strongly that her deductions were reliable,” the Chief of Police relayed.
“OK, I’ll look into it then. Have them run a scan once a Psychic type gets back to Headquarters and let me know if the story changes.”
“We still don’t know how the assailant operates or if they’re working alone. Be careful out there. If you find yourself in over your head just send me your location, I’ll have back-up to you ASAP.”
Elesa put her Rotom phone away in her clutch as the call ended, cursing that she was dressed so formally this afternoon. Having seen who the call was from, she had excused herself directly, walking away in haute couture. Another interruption, but one that was immediately engaging – it wasn’t every day a shady merchant was found bleeding profusely, crawling out of a dark alley. Unfortunately, the man was in a state of shock. The police weren’t able to get much out of him, so they’d have to wait for him to be stabilized further or for a Psychic type to return to base.
What they did know was discomforting, to say the least. The man had deep lacerations along both sides of the abdomen and across his forearms. His khaki trench coat was dyed red with blood. The contacting officer found a collection of evolution stones in his coat, complete except for Fire, Water, and Thunder Stones. The prevailing theory was an armed robbery, but the officer and receiving physician were perturbed by the lacerations. They described them as… too precise. Therefore, she had been called in. As the person in command of the strongest Pokémon in the city, she was the most formidable unit in their arsenal.
A quick sequence of lights flashed as she released her pair of Emolgas from their pokéballs. She instructed them to run reconnaissance, fanning out from where the man had been found.
“Don’t engage. Return to me straightaway if you find anything suspicious,” she finished, giving each one a helpful toss into the air.
With any luck she could wrap this up soon and return to the runway.
----------------------------------------
Sonia hung her head in her hands. This match was becoming too painful to watch. If the crowd gathered at the Wobbling Wooloo was any indication, Wedgehurst agreed. Slowly the town turned away from the televisions and towards the bar, not terribly out of the ordinary for them. The waitstaff bustled about, refilling pint glasses and delivering piping hot baskets of fish-and-chips, not nearly as delicious as in Hulbury, but decidedly better than Postwick fare.
As conversation started drowning out the game, she gathered her drink and moved towards a quieter corner of the pub. She saw Mrs. Phlox seated with Leon’s mother at a table near the back, the pair looking understandably glum.
“Excuse me, another pint please?” She asked a bartender.
Additional beer in hand, she navigated the fringe of patrons standing at the bar and sidled through a few loose chairs to reach their table.
“Mrs. Phlox, Mrs. Patel,” she dropped into a mock curtsey, “mind if I join you? Mrs. Phlox, I’ve brought you a beer.”
“Sonia! Why, I haven’t seen you in ages,” Leon’s mom called out.
“Take a seat dear, I can’t promise that we’ll be great company given the way this match has been, but we can certainly try,” Mrs. Phlox offered a gamely smile, moving her purse from the nearest free chair to hang over the back of her own.
Sonia slid the consolatory beer to Mrs. Phlox as she accepted the seat, angling the chair slightly to see the television better. The fourth quarter had begun. It was hard to tell who the players were, but she could make out the Carracostas by their royal blue swim caps – decently contrasted with the lavender Mareanie caps. She vaguely knew that Oliver was the central player in the Carracosta formation, but every now and then the program added helpful labels over the players, typically when showing replays.
A Mareanie scored another goal.
“Those Alolans swim like Golducks,” she offered.
“Poor Oliver, I just feel terrible for him and those boys,” Mrs. Patel added.
“Oliver is going to be crushed,” Mrs. Phlox sounded weary, “they haven’t lost a single game against the other Unova teams all season. They were really hoping this would be their year.” She took a sip of beer before returning her hands in her lap.
Now that Sonia was seeing her up close, she seemed somewhat… haggard? Her dark brown hair had taken on more grey than Sonia remembered from their recent train rides, though it still fell in luxuriously loose curls at her shoulders. Her face, always somewhat tight from a lifetime of gardening, appeared particularly drawn, and her beautiful stone-grey eyes lacked their usual twinkle.
