Begin With the End in Mind

by vegetables

The end of the road is never particularly bright. - SundaeShipping, Harley/Max, Harley/Masato.

10. Part Ten

Part Ten

-Max-

Yesterday, I had beaten four trainers in a row on the ship's battlefields. Having earned seven badges, it shouldn't have been that big of a deal, but I was insanely proud of my accomplishment, even more so since all my opponents had been older. The only aspect of the battles that sort disappointed me was that Harley hadn't been watching. He had decided to go through with his statement of sunbathing, which I still thought was girlie and weird. Regardless, I was happy to have beaten all those trainers and their Pokémon. I was definitely going to battle more—and actually couldn't wait—but first, I had to finish my lunch, which I was currently eating in the dining hall.

Next to me, picking at his side of potatoes, Harley looked very tired, but I had a feeling he was more bored than anything else. He had wanted to stay in bed all day, but I insisted the two of us go out and do something on the ship. In the middle of the night, there had been a stop at an island called Sanguine Port, which I had never of, but Harley and I had been asleep during the stop, so it sort of felt like it didn't even happen.

After I took a sip of my drink, I turned to Harley, asking, "If I battle some more, do you want to watch?"

Harley made a raspberry sound. "Didn't you get your kicks yesterday?" he wondered. He then went on to answer my question, saying, "I might, darling. Watching you battle does amuse me, I must admit." The man brightened up a bit, crossing his legs and leaning over to my side of the table a bit to press his lips on top of my head.

Even though I wanted to scan the room to see if anyone had seen the kiss, I actually didn't, and instead just allowed his chin to lean against my head for a moment. Just as I had admitted to Harley yesterday, his presence was something I had gotten so used to, and it was very hard to imagine what it would be like without him. Ever since he had given me my birthday present, Harley had a way of making me feel a lot calmer as opposed to the way he used to make me feel: jittery and alert for some seemingly predatory movement. There was still that twist of a flutter, too, sometimes, which I tried my best to ignore, but was always really obvious when it happened, mostly when he said something nice to me.

"You know, you and I still have to find your kink," Harley noted, setting down his fork and wiping his mouth with the cloth napkin. "Don't think for a second that I forgot about that plan."

"I didn't agree to anything," I argue, frowning. "I can't picture myself having one anyway."

"You have one," he assured me, nodding in his own belief. "And, since Norman never spanked you, I have a strong feeling that depravity made you develop a liking for it now."

"I think you have that mixed up, to be honest," I told him. "Most kids that were spanked end up liking it later on in life."

Harley scoffed at this, either amused or blowing it off. "Now how would a boy like you know something like that, huh?" he wondered, raising an eyebrow and giving me a lechery look.

I rolled my eyes at his statement. Despite a small, bland mirth, I turned to face him completely, showing him I was mostly unaffected by his words. Harley smirked back at me and very slowly inched his face toward mine, and I sensed he was about to kiss me fully on the lips, right here in the dining hall, in front of countless people. I turned away a bit, but felt the man's breath on my neck. He was close enough so that I sense he was trying to do something playful, but distant enough so that the scene would perplex no one around us.

I felt his hand rest on my thigh, and he gave a soft and slightly insane chuckle. He glided his hand up and down, causing me to purse my lips and freeze.

"Max, is that you?"

I jumped at the sound of my name. The voice took a moment to registry with me, but it was familiar in its both girlish and calm way. When I looked up and snapped away from concentrating on Harley's lusty movement, I spotted a redheaded girl, dressed down in a pair of shorts and a plain red top. Her name—just like her voice— took a second to come to me, but I remembered it soon enough.

"Misty!" I exclaimed in shock. I blinked several times, pushing Harley's hand off my thigh, even though I knew from where Misty was at, it was impossible for her to see it. "Uh… hi," I then continued, not sure what to say, really.

Beside me, Harley seemed very irritated by her presence. And, he didn't even know her. Even though he wasn't touching me anymore, I felt his body stiffen with discomfort, and it was almost like he was hovering over me in a possessive sort of way.

"It is you," she said, smiling widely and putting her hands on her hips. "Wow, I haven't seen you in about four years. It's amazing that I even recognized you!"

Misty looked pretty much the same, albeit she had definitely become more grown-up and, uh, womanly. She seemed much taller, and her figure seemed to have developed to a more athletic, swimmer-type of build. Her hair was still up in her trademark way, and her pleasant, sweet smile was still there, too.

As she sat down across the table from Harley and me, I nodded and said, "Uh, yeah, I am a trainer now."

"I guessed," she replied. "You look so grown-up! It's so good to see you again though!"

Harley cleared his throat, looking at me in a half-angry, half-in-need-of-attention way. I realized that I had ignored him all this time and quickly fixed the problem by gesturing towards him and telling Misty, "Oh, um, this is, uh, my friend, Harley."

Harley extended an arm over the table, offering to shake Misty's hand. Misty took it, introducing herself by saying, "Hello, I'm Misty. I'm an old acquaintance of Max's."

Misty would've never noticed it, but there was a dull glare in Harley's eyes, one that was there because he simply did not like her already. I couldn't help become slightly irritated over that, but decided to ignore it for now.

"Acquaintance, eh?" the man said. "From where? And, when?"

Again, there was possession and negativity in Harley's words.

I sighed, but answered, "Misty used to travel with Ash, too. I never traveled with her, but there was a small occasion for a couple of days." I then smiled, revealing, "Misty's a Gym Leader, you know. She runs the Cerulean City Gym!"

"Oh, a Gym Leader," Harley repeated, making a mock-impressed face. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Misty."

Misty now seemed to catch onto the irregularity in Harley's words, and much to my despair, she asked, "Who did you say Harley was? Your friend?"

Harley began laughing and said, "Actually, I'm Max's uncle." He then added a second later, "But, we're more like friends."

I narrowed my eyes and blushed, but did my best to cover this up by pretending to readjust my glasses. Christ, I had no idea whether or not Misty was going to believe that, but it sounded convincing enough.

"Oh," she said, nodding. "So, are you Norman's brother?"

Harley waved a hand in dismissal. "No, I'm Caroline's," he explained.

I felt like I was sinking further and further into my seat, completely humiliated by this conversation even though there was nothing to be humiliated about! It just seemed like double-meanings were dripping from each and every one of Harley's words, and I didn't know how to handle it. Why the heck was Misty here anyway? Well, I supposed it was best to ask that.

"So, um," I interrupted, "I didn't even know you were on this cruise, Misty."

"Yeah, I got on last night, from Sanguine Port," she said. "There was a competition for Water-type Pokémon, and I was asked to attend." She smiled happily.

"Really?" I said. "How did that go?"

"Very well. I sort of wish I could've participate, but they wouldn't have allowed a Gym Leader to do that." She laughed, and then looked at Harley for a moment. "So, why are you guys here?"

Harley decided to answer this, grinning like a madman in his faux way, and explaining, "We were in Olivine City. Maximus here earned his seventh badge!" For the sake of himself, he then said, "And, I earned a ribbon in the Contest there. I'm a coordinator."

"Congratulations to you both," she applauded. "So, why aren't you going to Blackthorn City then, Max?"

"Clair's not at the Gym right now," I told her. "Someone else is there, but I'm going to wait to challenge Clair."

"Then you can enter the Johto League," she stated. "I remember when Ash entered it."

"Me, too," I admitted. "I watched it, and saw him lose and everything."

"Yeah…" Misty gave an uneasy smile. "Anyway, how is May doing?"

"Good, good," I answered, trying to sound as if absolutely nothing was wrong between my sister and I. "She's in the Orange Islands now."

Beside me, I felt Harley move in a spark of interest. I realized suddenly that I had never told the man where May was, and that I sort of swore I never would because I thought he would go track her down or something. Of course, I knew now he wouldn't do that, but it was still a bit of a revelation for the man, I supposed.

"You're—what? twelve now?—aren't you?" Misty then inquired.

"No, I'm thirteen," I corrected. "I turned thirteen just two days ago."

"Happy belated birthday then," she said. "So, have you two been traveling together all this time?" I wasn't sure, but I felt like there was indeed something unsteady in Misty's tone, as if she was catching onto something.

"No," I quickly answered before Harley had a chance to say anything. But, that was all I said, and I suddenly wished I had let Harley answer, because I'm sure he would've been able to construct some sort of story out of it.

Harley propped his chin up with his elbow, tapping his fingers against the table in boredom. I was becoming more worried over the situation as I watched Harley sit there though. What else could Harley be to be besides the actual truth? My uncle seemed like a logical cover-up, but it just felt so dumb and even though I knew it was all fabricated, I just couldn't even stand the situation. Besides, I could tell Harley really wanted to touch me right now.

Suddenly, the man stood up, and announced, "Well, I think I am going to go check out that spa here onboard." He looked at Misty and said, "Pleasure to meet you."

Misty nodded while I just sort of looked up at him, startled by his statement. Was he really leaving me now? I knew it was because Misty was here, as he certainly would not just leave me all alone in the dining hall had it just been the two of us. I knew I looked pretty helpless as I stared up at him, and Harley eventually looked down at me.

"I'll see you later, Maximus," he said, rubbing the top of my head in a limited way of showing affection. If Misty wasn't here I knew he would've kissed me thoroughly on the mouth, and I actually really wanted him to, because I felt so on-edge, left wanting something the man simply was not willing to give.

I let my eyes narrow as the man walked away, saddened by his absence and unsure what to say to Misty now. I looked back up to her eventually, knowing that seeming so despondent over the man's leaving would be just a tad bit weird.

"Harley's a coordinator, huh?" Misty wondered. "Just like May?"

I gave a quick nod. "Yeah." And, just like before, it was all I could say. I felt so retarded now.

"I take it you already went through Hoenn, right? And, the League?"

"Of course!" I declared proudly. "Hey, do you want to have a battle, Misty?"

Misty cocked her head. "For a badge?" she wondered.

"No, no," I said. "Just for fun. Yesterday I beat four trainers in a row. I'd like a challenge now."

The girl smiled. "Sure, but I only have my Corsola with me, is that okay?"

"Yeah," I assured, and I rose from my seat, grabbing my bag and following Misty out of the dining hall. When we exited, I asked, "Have you talked to Ash lately?"

"No," she admitted. "But, he's in Sinnoh now, which I'm sure you already knew."

I nodded. "I'm thinking about going to Sinnoh next," I told her. "But, maybe Kanto, so then I could challenge you for a badge."

Misty laughed. "That could be fun," she said happily. "So, what Pokémon do you have?"

"I have a Stantler, Murkrow, Mareep, Skiploom and Kirlia," I revealed as we walked up the steps to the battlefields. Thankfully, there were two empty fields, so we could battle right away.

"I look forward to battling you, Max," she said. "But, don't expect me to go easy on you." She grinned at me confidently and then walked over to her side of the field.

I stood in my designated box and thought over who I should use. Mareep was an obvious choice, but I thought maybe I should try and use one of my Pokémon who needed to train a bit more. I decided on Murkrow, who was very strong, but who I thought would benefit most from the battle.

I took out his Pokéball from my bag, watching as Misty released Corsola from its ball and the pink coral creature landed on the field, ready for a battle. I threw Murkrow's ball soon after, and the black bird flapped its wing energetically, ready just as much as Misty's Corsola.

"And, here I thought you'd definitely choose Mareep," Misty noted form the other side. "I'm surprised."

I grinned, now very happy to have made the choice. I definitely wanted to prove to Misty this battle didn't just have to do with types, and more over, Murkrow was an excellent opponent for her Corsola. However, I did have to remember Corsola was also a Rock-type, so using any of Murkrow's Flying attacks wasn't the best choice during the battle.

"All right," I said, hyped-up, "Murkrow, use Astonish!"

I could see Misty smiling from the other side of the arena. "Corsola, Bubblebeam!"

Although small, I soon discovered Corsola was speedy, much faster than I ever anticipated. It dodged Murkrow's purplish blast of Astonish, causing where the attack landed to fog the battlefield. It wasn't enough to distract either Pokémon, and Corsola opened its small mouth, releasing dozens upon dozens of shiny, clear bubbles, all of which were sent in Murkrow's direction. Murkrow tried his best to fly away, but was greeted in the back by the wet bubbles, slamming powerfully into his neck and causing the bird to lose the graceful glide in his flaps.

"Pursuit!" I ordered.

"Spike Canon!"

The needles from Corsola flew by Murkrow's body, and the bird used the opportunity of the miss to send the whirl of purple and black directly onto Corsola. Achieving a hit, Corsola was forced to slide backwards, trying its best to take the attack. Somehow unaffected for the most part, Corsola retried its Spike Canon, jutting out the crazy mix of needles and spikes, all of which ended up hitting Murkrow.

"Murkrow, fly up and use your Faint Attack!"

