Up the Ante

Title: Up the Ante

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: 567

Genre: PWP

Warnings: Slash, TENTACLES

Summary: Flint/Volkner/Octillery?! An ordinary make-out session goes very, very awry.

Disclaimer: Pokémon isn't mine.

Author's Notes: Written for this prompt: "Volkner/Flint. Tentacles."

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Once Volkner gets going, he gets going.

Flint's still trying to catch his breath, but the other man won't give him an opening, pressing kiss after kiss against his mouth. The gym leader's hands tangle in his hair—Flint hopes they don't get stuck, like last time—and he grinds his hips against the man below him.

This bench isn't big enough for both of them, and the gym leader's weight presses his back into the wooden slats. When Flint finally tears himself away, the other man moves to his neck, sucking heat to the surface. The redhead moans and his arm falls limp over the edge of the seat.

Volkner yanks the other man's pants off and grabs his length with little preamble. One stroke and Flint is shaking, two and he's yanking Volkner down for another kiss. "Stop teasing," he hisses, and Volkner chuckles, a low rumble in his thoat.

"Make me," he replies.

The elite growls. With a twist of his hips, the two tumble off the bench and onto the floor; Volkner's Poké Balls scatter as the other man lands on top. Soon the gym leader's naked and gritting his teeth as Flint's fingers splay across his chest, his mouth moving lower—

The readhead suddenly yelps as he feels something warm and slick slide against his ass. After a moment, Volkner opens his eyes and looks at him—and then past him, shocked. "Octillery?" he gasps. Flint doesn't respond, paralyzed by the feel of the tentacle plucking at his skin. He feels more of them curling around his shoulders before a heavy weight on his back slams him down into Volkner, knocking the breath out of both of them.

By the time the elite blinks the stars out of his eyes, a tentacle is inside of him and inching deeper. He gasps at the sensation and arches into it with a cry. Beneath him, Volkner is shuddering, his eyes squeezing closed; he fights it at first, but soon he gives in, letting out a thready moan.

The tentacles still, giving them time to adjust, before they push in just a little more. They cry out as one, and then louder when it draws back. Flint's hands clench around Volkner's shoulders.

Octillery sets up a hard, fast rhythm. The feeling is incredible—the smoothness contrasting with its rough suckers—and he leans down to give Volkner a desperate kiss. He's overwhelmed by the feeling of the gym leader underneath him and the Pokémon inside of him. Tentacles curl around his neck and arms, threading through his legs to twine around Volkner's.

Flint loses track of where he ends and the others begin. The two men cling to each other as the Pokémon moves faster, hot and wet inside of them. Finally, its tentacle twists, and Flint cries out as his vision goes white. Warmth spreads against his stomach as Volkner comes a second later, his head falling back with a choked gasp. Inside of him, the tentacle spasms, wringing another moan from him, before it finally stills.

He collapses against the other man, and his eyes close.

--

Volkner is still unconscious when Flint wakes up. They're a mess, covered in sweat and sticky fluids that he doesn't want to think about. When his memory finally catches up, his head whips around with a gasp—but all he sees are Poké Balls, closed and quiet on the floor around them.