Well, it’s likely the stress of her only child living so far away. She’s been on her own for a couple of years now. And our parents aren’t going to stay young forever, Sonia thought sadly.
“What I’ll never understand is why they call so many fouls,” Mrs. Patel piped up, seemingly sensing her shift in mood.
As if on cue a referee called a foul against the Mareanies.
“Oliver’s told me the fouls are often intentional, part of the strategy,” Mrs. Phlox took another sip.
“Huh,” Sonia added, “the Mareanies must know how to use them to their advantage, I’d say most of the fouls have been on their end tonight.”
Just then the Carracostas called a time-out. Once they were sidelined Sonia could finally pick Oliver out from the rest. He was one of the taller players and as fit as they come, his muscles all accounted for and in proportions historians, artists, and any number of adoring fans would appreciate as fine art. And he’s wearing the hell out of that speedo, good for him.
The players re-entered the pool as the time-out finished up. They only had a few more minutes left on the game clock, though it seemed their loss was a foregone conclusion at this point.
Sonia sighed. He’s going to keep comparing himself to Leon, I just know it.
----------------------------------------
Oliver winced as he took a tackle, carefully ensuring the ball remained both in his hand and at the water’s surface. Recovering swiftly, he passed the ball to his teammate and glanced briefly at the clock.
Thirty seconds left.
His teammate missed a shot and the opposing goalkeeper initiated a pass towards midfield. The Mareanies were dominating pass play.
Twenty seconds left.
He lunged at the Mareanie that had possession of the ball, popping it loose and rolling to receive it before his opponent could do the same. Looking downfield, his forward had fallen back, forcing him to dribble for the advance. He stroked onward, ensuring the ball stayed between his arms and outside the range of the opposing players.
Ten seconds left.
He squared up in a moment, angling to leap. He duped the opposing goalkeeper into guarding a fake attempt at the shot.
Three seconds left.
The ball met with the net just before the buzzer rang.
The game had ended.
Their season was over.
----------------------------------------
Sonia patted Mrs. Phlox’s shoulder in solidarity as the final buzzer sounded.
“Well, they gave it their best effort,” Mrs. Phlox said. “They’ll be licking their wounds for a few days but I’m certain the coaches will have them sorted soon.”
“Sure they will,” Sonia plied, “and he’s got Eevee to keep him distracted in the meantime.”
Her smile faded at the immediate look of confusion from Mrs. Phlox. Apparently, Oliver hadn’t broken the news to her yet. Oops.
“Oliver has an Eevee?” Mrs. Phlox asked with widened eyes.
“Well, it was very recent, I think. I had called to wish him luck for today’s match only a couple days ago and found out sort of accidentally. I’m sure he was planning to tell you,” Sonia backtracked.
“Lillia, an Eevee, that’s wonderful,” Mrs. Patel jumped in, “they’re incredibly rare. I know Leon spent several weeks searching Route 4 and never did see one. But then again, Leon is so poor with maps he was probably on the wrong route entirely,” Mrs. Patel laughed and gave Lillia a playful shove.
Interesting, I’ll have to see if the Eevee population has migrated or dwindled even further, Sonia added the task to her mental to-do list. Based on what she understood from conversations with her grandmother, wild Eevee lived relatively short lives unless they managed to stabilize their DNA through evolution. The unevolved species had one of the highest rates of cancer of all known Pokémon worldwide. As such, they compensated by maturing quickly in order to reproduce before succumbing to illness. It’s entirely possible that the Route 4 Eevee’s DNA mutated in another bad way, shortening their lifespans more, Sonia thought worriedly.
Sonia separated from her thoughts and looked up to find that Mrs. Phlox was not fine. Tears readily welled in her eyes and she seemed to be staring at the far side of the pub as if it hid a future she didn’t want to unfold.
“Oh Lillia, it’s OK,” Mrs. Patel said, placing a hand over Mrs. Phlox’s with a squeeze. “Are you worried Oliver might become a Pokémon trainer?”
