Thundercat1: Friday is here! What will happen indeed…
Reddragon67: And so it begins! Dun dun duuun! *Looks at Blue. Puts her on the Sevii Islands.* She doesn't really turn up here either, one day I'll involve her more! Thing is I really like Blue, but I never put her into things, haha! Those muffled screams are definitely screams of joy that the new chapter is up. Definitely.
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"It's failed us," a deep voice boomed through the room.
"B-but…it could do better! It was only one mistake!" a smaller man stuttered, attempting to reason with the older man before him.
"One mistake is too many," he glowered at the useless grunt who tried to stand against him.
"B-but…Boss," he whimpered, cradling his injured Crobat in his arms.
"No excuses," he growled through bared teeth. He found such strong bonds between such weak things sickening. The man was on his knees now, tears slipping from his blue eyes. He placed the purple creature on the floor delicately, pulling out the dagger he kept on his uniform belt slowly. The Pokémon looked at his owner with curious eyes. It reached a bloody wing towards the face of its owner, attempting to brush the tears away, but cried out as it moved.
"I'm so sorry," the man whispered tenderly to his partner…he remembered catching it as a Zubat in an infested cave years ago. He'd become close to the creature, training it, until it had finally evolved into a Crobat. Where ever he'd been, his Crobat was never far behind. He'd never trained it as hard as Team Rocket did, though. Team Rocket pushed their Pokémon to their limits, regardless of the pain they put them through. It made sense that his Crobat wouldn't be able to do what they wanted it to, but this was too far. He held the blade above the creature in shaking hands. The bat eyed his owner. It whimpered gently and closed its eyes in understanding. He dropped the dagger down on his beloved Pokémon, impaling it straight through its small, purple body. It choked, blood pooling under it, before it finally fell silent. Only hard, strained breathing could be heard in the following silence. The grunt's hands fell from the hilt of his weapon, falling limp at his sides. He couldn't tear his eyes from his murdered comrade. Murdered by his hands. His own…blood-stained…hands.
"Pathetic," the man towering him hissed hatefully. "Bonds should only ever be carefully formed with those things strong enough to fight for you to their very best." Beside him, his well-groomed white Persian mewled, flicking its tail proudly and raising its head. The grunt wanted to shout at the man for such disrespect towards his dead partner, but couldn't find the courage to voice the words he needed. He pulled the blade from the body of his still-warm Pokémon and sheathed it again, silently praying that he'd never need to use it again. He stood, glanced at the man's hateful, cold eyes with his own fearful, watering ones, and quickly spun around and left, dropping the empty Pokéball on the ground as he left. It landed and cracked and broke into pieces. That was the last shred of his Crobat's existence. He cringed as he heard the crunching of bones and the chewing of fresh meat behind him. He turned back, only slightly, and saw that damned Persian standing where his Crobat once laid; lickeding its bloodied mouth clean, devouring any trace of flesh or blood.
"Boss, do we really need to take our measures this far?" a man spoke from behind his Boss.
"But of course Petrel, we cannot have a shred of weakness on this Team. We will be the undeniable greatest," he smirked at the thought of being respected like a King…at last. The executive known as Petrel nodded curtly in response.
"What should I do now Boss?" he asked, standing straight. "It's late, am I on the night shift?"
"No, Archer has that covered; you can retire to your room for tonight."
"Thank you, Boss," he bowed slightly in appreciation, "what are your plans?"
"Well," the man's smirk grew as he thought, "By now I should have a whore waiting in my room." Normally he wouldn't speak to his subordinates so casually, but Petrel was one of his elite, one of his Four Generals of which he was closer to.
"A whore?" he repeated in surprise, his Boss didn't seem the type…until realisation dawned on him, of course. "Silver?" he asked, his voice void of any emotion.
"Exactly," he nodded proudly.
"Way to ruin your relationship with your son…Boss," Petrel turned to leave on that note, his voice dripping with sarcasm. The older man just scoffed and left the room also.
"Finally!" an exasperated sigh greeted the man as he entered his bedroom. His stone eyes observed the petite figure sitting in the middle of his bed, facing him.
"Silver," he breathed, closing the door behind him. "How was your training?" he asked as he slipped off his black leather shoes.
"It was okay," the much younger boy replied as he watched the man with interest. He got to his feet and stood in front of the man, pulling gently at his tie until it undid. "Let me help you," he whispered, pulling the black tie from his neck and throwing it to the floor. His skilled fingers undid each button on the man's jacket, before ridding him of that too.
"My, you're eager today," he looked down at the redhead undressing him curiously.
"I guess all that hard training got me all hot," he purred seductively, working the white undershirt from the man's well-toned chest.
"Good," the older man murmured as his trousers were the next thing to go. The small boy grabbed one of his wrists with his slender hands and led him to the large bed. He laid back, watching in joy as his son straddled him, removing his own clothing slowly, looking down at the man beneath him hungrily. The young boy was naked first, his skinny fingers hovering over the waistband of his father's underwear. They were quickly taken care of too, thrown to join the rest of their clothes on the floor.
"You've been working so hard," the boy began to muse, pausing in his speech to suck on his fingers. The man nodded beneath him. "You deserve to be treated," he smirked sexily, reaching his own wet fingers to moisten his entrance. He moaned a little, watching the older man, as he prepared himself. He could feel the man's arousal grow at the sight. He removed his fingers and positioned his hips over the hard cock under him. He slowly eased himself onto it, gasping a little at the intrusion, until he'd taken in the entire shaft. He sat on the man, colour obvious on his pale cheeks. He didn't normally lead the action like this – not at all. He began to move up and down, pushing his hips forward and back as he rode the man. The man grunted in pleasure beneath the redhead, tempted to buck his hips as the boy moved, but small hands kept his hips firmly down. The boy panted and moaned, the large member putting strain on his lesser-developed body. The man's large hands rested on Silver's sides and gently guided him to move faster. He obliged his father, pushing his tired body to move faster. His panting grew heavier as he struggled to keep moving as fast as the older man liked, but he managed it. He wanted the man to explode with ecstasy – tonight was his special treat. Of course, the underage boy wanted this just as much. The boy moved as quickly as his worn muscles would let him, his father's sounds of pleasure telling him that he was doing the right thing. The volume of their noises increased as they both got closer. Silver angled himself so that the cock struck his prostate each time he moved. He knew that men wouldn't be happy if they came before whoever they were screwing, so Silver always made sure that it didn't happen. He also wouldn't use his hands if he was doing his father; he knew the older man didn't like it. The boy shouted the man's name as he came, his sticky fluid coating the man's chest. A couple more movements did it for him too, as he reached his own climax inside his son with a loud grunt. The two parted bodies quickly, both satisfied with their latest experience.
"I liked that surprise," the man hummed, looking at his son's naked, tired body as he panted desperately. Suddenly the boy was on him again, his face inches from the whiteness on his chest.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I'll clean it," he offered, extending his tongue delicately to clean the skin of his father. The action reminded the man of his Persian lapping milk, and he couldn't help but love it.
He was the founder and leader of the underground criminal organisation known as Team Rocket, he was ruthless – infamous for his cruelty. He was feared over several regions, his face and name were well known. He was a man who was fucking his own underage son. His name…was Giovanni.
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Review and tell me what you thought! Next update will be on Monday.