Murkrow listened, gaining a vast amount of height and then ascending to the ground to attack at great speed. Corsola, not knowing exactly where the attack would land, began fretting, and Misty called out for her Pokémon to use Bubble straight up into the sky. Corsola halted all movement, standing on its back legs and releasing the bubbles.

I was unable to see where Corsola's attacks were going at first, but I stared up into the sky, witnessing the bubbles blasting against Murkrow's feathery body. The bird swooped down, trying to regain its height, but was too tired to remain in the air. He landed on the battlefield, breathing heavily and unable to stand straight.

"Use Night Shade!" I decided, knowing it wouldn't overexert the Pokémon.

Murkrow let the attack out, but both Misty and Corsola's persistent in that awful Spike Canon attack caused Murkrow's attempt to once again fail, and now completely drained of energy, the bird simply stood there, continuing to breathe uncomfortably. I wondered if it was wise to recall my Pokémon, but I knew Murkrow wouldn't have liked that himself. I frowned, knowing in the back of my head that a Flying attack simply would do no good at all.

"Corsola, finish this off with Rock Blast!"

Rock Blast? I was stunned, both of her demand and the sight of Corsola actually following through. The pink coral of a Pokémon created several bursts of boulders, amazingly swishing them in the air and causing Murkrow to fall back, already knocked out even before the attack was finished. Corsola was quick to give a chirp of success, jumping high into the air before trotting back over to Misty and looking for even more praise.

Meanwhile I stood there, dumbfounded by how quickly the battle had ended and how tough it was for Murkrow to even successfully land an attack on his opponent. Before, part of me had wished Harley had stayed with me so he would've been able to watch this battle, but now, I was glad he didn't. I was completely humiliated. I was hardly even able to recall Murkrow, but as I did, I gave him a word of encouragement, then picked up my bag and walked over to Misty, a glum and disappointed expression staying on my face the entire time.

"Max, don't get that way. You were really good, honest."

I shrugged, unable to believe that. I had been able to beat three of the Johto Gym Leaders in the a row, but now—now after challenging a friend who I was forgetting was a Gym Leader, too—I had lost, and I felt so pathetic and inadequate.

"Max!" Misty repeated, this time with more concern. "I'm serious. I think Murkrow and you were fantastic."

Again, I shrugged. "I think I let my guard down," I admitted. "Or, maybe I should've chosen Mareep."

Misty smiled, bright and cheery. "The director of the competition I was at handed out gift bags to the special guests. I received one, and it included two stones, one of which was a Dusk Stone."

"A Dusk Stone?" I echoed. I blinked, but soon said, "Can't that be used on Murkrow?"

She nodded. "Yes, it evolves them into Honchkrow." She gestured around, continuing, "I'm not saying that Murkrow needs to evolve to be strong, but if you want, I'd be happy to give it to you. It's not like I have any Pokémon who evolve with it."

"Really?" I exclaimed, my mood shifting. "That would be fantastic! Really, it would! I can't believe it, Misty! Thank you!"

Misty put up a hand, trying to calm me. "I'll have to get it from my room, but it's definitely yours. You might want to consult Murkrow first though," she suggested.

I nodded. "I will," I assured. "Wow, I can't wait to tell Harley!" I instantly calmed down, hoping that comment wasn't too much. It was natural to be excited to tell your "uncle" something, wasn't it?

The redhead gave another smile, and I still felt very uncomfortable. She began walking, gesturing me to follow her. We walked back to her room, which was on the seventh lodging floor. The hall looked just the same as where Harley and I were staying, and I made an educated guess that it was in first class, too. Inside her room—which looked the same, too, but was the opposite side of the ship—she had the luggage aligned underneath the window.

"You know," I began, watching as Misty began digging through one of her suitcases, "now I'm sort of thinking about going to Kanto, just so I can have a rematch with you, which I'd most certainly win and earn a badge."

Misty chuckled. "You're quite confident," she noted, "even after losing a battle."

I considered whether or not this was really true. Harley was a lot more cocky when it came to his "greatness" and whatnot, and compared to him, I truly did not think I was anything more than just confident.

Examining the rest of the room, I spotted some of Misty's clothing lying on the bed, which apparently were her pajamas. This made me blush, but not because I was embarrassed by looking at them, but because once again I realized nightwear had become very foreign to me. The last time I even wore anything, Harley had insisted I take it off, and now I just didn't even attempt. It was true that Harley and I usually did something before bed, including last night where he had persuaded me into, well, using my mouth on him again, like I had done when we camped out that one night. It hadn't been nearly as awkward as the first time, but I still felt like I was really bad at it, especially when I thought back to how I couldn't even get that corn dog down my throat properly.

Even so, Harley had climaxed, and he had sang praises of my work, despite my demand he be quiet and stop making me feel mortified. I think he wanted to return the favor and do it to me, but I told him I was too sleepy, which was a lie, and I just didn't want him to do it because I knew I'd feel like what I had done had been completely terrible.

I shook away the thoughts, knowing they weren't very well appropriate to be thinking right in front of Misty. The redhead eventually found the stone, walking over me and handing it over. It was in a velvety bag, blue and finely stitched all around the edges. I took the stone out, examining it in the light. It was an ashy color, but very shiny and bright.

"Wow!" I admired, a wide smile on my lips. "This is just so pretty! Thank you again, Misty."

"No problem," she said.

"If you don't mind, I think I might wait to evolve Murkrow until he's a bit stronger," I revealed, putting the stone back in the bag.

Misty nodded, understanding. "That's fine." She then cocked her head, asking, "So, do you want to go look for Harley?"

I pursed my lips, trying my very best not to blush. "Uh, no, it's fine," I told her. "Besides, he's probably at the spa right now."

"He's not really your uncle, is he?"

My eyes shot up, and I gaped widely, before remembering myself, and quickly saying, "Who, Harley? Of course he is!"

"Really?" she wondered, raising an eyebrow in uncertainty.

"Y-yes!" I exclaimed, my eyes wide.

"You stuttered."

My eyes only became wider and the color drained in my face. There was no point in denying it now, as I knew I'd get very defensive in insisting he was indeed a family member, and that would only look suspicious. But, all I could do was look at Misty dumbly, so confused and oblivious in what I should say. After a long stretch of silence, Misty continuing to give me a curious look with her eyebrow raised, I finally just shouted:

"Fine! He's not! But, don't make this a bigger deal than it is."

Misty seemed impressed with herself and then crossed her arms, sitting on her bed and giving me an even more curious look. "Why?" she wondered "What's going on?"

And, what on earth was I supposed to say back to her? It wasn't like I was ever ready to explain this to anyone. Harley had made it quite clear to Drew, so it wasn't like I had to really come forward and admit the truth, although I had filled him in on several aspects of my relationship with Harley. But, this was Misty, a friend, but one I wasn't that acquainted with and one that I could never see myself talking to about this. I tried to think back to when Misty and I first met, and we had connected over being the youngest in the family, but it did not help me now.

"Max," she called out, putting a hand on my shoulder, "are you okay?"

"Harley's… a friend," I said. "He knew my sister, and I ran into him a while ago, so we decided to travel together."

"Okay," Misty voiced. "So, why'd you lie about it?"

"I don't know," I shrugged out. "Harley's the one who decided to make it up."

"So, why'd he lie about it then?" she asked.

I gave her helpless look, completely unintentional. I eventually just turned away, softly saying, "Because it's hard to understand."

"Apparently," she confirmed. "How old is he? In his twenties, I presume."

"Yeah," I responded, "he's twenty-four."

"Max," she started, very slowly and very carefully, "I hope I'm not out of line by asking, but is he dating anyone? Because I happen to find him quite attractive."

I whirled around at the finishing of Misty's statement. I gave her an absolutely horrified look, one that even revealed a bit of outrage and possessiveness. I immediately shouted, "Harley doesn't like women!"

Instead of looking shocked like I suspected, Misty gave a smug smile, one that caused me to fall deeper into a pit of humiliation, instantly realizing her question was a ploy. And, not only that, but she was definitely onto the truth about Harley and I, thus the reason she asked: to see if she could get a reaction out of me. Feeling stupid, I glared at Misty and then turned back around.

"You should've just 'fessed up about it," Misty chided, laughing through her words.

Her laughter surprised me, but also puzzled me. Was she not disgusted by the truth like Drew had been? I furrowed my brow, not ready to turn and face her, but not ready to say anything either. I just stared down at the floor, still and unmoving.

"I'm a romantic," Misty then stated, standing up and walking over to me. "I can't help but get a bit giddy when I realize two people are involved. It's always so sweet. But, you know Max, I am a bit surprised that you're dating a man."

I looked up at Misty finally. "Dating?" I echoed. It seemed like such a weird term to use for Harley and I, especially since it really didn't feel like that at all. I couldn't come up with any word that suited the two of us. "Misty, before you get the wrong idea, Harley's not forcing me—"

"Don't worry!" she interrupted and then gave me a considerate look. "But, I take it you're used to some of the more negative reactions."

"Uh, well, not really," I admitted. "Just this one guy…"

The redhead then gave a serious look. "I take it May doesn't know."

"No," I revealed. "And, I really don't want her to know right now. It's just… not really her business, and I don't think she'd take it very well, and it's sort of embarrassing."

Misty shrugged. "Well, Max, I've never really known any true May-December relationship, but I've read a lot about them."

"Really? Where?" I asked, hearing something idealistic and visionary in her tone.

"In books!" she exclaimed. "All those Victorian romance novels! The prince is always a lot older than the princess in the stories." She smiled wistfully.

I gave a deadpanned look. I really hoped she wasn't comparing me to a princess. Somehow though, I managed to smile. "I don't think Harley likes you," I admitted. "He's a little possessive of me sometimes."

"I think that's sweet," Misty noted, putting a hand on my shoulder. "He must really like you, Max."

I wasn't sure how to respond to any of this. How was it possible that someone actually accepted my relationship with Harley? It was unrealistic and plain unbelievable. But, there was something more fantastical about her words and smiles, as if she had no real grip on the reality of romance. Either that or she had very little experience. I wasn't one to be talking, but she seemed to have a very high expectation for romance, one that she never fulfilled herself, and so allowed her own imaginations to be played out in other people's lives. I thought that was strange.

"Hey, is it true that he knows May?" she then asked. "If so, how does she not know about you and him?"

I scoffed, rolling my eyes in amusement. "Well, Harley and May used to know each other. They were rivals in Contests, and they really did not get along."

"I know what that's like," Misty said. "I remember when Ash used to have a rivalry with this guy named Gary. It was insane."

"I'm sure Harley and May's was different," I assured. "Way different. Harley hated—and well, still hates—May, and he was pretty vicious to her in Contests. I mean, like, he sabotaged her on several occasions by cheating, by manipulating, by everything."

Misty seemed surprised. She blinked and then tilted her head, asking, "Then how is it you two are dating?"

I really wished she'd stopped calling it that. But, I didn't have the heart to tell her to stop. So, I simply explained, "May and him haven't seen each other in years, but like I said, he still hates her. But, um, I don't even know if I have forgiven him for all of that, but it's weird, really, because I sort of overlook it now. I just don't dwell in the past when it comes to Harley."

Misty gave a smirk. "He seems like the kind of guy who has a way of charming you." She laughed against the hand she put over her mouth. "If it's not too nosy of me, do you mind telling me when this all began?"

Misty's reasoning behind her inquiries were almost the exact opposite of Drew's. Drew had prodded because he was sickened and almost wanted to be malicious, but Misty, she was asking because she thought Harley and I had this fairy tale life, and I really doubted she realized the extent of our relationship. Again, I didn't feel right judging Misty when I myself was so inexperienced; however, I got a vibe that said she saw sex as only being romantic and intimate, and she simply did not have any grip on the possibility it could be the way Harley conveyed it: strictly pleasurable. Strangely, part of me conveyed it that way, too.

"I guess I don't mind," I finally responded, "but only if you tell me whether or not you were serious about thinking Harley is attractive."

Casually, Misty put her hands on her hips again, and she appeared very tomboyish in the way she slouched forward. "I guess Harley's not the only one possessive," she quipped. "I'll admit it though—yes, I do think he's quite handsome, which I'm sure you agree with, but don't worry."

"It's not like I have to," I said, "because I was telling you the truth when I told you Harley doesn't like women."

"And, you?"

"What about me?" I asked, puzzled.

"Do you like women? Or, girls, I guess?"

I blushed. "I-I don't know!" I clamored. "I did think you were pretty cool back then, but I don't know if I felt that way. I mean, I don't think I do now! Which doesn't mean I think you're ugly or anything! You're very pretty! But, I just… well, you know…"

Misty began laughing. "That's sweet of you to say, Max," she said, patting my shoulder. I was glad she didn't think I was a complete retard by my sloppy words.