“Mrs. Phlox, if that’s what you’re worried about I can put your mind at ease. Oliver told me he had no plans of giving up water polo any time soon,” Sonia added.
The tears started flowing down Mrs. Phlox’s face as she turned her to the side.
Well, I seemed to have royally made things worse, Sonia pinched herself. She exchanged a concerned look with Mrs. Patel, who, thankfully had the presence of mind to produce a tissue from her purse and offer it to Mrs. Phlox.
As Mrs. Phlox dabbed at her eyes, her left sleeve fell back just enough that Sonia caught a glimpse of a large, angry bruise along the inside of her arm.
Her heart sank.
----------------------------------------
After a half hour of searching, an Emolga returned. Elesa reached into her clutch and procured a slice of Oran berry as reward. She had trained her Emolga to work together, building on their natural group hunting instincts. When one returned to her, the other was surely maintaining the trail. Continual discharge of small electrical signals guaranteed excellent communication between the two. All that was left now was to close the gap.
“Guide me,” she commanded.
Emolga obliged with a squeak, flying towards the northwest quadrant of the city.
Ding!
Glancing at her Rotom phone, she saw the incoming message was from the Police Chief.
Call if you can talk.
She placed the call, pressing the phone to her ear in order to drown out the ever-present street noise.
“Elesa, did you find anything?” The chief sounded slightly more relaxed than before.
“I’m on the trail now, it seems our target has moved into the northwest part of the city.”
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“Towards the entertainment district?”
Elesa took a sharp right, following Emolga further northward. “It could be.”
“Hmm,” the chief grumbled. “We got a Psych Unit over to the hospital, the Solosis was able to access some of what happened. Our suspect is a slim white male dressed in all black with a black mask and long white hair.”
“That’s helpful. Anything else?”
“Solosis relayed bits of their conversation. Apparently, the suspect approached the victim under the guise of buying evolution stones – which he later stole.”
“A violent thief in all black, we likely have a Plasma grunt on our hands.” Elesa’s face twisted into a malevolent grin as she dodged a grate spewing steam into the chilly air.
“It seems he was also interested in information. Specifically, he began threatening the victim to provide details about any Eevee trainers the victim had approached recently.”
Elesa cursed under her breath. It was statistically unlikely that Oliver had crossed paths with the victim, so hopefully he would remain out of this. Still, the assailant was headed towards the entertainment district and the water polo game was underway. Advertisements for it were everywhere. She quickened her pace, a knot blooming in her stomach. Pedestrians began giving her interested looks.
“And the assault? How did that unfold?” She barked.
“We… didn’t get that out of him. The victim’s memory blacks out as soon as he started answering the Eevee question. The Psych Unit hasn’t seen this phenomena before, but the physicians are suggesting that fulminating stress could have wiped his mind blank.”
“Interesting. If you learn anything else let me know, I’m going to silence my phone but will check periodically.”
“Will do. I’ve already alerted the guards and patrol of the suspect’s appearance, I’ll update them on his whereabouts. Good luck.”
----------------------------------------
After congratulating the Mareanies on their advance, the Carracostas headed for the locker room. The air was heavy with a palpable sense of disappointment. Where did their gameplay fall apart? The Mareanies hadn’t even come to Regionals with a perfect season, all the sportscasters had predicted a Carracosta victory, and yet here they were, out of the running. Had the quality of the Unovan league actually slipped so far behind Alola that even a Unovan team with a perfect season wouldn’t beat an Alolan team with losses?
Oliver’s mind was reeling as he draped his towel over his open locker and headed for the showers with the rest of the team. The coaches would be in shortly.
Oliver reluctantly relaxed under the stream of hot water. He performed a few perfunctory stretches and lathered up quickly. While he and the rest of the team usually enjoyed some post-game jostling in the showers, today everyone kept to themselves.
