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There Is No Shelter From The Storm

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The Pokémon Center Professor Willow worked at was nestled behind a couple of tall oaks, at the end of the busy main street.

Spark’s journey back from the other side of the region where he befriended Terakion (the only Pokémon so far that chose to stay where he was instead of following Spark, which was fine with him; Legendaries were in a league of their own) had been wondrous and full of surprises.

The curious looks the people around were giving him didn’t disturb his bubble of pure happiness as said surprises formed a trail of Pokémon behind him; different shapes and colors and types. Pidgey was ever present on one of his shoulders, Eevee on the other one, and a huge egg he nestled carefully in the crook of one arm. He had three smaller ones in his backpack, which he couldn’t wait to show to his Professor.

With his free hand he was feeding his two Pokémon some treats, occasionally turning and sharing some with the seven others, which, obviously, made the journey slow.


Pidgey crooned and picked at a couple of locks behind Spark’s ear, asking for another treat. Spark ignored his demand by standing up and turning around to greet the Professor with a dazzling smile.

“Professor Willow! I was just about to reach your Center.”

“I can see you’ve been side-tracked. Again.”

“Which is why you came to pick me up, right?” His grin was toothy and entirely satisfied. “Did Spot alert you to my presence in town?”

Willow huffed at Spark’s nickname for Talonflame, a smile pulling at his mouth. “It was actually our Dragonite.”

“Aw, Gazzelle did that funny-weird dance again, didn’t she? The one she uses to tell you she saw me.”

Willow chuckled. “She did. And by the frantic moves she made, you were pretty close to the Center. But as it’s always the case with you, I knew you had some troubles getting there.”

Spark laughed and looked back at his little crowd of ‘mon with fondness.

“They followed me on their own.”

“And you had nothing to do with that, hm?” he said, an amused eyebrow arched.

Spark’s large smile looked too much like a carefree thing to deem it sheepish.

“You caught me again.”

Professor Willow shook his head. “Come on, let’s get the ‘mon inside the Center.”

He didn’t know the Professor for long, but they struck an unlikely friendship almost from the first meeting. In reality, Spark knew about doctor Willow since the Pokémon Conference three years ago, where he announced his research topic. The warm way he talked about Pokémon and how they could hold a lot of potentiality moved Spark to seek him out.

He caught up with him, Pidgey preening his wings, totally ignoring Spark’s attempts at smoothing over his earlier dismissal by scratching the ‘mon under his beak.

“How’s life, Professor?” he said as he fell in stride with the man.

“Same as always.”

“Made any headway with your research thesis?”

Professor Willow hummed noncommittally. Spark opened his mouth to prod for more, but they were entering the Center. His face split into a huge smile at the sight of a familiar face.

“Hello, nurse Joy! How have you been?”

“Hi, Spark. I have been good, thank you. You?”

“Same. I come bearing gifts, as always.”

He stepped to the side to show the seven Pokémon happily munching on treats Spark generously imparted.

“Wonderful! I’ll see to them right away. Do you need me to check your egg?”

His arm tightened slightly over it, body moving to shield it from her view in a moment of pure instinct. He covered the action with a smile.

“No, thank you. I’ll coordinate with the Professor.”

Nurse Joy nodded and let him be.

When he turned around, though, the Professor had an odd look on his face; something deep and unfathomable was mixed with the usual pensive look he got when a subject he was studying did something unusual. He wanted to ask, but Willow was heading towards his office, so Spark was left to follow — not after saying his goodbyes to his friends.

“Is there anything wrong, Professor?”

“Nothing to worry about, Spark.”

“Hm, are you sure?” He wasn’t buying the light tone and carefree words one bit. “Because you’ve been off since the last time we saw each other.”

Two weeks ago, Spark came by again to leave another crowd of Pokémon, mostly water type. He had been taking a dip in the river near the city, training himself to keep his breath underwater for longer than was humanly possible and since he never went anywhere without a full pouch of treats on him on the occasion he encountered a ‘mon, he ended up almost drowning once Pokémon started flocking to him to receive food.

