It's two in the morning. The only pre-context you need is to know that the name of the game is Calem's mom and let's just say Sycamore's playing it.
Word Count: 386 words.
Unambiguously Homosexual Male Advice Variety Hour
One of the finer perks in the life of being a world-renowned Pokemon professor is the fact that each morning comes with a nice cup of black coffee from one of the slutty interns downstairs. It is with this coffee and the day's newspaper that Professor Sycamore begins each day.
Along with being half-naked, of course, constricting boxers and socks permitting.
Augustine takes a deep sip of the coffee, turns a page, and revels in his own scent while doing so, that type of deep man musk that makes someone want to stop and close their eyes while inhaling a deep whiff of a most intoxicating fragrance.
He moans a most creepy moan.
"Unghhh...It's good to be middle-aged and nude.."
That's when Calem enters his office, also in nothing but his boxers. That's how they usually greet each other and there's never any qualms about it, it's almost like neither of them realize (or if they do, they don't particularly care) how impure they're being.
It is also worth noting that the boy has a nice firm bottom.
"Hey dad," he begins while scratching his bare thigh, having long-since grown accustomed to the new label, "how can I get women? Specifically ice queens with honey hair and thigh-highs that could make dicks go high, but are also in need of heavy, almost-constant maintenance?"
A womanizer in his own right, Sycamore does not hesitate to assist his son with his hormonal-based plea. He leans back in his chair with a crossed leg and a pondering posture, "Hmm.."
When he exits out of it, the professor gently pats his semi-hairy leg, it isn't the first time it's happened and Calem is no stranger to the motion. In no time at all does the boy nonchalantly seat himself on his lap, having no pre-conceived notion that he is far past the age to be doing that and that the sight of such a thing itself is incredibly borderline.
Sycamore presses his nose to his son's long, silky smooth hair and takes a whiff, basking himself in a paradise of a young, Kalosian teen's inebriating, almost drug-like aroma.
As for Calem's question, Augustine takes care of that one while running a hand up his thigh.
"Give her a good dicking before I do, naturally."
Calem has a good dad.