"Anyway," I said, "I guess I should answer your original question. It's not that big of a story or anything, but we met in Goldenrod City, and you know, yadayada."

Misty nodded. "You know, I'm not even surprised by the fact he's older than you," she admitted to me. "I remember when we visited Prof. Oak's laboratory before Ash went to the Battle Frontier, and the way you were talking to Tracey made me think that maybe you had a bit of a hero worship crush on him."

"That's so far from the truth!" I shouted, looking up at Misty in shock. "Please tell me you didn't say anything to him!"

"I didn't, I didn't!" she assured, putting two hands up in innocence. "Okay, maybe I was wrong, but you did prove to like older guys, so I guess I wasn't completely wrong, was I?"

I frowned. "I really hate when people say that," I revealed. "It makes me feel weird."

"Sorry," she apologized, but a smile remained on her face. She suddenly looked at the clock on the nightstand and said, "You know, it's getting pretty late. Maybe you should go find Harley now. I didn't mean to steal you away from him this long."

I smiled back at Misty. "Don't worry, I'm sure he managed," I assured. "But, um, thanks, Misty. I really liked battling with you. And talking to you. And, uh, thanks for the stone again. That was nice of you."

"Of course, Max," Misty beamed. "I'm glad we ran into each other. I'm getting off tomorrow at Ochroid Cove, but I'm sure we'll see each other again before the stop."

"Okay," I brightly said. "Thanks again!" I smiled at her, then turned around and left the room, feeling much lighter. I was, admittedly, still a bit frazzled by the knowledge she was able to read through the cover-up, but I was sure it was something Harley and I could use for people who were less sharp in the field of being able to detect a relationship.

I made it back to the room Harley and I shared, but without a key, I couldn't get inside. I knocked, waiting for the man to come unlock it, but there was nothing. I pressed my ear against the door, trying to hear any sound, but I heard nothing. I guessed Harley wasn't in there, so I decided it would be best to check the spa, which was on the way other side of the ship.

Sighing, I started to walk towards there, eventually making it in what seemed like a lifetime. However, I instantly realized that the spa had just closed for the day only a couple of minutes ago. I peeked inside the glass doors, searching for the possibility of any lingering people, but saw absolutely nobody. I turned to scan the deck, and most of the people were just relaxing in the setting sun or checking out the view from the railing. I didn't have the courage to ask any of these people if they had seen Harley, and besides, I already predicted that my description of him would've made me seem like a wacko.

I wandered back into the corridor where I came from, trying to think where Harley could be at this hour. I couldn't see him just lying out in the sun that was barely there, and he certainly wasn't interested in going into the dining hall or ballroom or anything. But, then, suddenly it clicked in my head. Harley was undoubtedly at the bar. This instantly made my heart sink, and I felt myself get a bit queasy just at the thought of Harley sitting in some darkened lounge, drinking himself in a hazy cloud of drunkenness.

I tried to remember where Harley had said the bar was, and once I had a recollection, I started heading in that direction, going down a couple of halls and floors, and eventually finding my way. The lounge almost looked like a restaurant with all its tables and chairs, but I knew the menu only consisted of alcoholic drinks and the sort. The long bar that aligned the entire north wall had several folks sitting on the stools, and I spotted Harley at the very end seat, his legs crossed and resting his chin on his elbow.

I wasn't sure what his mood was going to be like, so I took a deep breath, entering the lounge/bar and approaching Harley. He didn't even sense my presence so I was forced to climb up the stool next to him, sitting down and giving him a rather frank look to get his attention. Even then, it took a moment for him to realize someone had sat next to him, and when he realized it was me, he tilted his head, and very, very slowly, began to smile.

"Darling," he greeted, and I smelt his breath instantly, very strong and reeking of some weird smelling alcohol.

"Hi," I said back, glaring at him.

"And here I thought you had run off with what's-her-face and had gotten married by now," he slurred out, rolling his eyes.

I spotted his small glass of golden-colored liquid, half-gone. I looked back up at him, retorting, "Well, not yet."

This caused Harley to grab my wrist, pulling me forward. "Don't even joke about that, Max," he barked. "At least, you better be joking." He tightened his grip, his nails digging into my skin.

"Of course I am," I replied, shaking his grip off me. "Jeesh, Harley."

The man managed to smile, although it was definitely messy and very drunk-like. Despite this—despite everything about how drunk he was and how badly he smelt—I couldn't stay that angry at him, because it felt like I hadn't seen him all day, and at the sight of his smile, my heart fluttered, and I really wanted his mouth on mine.

"Good," Harley breathed, leaning toward my side of the bar. "Good, good, good, because, Max, darling, I told you yesterday that I'd go mad without you! So bloody mad!" He tugged at me again, but this time, by my shoulder and he leaned closer, his lips inches from my face.

I let his mouth float around my skin, enjoying the warm feeling that seemed to simply steam off of him. I moved forward, and I forced his lips on mine, making the kiss fervent and open-mouthed. I didn't let his breath bother me, nor his almost violent way of keeping me pressed against him. In the darkness of the bar, I knew no one could see exactly what was going on between us, or even who we were, so I didn't let the public aspect of our kiss bother me.

When Harley broke the kiss, he grinned at me, staying close and declaring, "So, what did you and the redhead do all day?"

"We battled," I told him, "and then we went back to her room—"

"What?"

"Let me finish!" I shouted. "We went back to her room, and she gave me this." I reached into my backpack, pulling out the velvet bag. I slipped the stone out of the bag and showed it to Harley.

The man took it, looking at it skeptically before realizing what it was and asking, "What kind of stone is this?"

"A Dusk Stone," I revealed. "It can evolve Murkrow into a Honchkrow, but I'm not sure when I'm going to use it."

Harley gave it back to me and sighed in a drunkenly tired way. Still close to me, Harley planted a kiss on my forehead. "You're mine," he suddenly said, very randomly. "Don't forget it."

I cocked my head. "Um, Misty knows about us," I stated. "She found out on her own though. She said she was a romantic or something. I guess she just sort of figured it out."

Harley just looked at me, then a moment later, nodded. "Good for her," he grunted.

"Well, she's okay with it," I continued on, "so it doesn't bother me that she knows." I smiled.

Snaking an arm around me, and pulling me close so that my head was on his shoulder, Harley mumbled something I didn't understand and began stroking my hair affectionately. "Ah, my little faunlet," he murmured, "a few hours without you is agonizing. Don't do it to me again."

I frowned, uncomfortable with his possessiveness. I said nothing, allowing him to embrace me, and although I couldn't see his face, I had a feeling his eyes were closed, and it made the hug a lot more intimate, more idyllic.

"I want to fuck you, Max," he then told me, still keeping his voice low and hushed. "You're so unbelievably tight, you know that, don't you? I love how it feels when I'm inside you, and goddamn, I want to feel it right now."

I felt a reaction from his words, a distinct change in my body temperature and a passionate lust developing instantly. I tilted my head, pushing my lips up against the side of Harley's face. "Then can we please get out of here?" I asked, running my hands through his hair.

"Yes, oh, Lord, yes, my sweet," he muttered, scooting himself off the stool and dragging me off mine, too. He managed to stand on his own, but he leaned against my body, walking so weirdly, like he was a zombie or something. He stopped when we exited the bar, leaning down and whispering into my ear, "You want me, too, don't you?"

I stood still, allowing him to hold his weight down on me sloppily. "Yes," I answered. "Now, come on, you're heavy."

xxxxx

-Harley-

I wasn't sure how long it took to get to the room, but it sure felt like an eternity. As I somehow managed to unlock the door, Max continued to hold up my weight, and I felt his muscles growing tired as the strength he put into helping me decreased. When I swung the door open, Max left my side, walking right into the room and turning on the lights. My mind pretty blurred, I slunk against the wall, using it guide myself to the bed, which I collapsed upon and sighed tiredly into the sheets.

Max had left with that girl—Misty, I was pretty sure her name was—and hadn't returned for over three hours. It enraged me, knowing he was spending his time with some old friend and not spending his time with me. Of course, I had chosen to leave on my own freewill, but Christ, why hadn't he bothered looking for me sooner, the little brat? And then he went back to her room! Ugh!

Well, there wasn't really any point getting mad about it now. It was over, and Maximus was back with me again. And, apparently, little Misty had figured out the boy and I were shagging, which was a good thing, too. I almost wished I hadn't gone to drink my sorrows away, but it was sort of worth it to have Max come get me in the bar, forced to see the trauma he inflicted on moi. I knew he wasn't all that happy I was drunk, but, oh, the way he had kissed me, admitted to wanting me! What a delight!

I rose my chin off the mattress, looking at Max who was removing his shoes. I reached out, my arm extended just enough to touch Max's back. The boy shivered beneath my hand and turned around to look at me questionably. I grinned, trying to tug more on him and lead him down on the bed with me. He eventually sat, and I got on my knees, embracing his body and pulling me against my chest. My hands felt very confident and slick, but I had a feeling that underneath my clouded point-of-view, I had just handled the boy rather roughly.

"Harley…" Max called out.

"I want you, Max," I told him firmly, beginning to unzip his adorable little pantaloons. I managed to do it with one hand, then pulled the shorts down to his ankles, where they dropped to the floor. "You're never going to leave me, you know."

Max pressed his back into my chest, letting his head rest on my shoulder. I kissed the side of his head, keeping him straddled on my lap as I then slid his off his shirt. His glasses messily fell from their position, and the boy removed them, setting the things somewhere else. I leaned the boy back, managing to have his lips connect with mine and kiss him thoroughly.

Very aggressively, I flipped Max over, pushing him against the bed sheets and crawling over him. I swiftly removed my jacket and tank-top, throwing them on the floor and following up with unbuckling my belt. Before I took off my pants, I smashed our lips together, lapping my tongue against the walls of his warm, hot mouth and guiding my hand down his body, into his tight undies. Max quivered beneath me, startled by how rough I was being. He tried to push me away, obviously scared, but I kept myself on top of him, beginning to grind our lower-halves together, desperately.

"Harley!" Max gasped. "Stop!"

I did, looking down at the boy with consideration. He looked so helpless, but so goddamn fuckable, and at the same time, pure. I slid my pants down my thighs, removing them completely. Max reached up, stroking my upper-arm and trying to calm me. I kissed his fingers when they lingered around my shoulder blades and then fumbled into Max's undies again, causing his cock to twitch to life and slowly become hard in my palm. I stroked him continuously, watching as he writhed and let his hips rise into my touch.

"Max, you're adorable," I acclaimed hazily. "So adorable!"

The boy made a noise of desperation, allowing me to slide off his undies and spread his legs far enough for me to worm my way between them, urging him to wrap them around my hips. When he did, I moaned, feeling our cocks connect and rub against each other. With his eyes closed, Max moaned my name, very clearly this time. I lifted one of his thighs with my arm, using a single finger to trace behind him and press between his glorious bottom. I could feel the nervousness rise in Max, but I continued to press, eventually gliding my finger directly into the boy.

I stared at the boy's expression, watching as he furrowed his brow and let his mouth drop open, a silent gasp escape his lips. He looked so amazing like this and with him so tightly pressed against me, in my arms, I couldn't help but go mad with desire, causing the blur in my head to rise again. Almost in a sense of anger, I grated our bodies together, much rougher than I anticipated. Max winced, possibly from the thrust or possibly because I was holding his leg up with such force.

I decided to lean forward, scraping my teeth along his shoulder and then letting my mouth reach his. I fused our lips, gliding our tongues together at the same time that I thrust myself wildly against him. Max shut his eyes, breathing heavily and obviously trying to imitate the way I was able to twist my hips.

"Your breath stinks," Max commented softly, "and you're being too rough."

"Oh?" I wondered, flicking my tongue on his cheek.

Unable to control the craving I had to be inside the boy's taut ass, I lifted my hips up and pushed him closer to me, causing him to lie directly on his back with his legs far enough apart for my own access. After wetting my hand with my saliva and so forth, I began pushing into Max, barely giving him time to prepare for the penetration. He gave a very aggravated grunt, pulling away from me to avoid the pressure invading him.

"Calm down," I coaxed, but sadly I knew it lacked concern.

"Harley!" he complained. "You're hurting me!"

But, I just sank all the way forward, thrusting into his body completely and making him yell out in pain. I lolled my head back, amazed at the feeling and unable to understand what the boy had muttered beneath me. I took his hard length in my hand, enveloping it tightly and stroking it against my palm. Max writhed around still, making hissing grunts and keeping his eyes shut.

"Harley!" he repeated.

"Shh," I simply told him, moving my hips to slide almost all the way out before thrusting into him all over again. I did this once more, holding up his legs and using them as support to begin my driving pattern of in and out. "Max, you feel so good, darling," I moaned.

