I like drabbles, but I don't like uploading them on their own. So this 'story' is going to just be an ongoing dump of isshushipping oneshots shorter than 1000 words. (If I write about other Pokémon pairings, and I most certainly will, they will probably go in here too.) So having gotten that out of the way, this is a week or two old and...was actually meant to be more explicit, but I'm useless at writing smut haha. So. Enjoy!
An Ideal Place (539 words)
N woke with the sensation of falling. His chest heaved and his eyes brimmed with tears, though he couldn't remember any nightmares. His breaths were muffled against the fabric of Black's shirt.
He took stock of his surroundings as he began to calm down; he lay on the top bunk in the room he and Black shared (the bottom empty), cradled in the boy's arms, face hidden in his shoulder. It was still dark, but N sensed the sun beginning to reach through the curtains. He wondered, shutting his eyes to press his face closer against Black's chest, at the sensation of their legs tangled together. The closeness was completely alien to him. Comforting, though, somehow.
N became aware, with a mild flush of embarrassment, that he was naked from the waist down.
The realisation brought back, with mortifying clarity, the memory of the night before.
N had never been one for physical insecurity; for as long as he could remember, he had been poked, prodded and touched from every angle and with all conceivable intentions, by the Triad, by the Sages, by Ghetsis. He regarded his body with a certain detached dignity. Usually, he would simply disconnect and shut off if anybody touched him; indeed, initially he'd treated Black exactly the same way. But there was something about Black's eyes that evening that couldn't be explained by any of N's formulae; some electricity that effectively disarmed the young King, weakened his defences. And - in all honesty - that frightened N. It frightened him that anybody could break through his barriers like that.
But there had been no selfishness in Black's touch, no malevolence. Only tenderness. He just wanted to make N happy. And, reluctant though N may have been to admit it, he had. Afterwards, as he slumped, shaking his head and trying to catch his breath, against the wall, Black had pressed careful, gentle lips to the hollow by his hipbone, his navel, his chest, his neck. Pulled him into his arms and held him there, awkward and unsure, but sincere.
"I love you," Black had mumbled, timidly, afraid it was the wrong answer to an unspoken question. N didn't know.
He pulled back and the boy's arms loosened around him in sleep; searched his face in the lifting darkness. A lock of hair fell across his brow and his mouth hung slightly open, the soft, rhythmic breaths filling N's ears. It was an equation N couldn't quite solve, a grey area in his perfectly composed black-and-white world that didn't add up. Black had ruined everything. Black had challenged everything that made N himself. And now Black slept contentedly opposite him, dreaming of happy-go-lucky adventures and Castelia Cones, sheltered and indecisive, so steadfastly opposed to all that N held dear and willing at the same time to hold him and tell him that he loved him. It wasn't fair.
"If people did not exist," N recited softly, "this would be an ideal place."
And he watched Black's young face scrunch up blearily as he stirred, the guileless eyes open halfway, and he tried to believe it.
"You have been chosen, you know," N said. "Does it surprise you I said that?"