AN: First attempt at Kokoshipping . . . frankly, this came out much more cliché and less sexy than I intended. Oh well. Enjoy the yaoi smut!
"Say my name," Teal bangs fell into dark eyes, gravelly voice demanding.
"What was that, Botch? I couldn't understand you," James replied dully, changing the channels on the television lazily.
Butch growled. "It's BUTCH!!!!" Automatic response-of COURSE James knew his name. He'd screamed it many times during their encounters.
So why did he always insist on mispronouncing it?
And why did the frustration manage to somehow translate into a totally awesome sexual tension? Tension as in the total boner in the dark uniformed Rocket member's pants.
"Come on, babe," Butch trailed a finger down his lover's cheek. "Who do you love?"
"Um . . ." He was cut off, Butch's lips pressed firmly to his own, hungrily dominating his porcelain delicate features. James murmured softly, half moan, half purr, all pleasure. Enough for Butch to know he was going to win tonight.
"Say my name," He repeated, line of saliva still connecting him to his closed eyed companion.
James's eyes fluttered open, the red in his cheeks only drawing further green from his irises. He blinked, processing the request. "I don't really feel like it right now, Bitch."
"Did you just call me "Bitch"?" Butch growled, straddling the lithe man, pinning him onto the couch. "It's Butch! B-U-T-C-H!!! Say it!!!"
"Make me," James said petulantly, almost childishly.
"I will," Butch promised, unbuttoning the white jacket of his captive. James allowed this, even moving his arms helpfully to properly discard of the fabric. Cold hands stroked the black wife beater underneath, before slipping under to tickle at soft flesh.
The blue haired man squirmed, much to the delight of Butch. "You going to say my name now, or am I gonna have to get rough with you?"
"Guess you're just gonna have to get rough, Batch."
No need to bother correcting him. Butch removed the black shirt, pausing for a moment to completely admire the sleek lines of the incompetent villain's flesh. Thin from malnutrition, bruised from constant "blasting off", and still more than beautiful enough to satisfy the higher ranking Rocket's taste.
Spindly hands crawled up James's chest, circling the sensitive flesh of his nipples, drawing a gasp from the man. He moaned further as mouth replaced fingers, sucking and licking at first the left, then the right, nibbling slightly. "Say it . . ." Butch mumbled, drawing away slowly.
"Na-no, Botch. Not gonna do i-i-i-it!!!" He stammered, caught off guard by the fumbling at his belt. "You're moving fast, Bu-Batch." A stumble this time. ALMOST got it right. Almost blew his cover.
James may not have blown his cover, but something was about to get blown tonight. Butch hooked his thumbs into the waistband of James's pants, sliding them off slowly. "You gonna say it yet?" He asked dryly.
"No," James said shakily, watching, wide eyed, as his sex-partner removed his underwear as well, leaving the blue haired man completely exposed. He shrieked at cold hands in contact with his organ.
"Sorry, did I hurt you?" Butch looked up in concern.
"No, j-just startled me, that's all."
Butch smirked; he always forgot how sensitive James was at times.
But it was understandable, of course. For a supposed villain, James sure was innocent. Almost pure, aside from the cross-dressing fetish and the slight masochism. A virgin, aside from Butch anyway.
"You like that?" Butch purred, dark eyes narrowed as he stroked roughly, pumping his hand over James's cock.
"Oh!" James's eyes were squeezed shut, biting his lower lip to control himself from yelling out. His cheeks were pinkened in lust. "B-Bu-" He gulped, biting the name down. No, he couldn't lose. Not yet, anyway . . .
"Aw, Jimmy-boy, you know you like it, don't you?" He slowed his stroking, moving onto a solitary finger, delicately petting at James's length, enjoying the squirming this resulted in.
"Botch, please," James whimpered. "Can you just . . . please . . ."
"What was that?" Butch pulled away completely. "I didn't understand you. Can you speak up?"
"Pa-pa-please," His eyes were open again, pleading. "I need . . . I need . . . I nee-EED!!!!" He yelped, Butch's hot mouth replacing cold fingers, slurping eagerly at his manhood.
James's gloved hands (neglected during the undressing) worked into Butch's blue-green hair, more to hold on than to push Butch's mouth onto him. Because Butch was doing a good enough job without James's help.
The black uniformed Rocket members always were more competent, in all aspects. To be honest, James wasn't so excellent at administering oral sex. He tried too hard, and, much like at Pokemon stealing, ended up fumbling in the end.
Butch didn't mind. Hell, he liked giving in ALL regards (except, well, in non-sexual ways-he didn't like to give, say, money or food . . . unless feeding James, because food was the quickest way to get into the eternally hungry male's pants). He sucked harder, tongue tickling before pulling away, leaving James still more unsatisfied.
"W-why you stop?" He panted, arms falling to his sides.
Butch just smiled, shimmying out of his black trousers. "Why do you insist on being so difficult, James?" He asked as he undressed. "All I've ever been is nice to you, and you insist on being stubborn." Butch propped James's legs up, exposing him for full pleasure.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Batch. I'm a nice guy," He shuddered as Butch slid a finger inside, wiggling it about before adding a second, scissoring painstakingly.
Every good villain knew that preparation was key.
"Yeah, you're the nicest cocktease I know, Jimbo."
"I'm no tease. You call this teasing, Booch?"
"No, I call THIS teasing," He positioned himself, circling James's entrance without going in. Taunting with its nearness.
"Come on, Batch, let's not play these games right now," James smiled uneasily.
"Say my name," He cooed, back to square one.
James growled. "I don't want to!" He punched the couch, overacting as usual.
"Then I'll just have to make you!"
Then, finally, he was in, perhaps harsher than he should have, especially without any lube. James cried out, more in pain than pleasure.
"James? Are you okay?"
He winced, nodding curtly. "Uh-huh," He finally panted. "Fine."
Butch slowed his pacing, thrusting as slowly as his libido would allow. "Better?"
"Y-yeah." James exhaled, finally catching his breath. He fell into rhythm finally, dancer's body trembling, moving in time. "Much better." His hands dug into Butch's back, friction necessary to keep himself from floating away. He didn't want to lose this moment.
Butch's eyes darkened, concentrating deeply on the task before him. "James," He murmured softly, lips enjoying the flavor of his lover's name almost as much as the taste of his flesh.
"Butch," James answered, relinquishing control finally. Startling Butch in mid-thrust. "Don't stop, Butch!" James sobbed. "Butch, please, Butch, come on . . ."
"Oh, James!" He leaned in, still thrusting, capturing lips and tongue dominantly with his own, victor sampling the goods of the defeated.
Funny. Somehow James still felt as though he were the one that really won.