Max said nothing back, so I moved, in and out, pressing deeply and tilting my hips to force my cock against his vulnerable spot. This caused Max to moan, and I did it again and again, driving into his body, feeling a burn of pleasure and pressure surrounding my length until both Max and I shook in completion. I automatically fell forward, my head so dazed and blurred that I couldn't even remember where the two of us were.

"Max," I simply breathed, kissing his neck, "I'm sorry." I knew I had to say this because the boy had revealed something that qualified for an apology. I just couldn't remember what, or what I did.

"It hurt," the boy said, and I knew it was a repeat of an earlier statement.

"Darling, I'm sorry, very sorry," I breathed, half-coherently. I kissed the boy, holding his shoulders and pressingly firmly against him. "You know I didn't mean it."

Max said something, but I didn't understand it. I sat up in a much more proper way, looking down at the boy, who seemed to have forgiven me for my roughness and was massaging up and down the side of my body. He still looked a bit drained, in a mix of discomfort and fulfillment, but he gave me a soft smile, which I returned. His hair was a complete mess, and his body was laid out so wantonly, but he looked exquisite to me right now. He always looked so exquisite. And, yet, I had hurt him in a selfish fit of drunken obscurity.

I ran my fingers through his hair, keeping my eyes locked on his. He was giving me that look again, the one I knew meant something very special, and yet I simply did not like because it disturbed me. But, he was magnificent, and the fact I had hurt him and he already forgave me made me want to sing lamentations of his glory. He was so worthy of being ravished and pampered, and I just couldn't help being so enthralled by his combination of adorable, yet flaunted, innocence. Oh, little Maximus. My faunlet. My love. My darling. My tart. My sweet. Fucking hell, I loved him!

…oh…

I now stared down at the boy blankly. My body froze, and I felt a lump in my throat, startled by the revelation, that somehow, I already knew in the back of my head the whole time. I let the words flow in my head over and over, and nothing changed in the sincerity of it. I let my lips part, almost—almost—ready to say it, but then it struck me. If I said it to him—which was so bloody unlike me in the first place that I wanted to puke!—he simply would not believe me because I was absolutely plastered. I felt stuck.

Yet, it was so obviously what he had wanted to say to me yesterday and possibly on his birthday, too, when I had given him the umbrella. He was falling for me, and dammit, I had already fallen for his stupid little faunlet-y ass! What the fuck was wrong with me? Never had I even imagined uttering those three words to another human being. I wasn't sure I ever told my parents I loved them, even when I was a child. This was different though. Max was so beyond a normal shag, a normal, meaningless fuck-buddy. I did love everything about him, and it seemed so logical that I loved him. But, I knew, it could not in the same way Max possibly loved me.

"Harley, what's wrong?"

His words brought me back to reality. I closed my eyes for a moment, then slid out of his body, which made the boy wince in displeasure. I patted his shoulder, pressed my face into his neck, and kissed him repeatedly, trying so hard to do something that felt akin to what I wanted to say to him.

Max detected the weirdness, and repeated, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I'm just sorry," I told him. "You know I didn't intend to hurt my darling little faunlet, right?"

The boy slowly nodded. "It's okay," he assured, and he moved his face so he could kiss me on the lips. "You're not going to throw-up on me, are you?"

"No, Max, I hold my alcohol remarkably well," I told him, finally feeling a bit of soberness wash upon me (only a little though). "But, I do think I need a cigarette," I then admitted.

Max sat up, crossing his legs and smiling impishly. "Do you remember me telling you about the stone?"

"The one Misty gave you?" I wondered, reaching over and grabbing my pants that were hanging at the edge of the bed. I removed my cigarettes and lighter from the pocket and lit a stick up jauntily. "Ah, see I remember her name." I rubbed the temple of my head, feeling a headache forming from the liquor.

"Yeah," Max nodded. "What do you think I should do?"

"I never evolved any of my Pokémon with a stone," I admitted, inhaling some fumes afterward. "I caught my Wigglytuff as a Wigglytuff."

"Oh," he said, cocking his head still. "But, do you think I should evolve Murkrow right away?"

I smiled as I sucked in more smoke, keeping the stick between my lips. We had just fucked and now Max had decided to talk about his Pokémon's evolution. What a strange kid he was, but goodness, his nerdy, little dorkish aspects were something that I just… well, I didn't really want to say the word now. But, the thought of that cursed word ignited some emotions, and I couldn't help but move forward, kissing Max deeply. I knew I had breathed in some smoke into his mouth as I did so, but I didn't think he exactly minded.

"Well, Maximus," I told him, "I think that you should consult little Murkrow, and see what he wants."

"Yeah," Max agreed, "but is evolving him going to make a difference? Murkrow's really strong."

I shrugged, clamping my fingers together and holding the cigarette tightly. "Speaking of that," I started, raising an eyebrow, "when you battled Misty today, did you win?"

Max rolled his eyes and gave an annoyed look. "No," he admitted. "She beat me. Pretty quickly, too."

I extended my arm and patted him on the back. "Poor thing," I soothed, crawling a few inches over to him using my elbows and then lying on my stomach. I rested my head on his knee, and gave him a frustrated smirk. "My head hurts," I admitted.

Max rolled his eyes. "Maybe I should never leave you alone again." He sighed. "Which is really pathetic because you're a grown man!"

I laughed and rolled onto my back. "So, do you think your little friend there is going to tell your other little friends about you shagging me like some hot-off-the-grill gossip?"

"No," Max said, shaking his head. "She hardly sees them anymore, and I don't think she'd do that to me. I'm sure she knows it's not exactly the most fantastic news."

"Hm," I mused, breathing in the last of the cigarette and then putting it out on the wall. I threw what was left on the floor, the end all ashy and black.

I began messing with the sheets, getting under the thinnest layer and then gesturing Max to do the same. I stroked his hair after he did, trying to think of something I could say that would mean more than anything I had previously said to him. But, I couldn't think of a single thing. I had pretty much said everything but those three words. And, once again, what the fuck was wrong with me? It was already bad enough I had fallen for someone, but why on bloody earth did it have to be a little faunlet child like Maximus? Christ!

I sighed heavily, deciding it was best to just go to sleep and let my headache go away, and hopefully, if I was lucky, my thoughts, too.

xxxxx

-Harley-

When I felt someone shaking me roughly, my first instinct was to swing my arm at them and hit them square in the mouth. But, as I rolled onto my side and tried to dodge the blinding sun, some jumbled thoughts and realizations came to me, and I remembered where I was, and therefore, who was shaking me.

"Mm, Max, what do you want?" I grunted, throwing an arm over my eyes. "My head is killing me…"

I heard Max sigh. "The stop to Ochroid Cove is coming up in like thirty minutes," he told me. "I promised Misty I'd come see her before she had to leave."

I opened my eyes and looked at Max dully. "Then go, darling," I said.

"I-I want you to come with me," he then revealed. "Staying cooped up in here won't be good for you."

"It will, because I'm hungover," I complained, sitting up in annoyance. When my sight finally cleared, I saw that Max was sitting on his knees, still unclothed. I couldn't help brightening up at this, because he was just so adorable all naked and frustrated at me. I gestured for him to lean down, which he did, and I happily claimed his mouth. "You're adorable, Maximus. Let's stay in here and shag, mmkay?"

"You're too hungover to get up, but not for that?" he questioned. He pulled my arm, not waiting for an answer. "Please, Harley! I think she'd like to see you again. She said you were attractive after all."

"Oh, now did she?" I wondered, rolling my eyes into the back of my head. "What am I supposed to do with a compliment like that from a lanky female redhead?"

"Come on, Harley," he continued. "You know our stop is tonight, so you might as well get up and enjoy the ship while you can."

"Hmm," I said, raising my eyebrows. "You have a point there, darling. But, are you sure this isn't just an ambush? You sure your friend wasn't lying to you last night and really is just waiting to murder me for corrupting your sweet virgin ass?"

"I'm sure," the boy said, pulling my arm once more.

"Okay, fine," I agreed, forcing him into a kiss once more before I sat up.

"Thank you," he said, getting off the bed and beginning to get dressed.

I climbed out of bed much more groggily and promptly changed into my clothes as well. I then went into the small bathroom and washed up, rinsing my mouth out with mouthwash at least ten times before exiting. When I returned to the small room, Max was straightening up the room, making the bed like a little faunlet maid. I walked over to him, pressing my chest against his back and flicking my tongue around his neck. The boy shivered, and I twirled him around, picking him up and forcing his legs around my body.

"I can't wait until we get to Slateport," I told the boy. "The first thing we need to do is christen my house with a nice, hot shag, don't you agree?"

"As if it hasn't been already," the boy grunted, trying to make me put him down.

"Well, not by my darling Maximus and I," I explained, kissing his neck gently. I felt Max getting antsy, so I let him get down.

"Let's go," he said, grabbing his bag and leading me out of the room.

I followed him as he walked along, and apparently this Misty girl's room was just a level above us, in first class as well. I supposed she couldn't be that bad if she was amongst us here, but she was still a Gym Leader, and I really did not like them. But, anyway, when Max arrived at her room, he knocked several times, waiting for her to open up.

Eventually, she did, dressed in an outfit very similar to yesterday's: shorts and a plain shirt. She was very much a tomboy, but she still was rather pretty, and why she dressed down was beyond me.

"Max!" she exclaimed, brightening up immediately and smiling widely as she gestured for us to come into the room. As she moved from the doorway, allowing Max to enter, her eyes trailed up to my own, and her smile changed, much more mindfully. "And, Harley, what a pleasure," she greeted.

I gave her a smile back, but I wasn't sure whether or not it was fake, to be honest. I just walked into the room, seeing her suitcase on the bed, which she was apparently trying to organize. The clothing inside consisted mainly of jeans and shorts and jean shorts, and I found it sort of humorous.

"I meant to come by earlier," Max explained, "but I only just woke up."

"That's all right," she said, walking back over to her suitcases and placing in some plastic bags, which looked like they were from a gift shop. "So, how are you two this morning?" she wondered, and maybe I was just feeling a bit unveiled by the fact she knew about Maximus and I, but I swore there was something hidden in her tone.

"Fine," Max answered. "Um, I hope you don't mind that I asked Harley to come."

"Not at all," Misty replied. "It is nice seeing you again."

"Likewise," I told her with a nod. I really had no idea what the hell I was supposed to tell this girl though.

"I hear you don't get along with Max's sister," she blurted out, closing the suitcase.

I laughed. "Indeed that's true," I admitted. "May is not my favorite character around. She's rather annoying, to say the least."

"I didn't think so," Misty replied. "I thought she was sweet. I have a hard time believing anyone could hate her at all."

"I guess we saw different sides of her," I grunted. I rolled my eyes away from Misty's view. When I spotted Max giving me a dirty look—apparently having seen me roll my eyes—I smiled sweetly at him, and I quickly said out loud, "Of course, Maximus here is the exact opposite of his sister." I patted his head.

"Well, I would hope you think that," Misty said nonchalantly. "Hey, if you knew May from Contests, did you know Max before he was a trainer?"

I nodded, putting a hand on my hip and giving a sly smile. "I did, and so did you. I think we can both agree he hasn't changed all that much, although he's certainly more of a little man now." I turned and gave Max a wink. "Quite a faunlet, to be honest."

My latter statement made Misty a bit uneasy. She let her eyes narrow, and she bit her lower lip. "I wouldn't put it that way," she responded, "but he certainly has matured."

"Matured indeed," I agreed, laughing beneath my breath.

Again Misty seemed uncomfortable. She looked at me for a while, and as she did, the foghorn went off, a clear sign that the stop at Ochroid Cove was coming up. She suddenly wondered, "I never asked Max about this, but where are you two going anyway?"

"Slateport," Max said, jumping into the conversation. I sensed he had caught onto Misty's discomfort, too. "That's where, um, Harley lives."

I nodded in an exaggerated sense of happiness. "Yes, I've decided to take my darling back to my hometown. He's been there before, but now he has more time to appreciate the beaches."

Misty straightened her shirt and then grabbed her luggage. "I suppose I ought to be getting on deck, but please follow," she said, gesturing for us leave the room with her.

As we walked, Misty leading the way, Max turned around and glared at me. He had easily seen through my statements, which were, of course, all said to tease and flaunt our relationship in front of Misty. I was amused by how she had seemed a bit uncomfortable with the whole situation once I had began talking wonders about Max. Now I was under the impression this Misty girl had just thought Max and I were just this happy, celibate couple who strictly enjoyed talking and looking at each other. I was certain the fact we fucked like crazy never even crossed her mind.

I began to feel the ship slow down, and from the scarce windows we walked by every now and then, I could see the small harbor. The town looked incredibly desolate and tiny. I had to wonder what Misty was going to do here.

"What are you going to do in Ochroid Cove?" Max asked, as if reading my mind.

"I just have to switch ships is all," Misty answered, "which is too bad, because I would've loved to have spent more time with you."