There was something to be said about the joy one felt when feeding a cute little thing like a Totodile or a Mudkip or a Piplup or a Phione. Really, Spark couldn’t ignore a Pokémon more than he could stop breathing. Which took him to what happened after, a Mudkip that hurt himself while trying to avoid a couple of rocks in his mad dash to get to Spark.

Being an emergency, obviously Spark walked towards the Professor’s Center clad only in his black swimming trunks and brown pouch and nothing else.

It wasn’t something he never did before, so most of the people were used to seeing him like that, but it was the first time he presented himself scantily clad, dripping water and curly, wet hair plastered to his head and face, to the Center. And to the Professor.

One thing Spark wasn’t, was oblivious. He knew that he had a body to drool over, but somewhere along his journey he lost interest in using it for anything else except catching Pokémon. Those toned legs looked wonderful in leather, and whoever preached otherwise had never bought a pair of quality leather trousers.

But mostly he trained himself hard to be able to catch Pidgeys, because they might seem like they didn’t give a flying fuck about you, but were damn hard to take a hold of.

Which brought him to the Professor and how, for a split second, his eyes darkened considerably at the sight of Spark before he blinked and a combination of worry and exasperation took over that resulted in Spark being completely swallowed up by a giant towel and forced to sit in a comfy chair near the heating, while Crumbs — the injured Mudkip — was taken care of by nurse Joy.

Eevee and Pidgey were keeping their distance from him because apparently they preferred dry objects on which to place their delicate bums, and he did feel a little hurt at their pretentious behavior, but he also felt a glimmer of hope at the Professor’s fussing and that initial, honest surprise.

“I’m sure, Spark, don’t worry. Why don’t you place the egg in the incubator?”

Spark narrowed his eyes at his turned back, hoping that the Professor felt the burn of his gaze. He didn’t like it when he was brushed off like that; it made him feel like a kid whose worry was never taken seriously. That trait in the Professor always rubbed Spark the wrong way.

He let it slide this time. Something was bothering him, something that he didn’t want Spark to know. He tried to damp down the curiosity. With Professor Willow, he learned it was better to wait for him to come to him instead of forcing the answers out of him. That never worked out well.

After placing the egg in the incubator — always with gentle moves, because even if they were Pokémon eggs, they were still fragile — he opened his backpack and took out three more eggs, smaller than the first one.

“Do you have free incubators for these little guys, too?”

“Sure,” he said, eyes scanning the analytics on his computer. “There should be a couple more stored in the closet over there.” He pointed into a vague direction at his back.

Spark rolled his eyes, exasperated with his Professor’s behavior when it came to data on unhatched eggs. Once he got the other three eggs into their own incubators, Spark was left with nothing to do.

Eevee, which he occasionally called Maury, was already sleeping in the comfy chair near the window, while Pidgey, which he addressed as buddy (because even though he told people his name was No Fucks Given At Any Time, he had the common sense to not call him that) was sitting on the ledge of the window.

So the only object he could sit on was the stool right at the Professor’s side, which he occupied without a second thought.

“So how’s your thesis going? You never told me anything about it. Is it, like, something top secret that you can’t even tell your most loyal assistant?” He let his grin bleed into his words.

Willow kept his attention on the computer, occasionally jotting down some numbers and words in his journal.

“It’s progressing slowly. Have some things to test before I can continue,” he said absentmindedly.

“Anything I can help you with? Like bringing you certain types of Pokémon or eggs?”

“No.” It made him look at Spark, a narrowed down gaze. “If I let you do that you’ll surely end up getting killed by either temperamental Pokémon or nature herself.”

“So you do need specific types that you don’t get around here.”

“No, Spark. I’m gonna stop that train of thought right there. I don’t need specific Pokémon. The ones you bring are enough.”