Vick joined him on the bench as he was drying off, offering a small smile. With his blonde buzzcut practically dry already, Vick settled for leaning back into the lockers behind him and looking around. The coaches entered and called for the team’s attention. For some reason, they looked even more stunned than they had as the match finished. And they aren’t making eye contact, Oliver noted, increasingly concerned.
“I want to start off by saying that you all gave your best out there,” the head coach said. “We couldn’t have expected anymore from you given the circumstances. You ran the plays as they were designed and the plays came up short.”
A few players voiced their protest, accepting their share of the blame.
“I want to say…” the head coach began, turning a shade of red that Oliver had never witnessed in the man. “I want to say it’s been a pleasure coaching you all.”
Is he quitting on us?!
The players started shuffling to their feet.
“What are you saying, Coach?” One player asked.
“You aren’t going anywhere, Coach!” A second player chimed in.
The assistant coaches looked pale but didn’t offer any statements of their own.
Then the general manager walked in.
“There have been some decisions made tonight that effect all of you,” the manager opened, his beady eyes peering up at the players from behind his glasses. “The owners have decided to pursue other opportunities.”
Silence swept the room.
“What do you mean, ‘pursue other opportunities’?” Vick asked, his voice trembling in anger.
“I mean to say that the owners no longer want a water polo team—”
The players started yelling in unison. One man punched his locker.
Oliver closed his eyes. This can’t be happening.
— they’ve decided to form a basketball team instead,” the manager finished. “You’ll each receive payouts as we break your contracts. Look for further instructions regarding severance of benefits in your inboxes.”
He went on to give contact details should they have questions, but Oliver wasn’t really listening anymore. If the Carracostas disbanded, the other teams in the league would soon follow. Water polo in Unova was as good as over. His opportunity as an athlete with a shot at the World Cup was as good as over.
I failed.
----------------------------------------
Elesa succeeded in her pursuit. Her Emolga circled overhead briefly before each dove down to meet her, having reached their target. Looking around she was facing an alley at the interface of the entertainment and business districts. The afternoon was already giving way to evening and the alley was steeped in shadow. Illuminating it would be no challenge. If her map could be trusted this alley was a dead-end, she couldn’t have hoped for a better approach.
Click. Click. Click.
Her heels betrayed her with each step, no matter – the strong didn’t need to hide.
“Emolga, Flash.”
The Sky Squirrel Pokémon leapt from each of her shoulders in complete synchrony. They crisscrossed once in the air before their cheeks lit-up brilliantly, shining a persistent light across the alley. A white-haired man dressed in black was standing alone at the far end, arms placidly at his side, shoulders hunched. He had a blank gaze that was unsettling given the circumstances.
Click. Click. Click.
“My name is Elesa, an Electric type specialist and the Gym Leader of this city. You are the primary suspect in an assault that took place on a street vendor earlier today. Place your hands in the air,” Elesa called out firmly, “if you submit voluntarily, it would be easier for both of us.”
The man didn’t budge.
Click. Click. Click.
Elesa stopped ten feet from the man. Something was definitely off. Watching him closely, she could almost swear….
“He hasn’t blinke—”
Just as the words left her mouth the invisible strings that had been holding the figure upright became apparent. The man’s form swirled into misty shadows, finally dissipating as the strings receded – directly into the wall of the building.
A Bannette revealed itself slowly, it’s plush form peeling apart from the wall before floating in mid-air. A cursed giggle was muffled inside it’s zippered mouth, even as it squinted and shaded its eyes from the light of Flash. In another moment, the Marionette Pokémon vanished in a wisp of smoke.
Elesa flushed with fury.
“Back to square one.”
----------------------------------------
Oliver slacked his gym bag across his back and drew tight the drawstrings of his hoodie. The sooner this place was behind him the better. He had a lot of thinking to do, though it wasn’t as if he had that many options to consider.
He glanced at his phone. A missed call from mom, two missed calls from Sonia, that’s strange, and a message from Burgh.
Not in the mood to talk to anyone, he opened the message.