"I'll be in Cerulean City one day," the boy told her with a nod, just as we got on deck. By now, the ship had almost completely slowed down, simply moving from the ocean's rough waves.

"Maybe I'll be there, too!" I then exclaimed, raising my eyebrows high.

"Maybe…" Misty said, smiling nervously. Then, she looked at Max again, and asked, "Hey, have you decided what to do with the Dusk Stone?"

"Yeah, I'm going to wait a while to evolve Murkrow," Max said. "I'm 100 percent positive Murkrow is willing to evolve anyway, but I still want to wait."

"That sounds like a good plan," Misty finalized. She watched as some of the ship workers prepared the metal ramp for passengers to get off, and then said, "Well, I'm glad I ran into you, Max. If I talk to Ash and Brock, I'll be sure to tell them you said hi."

"Okay. And thank you for the stone again."

"Sure," Misty said. She gave Max a smile and then turned to get in line with the rest of the passengers who were waiting to get off the ship.

Once she was far enough away from us, I put my hand on my hip again, sighing. "Well, she certainly does not like me."

Max made a scoff sound. "I don't blame her! Way to freak her out like that!"

"I hardly said anything," I defended. "I just think her version of what a relationship consists of is shockingly different than reality."

Now Max laughed. "Actually, I thought the same thing yesterday, too," the boy admitted. "She said something about reading Victorian romance novels or something."

I grunted, blocking my eyes from the sun. "Why did you spend all of yesterday with her and not me?"

"You're the one who left," Max pointed out. "And we did spend time together!" he then barked.

"We woke up, skipped breakfast, later had lunch, then had a shag," I summarized. I looked at Max with exaggerated annoyance. "And I got wasted in between all of that. Now, I love drinking, but I think I would've rather spent my time with you."

Max gave a sincere smile, and there was something very soft in it. "I guess that's a compliment," Max said. "So, what are we going to do today?"

"I'll leave that up to you," I told him. "We can spend the entire day in our cozy little room, or we can mingle with these weirdos aboard the ship and waste away our sanity."

"You make it sound so one-way." Max looked over to where Misty had went, seeing that she was just about to walk onto the ramp and onto the harbor. She turned around and waved to him, and Max waved back, giving her a warm smile as a farewell. When he was through, he looked back at me, and decided, "Let's just go back to the room. I don't really feel up to being social today."

I grinned. "Good, because neither do I." I pushed the boy forward, urging him to walk. "Besides, the sun is killing my head."

"Can you explain to me the point of getting drunk like that?" Max asked as we walked. "Because I don't understand why you'd do something that'd make you feel so terrible later on."

"It felt right at the time," I explained to him. "And, like I said, I do hold my alcohol well, so it's not like I puke all over the place, right?"

Max didn't seem too convinced by my answer, or at least didn't find my actions justifiable even with my explanation. I suppose I shouldn't have cared, because he was just a kid, and hadn't experienced anything with the wonders of drinking, but then again, he didn't want me to drink because he liked me, so I couldn't be too insulted. It was incredibly sweet that he even bothered to put up with me after seeing me drunk (or tipsy) on several occasions. Maybe Max would grow up with a penchant for alcohol, just like me. Then maybe we could get wasted together and then have sloppy sex. It sure sounded fun to me.

That would happen only if Max stuck around long enough though. I was positive I could keep things fresh enough not to make the poor boy bored, and as long as Max stayed as faunlet-y and adorable as he was now—which I was fairly certain he could—then I doubted I'd become bored myself. And that meant everything could remain fantastic.

There was still an issue of whether or not what I felt for the damn faunlet was truly worth vocally admitting. I had no real fear of saying it; I wasn't one of those dumb bastards who never admitted their feelings. I was quite the opposite, actually, as I always admitted what I felt, but this was different, because I had never said that to another person. I was positive if I did say it to Max it would've sounded so false and just plain lame. And besides, how long were my feelings going to last?

I let out a grunt as Max and I reentered our room. For some reason, it felt smaller than before, and I felt like I was crowded around Max. I walked over to the window and closed the blind, trying desperately to make my headache go away. Afterward, I decided to just lie down, so I stripped myself of my boots, hat and jacket and lied down on the bed tiredly. Max crawled on the bed, too, relaxing beside me, which I sincerely did not expect him to do.

"I think I'm going to write my letter to May," Max said proudly. "But, every time I try and think about what I might say, I come up empty for words."

"Just start it off telling her you're fucking me. I'm sure that will get her attention."

Max crawled back to the end of the bed, taking out a notebook from his backpack as well as a pen. When he returned to where I was, he sat against the headboard and opened the notebook. He made a humming sound, trying to figure out how to start off his letter. I hope he didn't expect me to help, because the fact he was actually writing this letter in front of me made me want to barf.

"Dear May," he read out loud as he wrote, "I thank you tremendously for sending me a birthday card. It was very unexpected, but I greatly appreciated it."

"What the fuck are you writing, a formal letter to a king or a friendly letter to your sister?"

Max glared at me. "Leave me alone!" he shouted. "It's not your letter to criticize."

I laughed anyway. "All right, Maximus, but if she responds with a simple 'what the fuck, Max?' don't blame me."

"Anyway," he sternly stated, continuing to write. He placed the tip of the pen back on the paper and wrote another sentence, then reading it out: "It's really hard for me to decide what to say, because we haven't spoken in so long, but I have to admit, I'm really glad to be writing to you."

"Hmm," I mused, rolling onto my stomach and stuffing my face into the pillow. "How about just writing her a dirty letter and signing it from Drew?" I suggested, mumbling into the cushion.

Ignoring me, Max then said and wrote, "I earned my seventh badge the other day, and once the Gym Leader in Blackthorn City returns—she's on vacation—I'll be challenging her for my final badge. Anyway, I've been wondering how you've been doing in the Orange Islands—"

I interrupted Max, exclaiming, "Oh, and that reminds me! Since you're apparently all open to telling me where your sister is now—even after vowing you wouldn't—how would you feel if I just abandoned you to go track her down?"

"You're not that obsessed with her," Max noted, giving me a deadpanned look. "And, I know I said I wouldn't tell you, but I really doubt you care, right?"

"Right," I answered. "And I haven't since the beginning, but you didn't believe me. You know, I didn't even know they had Contests in the Orange Islands."

"They have Gyms, too," I told him. "Maybe we should go." He put his pen down and looked at me more seriously.

"Islands," I mused happily. "Ooh, that sounds nice. Ever want to fuck on a beach, Max?"

"Don't you have a beach back home?"

"Oh, is that a spark of interest?" I wondered, grinning wildly. "Because we could do that in Slateport, if you really wanted!"

"Who wants to do that on the sand?" Max asked, obviously musing over it a bit too much. "I mean, I could imagine it would end up in some really weird places."

I snorted in laughter. "It does, Max, believe me." I smiled at him.

Max rolled his eyes. "Is there anything you haven't done?"

"I haven't spanked anyone," I admitted nonchalantly. "I also never fucked anyone on a sleeping bag. So, see, you and I definitely have done some things for my record book."

"I guess so," the boy said. "Now, what else do you think I should write?" he asked, looking at the paper.

"I don't know, Max," I told him, stuffing my face in the pillow again.

"Anyway, I've been wondering how you've been doing in the Orange Islands," he reread. He then picked up his pen, deciding on continuing with: "I've been thinking about going there next, although I heard they only have four Gyms and what's considered the League there is way different and structured in a different way, too."

"Been thinking about?" I repeated. "You little liar."

"Well, what am I supposed to write?" he demanded. "This is hard enough."

"I really wish you'd stop asking me that," I voiced. "If you don't know, how would I?"

"Sometimes, May, I can't even remember why we stopped talking," Max wrote, "but I know it had to do with me being childish and not supporting you venturing out on your own. I'm sorry."

"Why should you apologize, Max?" I shouted, sitting up finally.

"Because if I don't, she won't either. And that would be really dumb." He went back to writing, and apparently this sentence took longer than the others, so I figured it was going to be very dramatic. Once he was done, he read to me, "To be frank, I'm really hoping the two of us can talk start talking again, because it's never been the same since we stopped communicating."

I looked over at Max's letter, seeing his handwriting, which was remarkably neat and tidy unlike I suspected. I hadn't realized I never saw his handwriting before. But I wasn't sure I liked the way he wrote his lowercase Bs.

"Do you think if I told her I'll be in Slateport City, she'll suspect anything?" he wondered before he finished his letter.

"Are you kidding? She's an idiot."

Max glared at me heavily, so I put up my hands in defense, and he went on to write his final sentence. He presented me the entire letter, which I read rather quickly, skipping over the parts he read out loud. The last sentence stated: I'm killing some time before I battle Clair, so I decided to train in Slateport City after being given a cruise ticket to there by a friend. If you want to call me or write me back, contact the Pokémon Center there, and I'll be sure to call you back. Love, Max.

I shrugged. "Sounds like a reasonable explanation as to why you're going to be in my hometown," I said.

"Well, I didn't even remember you lived there at first, so I doubt she'll make a connection. Besides, do you think she even remembers you?"

"Who doesn't?"

"Um, well," the boy pondered, pursing his lips, "to be honest, I never thought about you that much before we ran into each other in Goldenrod City."

"Hmm. I didn't think about you either, actually." I then shrugged. "Oh well, it doesn't matter now," I told him, scooting over and snaking an arm around his hip.

Max tore the letter out of the notebook's binding and folded it neatly. He then put it in an envelope he had hidden between the notebook's pages and sealed it with a lick of his tongue. I nuzzled at the boy's shoulder, more of a bored gesture than anything else. Max patted my head in a weird way, either trying to get me to stop leaning on him or maybe even mocking me for always doing it to him.

"I feel sea sick," I mumbled into his neck.

"You're just hungover," he told me, throwing his notebook on the ground and readjusting himself on the bed. "Hey, what time are we supposed to be at Slateport anyway?"

I shrugged. "Soon, I think," I told the boy, kissing his lower jaw. "Do you want to fuck?"

Max gave me a weird look as redness developed around his cheeks. "You don't normally come out and ask like that."

"Well, I am now, so what do you say?" I slid my hand under his shirt, trailing it up and down. "We don't have much else to do, and you just look so sweet and ravishing right now. Well, you always do, but you know, I think it's a bit remarkably obvious more so than usual, and that definitely means something considering you're always sweet and ravishing."

Max furrowed his brow, obviously very confused by my jumbled words. Before he could say anything, I kissed him directly on the mouth, sucking on his bottom lip for a moment or two. To my surprise, Max was quick to start unbuckling my belt, which caused me to give him a messy smile, concentrating on how the palm of his hands felt against my skin as he took off my pants. I removed the boy's glasses and shirt fairly quickly, then pressed my mouth on his stomach, sliding down his body and beginning to unzip his shorts. I could already feel the boy getting hard when I slipped off his cute undies.

I began fondling the boy slowly, causing his eyes to fall shut and his hips rise into my touch. I reached down to tend to myself until Max ended up extending his arm, enveloping his hand around my cock and stroking it gently. I lowered myself against the boy's body, still allowing his hand to stay on me, and kissed his neck. I felt his face steam with embarrassment, a shaky unease at touching me this way. I let out a sincere moan of appreciation, moving my hips against his palm eagerly.

"Darling," I whispered down to him, "you should touch me more often."

Max just made a noise, either uncomfortable with my words or not believing me. I claimed his mouth, sliding my tongue in and letting it move against his, warm and wet. Max swung his arms around me, and I began thrusting his length into my hand once more, still keeping our mouths fused. The boy moaned into me when I pushed myself between his legs.

"Harley," the boy breathed, tilting his head to the side. He helped me as I brought his legs to my sides, basically swinging them across my lap and thrusting his hips upwards. He moaned out my name again, this time, much more lusty.

"Impatient little bugger," I called out, grating our bodies. "Oh, you're not even interested in taking this slow today, are you, you little faunlet?"

Max shut his eyes as he spoke. "No," he admitted. "So… just please…"

I chuckled as I spit roughly into my hand, continuing to hold up Max's legs. I rubbed it onto myself, remembering to be much slower and considerate than I had been last night. But, as I positioned myself to press into the boy, Max clasped his hands around my shoulders, pushing himself forward and forcing me to begin entering him. He yelled out in his own muffled bit of pain, but relaxed instantly, and I was startled by how eager the boy was to have me fuck him.

"Harley, move, please, Harley."

I lolled my head back in amazement at his words, and not needing to be told again. Despite his grunts of pain, I began thrusting into him, and he tightened his grip on my shoulders, throwing his head back and shouting my name loudly. When I slowed myself, he protested, and so, I continued driving into his body, over and over at a frantic, needy pace.

