take a walk on the wild side
number two
gold/crystal: take, take, take
(or: okays and reallys)

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It's the aftermath of his birthday dinner. She's stayed behind, arms full of dirty plates and greasy cutlery, while he shoves the glasses inside his washing machine, decorum be damned. Gold steps aside, sweet seventeen written all over his face, and smiles, leaning on the counter while she patiently files the plates on each metal partition.

"So, like, are you my birthday present or something?" he asks, out of the blue, gritty and sleazy like only Gold can be. Crystal feels the slow burn of a blush creep across her cheeks, and the forks she's handling all fall to the floor with a loud clatter. Crystal hurriedly catches at the silverware with shaky, embarrassed hands.

"Shut up," she says, but her voice catches, with a breathy, half-expectant sound that she detests. Her hands are already oily from the dishes, so when she finishes, she elbows the faucet and washes them with his lemon detergent. "When is your mother coming home? It's already past midnight."

It's already past midnight and they're the only ones home. Gold told her beforehand that his mother would be out, to give them some space while they congratulated his seventeenth birthday, but now Crystal only feels apprehensive, because this is his territory, his hunting space, and she's all alone. She pushes the faucet shut and looks out the window. Outside, the lit streets are empty, but that doesn't surprise her. Newbark is practically a village; there is no one who would be out at this hour.

She stifles a yawn and leans against the counter, beside him. The door to the living room is open, and she can see the confetti on the floor, the serpentine wires spread over the lamps. She is certainly not going to clean it up for him.

"Yeah," he says, slowly, like he's just remembered, "she called and said she'd spend the night in Goldenrod."

"Hm," Crystal says. And then it strikes her. "Oh."

His hand is inches from hers. She can tell, even as she stubbornly faces the tiled wall in front of her. The ceiling light shifts the shadows on his fingers when he moves them, curling his pinky over hers. It's a little rough, but warm – although not as warm as her face feels. She pulls her hand away from his and folds her arms. It's a defensive position, and she feels a little guilty, but—

"I should go."

A pause.

"Yeah," he says, finding his pockets and looking away. He doesn't sound disappointed, but she knows him better than to assume he isn't.

She bites her bottom lip until it aches, and then does a volte-face, covering her face with her hands.

"Er," she says, from behind her fingers, voice reluctant and tentative, "unless you need … help … with … anything?"

Gold's smile is so wide it almost splits his face in half, when she peeks to look at him, and her face burns, because how much more obvious can he get? How much more obvious can she get? He steps in front of her, touching at her wrists, pulling them away from her jaw. She feels her breath catch when the palm of his hands fit against the hollow of her cheek, but then he's leaning down and kissing her. She grips at the kitchen counter, hard.

He tastes like chocolate cake (and something else, something bitter she can't quite put her finger on) and Crystal pulls away, eyes wide.

"Oh! I forgot to put the cake back into the fridge—"

"I'll take care of it later," he says hurriedly, his hands latching at her nape and bringing her closer once more. She complies, feeling his lips run over hers, peppering kisses on the corners of her mouth. She parts to breathe, feeling a little light-headed when he pries her mouth open with his thumb. His tongue is wet against her own, and it's been almost a year since the last time they've done this, almost a year since they came from the Battle Frontier unscathed, almost a year since her and him—

"Wait, wait, wait," she says, pulling back so much she's practically crawling on the counter.

"What, what, what?" he breathes, against her mouth, leaning into her. His elbows are on each side of her, and when she tries reaching a little further, she finds that he's intertwined his fingers behind her back. They're warm and she inhales when he slips his pinkies under her shirt.

She thinks she's figured out what he tastes like, now.

"Did you drink anything?" She's a little appalled at the thought that they're alone in his house and he's half-drunk. Because everything makes sense now – the hurried kisses, the extensive physical contact, his shameless fingers. Crystal feels a little hot, suddenly. Just enough to make her stomach burn and sink. "This isn't like you," she adds, later, even though this is like Gold, this touchy and frantic moment is all Gold. She wonders if he's ever expected her to take the lead. Crystal doesn't think she ever will.

"Yes," he says, matter-of-factly, running his nose across the line of her jaw, nipping at the back of her ear when he gets there. Her stomach quivers, and she can't help but to make a small, amused noise, because she's ticklish there. Gold hums, pleased, and then forgoes his lips and starts using his tongue. Oh. Her hips tug and in the next second she feels her face burn, because that's when he groans into her ear and starts pressing down. She thinks she already feels the telltale pressure of his dick against her thigh, and it makes her knees quiver. She doesn't know if it's in anticipation or nervousness.