Tough break big guy, keep your chin up. There’s always next year! -Burgh
He flinched, putting his phone away. Nope, not ready for messages either.
He decided to walk along the waterfront of Nimbassa’s northern canal on his way home. Leaning over the rail, he contemplated the infinite complexity of the light refracting across the water’s surface. Ever since childhood this exercise had a way of calming him down, of framing his problems in the larger context of the world around him.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? The way the light dances.”
Oliver looked up to find Vick walking towards him. His eyes were puffy as if he had been crying. Surprisingly, Vick’s presence didn’t intrude on his anti-social mood. Having been through the same misfortune, they could just… exist.
“Think we’ll be able to do that?” He asked quietly, wondering how dynamic they would be in the face of adversity.
Vick considered the question for some time, small clouds of vapor marking his exhalations.
“Oliver, are you asking me to dance?” Vick struck up a rueful tone as he turned to him and bowed, presenting his hand.
Oliver laughed. Leave it to Vick to lighten the mood. He took his hand and pulled him in for a hug, knuckling his head and disrupting his beanie in the process. Under the streetlamps Vick’s cheeks were rosy, offering contrast to his green eyes.
Huh, is Vick… attractive? The thought swirled through his mind as something he had never really considered before. Interesting.
The pair walked the rest of the waterfront together, every now and then processing small parts of their new situation aloud. They passed a few couples and small groups of people also out enjoying the water, but on the whole the place was deserted.
“Do you maybe want to get dinner?” Vick asked as they reached the end of the waterfront. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving!”
“What did you have in mind?” Oliver asked, looking around to see what was available. He was so used to maintaining his structured diet at home that he hadn’t explored much of Nimbassa’s culinary scene.
Something fast blurred along the corner of his vision.
“Vick!” He called, pulling Vick to his far side.
In the middle of the barren street, a masked man occupied the space where they had just been standing. His brow was furrowed, eyes glaring. At his waist were two pokéballs. His hand reached for the first, expanding it.
“Hey man,” Vick presented his palms, “we aren’t Pokémon trainers. We aren’t interested in battling you.”
“Hand over your Pokémon,” the crazed man demanded.
Oliver stared in disbelief. Think Oliver! This guy wants our Pokémon. Well, neither of us have pokéballs visible, we can probably buy enough time for a passerby to arrive. Then make our retreat. But this guy, he was impossibly fast, there’s no way we’ll outrun him. We have to find a stronger force, it’s the only way he’ll leave us alone.
“We don’t have Pokémon,” Oliver stated calmly.
“Don’t lie to me!” The man yelled.
That’s right, keep making noise you idiot.
“Hoodie has an Eevee. Beanie has a Vaporeon. Hand them over.”
Who is this guy?! How the hell would he know that?
Oliver caught Vick’s sidelong glance.
“Unfortunately for you, my Eevee is home right now,” Oliver bluffed. Truthfully Eevee was tucked snugly into the interior pocket of his shirt. No way he could steal the pokéball without removing my shirt, and looking at how thin this guy is, that’s unlikely to happen.
“I’ll battle you,” Vick’s voice dripped confidence. He pulled a pokéball from his inside his jacket, then caught Oliver’s eye with a wink.
“Let’s go, Vaporeon!”
Vaporeon trilled and stretched lazily as he materialized from the red orb.
The crazed man silently sent out a Pawniard. Oliver had never seen one in person, it’s entire body was a shining mass of sharp edges with hooded yellow eyes full of malice.
“Vaporeon, let’s prioritize evasion. Sand Attack!” Vick called.
The attack landed, temporarily blinding the Sharp Blade Pokémon.
“Again!”
“Torment,” the masked man commanded.
Before Vaporeon could comply, a dark aura enveloped him. He began fidgeting anxiously, unable to carry out the order.
“Quick Attack, Vaporeon, let’s push him towards the water.”
Vaporeon stopped struggling and leapt into action, striking from behind. He forced Pawniard to take a step forward, but the attack didn’t appear to bother Pawniard at all.