Max wrapped his legs around my body as I loomed over him, thrusting upwards with every downward shove I gave. His muscles clenched and tightened, creating an fabulous pressure around my cock, a sensation I tried to emulate as I kept my hand tightly encircled around the boy's hardness. It wasn't long before I felt myself growing weak and on the edge of a climax, so completely fulfilled already by the boy's enthusiasm and impatience.

"My sweet little faunlet," I panted, kissing his arms and shoulders.

Max gasped loudly, feeling my hand around his cock, and thrusting it at the same speed that I pushed myself in and out of his taut, warm entrance. I twisted my hips, finally shouting his name in completion and feeling the boy climax simultaneously into my hand. He immediately collapsed backwards, drained of all his energy. I held my weight by my arms for a while until I felt his legs unravel around me, and I allowed myself to collapse next to him as I wiped away his release on the sheets.

When I turned to look at him, his eyes were closed and he was breathing heavily, his small chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. And, I couldn't help myself: I leaned over, lying back over the boy and pressing our lips together, kissing him fervently.

"Max, darling," I whispered, holding up his chin so he couldn't look away. His eyes bore into me, knowing I was about to say something big. And, so, I inhaled before breathing out, "Max, you're mine, and I love you, and no one's ever going to take you away from me."

xxxxx

-Max-

Harley's fingers were almost tickling my chin as he held it up, ensuring I was looking only at him and that he was looking only at me. His pupils didn't even shift a bit when he said his words, and all I could do was stare at him dumbly, not moving, not even seeming to breathe. When I blinked, his fingers twitched beneath my chin, and then, very slowly, he lowered himself, pressing his mouth on mine and kissing me just as deeply as he did before he said that unforgettable sentence.

But, the silence just kept floating along, and I even felt my skin start to cool off in the air that suddenly seemed really cold. I licked my lips, unsure what to say, and Harley's fingers finally moved, only to run through my hair.

Had he really said that? Had he even meant to? He had said so many things in between it, he might've just let it slip or maybe he was just joking. But, he said it. Even if it was a mistake, it at least meant he had thought about it. I closed my eyes, very scared now, and I wanted to push him away, because I felt humiliated.

"Max," the man then said, pressing his face into my neck, "I meant it."

Meant it? This caused me to open my eyes, and he looked back at me, continuing to stroke my hair. And, yet, something inside me was fluttering again, and I knew why. I wanted to say something back. No, not just something, but those words. Why couldn't I have said it first? If I had, there wouldn't be this awkward silence, this awkward halt in my courage to speak up and say what I had actually been meaning to say for a while, but just couldn't.

I just couldn't. Because I was too young. Too unknowing of the value and meaning of that phrase. But, why then was I so sure? If I was capable of loving my parents and loving my sister, I had to be capable of loving Harley and being in love with him. The extent might have been different, but… I had never felt anything like this in my life, nothing. And, yeah, sure, I could be so annoyed with him, but at the same time I'd want nothing more than for him to touch and kiss and be around me. And, of course, do what we just did.

But, all I could do was stare up at him.

"Don't act like you didn't just hear me," he then chided, and there was a sense of sincere anger in his tone. "I know you did, Max, so don't lie to me, because I'm sure as hell not lying to you."

"Harley…" I finally called out, gaping widely as his hand stilled in my hair.

"I fucking love you, you little faunlet."

And, then, he kissed me again, smashing our lips together wildly and making my heart race. It was such a different kiss. It was almost like the kiss proved the three words he just said. And, above all else, it allowed me to say:

"Harley, I love you, too."

"I knew it!" he exclaimed, laughing maniacally and then kissing me again.

I kissed him back, craning my neck and pressing as deeply into him as I could manage. Just like he had, I ran my hand through his hair, then sat up when Harley began lifting me by the underarms. I looked at him for a while, not wanting to say anything, but simply stare at him. I didn't doubt my words for a second, because I knew—I knew so surely—that it was true. How it was possible, now that I didn't know, but I couldn't possibly care about that.

"Stop it," Harley then said, breaking the silence. "You're creeping me out just staring at me like that."

I laughed and apologized immediately. "I'm sorry," I said, "but I can't help it."

"I'm just so gorgeous, huh?"

"I just never thought you'd, well, I don't know… say it back…"

"Why wouldn't I?" he wondered, lifting my chin again. "You're adorable! Very worthy of my love!"

I rolled my eyes, but kept myself pressed against him, and slowly, I linked my arms around his body, allowing him to hold me further. He ran his hand up and down my back, and kissed my neck repeatedly.

"I wish someone had told me like three years ago that this was going to happen," I voiced. "I mean, I don't think I would've believed them, but I wonder what else I would've thought."

"Oh, you would've been absolutely fascinated," he assured me. "I once considered the same thing, and I, too, didn't think I would believe them, but now I'm sure I would've been very curious about it, then maybe realized I wanted you sooner."

"I wonder what Misty's doing right now," I said, giving a thoughtful look. "And May. And, even Drew. Don't you?"

Harley shrugged. "No, why?" he wondered.

"I don't know," I replied. "I guess I just have to wonder if anything they're doing is half as interesting as what we're doing."

"What are we doing?" he then asked. "Talking?"

"Stop, Harley," I demanded. "You're ruining my thoughts."

Harley laughed, and pushed me back down against the mattress. "I could go for an ice cream sundae right about now," he told me, sucking at my shoulder.

"Hey, it's raining," I suddenly noted, seeing the crack between the curtains. The raindrops were coming down hard, slapping against the glass window and creating a hollow echo throughout the room that I only now noticed with the short silence.

Harley turned to look. "Oh, so it is," he noted. "And we're getting close to Slateport, too. I guess that means they'll be no fucking on the beach tonight."

"I never agreed to that," I protested, frowning at him.

"No, you sure didn't," he said, "but since I mentioned it I began plotting up ways to get you to."

I scoffed and began breaking away from his embrace so I could get under the sheets. The sight of the rain had suddenly made me very cold. Harley forced a single arm around me as he got under the sheets, too, and then muttered something about wanting a cigarette, but being too lazy to get up and find his pants.

"I think I feel the ship slowing down," he then mumbled. Suddenly, he had the energy to get up. He wandered over to the window, tearing open the curtains and staring outside through the rain. "Oh, yes!" he exclaimed.

"Yes, what?" I wondered. "Shouldn't you put some clothes on? You don't know what kind of people might be spying at this ship."

"We're definitely in Slateport City," he told me, ignoring my compliant. "I recognize the harbor."

"Really?" I wondered, sitting up. "Wow, I almost wish we hadn't slept so much on the ship. It feels like we wasted our time onboard."

"Pish-posh," the man dismissed. "What would we have done? Played Bingo in the lounge?"

I managed to get all the way out of bed and began to put my clothes on, beginning with my shirt. When Harley turned to see what I was doing, he stilled me, putting both his hands on either of my shoulders and getting down onto his knees, like he always did.

"You should wear those undies I gave you today," he suggested, smiling devilishly.

"Why?" I asked, scrunching up my face in confusion.

"Because if I don't tell you to, you never will remember to wear them."

I broke away from his grip, finding my normal underwear and putting them on quickly. Harley made a displeased grunt, then decided he, too, should put on his clothes. As Harley pulled on his pants and re-buckled his belt, I put away my notebook into my bag, having already finished dressing. Even though I had my back to the man, I could sense he was about to light a cigarette, and sure enough, I heard the flickering of his lighter, and soon, the smell seep into the air.

It was odd, because although Harley and I had just admitted something to each other that was very big, things still felt the same. And I was glad for that. I had feared a sense of awkwardness in air and in our interactions, but thankfully, we seemed to remain just the same. The only difference, however, was that I felt relieved and almost, well, mushy towards everything. I had never even dreamed—not once—that I'd be with someone who admitted they loved me. And admitted before I even did. That overjoyed me: the fact that I didn't have to say it before he did.

I turned to look at Harley, who was exhaling a smoky cloud, and walked over to him. Too short to ignite anything right off the bat, Harley was able to catch onto my expression, and bent down to allow me to kiss him straight on the mouth. He put a hand behind my head, pushing me further into the liplock before breaking apart and then stamping a small kiss on my cheek.

"Harley," I said, helping him straighten out his jacket, which he had put on way too messily, "I'm hungry, aren't you?"

"Oh, no, I am forbidding you of food until we get to my house," he explained, breathing in some smoke afterward. "Because when we get there, I am going to cook you something extravagant!"

I gave him an odd look. "Fine, but if I faint from starvation, it's on you," I grunted.

Harley and I then heard the loud, echoing foghorn of the ship, and the man returned to looking outside the window. He sucked in some fumes, watching as the ship very slowly approached the wooden harbor. I stood next to him, recognizing some of the large buildings in the city, most especially the large, pentagon-shaped one that stood on the far hill. It was the Contest Hall that May had participated in her first Contest and also where she competed in the Grand Festival. There was still a while until we would be able to get off the ship and neither of us were in a hurry to leave the room, so I asked:

"Where's your house?"

"Hmm," Harley hummed, moving around to see if he could spot it from where we were on sea. He pointed to a large, black building, and said, "It's further behind that thing. You can see some of the other beach houses between the gap there, but not mine."

I stood on my tip-toes, trying to see what he was talking about. "What are your neighbors like?" I then wondered.

Harley scoffed loudly as he tapped some cigarette ashes onto the floor. "You think I talk to them?" he asked rhetorically. "It doesn't matter though. I'm sure they don't like me, and when they realize I'm bringing home some underage tart like you, their hate will only flourish."

"Shouldn't they be minding their own business?"

"They should," he said, "but they won't. And, you know, I sense some of my neighbors are pretty fucked-up anyway, so if any strange-looking men come up to you, my suggestion would be to run, because no one gets to touch you but moi, okay?"

"Do you think I'd let them?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No, actually, I don't," he revealed, pretty self-assured, "because why the fuck would you want some forty year-old wanking you, when you have young, lively me doing that already?"

I ignored Harley's comment, spotting at the very edge of our window's view, some of the ship worker's setting out the metal ramp. "Maybe we should go now," I suggested, turning and grabbing my bag from the floor.

Harley and I began walking out to the deck where we were permitted to exit. As this was the very last stop on the cruise, the population onboard look scarce compared to the many, many people who had previously crowded every last inch of the deck. The two of us walked down the ramp, all the meanwhile, feeling another vast change in the flooring, just like when we originally boarded.

As I stepped onto the concrete harbor I realized quite quickly how unstable I had felt (but not realized) while staying on the swaying, unsteady ship. I was very glad to be back on land, and thankfully, I already felt myself getting used to the change, unlike the vice versa swap of going from land to sea.

I turned around, stopping and asked Harley, "So, which way to your house?"

"I prefer to call itMaison de Harley," he revealed proudly, putting a hand on my shoulder and pushing me forward so we could walk side-by-side. "I prefer you call it that, too."

"Who names their house?" I demanded, furrowing my brow. We walked over a wooden mock-bridge that crossed over the sandy part of the beach, eventually reaching the normal city streets. "No, wait, more importantly, who names their house after themselves?"

"I guess I do," he said to me even more proudly. "And why not? You should name things after great things. And I'm pretty great."

I rolled my eyes, watching as the man suddenly stopped and extended his arm high into the air. I watched him in confusion, stopping, too, but seeing that almost instantly, a bright yellow and black-rimmed car stopped at the side of the street, right in front of us. It was a taxicab. Harley smiled and gestured to the car, instructing me to get in first.

"What, are you too lazy to walk?" I asked, opening the cab door.

"Yes, actually," he admitted as I climbed into the car.

And, completely unexpectedly, he smacked me right on my bottom, my sight momentarily away from him. As I sat down, I glared at him, watching as he climbed in, too. He laughed beneath his breath, leaning forward and telling the taxi driver where to go. When he settled into his seat, he patted my thigh, obviously trying to makeup for having spanked me so publicly.

"It's so weird to be back here," I noted, staring out the window as the car began to go. "I mean, I never even thought I would be back here, but now it sort of seems like I'm here to watch May compete in a Contest or something."

Harley made a musing sound, nodding, but I could tell he hadn't really listened to me or else he would've made a snide comment. As we rode in silence, he took out his nail filer, beginning to clean up his nails, although, to me, they looked fine. I continued to look out the window, realizing I remembered more about this city than I originally thought. Even some of the stores and restaurants were familiar.

But, the further we traveled, the less I remembered. Harley seemed to live on the complete opposite side of the city, just north of where we had gotten off from the ship. I could still see the large black building he had pointed out, and we were getting closer to it, meaning we must have been getting close to his house. It seemed like a short ride in the taxi, but I knew if we had walked, it would've been taking forever.

After we turned a corner, passing by a long line of businesses, I started to notice that there were fewer buildings and more houses, more particularly beach houses. I craned my neck to try and get a good look at them, most especially since every single one was unique and totally different than the one next to it. Just as I began looking at one in particular, thinking it might be Harley's, the cab came to a sudden stop and I twirled around to look at Harley next to me.