"Gold," she warns, when his fingers unlatch from each other and start creeping up her shirt.

"What?" He sounds unconcerned.

She breathes in.

"I—" All she can think about is the last time his hands were unlatching the hook of her bra, the last time the two of them were alone. Crystal remembers other things, too, like her leg hooked over his shoulder, like the sound of his voice in her ear, telling her to come. Like their last week in Cape Brink, like him saying he loved her, like them trying out her bed and then his bed and then the kitchen table, and then—well. She isn't sure why she's remembering that, all of a sudden, but it's there and she can't forget about it. The top of her thighs is already tingling and she hates herself for it. Kind of.

"Can I have you?" he asks, sliding her closer to him, pulling her more on top of his hips. Oh, yeah, that's – that's… yeah. She definitely feels him, now. "For my birthday?"

"It's not your birthday anymore," Crystal replies, but her voice is drowsy with doubt. He licks at her lips, begging her for a deep kiss, and she finds herself complying without even realizing it. He tastes like chocolate and gin. She blames Blue for the alcohol, but Gold's the only responsible for his own lecherousness. She is not totally innocent, either; her arms are around his neck already, and she squeezes when he grinds against her. "Ah—"

"I'm going to have you either way," he tells her, and his honesty makes her make a small, needy noise. He smirks against her cheek, spreads his hands against her ass, brings her so close she can feel the metal of his zipper digging against her thigh.

"Okay," she breathes, and that's when he pulls away, eyes half-lidded and penetrating.

"Really?" he whispers, waiting for her to confirm.

She takes a second to inhale, and another to nod. He gifts her with a slow smile, and then with a kiss, a peck of chapped lips. It's silly when she thinks of his hands firmly stuck against her underwear, it's silly that she's letting him get away with this again. It's silly that she's nervous when she knows she's going to end up gasping out his name. It's always like that.

When she thought she was going to die, before the Battle Frontier … When she thought she was going to die, she knew she'd regret never kissing him. Gold took things further. Gold wanted more, and more, until Crystal had nothing left to give him. Until all that was left was the two of them between clammy sheets. Until all that was left was her crying into his shoulder when it was over, scared and overly emotive and still dizzy. Until all that was left was his arm around her shoulders and his calming lips on hers. And then they fought against Guile, and won, and she felt embarrassed that she'd been so overt with him. So … explicit. She'd let him get his way with her on the kitchen table, for crying out loud.

Crystal feels her cheeks redden at the thought that Gold's actually getting into her pants again – and this time they don't have a death sentence hanging over their heads. This time, it's all about the two of them and not just about fear of regretting. He told her, I don't want to die a virgin and I want you, I've always wanted you. It's always been you. And she reddened and smacked him and ultimately came to the same conclusion. Because it's always been him. And now here they are, non-virgins acting like virgins. She's always going to be embarrassed over sex, over Gold, over what they are. Heck, she doesn't even know what she is to him.

"Wait," she whispers, when Gold's fingers start playing with the band of her panties. They halt immediately, and she thinks she loves him more because he stops when she wants him to. "What am I to you?" He gives her a look, not wide-eyed, not surprised. Her cheeks are so hot. "I mean – I … Is this just going to be like this over and over?"

"Why? Would you mind?"

She frowns at him. His fingers are still frozen beneath her belly button. "I don't kn—it doesn't matter what I mind." She wants to hide her face behind her hands; the embarrassment of having this talk with him is making her dizzy and half-angry. The anxiety of hearing a rejection is making her sick to her stomach. This would be easier if she hadn't told him she loved him, the first time she came. This would be easier if he hadn't told her he loved her, red-faced and pressing her up against the wall of the shack's bathroom. Did he mean it? She doesn't know. She wants to know. She wants to know so bad.

"Are you asking me if I only want sex out of this?" He looks skeptic, eyebrows high on his forehead. Crystal gives him a meek nod. "Are you fucking kidding me, Crystal?"

"Language," she warns, even if the way he says it makes her stomach skip a little. She'll never admit it to him.

"Come on," he growls, pulling his hands out of her underwear and grabbing at her shoulders. "I told you I l-l—" he blushes bright red, and there it is, the same shade his face was the day he told her that, when she was stepping out of the shower and he screwed her silly against the tiled walls. The memory makes her flush, and here they are, two bright red tomatoes struggling to speak. "Love you," he finishes, finally, and it's like she can breathe again. "I'd never – " he sighs, still chagrined, "I'd never ask to fuck you silly if I didn't."

He loves her.

"Language!" she squeaks, when her brain regains its functions, and he smirks at her and kisses her instead of apologizing. She allows herself the pleasure of bringing her hands up to his hair; it's getting a little long, but she likes the change.

