The red fabric fell to the bed.

Lauren bit her lip in anxiety as she waited for her trainer's response. Her shoulders pulled back and together slightly to push her chest out, her right hand coming to her left forearm and rubbing it as she nervously waited for his response. She wanted badly for him to accept her. Nothing else in the world mattered more to her than what he thought of her, nothing else mattered to her more than him. He was her everything, he always had been...She was exposing not only her body but her own personal insecurities to him, her silent and unmentioned fears of his rejection faced head-on with one dexterous unclasping of a bra.

The Gardevoir couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes. It was a little funny, hypocritical, even, that she was being so direct and carefree about his nakedness, and yet with her own she found herself met with trepidation. She could only imagine that he had felt the same way when she was looking over him, and suddenly her burst of confident dominance deflated. An embarrassed blush came to Lauren's cheeks before any words could be heard from either one of them.

After an uncomfortable silence, one that deflated the Psychic's courage with every passing moment, she gave up on waiting for him to reply. She craved his feedback, needed to know what he thought of her. The deep, carnal desire for his acceptance at all costs drove her to invade his privacy again even more than she already was. A blue glow was drawn over her eyes as she reached out, trying to discretely weave into his consciousness without him knowing. But even as she was attempting this, her concentration was thrown by the sound of his voice:

"Lauren, you're...beautiful."

Beautiful? The mint-colored beauty felt her heart flutter at the word. It wasn't at all what she expected from him. Because of not only the position that he was in, but also the way that she had overheard him talking about (or thinking about, when she was feeling like snooping) other girls, the Gardevoir had expected him to say something else, something different, something carrying a sexual tension with it: "Hot"; "Sexy". Another term that expressed a hunger, a sexual appetite, like she had heard when the modeling agents would complement her before asking all too bluntly "how far she was willing to go for her career". But "beautiful"? It completely threw the beauty. Saying she was "beautiful" implied not only a need but an appreciation for her.

And she loved him even more for it.

Her confidence renewed by his words, she smiled and coyly turned her head to look at him. You really mean it? Her voice sounded like her expression, pleasantly surprised. He made eye contact, the only thing he had done to show any sort of courage since he had been captured by her, and gave a small nod. There was another fluttering feeling in her heart and then she looked down at his chest, reaching a hand down and drawing small shapes on it with a finger. She had already lapsed her domineering, so she figured there was no harm in a little more regression, so she quietly asked, do you want to touch them? Her eyes rose slowly up to his and he watched her quizzically for a moment to see if she was serious or not, then nodded again. "Yes please," he responded sheepishly like a toddler who, after getting caught with their hand in the cookie jar, learned that they could have just asked and gotten a cookie at any time.

The phantasmic restraints on the male's arms seemed to tighten, and then shortly thereafter were abruptly and somewhat anticlimactically just gone from existence. The ability to move his limbs freely with full range of motion was remarkably odd after having been psychically entrapped for what felt like so long, but yet he couldn't imagine had actually elapsed a significant amount of time. Once he felt this sudden release, he wriggled his body around a little, testing the extent of his newfound freedom. What he found didn't surprise him: as though distrusting of his intentions once he had been freed, the Gardevoir had opted to keep him tethered to the mattress top by his chest-down still. It wasn't surprising, but at the same time it was a little unnerving. What did she think that he would do if she had let go of him entirely? It was somewhat disheartening to have to consider, and so the trainer brushed the thought aside for the time being, in a similar fashion to that which he did with the red bra that had just uncovered his partner.

As unusual as it may seem, the male didn't any longer have any intention of making such an incongruous act as groping her outright. She didn't seem to encourage such a forward progression, anyway. Rather, the blushing beauty on top of him did nothing but remain still and watch as he slowly, deliberately moved his arms across the surface of the bed and toward the center of his body, bringing his hands hesitantly toward her legs. He had touched her numerous times before and hadn't thought twice about it, obviously, but as he did so now it felt like it again was that first time. His fingers crept up the sides of her calves and were accompanied by his thumbs on the opposite side. Languid motions savoring every second of the action. Savoring every inch of her, every inch of the smooth porcelain that was always so confoundingly covered by the mint-green of her attire, so close to his wandering eyes and yet so far from his wandering hands. His right thumb moved slowly in a caress over the skin of her lower leg. Lauren bit her lip and blushed even harder at this. It was such a small, simple movement. Yet, it managed to convey almost instantaneously the affection he had for her; the tacitly shared attraction they had to one another.

His hands continued to scale her figure in unison again, fingertips dragging lightly over the surface of her skin, causing hair to stand on end accompanied by goosebumps everywhere they went. The two seemingly drew in a breath together as the upward motion was concomitantly led to be partially outward, the bottom of the hourglass figure she possessed causing for his hands to spread apart from one another as they moved across the outsides of her upper legs. The psychic-type's legs subconsciously closed a little in a protective motion over the fabric of her panties when her trainer moved his fingers over the waistband of them. He paused here, raking his thumb over the top of the material along the circumference as he looked up to see what she was thinking, but behind the lip-biting red-cheeked exterior she was still as unreadable as ever. Well? She prompted him silently, drawing in a deep breath as she waited for his response, which ended up being far more than that for which she had bargained.

After a long, uncomfortably long, in fact, pause, the white-and-green Pokémon's owner's lips parted, and from these parted lips came her long-awaited verdict: "I love your body," he whispered quietly with a small smile. The lowering of the Gardevoir's chest was visible as an exhale of relief escaped inaudibly through her lips. Well thank you, she began in his head, the melodic, naturally pleasant tone of her voice a welcome sound to him, but he wasn't done. His eyes, which had sheepishly found a place on the bed to call home rose up from their resting place and met hers again. The determination and still hesitation he was experiencing was evident through them, and the Psychic feared the worst. All her fears were destructed with his next sentence, with the next three words, three magic little words more powerful than him or her or anyone else could even dream of being:

"I love you."

This isn't the end, obviously. I just needed to produce something so that I didn't end up getting a perpetual writer's block, which seems to happen sometimes if I do an insufficient job of keeping my activity level up. I realize it's somewhat short, but this shit takes time to write, as I've fallen in love (no homo) with both of these two characters and their relationship with one another, and I'm not willing to risk its integrity purely for the sake of quantity of writing.

So there you have it: part one of the last chapter of GGP. Love you guys. Go nuts.

Arthenius