"Voila," he said, gesturing to his side of the car and towards the house we stopped in front of on the street. He handed some money to the driver and quickly pulled me out of the car, gesturing even more properly to the house.

And, in so many weird ways, it was not what I was expecting at all. I was almost certain the house was going to look like some rundown circus mill, but in reality, it was absolutely gorgeous. It was a light green two-story building, very slender, but tall. On both sides of the house were windows jutting out, looming over the front porch and partially around the sandy lawn. From what I could see, the backyard was just the same as the front—covered in sand and surrounded by a pale fence—but it also had the actual ocean washing up on the shore. I simply could not believe that Harley actually owned a beach house.

"You like?" he wondered, putting a hand on his hip.

"I'm a little shocked," I admitted, walking forward and stepping in the sand. "Oddly enough, when you said beach house, I didn't even think it would actually be on the beach."

"Then you're silly," he insisted, and then he grabbed my arm, dragging me with him as he approached the front door. Instead of digging a key out of his bag, he simply moved the stain-filled welcome mat—which actually didn't say welcome and was just a light blue color—and found his spare key still hidden beneath.

After he unlocked the door and stepped inside, turning on the closest light, I stepped in myself. The first thing I saw the large living room, decorated finely and containing a couch, occasional chair and ottoman, all of which were set around an oak coffee table. Harley continued turning on all the lights, and I noticed that there was not a speck of dust anywhere, confirming the fact he did have a cleaning lady.

The kitchen began at the very end of the living room, starting off with a long breakfast counter and three stools. The kitchen itself was pretty small, simply consisting of the obvious, and not even containing a dining room area. There was a sliding glass door to the very left, and I saw there was another porch in the back, set out right in front of the beach. I walked over, staring out at the back, watching as the waves slammed down onto the shore continuously.

"I hope your silence stands for absolute thrill of being in Maison de Harley," he stated after a while, setting his bag down on the kitchen counter.

"It is," I admitted, still staring outside. "I can't believe you live in such a beautiful house, Harley."

He chuckled softly and stood beside me, looking out the window, too. To my left, I noticed a den area, decorated with another set of furniture, very similar to the living room. There were also many paintings on the wall, and I guessed Harley liked to pretend he knew something about art or something like that.

"Want to see the upstairs?" he wondered.

"Obviously," I said, following him back into the living room, where the staircase was located, just south of the front entrance.

At the top of the stairs, there was the bathroom to the left and what I assumed was a spare room. Two other rooms were to the right, which was where we were headed. We walked by the first room, which was decorated in hues of blue and purple, but ended up entering the very last room in the hall, which was apparently his room.

I looked around curiously, trying to search for anything that revealed it as being very obviously Harley's room. But, to my surprise, there wasn't. It looked very normal, but was more decorated and lavished upon than the other rooms. It had a very specific sort of décor, mostly consisting of elegant and artistic designs, very green and tan color-wise. His bed, placed against the middle of the far wall, was neatly made and seemed almost like a decoration rather than a place where you slept.

"Well, so far I don't think my cleaning lady has stolen anything," he told me. He then turned to look at me and fussed, "Put your bag down, Maximus!"

I did, placing it against his chifferobe dresser. He then grabbed at me, picking me up and grinning like a psycho. Startled, I just sort of stared at him, unsure what he was trying to do. He walked over to his bed, still holding me tight and then dropped me, causing me to unsteadily bounce on the mattress before he crawled over me, smiling even more widely before placing his lips on mine in a quick kiss.

"Oh, yes!" he exclaimed, nodding happily. "You on my bed. Now this is something long overdue if you ask me."

"These are soft," I said, feeling the bedspread beneath me, which was a ruby red color. I turned a little, rubbing my cheek against the material.

"They are imported," he revealed, feeling the sheets, too. "I don't buy that wholesale shit for my bed, and why should I? I'm better than that."

"Does it really matter what you sleep on?" I wondered.

"Well, Max, you should know by now that a bed isn't just made for sleeping," the man explained to me, stroking my shoulder. "And, therefore, silky, imported sheets are essential. Now, how about we christen them?" Harley began leaning down, kissing me again.

I gently pushed the man away, rolling my eyes all the meanwhile. "No, Harley," I rejected as softly as I could. "Didn't you want to cook me something? I'm still hungry."

"That's right!" he exclaimed, sitting back up in excitement. "What do you want?"

I rubbed the back of my head, surprised how he accepted my change of plans. "Um, I don't know," I admitted in puzzlement. "Do you even have any ingredients that aren't, like, stale?"

"Yeees, I do," he insisted, crawling off me and hurriedly straightening out his clothing. "Now, how about some pasta and garlic bread?"

I shrugged, still lying on the bed. "Sounds good to me," I answered, closing my eyes.

"Good," he said. "I'll go start that for my darling little Maximus." He leaned down once more, holding the back of my head and forcing me into a very deep and long kiss, much different than usual. When he broke apart he smiled, then walked off into the hallway.

I let out a yawn, placing a hand on my forehead and turning onto my side on the bed. It was so comfy, much softer than the beds at the hotels and firmer than the one on the ship. And, even though the curtains were pulled back, it was dark in the room, and I realized that it was reasonably late in the day.

I opened my eyes and sat up, rubbing the back of my head and getting off the bed. Curiously, I walked down the hall, exploring the two rooms we haven't gone into before. The first room, the one all purple and blue, looked basically untouched, seeming like such an ornament, as it actually did not have a bed, but had everything else: a dresser, an armchair, a table. I looked inside the dresser, but found it to be empty, and I realized that all the woven material covering the wooden furniture reminded me of some European tearoom. I sincerely wondered if Harley ever even stepped foot in this room.

I wasn't sure if I was snooping or not, but I did feel like I was searching for something. I just wasn't sure what. So, I went into the other room, which was definitely unfinished as far as decorating went. Everything was scattered, not matching and very unorganized. This room had a bed, but there were a few unpacked boxes on top, and along the left side of the room there were various beach equipment, including an umbrella, lawn chair and bundles of towels.

Bored, I went back into Harley's room, removing my shoes and placing them where I had put my backpack. Even though Harley had more than invited me into his house, I supposed he very much wanted me to make myself at home, I still felt so strange here, such an obvious guest. And, yet, I was definitely not an average guest: I would be sleeping in the same bed as Harley, having meals cooked for me, and of course, I'd end up getting pampered by him, more than usual.

As I walked by the man's chifferobe, I couldn't help but take a peek inside it, curious as to what kind of clothing Harley had aside from his usual outfit. Inside, hung properly along the top rack, I saw that Harley had various pants and shirts and jackets. It didn't seem as though he wore any of this stuff, especially some of the fancier looking attire. At the very end of the lining of clothes, I noticed an outfit more vibrant than the others, red and black. I pulled back the other clothing, and I realized exactly what it was: May's outfit. Or, really, his May outfit.

For a long while, I just stared at it, almost afraid to touch it as if it would just tatter to bits at the touch of my fingers. It looked just like hers. In fact, it resembled the one I knew was hanging in her closet back home. It hung from the hanger almost the same way, the bandanna tied to the top and everything. Slowly, I let the tip of my fingers trace across the fabric. The top was soft as always, and the shorts felt just as elastic and clingy as they looked when May wore them.

Distantly, as I continued to let my fingers touch the outfit, I smelt something from downstairs, either pasta or garlic or sauce or something like that. I couldn't say I cared too much though. Because as I stared at this outfit, one I hadn't seen in years, I was so convinced that it wasn't Harley's copy, but the real thing. I was so convinced, really, that I felt completely justified to take it off the rack and press it against my face, searching for the smell that lingered on all of May's clothing. But, I couldn't see it. All I could smell was the pasta or whatever from downstairs.

I sighed, shoving it back in the chifferobe and slamming the two doors shut. I suddenly felt angry. Why on earth did Harley still have that? And have it in his closet, too! Harley could be pretty twisted, and somehow, I didn't doubt the possibility of him just prancing around the house alone wearing it. How was it I had just admitted I was in love with him this morning? Yet, I closed my eyes, imagining when he said it to me first—the sincerity in his words, the look on his face, the way he kissed me after—and no matter what I just couldn't get angry at him right now. I wanted him to say it again to me, over and over, because it sounded so nice.

I decided it was time to go downstairs now, so I left Harley's bedroom, walking down the staircase and into the living room. Harley had his back to me, busy going back and forth stirring two pots on the stove. There was a loaf of bread over a cutting board, along with various spices scattered on the counter, and I concluded Harley was making the garlic bread from scratch.

I walked over to the breakfast counter, pulling back one of the stools and sitting down. The man turned around, hearing me, and smiled widely. I now noticed he was wearing a black apron, acting as if what we was cooking was a big deal. I couldn't help but laugh, and Harley made sure to glare back at me for it. As he turned back around, he opened the oven, checking on the bread and then closing it back up. I noticed a bowl of something else on the right side of the counter, looking like vanilla cake mix or something. Most of it was already scooped out though, so I guessed that whatever it was, he had already put it in the oven.

"What's that?" I asked, pointing at the bowl.

"Dessert," he replied, grinning.

"Like what?"

"You'll see," he simply said, putting on some oven mits. He removed one of the pots from the stove and began pouring out the pasta shells into a strainer over the sink, letting all the water go down the drain.

I thought this whole scene was pretty amusing: Harley cooking, baking, working, being busy and enjoying every second of it as he prepared a meal for me. While he waited for the pasta shells to cool off, he turned down the stove for the sauce that was still heating up, and then went to the refrigerator and took out a pitcher of what looked like iced tea. He poured two glasses and set one in front of me.

"Do you cook like this even when you're alone?"

"No," the man answered. "Why the fuck would I do that for?"

I shrugged. "So, what do you do when you're all alone?"

"Darling, I'm never quite alone," he told me. "And, even when I am I don't really care all that much."

"Are you going to cook for me everyday while I'm here?" I then wondered.

"So what if I am?" he countered, grinning. "You don't want to be pampered?"

"I never thought Housewife Harley existed, that's all," I told him, drinking some of the iced tea afterwards.

"I'm no housewife," he argued. "Do you see me in a dress?"

I was curious as to how Harley would react if I made a remark about his May costume being upstairs, but I knew, in the back of my head, that I probably shouldn't, so I repressed the urge. I thought a while more about the outfit, how I couldn't smell anything (and even if I could, it wouldn't have smelt like her) and just how weird it was that Harley still had it. I mean, it was just odd. He had admitted to possibly still owning it, but seeing it in his closet was bizarre. Too bizarre.

After just sitting there in silence for a good ten or so minutes, it seemed the meal was finally done. Harley set out two bowls—which looked very fancy and too delicate to have food placed inside them—and filled both with a fine amount of pasta, which had already been mixed in the tan-colored sauce. He set two slices of the garlic bread on each, presenting one of the bowls to me and placing the other in front of the stool next to me. After giving me silverware and a napkin, he took off his apron and sat down next to me. I realized in even more amusement than before that Harley was indeed playing a housewife here, no matter how badly he wanted to deny it.

Whatever was for dessert was still in the oven cooking, so I buried my curiousity and picked up one of the slices of garlic bread, taking a big bite of it. It tasted fantastic, better than any other kind of garlic bread I had ever had. I acknowledged my acceptance of the food, smiling as I turned to Harley, who was eating the pasta.

"This is delicious!" I told him. "I've never had garlic bread made from scratch. At least, I don't think I have."

"I'm glad Maximus approves," he chirped brightly, grinning. He leaned over, kissing me square on the mouth and going through with sucking on my bottom lip like had done a few times before. "Now, let's eat before the food gets cold."

I tried the pasta next, and it was just as delicious as the bread—if not, than definitely more. Remembering what May had told me she said to Harley about his cookies, I then said, "The pasta isn't half bad either."

Harley sort of froze, but it took only a moment for him to realize my statement was very intentional. He turned to me, glaring all the meanwhile, but in a much more sincere way than I had seen before. "I should kick you out of here for that, you little ragamuffin," he sneered, rolling his eyes.

"You know I'm just kidding," I laughed, taking another bite of the pasta. "I think it's incredibly good," I assured.

"You better," he grunted, not facing me anymore.

I began smelling something from the oven, and it definitely smelt like cake. I was already getting full from the dinner, but the aroma of the dessert was intriguing me immensely, and I knew I would have room left for whatever it was he was baking. When I finally finished my meal—and I did make sure to eat every last bite so Harley would have no reason to complain—I wiped my mouth and took a final sip of my iced tea.

"You're a really good cook, Harley," I acknowledged. "I don't even know how to make toast."

"Ohhh, that might call for a cooking lesson," Harley stated, finishing up the last of his garlic bread. "A boy your age should know how to cook one meal at least!"