He hums when she does it, so she does it again and again, until he slides his fingers inside her underwear. She yelps embarrassedly, gripping at the counter and thinking that this is a new low for her, allowing him to get to second base in his freaking kitchen counter. And then he leans over, brushes his mouth against the shell of her ear.

"How do you want to go?"

"W-what?" she manages, somehow. Her voice is fluctuating already.

He brings her lobe into his mouth and bites at it, and Crystal's hands fist in his hair. Gold hisses, and she relaxes almost immediately.

"Do it again." His voice is as deep as it was the day she finally gave into his handy ministrations. She can't help it, she whines, very softly, and he drags his teeth across her neck. His breath is ragged, although not as much as hers. "How do you want to come, Crys?" She can't believe he's asking her that. She feels her toes curl and presses her lips together, tight. He only laughs, smooth and low and lecherous, and then he flicks his thumb and she sees stars.

It's still not enough. Her teeth bite at her lip and she wants to groan, wants to tell him to hurry up. She won't. She knows herself much better than that, she knows she'll never ask him to please make her come. She wants, though. She wants, she wants—

He loves her.

"I-I wanna come," she mumbles, through numb lips, and rotates her hips against his hands without even meaning to. "Please," she whines, adding insult to injury.

Her elbows are starting to shake, her back is starting to hurt, and she's scared that she's going to fall off the counter he's propped her up against, but all of those worries are secondary to the fact that the spring inside her stomach is coiling tighter and tighter and she's—not—coming—

"Let me hear you," he commands, and presses his leg between hers.

She obeys, closing her fingers around his hair and panting out his name. The spring jumps and her legs wrap around his, tightening enough to make him groan. She closes her eyes, bites her lip, and inhales. When the air she gets is not enough, she opens her mouth and gasps. He's holding her when she opens her eyes to look at him, grabbing her by the waist, making sure she doesn't fall.

"That was great," Gold says, voice tight. He wipes his hand on his jeans, and it reminds her of the first time his hands were wandering around her panties. "I liked the way you threw your head back."

"Shut up," she whispers, hiding her face into his chest. His left hand brings her jaw up and kisses her, all tongue and lip-biting. She can feel his franticness, and it surprises her to find herself eagerly replying. She wants this as much as he does; her shaking hands find his zipper and he sucks in a keen breath.

"What're you—"

"What do you think?" she hisses, getting more embarrassed by the second. "I-I …" She inhales, thinks about all the ways he got her off back at Kimberly's shack, and gets down on her knees. He loves her. "I owe you. So…"

"Oh my god, I can't b elieve you're—oh fuck, oh fuck. My knees aren't going to hold."

"What?" She stops pulling on his jeans and gives him a look. "What do you mean they're not going to hold?"

He runs a hand through his hair and looks away. "Look, it's just – trust me. If you're gonna blow me, I'm going to have to sit down."

This is embarrassing enough without him having to talk about it. Crystal takes the easy way out: "This was a bad idea. Maybe I shouldn't—"

"Wow, wow, easy," he says, sounding almost panicky. It makes her want to laugh nervously, kind of. "Let's calm down. You totally should." She blinks at him, face burning. "I mean – if you want to, of course! But yeah. I'm giving you a give head." He closes his eyes, cringing. "I meant—go ahead. A go ahead."

"What are you going on about?"

"Crys," he says, sitting down and setting his hands on her shoulders. His legs go on each side of her, trapping her. "I would really, really like if you gave me a blowjob."

Her hands tighten around the fabric of his pants, in shock, and he gives a short, satisfied sigh, soothing over her shoulder with his thumb. Her face is too hot and tingly, just like the apex of her thighs, and she thinks, I can do this. If I screw up, it's – it's fine. But she doesn't want to screw up. She's used to being perfect; perfect at reports, perfect at research, perfect at catching pokémon. But she's got no practice at this. Back in Cape Brink, Gold was the one who advanced, the one who invented all the ways to make her come. She took, and took, and took. But today's his birthday. And for once she feels confident enough to give.

She palms his dick, through his boxers, and listens to him stop breathing. He's hard, and she feels a little appreciated, although she doesn't know why.

"Okay."

This time, he is excited, and it shows. His eyes widen and he makes a funny sound with his throat, and she doesn't miss how he fists his hands, knuckles white.

"R-Really?"

