When was the last time I wrote a story for these two lovesick hooligans? A while ago? I thought so. Let's fix that, and let's fix it now. I've got a stiffened rod of titanium that thirsts for release and a crowd of chicks who read these stories under their desks in their low income high school that crave for more.
Was that too general or do I need to be more specific?
Remember, if you wanna help me out and push me to write more and more of your precious OTP, you'll find it in you to review. You don't have to be nice, you can fling shit, say shit, talk shit, walk the walk, talk the talk, I'll take it at face value and by the end of the day we'll still be buds. Why do I want reviews? Motivation. You tell me what you liked, maybe not liked so much, overall opinion, and guess what? That tells me that you're reading, that I have people on my ass waiting for the next destination in this story steam train, and that most likely, they want to see my rod make it to the next stop in no time flat.
The lesson here: A happy train is a happy author. And by god does this fucking train run on happy faces. Thank you in advance for your courtesy.
Word Count: 1094 words.
And If You Look to Your Left, You'll See Two Dorks Slogging in the Bed
The beds are still small. Too small. It's almost as if they've never heard of the term 'renovation'.
She doesn't like it.
He keeps stealing the blankets like he owns the fucking place.
She's cold. Terribly, terribly cold.
Their legs are intertwined with each other under the blankets, his legs and feet are even colder.
Most of all however, she doesn't like him. Or at least, that's what she continues to tell herself day in and day out to maintain some degree of sanity while journeying with him into the vast expanse of the Kalos region.
It is the exact inverse for Calem. The boy is for lack of better word, without a single shred of doubt, completely smitten, enamored, and in love with every single iota about her. From top the bottom, and everything in-between. Kind of like an artisan admiring his muse, though the comparison tends to get discombobulated since craftsmen never really desire to fuck what inspires them.
There is no amount of thankfulness he can give that he feels would be enough to appease the gods above that felt it wise to bestow upon him, the most flawless girl in existence.
On the other hand, he may just be a bit biased.
A tad. A sliver or so. Perhaps not even a bit, a tiny, tiny minuscule bit.
Regardless, the point still gets across, Calem is in love, he's whipped, he knows that and could not give two shits about it. Let her step on his balls and totally rub it in, he doesn't care, that's probably a yet to be discovered fetish anyhow, he's not afraid nor fearful or any synonym thereof, he completely embraces it and eagerly awaits the day in which their young, hot, teenage bodies can just go at it like wild rabbits.
They're still teenagers, it's a completely natural thought in hindsight. Natural, and so very salacious to the absolute core.
Calem acknowledges that he is, more often than not, a disgustingly sick individual.
Serena of all things, is in denial about the whole thing and would rather spend her entire life berating him for every single thing he does wrong, rather than waste five minutes of it letting him step into her personal bubble and god forbid-kiss up those mile-long legs of hers.
For right now, however, Serena wants to sleep. Sleep, to doze off and nap and maybe get a Z or twenty. Sleep would be such a wonderful thing for her to embrace and canoodle, to nuzzle her soft cheeks upon the softer fluff of a pillow that's probably been infected with fuck knows what since it made it's way into the Pokémon Center.
At the end of the day, the maiden would like nothing more than to do just that, sleep, get a good rest, get up the next day and continue the never-ending journey of toiling her lovesick companion along by leash as she (and most of the time unsuccessfully) attempts to sway away from his attempts at wooing and romancing.
It's embarrassing. Humiliating defeats that are made even more pathetic since Calem's attempts at charisma are so dated, overused, and dorky. By god, dorky is the only word suitable for describing him.
But he's her dork so it's okay.
Now if only she can actually get the rest she requires.
Calem moans, mumbling something incoherent and unimportant. He yanks more of the covers over to his side, and stretches in his sleep. As a result of both the former and the latter actions, his questionable hand which has been in even more questionable places makes his way to Serena's face.
It's the straw that breaks the Numel's back.
Serena groans, her face cringes in disgust, and she tries to move the hand away without opening her eyes, but it's a futile effort.
"Ungh...Stay on your damn side..." she mutters with a grunt. She tries to pull the covers away from him, but he simply snatches them back without much of a hassle, she's left in the cold again.
She grits her teeth and opens her peepers.
"Such a pain..."
Serena shuffles around, getting more and more awake by the second, attempting to track down a comfortable position to sleep in so she can conk out.
But nope, the bed is too small.
Which is why she turns around and comes face to face with him.
"Hey girl, want some fuck?"
"What the hell!?"
Calem is blatantly half-awake and half-asleep. As soon as the spine-tinglingness and shock settle in, she crosses her arms and pouts, "Yeah, whatever. Stop taking the covers, freezing my ass off over here."
In response, he shifts closer to her and wraps his arms around her body in an endeavor to be a charismatic courter. Though, this kind of fails when his hands start traveling a bit too low and his lips get too close to her ears.
"Don't worry...I'll keep your ass warm."
"G-Get off of me!"
Initially, a deep blush covers the girl's face, but she manages to shake it off and squirm away from him. She gives him a smack for his actions, fully awakening him, "O-Ow! Not so rough!"
"Serves you right. Try not to be such a horny ass next time."
Calem shrugs off the insult and prods himself up on his elbow, "Hey, so we're both awake now."
"Yeah. I guess."
"You can't go to sleep?"
"No, not with you wanting to explore all night long."
"You like it, you're practically begging for it whenever you moan in your sleep...which is something you do."
"I-I don't moan about that-I mean, I don't moan ever!"
The boy's daring hand holds one of her own, "I could fulfill that need right now if you want."
"What do you mean?"
"Want to make out?"
"That all you think about, champ?"
"No, but it's what's on my mind now."
A pause follows.
"Give me the covers and I'll think about it."
He doesn't hesitate in complying, anything for him to get a slice of that pie. Calem gives a portion of the covers back to Serena, and she closes the distance between them in return.
Of course, like every other damn night, their arms end up snaking each other regardless of what circumstances, events, or arguments go down. This is followed by an endless onslaught of kisses, pecking and the like. It starts out innocent, but then quickly those hormones kick in and things get rather sultry.
"Such a pain..." she mutters. Fibbing is one of her specialties.
"Love you."
"Ditto."