I shrugged just as some kind of buzzer went off. Harley got up from his seat, traveling around the counter and putting on his oven mits again. He opened the oven, taking out a large metal tray, which I realized was for cupcakes. Inside each hole were paper liners and the nicely cooked cupcakes, yellow and just a tad bit painted with a brown burn on them. He gave a proud smile, placing the tray on the stove and removing his mits.

"Cupcakes," I said as I took a whiff of the appetizing scent. "Or muffins."

Harley walked over to the far cabinet, taking out a small container. "Cupcakes," he assured me, gesturing to the words Vanilla Frosting on the container. The frosting appeared to be light pink. "You do like cupcakes, correct?"

"Who doesn't?" I asked, smiling.

As Harley waited for the cupcakes to cool off, he gathered up the dishes, washing them off in the sink and placing them all in the dishwasher. I felt obligated to help, but also felt like if I did, I would get in the way. So, I just watched, still amused by the sight of him busy in a kitchen. He washed his hands after he was done cleaning up, then went to open the container of frosting. Dipping a single finger into the frosting, he licked the sweetened stuff off, and then, a moment later, did it again, but instead, wagged his finger in front of me, offering it to me.

It was different—way different—but for some reason, the situation reminded me of when he tried to get me to lick my own release off of his hand. I had told him that was gross and I didn't want to do it, but then a week or so later, I had ended up taking him in my mouth, swallowing his release. I blushed in a painfully obvious way, but, trying to avoid Harley seeing it, tilted my head, licking the frosting off his finger. He smirked and ran his clean hand through my hair. And, I thought for a moment he was going to tell me he loved me again, but instead, he turned around, grabbing two spatulas from a drawer and setting one in front of me.

"Help me with this, darling," he insisted, bringing the metal tray over to the breakfast counter and then sitting back down on the stool next to me. He dipped his spatula into the frosting and began spreading it over one of the cupcakes, making sure to cover all of the exposed cake part.

I picked up the other spatula and copied him, although mine seemed to come out all goopy and weird. I moved on to the one regardless, repeating the sequence of covering the entire cake part. I completed six, same as Harley, and then licked the spatula clean. There was hardly any frosting left in the container, but Harley went through with scooping out as much as he could onto the spatula.

Just as I thought he was going to lick all the frosting off himself, he leaned forward, dabbing a speck right onto the bottom of my nose. I jumped at the feeling of the sticky covering, and I was ready to wipe it off, but Harley grabbed my wrist, stopping me. Close to my face, all Harley had to do was lean an inch or two forward, then he licked off the frosting himself. His tongue felt weird on the tip of my nose, especially after the frosting was gone and he kept licking me.

However, I had to admit, as he traveled down and began kissing me fervently on the mouth, I was becoming aroused. I felt such a heated temperature radiating from his body, and even though I was kissing back as passionately as I could, I wanted more. Our tongues tangled and touched, and I moved closer, desperate to be in his embrace. I could taste the garlic on his mouth, and I could feel a bit of frosting on his hands as he wrapped his arms around my shoulders. Somehow, the man managed to drag me onto the stool with him, straddling his lap. Beneath me, I could feel he was aroused, too, and just when I was about to allow my hands to travel down his body, he pulled apart and had a goofy grin on his face.

"Let's try one," he said, suddenly grabbing one of the cupcakes and handing it to me. He took one for himself, unwrapping the liner and sinking his teeth into the cake. "Mmm, now these are good, if I do say so myself."

I unwrapped mine and took a bite, too. It was very good. The sweetened pink frosting tasted nice with the cake, and it didn't take long for me to eat the entire thing. I licked my lips, getting rid of the excess frosting, then returned to looking right at Harley, who was still eating his cupcake slowly.

"Harley…" I said, wrapping my arms around his body, simply in the desire to feel him against me.

"What is it?" he asked, his mouth full.

"Thank you for the food," I told him, burying my face in his shoulder.

"You're welcome, darling." Harley kissed me again, giving our bodies a quick grind before picking me up and placing me on the ground.

He began placing the cupcakes on a plate, then putting a glass cover over them. After he put away the metal tray and everything else, he stretched tiredly, putting his hands on his hips and looking at me fondly. I wasn't sure why Harley was leaving me hanging like this, especially since it was incredibly obvious I was just as aroused as him. I did not have the courage to try and entice the situation further, so I wandered over to the glass door, staring out the back and watching the waves fall over the sand again. I wasn't sure what time it was, but the sky's dark reflection in the ocean made it seem painfully late. I wondered if the morning would look unusually bright tomorrow.

I didn't really know what the two of us were going to do tomorrow. I doubted Harley wanted to go anywhere in town, as he probably would insist there was nothing worth doing in Slateport. We'd probably end up staying here all day, which I certainly did not want to do. It would get boring way too fast, but I could swim, if I wanted. That, of course, would interest Harley, but I hadn't swam in front of him since we were in Goldenrod City, and I feared his constant staring would humiliate me all over again.

I thought about when Ash and the rest of us had gone to Slateport City and May had entered her first Contest. It was literally years ago, but I still recalled everything so well. That was before May and Harley had met, but I couldn't help wondering if the man had been in town around that time.

I suddenly remembered the fact I needed to mail my letter to May. I wasn't even sure what island May was on, so I decided it would be best to just send the letter home. I knew my parents would be sure to get it to her.

"I need to mail my letter to May," I voiced. I walked back upstairs, grabbing the letter from my backpack and quickly writing out the address. After I was done, I went back downstairs, quickly telling Harley I was going to put it in his mailbox. I was a bit worried Harley might sneak out in the middle of the night, snatching the letter out so she would never get it, but I decided to think better of the man.

When I came back inside, I saw Harley was folding up his apron, putting it away in a drawer. He swayed his way over to me as I closed the door, picking me up in the familiar—and yet never-ending—embarrassing way. He held me close, and I realized that there was still a gleam in his eye, a lust in which he was determined to carry out. This realization made me quite happy. I thought that because of before, when he had scooted me off his lap, he might not have wanted me, but I figured maybe he was just narcotic enough to want to clean up first.

He was quick to capture my mouth and begin running a single hand down my body. I could feel him already hard against my stomach, and this instantly caused my own arousal to return. Harley held me so easily, not the least bit of struggle or discomfort in his muscles. His strong grip didn't even flinch as he began walking up the stairs, me still in his arms. It didn't take long to get into the room, where he began tearing off my shirt, locking me in such a passionate kiss, one that stole my concentration and distracted me from realizing he already had me pinned to the bed.

I reached out, removing Harley's shirt and following through with unbuckling his belt. Our arms tangled as Harley took off my shorts and underwear while I slid down his pants. It wasn't long before Harley had me in a tight embrace, fusing our mouths and chests and taking hold of my length and fondling it in his palm. As I lolled my head back, able to peer over his shoulder, my eyes landed on the chifferobe. It seemed as though I could stare through the wooden doors and see May's outfit inside. Distantly, I heard Harley calling my name, urging my hand down to his own hardness, but my concentration remained on the thoughts of May's red, white and black biker outfit: the elastic material, the soft sleeves, the stretchy look that could be created with a single pull.

I began moving my hand, touching Harley as best I could as I tried to think about the last time I had seen May in that outfit. She had acquired new trademark gear before leaving for Johto, one I couldn't even remember, but knew I didn't like better than her old apparel. Her red suit had been so recognizable, so her. Sometimes she would take off her jacket, revealing the white shirt beneath, the one that hung longer, almost like a skirt. Her jacket would feel really weird when it was wet, all hard and stiff. But, when it was on her, it was smooth, revealing all of May's curves and—

—and suddenly, Harley's mouth was on mine, startling me instantly. I snapped out of my thoughts, realizing I hadn't been paying much attention to Harley or the situation we were in at the moment. I responded well to the kiss, desperate to make up for my distraction. How on earth had thoughts of May won over this with Harley? I even realized that Harley already wrapped his arms around my thighs, lifting my legs. As our tongues met and entangled messily, I allowed my body to rise, rubbing against the man's hips and thighs. He moaned into my mouth with pleasure, and I kept going, grinding our lengths together to please him as best I could.

Soon, Harley began running his hands through my hair, holding up my head so we wouldn't lose contact. The man, so much older and bigger than I, seemed to always tower over me, whether we were standing, lying down or sitting. So, how was it he had been able to pull off May's outfit so well? It hadn't been the same, and even though I only had a few, select memories of how he looked in her clothing, I knew it hadn't been anything terrible, despite some ignorant claims before. Harley had none of my sister's girlish, womanly curves, but the outfit had hugged his body in a pleasant way, not looking too abnormal.

I found myself trying to envision him in it again, trying to understand how he could pull it off when it wasn't even an outfit designed for a man. I was fascinated, very fascinated, and the harder I tried to picture him in it the better I managed to achieve some sort of blurred idea. But, instead of flashing back to the time he had worn it at the Kanto Grand Festival, I could only envision him dressed in it here and now, looming over my body, pressing against me with his mouth on mine. And, I wasn't the least bit disturbed by the thought. I was intrigued. I suddenly responded more to his touches, frantic to have him not only touch me more, but be inside me.

My legs writhed around, trying to get him to pay attention to what I wanted. The man broke apart our kiss, soon adjusting and preparing himself properly before beginning to press the tip of his hardness into my body. I didn't even care about the pain it might cause, thinking back to just last night when he had hurt me in the lack of preparation. I knew it would pass, so I squirmed, pressing him into me at a rough speed. I ignored the burn, only wanting to feel the pleasure that I knew was coming.

"Max—ahh—are you all right, my sweet?" he wondered, soothing me gently.

"Yes, yes," I assured, tugging him closer to me, our chests aligned. "Harley, you feel amazing."

The man laughed lowly, curious as to why I was being so responsive. "You're just a desperate little tart, aren't you, darling?" he teased, pushing into me slowly.

I squirmed continuously, wanting so badly to feel him moving inside me. I gave a moan as a reply, forcing him to pull a bit out of me before I rose my hips again, penetrating me all over again. Harley got the point now, beginning to thrust wildly into my body, urging my legs around his waist and my arms over his shoulders. I held him as tightly as I could, my eyes still set on the chifferobe, seemingly so far away but its contents so up-front and distinctive in my head. I forced my eyes shut now, trying my best to concentrate on Harley's movements, his thrusts, his ministrations.

But, it wasn't working. The only thing stirring my lust and strengthening my responses was the overpowering image of what May's outfit looked like on the man on top of me. I could recall the way he flaunted it in front of May, the way he teased the crowd before him as he gave his Appeal, and most especially, how he very stylishly made sure his hair fell in the same way May's did. I suddenly could remember so much more about his antics at the Grand Festival, and as the man continued to thrust in and out me, causing me to pant and whisper his name, I filled with a savage desperation to have this man as close to me as possible. I could feel some sort of possessive vibe flow through me, the same way I imagined his greed for me worked.

May.

My sister.

Her outfit.

My thoughts were racing, jumping back and forth between my sister's clothing and then Harley dressed in them. I couldn't keep my mind still. I couldn't get myself to concentrate on just regular Harley. But it didn't matter. I felt my body tightening, I felt my muscle's strain. And, with a final drive of Harley's hips, thrusting deep into my body, I came, shouting Harley's name but only thinking of him standing on that stage, dressed so perfectly in my sister's attire.

I fell back, feeling the man climax inside me a moment later, moaning out my name just as I had his. I breathed and breathed and breathed, so worn-out and shocked my own crazy desire sending me into an unexpected thrill of thoughts and actions. Embarrassed by my personal thoughts, I simply clung to Harley, pulling him close and breathing into his shoulder.

"Harley," I whispered, keeping him close, "I do love you."

The man chuckled, kissing the side of my head. "Oh, I know that, darling. You have an utterly fascinating way of showing it to me, but I like it anyhow." He removed himself from inside me, but still remained lying on top of my body. He then added, "And, I most certainly adore you. And, love you, even, which you know, too."

"Yes, Harley," I answered. "And, I really like when you say it. It makes me feel good."

"Oh, well, now that I know that, I don't think I'm ever going to stop," he teased. "I'd say it to you all night if I weren't so goddamn tired." He rolled onto his side, quickly cleaning both our bodies up with a swab of a tissue he had grabbed.

Something in me wanted to explain to Harley what thoughts were racing through my head before I had climaxed, but I didn't have the strength, nor will, to explain. Because, really, what would he have thought? He would've definitely assumed I was a complete weirdo, living up to his question about wanting to sleep with my sister. Did my thoughts mean I wanted to though? Or, was I just simply amused by the thought of Harley dressed up as her? Was it her or him as her that intrigued me? I couldn't decide. I couldn't even get myself to mull over that. It was not normal, that was for sure.

End of Part Ten