This time, she doesn't bother nodding. She only leans over, unfolding her legs, leaning on his thigh. Her ribs fit right above his kneecap. She feels it when she inhales. It's not an extremely comfortable position, but it works, even if she is too aware of the damp fabric of her panties. Gold opens his hands, sits up straighter, and her cheeks flush at the thought that he's trying to get a better look. For what, she doesn't know – does anyone look flattering while … well …

She pulls his boxers down and doesn't stop to think about what she's doing – only thinks about how flushed his face is, how much she likes getting him off, how much she likes feeling needed and wanted. And then she leans in, opening her mouth and taking note of the hiss he makes. It strikes her that she doesn't exactly know what to do – despite Blue's very constant advice on girls' nights – but she just doesn't care. Gold obviously doesn't care, so why should she? She breathes through her nose and sinks down, just an inch. He's still making sounds, hands tightening and loosening, like he doesn't know where to put them. Seeing him lose it like that makes her want to touch him more, or maybe ask him to touch her. At least her underwear's already wet, she thinks, and then feels appalled. She brings her head up, then down; rinse and repeat. Sometimes, she feels daring enough to use her tongue, sometimes her teeth (but always carefully).

He finishes early – hurriedly telling her to pull away, that he's going to come – but Crystal thinks about the various times he brought her legs around her head, thinks about how he didn't pull away from her folds until she was done calling out his name. So instead of letting him fall off her mouth, she closes her eyes and sucks harder. She chokes, but it's worth it. It's so worth it, watching his jaw tense, watching him bite his lip, listening to the breathy, tight call of her name. If this is how glorious he feels when he listens to her coming, then she understands why he likes doing it so much.

Crystal stands up on unsteady feet, while he catches his breath, and spits onto the first napkin she can find. Eugh. It's bitter. She chucks the crumpled paper on the bin, and makes plans to cover it up with anything else. Just in case.

When she turns, she's expecting him to smirk at her and make an off-hand remark about her sucking skills (or lack of thereof), and readies for a blush; but, instead, she finds him glancing up at her, eyes stern. He's oddly serious, and Crystal feels the pit of her stomach glaze over with ice. Oh, god, I broke him.

"Gold?"

"How do you want to do this?"

"Do what?"

"Crys, come on," he says, lifting his eyebrows and staring at his lap for a split second. She follows his gaze and – oh. He's already hard, and she feels her face heat. Is that normal?

"But you just … I just—" Her eyes are wide.

He looks away, seemingly embarrassed. "I'm a seventeen-year-old boy, super-serious girl. Besides … Come on," he says, with a shrug of his shoulders, "how do you expect anyone to settle down after watching a gorgeous girl sucki—"

"Oh-kay," she hisses, cutting him off (and inwardly cheering at the thought that he thinks she's gorgeous), "I get it. Thank you."

"No, thank you."

How did she fall in love with such an embarrassing moron? Crystal brings her hands to her face and groans into them. A few seconds later, he pulls them away and peers into her eyes, dead serious.

"So how do you want to do this?" He intertwines their fingers, brings her close enough for their chests to brush.

"I don't know." What ways are there?

"I'm just asking 'cause I'm always the one who ends up picking the spot. And I figure you'd like choosing, for once." He presses a kiss against her knuckles and it's incredible that this is the boy who is annoying and childish and impossible. "Do you want suggestions? I really liked having sex in the kitchen table, but mine's kind of small—"

"Please stop talking." She closes her eyes. She knows she's blushing. The thing is, Gold always makes her blush. There's the 'I saw your panties' blush, which is reserved for when he visits her at the lab, there is the 'suggestive comment' blush, which happens all the time. There's the 'I am going to embarrass you further' blush. There are lots of blushes. The one she's wearing is the 'I have so many NC-17 rated pictures in my head I can't even breathe'. "You know I'm not good at this."

"What? Please. My dick begs to differ—"

"Gold!"

"Okay, okay, sorry." He's smiling. "But I want you to choose."

"It's your birthday," she replies, like they're picking outfits instead of sexual positions. It's easier if she pretends. "You pick."

"You sure?"

She nods. Her stomach is already hot and heavy, and she shifts her thighs distractedly. God, she needs to put her panties in the wash.

"Well, this is something I …" He lets go of her right hand and runs a hand through his hair. "How do you feel about handcuffs?"

Crystal closes her eyes and resists the urge to slap her forehead. This is the guy I fell in love with.

"I—" she breathes in, presses her lips tightly together.

"You don't have to—"

"Okay."

She lets her shoulders fall, and he brings her closer and kisses her, rough enough to make her moan. His hands bring her hips closer to his, and she pulls away with a drowsy groan.

"Really?" he asks, and when she nods he grins so widely his face is nearly split in half. "You won't regret it."

She already has. Kind of. But then she remembers; he loves her. He loves her, he loves her, he loves her, and she loves him back. She's going to make this work.

TBC