Under Orders

Title: Under Orders

Rating: R

Word Count: 667

Genre: Romance, PWP

Warnings: Slash, domination

Summary: Proton/Archer. It's only a matter of time—Archer can't hold him off forever.

Disclaimer: Pokémon isn't mine.

Author's Notes: Never written these characters before, hope it doesn't suck! If it's not obvious, they're in the radio tower. Written for this prompt: Proton/Archer. Bonus <3's for something with Proton being a bit psycho as anon is a little sick of the cutesy slowpoke-hugging Proton seen almost everywhere ;_;!

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Archer didn't turn around when the door crashed open behind him. "I've already heard," he said, staring resolutely at the—pillar. Well, Proton probably wouldn't notice. "I'm in no mood to hear your excuses."

"Excuses?" Proton hissed, and Archer didn't flinch when a hand slammed into the wall beside his head. "Do you think that's why I'm here?"

"You've once again been defeated by a ten-year-old." Archer's eyes narrowed, and his voice was smooth and steady despite his hammering heart. "I would hope you have some excuse?"

Proton grabbed his hair and yanked his head back, and the Rocket leader suddenly remembered that this man had once chopped Slowpoke tails off for fun. "I don't need to explain myself," his executive growled in his ear. "You're not my boss."

Archer swallowed hard. "Actually, I—" Proton's free hand slid down his body and began to fumble with his belt buckle; his superior whipped around and threw him off. "I don't have time for this," he stated coldly. In response, his subordinate lunged forward, forcing him to retreat until his back was pressed against the metal pillar. Despite his struggles, the younger man slowly came closer, one agonizing inch at a time. Archer forced himself to meet his gaze, and the executive's lips twisted into a pointed smile.

The leader's contemptuous mask was just starting to crack when a grunt opened the door. His eyes widened at the sight of the two men. "S-sir?"

"Yes, come in," Archer replied, collecting himself in the blink of an eye. When he pushed Proton away a second time, the other man stepped back without a fight, but his hands balled into fists. "What is your report?"

"The boy defeated Ariana. He's—" The grunt's eyes flicked nervously to the green-haired executive. "He's on his way here, sir."

Archer knew the other man hated to be ignored, so he continued to do it, pressing a finger against his lips. He felt Proton's gaze focus on his mouth as he tapped it slowly, pretending to deliberate. "Very well," he said at last. "I'll deal with him myself. You're dismissed." The grunt darted out the door with a look of relief.

"You too," Archer said to his subordinate with a dismissive wave of his hand. "You may go."

Proton exploded into motion, snatching his wrist and dragging the leader into his arms. "You sure? The kid's good," he whispered in Archer's ear, his voice low and rough. "He finds your weak points—" He nipped at his earlobe and the other man gasped; "And exploits them—" His mouth pressed against his neck, leaving a trail of tiny marks—then he grabbed his superior's crotch and rubbed his erection through his pants. Archer shuddered, weakening in the younger man's crushing grip. "Think you can stop him?"

Proton surged up for a brutal kiss that sucked the air from his leader's lungs. Archer finally yanked himself free and tried to stare the other man down, but the effect was diminished by his flushed cheeks, heaving breaths, and the hand that was still curled around his cock. The executive grinned down at him, and his glare intensified. "Get out," he spat.

"Make sure he feels Team Rocket's wrath," the other man smirked, giving him one last squeeze; then he swept out the door with a sharp, manic laugh.

Once he was gone, Archer slumped against the pillar. He had to focus. He didn't have much time to prepare, but his mind was racing uselessly and his skin felt like it was on fire.

He groaned softly in frustration, turning to press his forehead against the cool metal. He had to think. To strategize.

After a moment, the Rocket leader stood up straight, his breaths evening out. He had to come up with a plan. Houndour first, yes, and then—

The door opened for the third and final time that day, and Archer's features automatically shifted into a condescending sneer, not seeing the column before him.

"Oh? You managed to get this far...?"