“Assurance.”
Pawniard displayed unexpected speed as he flipped and tagged Vaporeon hard along the back.
Vick mumbled a curse.
“Pawniard, take the prize.”
Pawniard reached out as if to embrace Vaporeon in its bladed arms.
“Vaporeon, liquify!”
Vaporeon’s entire body melted into a puddle of water, slipping right through Pawniard’s grasp. The puddle moved rapidly towards Vick’s side of the street. Oliver couldn’t help but notice the streetlight playing across its surface.
For the first time the man appeared visibly frustrated. He glanced around the still-deserted street and released a Bannette. The puppet shape drifted in mid-air; it was hard to see it through the dusk.
“What? You can’t use two!” Vick’s voice was strained.
“I make the rules. Shadow Sneak,” the man’s eyes narrowed, “on the trainer.”
The Bannette giggled as it merged into the shadow of the streetlamp and a moment later reappeared in Vick’s shadow. The shadow moved. It separated from the ground, crawling up Vick’s leg, then his torso. It settled on his neck.
What the fuck! Oliver looked on in horror.
Vaporeon solidified, his concerned gaze fixed on Vick.
Vick started to splutter.
Oliver attempted to grab ahold of the shadow, but it proved to be as intangible as the real thing.
“Let him go, you bastard!” Oliver roared.
Just then a blazing line of light streaked by.
Suddenly the Pawniard was on fire, filling the air with the smell of ultra-hot metal. A Zebstrika appeared from the blur, Elesa seated atop her. A moment later the entire street was illuminated by an intense light emanating from a pair of Emolga overhead. Bannette lost control of the Shadow Streak as Vick gasped for air. Oliver moved between Vick and Bannette, unsure of what he could provide other than a physical barrier.
“You’re under arrest! Call your Pokémon off,” Elesa yelled at the masked man.
Oliver had never seen her angry before. She was frightening.
A small cadre of police jogged into the light, a few splitting off to arrest the man. Another came up to Oliver and Vick for their accounts of what happened. Once the man was in custody, Elesa stowed her Pokémon then explained to Oliver and Vick what she knew.
That shady merchant. Oliver thought angrily. Of course anyone who wanted to steal an Eevee would ask the stone scalper where to find them. He did feel a bit more sympathetic when Elesa revealed how badly injured he was.
“The Pawniard knifed him?” Vick asked incredulously.
“Vick, that guy almost just strangled you with his Bannette,” Oliver pointed out. “Team Plasma is insane.”
“I think this one may’ve been a cut above the ones you ran into in Castelia,” Elesa posited.
“Definitely,” Oliver agreed, stretching.
Elesa checked her phone. “I’ll let you know if I get any new intel on Eevee or Eeveelution poachers. If this pattern continues, you may consider laying low for a while. Both of you,” Elesa added, looking to Vick.
“That or train enough to protect myself,” Oliver said firmly.
Elesa considered them. “I’d say you both have potential, should you want to become trainers,” she smiled. “I’ve got to get back. Take it easy, we’ve all had a long day.”
“Elesa? Thanks, we owe you,” Oliver smiled.
“Seriously, we do,” Vick agreed.
“I’ll take you up on that if I expand into menswear,” she laughed, “but you can start by getting stronger.”
With that Elesa waved down a taxi and was gone.
“Soooo, dinner?” Vick laughed.
“Sure, but let’s take it back to my place. I’m exhausted.”
----------------------------------------
Eevee and Vaporeon played happily with the Pokétoys Oliver had bought from Join Avenue. Oliver opened a second bottle of red wine – he and Vick downed the first shortly after arriving – and asked Rotom to play one of his playlists. Vick had settled on sushi, which they devoured. It was amazing how famished they could get, even from a loss.
Vick started singing with the empty wine bottle for a mic. For whatever reason, Oliver couldn’t take his eyes off of him. He was so uninhibited, so charming. And he was cute. Why had it taken so long to realize? It didn’t matter, the wine was taking effect.
He reached the living room and joined Vick.
“Show me your moves,” he said, locking eyes with him.
“You know, I’d been hoping you’d ask,” Vick said, “question is, can you handle my moves?”
Vick pulled off his fitted t-shirt, revealing his chiseled torso and pecs; blonde hair curled neatly, leading into his jeans.
Taking a step forward, Oliver lowered his head to meet Vick. They were closer than ever before, his cologne was intoxicating. Oliver rubbed his coarse stubble along Vick’s neck and heard his breath catch in his throat. Vick reached up and ran his fingers through Oliver’s loose curls, then traced the sharp outline of his jaw.
Oliver couldn’t wait any longer. He lifted Vick at the waist and pressed him into the wall, pinning his wrists above his head with one hand and dialing his nipple with the other. He silenced Vick’s moan with his mouth, matching the dips of his tongue with the thrusts of his hips. They kept tempo with the playlist, changing pace with the song. Three tracks in Oliver slung Vick across a shoulder and carried him to the bed. He removed his own shirt, revealing his pecs and abs as the moonlight poured over them. Vick ran his hands down Oliver’s chest, tracing his muscles before pulling down his joggers and driving his face into Oliver’s briefs. Oliver felt his cock swell, throbbing for release. Vick obliged, eyes opening wide.
“I knew you were a shower, but to also be a grower… it’s not fair,” Vick joked.
“Is it too much?”
“We can find out,” Vick winked.
Vick took Oliver into his mouth as far as he could, allowing his hands to retrace the crevices of his abs and the curve of his pecs, pulling against his nipples….
Oliver moaned.
He pulled a condom and lubricant from his bedside table as Vick took off his jeans. Vick was already hard in his briefs; Oliver wanted them off. Kneeling at Vick’s side he slid them down, freeing Vick’s cock, replete with a tightly trimmed blonde bush. It fit his smaller frame perfectly. Oliver took it all in at once, right up to his pubic bone. Vick ran his hands through Oliver’s curls once more, closing his eyes in ecstasy.
“I’m ready,” Vick gasped.
Oliver stroked the condom down over his cock – the plastic only reaching halfway. Vick took the liberty of lubricating himself and Oliver, then mounted him slowly, pausing every half-inch to adjust. Oliver was impressed. Rarely did he find a partner open to penetration.
Vick rode him rhythmically as they continued to make out. Fifteen minutes? Thirty? When Vick came he was so passionate, so vocal, so Vick; Oliver couldn’t resist seeing him like that and came as well. Content and exhausted, they fell together in a warm tumble of limbs.
----------------------------------------
Oliver jolted awake to his phone ringing. He glanced at the clock.
2:08 AM.
Odd.
Grumbling, he staggered naked into the kitchen.
“Rotom, put them through, thanks.”
“Hello?” He answered.
“Mr. Phlox?” an unfamiliar voice asked.
“Speaking.”
“Mr. Phlox, I’m calling from Motostoke Oncology Care Associates on behalf of your mother, Lillia. She just had a reaction to her chemotherapy and needs to be hospitalized for treatment and further monitoring. You’re listed as her emergency contact. We’re just calling to make sure this a good way to reach you if needed the rest of the day?”
…
“Mr. Phlox?”
…
“Mr. Phlox, are you still there?”
…
“Y- yes, this number is fine. Can I speak with her now?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Phlox. She’s not able to speak at the moment, but I’ll let her know as soon as she’s out of treatment to call you. Have a great day, dear.”
The call ended.
Oliver looked over at Vick in the entry to the bedroom, his face was terrified.
He wasn’t sure how Vick managed to herd him to the shower and then to the bed. He wasn’t sure what song Vick sang as he held his head in his lap, stroking him. He wasn’t sure when Eevee decided to join them, or even when sleep finally came for him again.
He was only sure of one thing.
He was leaving for Galar tomorrow.