Spark studied his expression; he seemed genuine, but he was always good at covering his true feelings behind the stupid worry and doing-the-right-thing, adult version. He decided to let this slide, too. If he didn’t want Spark to help him more than he already did, then Spark was going to respect that.

A moment later and the door burst open with cold wind followed by an agitated Articuno that made both Spark and the Professor jump off the stools. Pidgey and Eevee sprang into action, positioning themselves between Articuno and Spark, ready to attack the big bird with everything they had. Every folder and stacked papers were thrown into disarray, a chaotic rain of white and brown and green.

Two nurses came rushing in, apologizing and trying to calm down the agitated Pokémon.

“Stay back!” Spark ordered, steel replacing his usual light tone and carefree stance.

The nurses stopped dead in their tracks.

He couldn’t afford to take his eyes off Articuno, so he made a retreat motion with his free hand, which the nurses listened to and backed off.

“Spark, it’s too dangerous. I’ll deal with him.”

“No, Professor.” He extended his hand to stop his Professor. “He’s agitated for some reason. Leave him to me. Eevee, Pidgey, don’t attack.”

Both ‘mon made confused noises, but listened to him. Spark made his way, slowly and carefully, between his ‘mon to get closer to Articuno. Articuno, instead, flapped his wings harder, which cooled down the temperature in the room drastically, but still Spark did not stop.

“Hey, pal, what happened to you?”

He reached for his pouch, taking out three berries and extending them towards Articuno, his other hand raised where Articuno could see it; he shrieked again, a violent wind almost knocking down Spark, but a hand kept him standing, warm and welcome between his shoulder blades. It remained there.

“Come on, Articuno, we’re not gonna hurt you. You’re safe here. Nobody wants to harm you, so calm down, please. Here, I have a few treats for you. Come down so I can give them to you, okay?”

He kept his palm with the berries open, breath even and expression welcoming. Articuno was confused at this display, sharp gaze assessing the other occupants of the room for possible sudden attacks. Spark only prayed that neither showed any such intentions, otherwise Articuno would act up again.

Ever so slowly, though, Articuno floated down until his claws clicked on the floor. He favored his left leg, which painted a pretty nasty image in Spark’s head. He kept himself still, going so far as to stop breathing when the ‘mon leaned down — still tense and prepared to take flight at the slightest twitch — and took one berry with his sharp beak.

When he saw that no one had any intention to harm him, he took the other two, body going somewhat lax — not completely relaxed, considering the fact that he couldn’t stand on both legs.

Spark’s smile took over his face and he reached for more treats in his pouch. He went so far as to approach Articuno (ignoring Willow’s stressed Spark) and caress his head when he leaned down in search of more food. When Articuno didn’t react in any way at Spark’s touch, Spark made a final move and hugged the bird in all his tall glory, careful not to unbalance him.

Articuno picked at his head when Spark didn’t let go immediately, not in warning, but in a sort of grumpy way some ‘mon reacted to Spark’s overly friendly way of showing his affection.

He heard the Professor’s sigh and he turned around to grin at him. Articuno pushed his head into Spark’s back, nuzzling until he found the pouch on his right hip, wiggling his big head under Spark’s arm.

The laugh Spark released was warm and smooth like chocolate, hand going under his beak to scratch him and make him croon and forget about his quest to get more food off Spark.

“You sly little thing,” Spark said, amusement and fondness mingling together. “Go on with the nice nurses to see to your injury. And behave if you want more treats.”

He let Articuno go and stepped back when the nurses coaxed the bird out of Willow’s office.

Spark sighed in relief. “What a scare.” He turned around. “Sorry for the mess. Are you—“

Again that strange look which Spark couldn’t put into words. This time, however, the intense, dark gaze made Spark look down, a submissive gesture he never condoned; and that was because no one ever made him feel like he did something he shouldn’t have, like he was too hasty and he could’ve avoided certain consequences if he thought the situation through.

His eyes fell on a paper written in black and blue pen near his feet.

It had Deadline: 13 July scrawled hastily and circled several times at the top, and underneath it a column of Pokémon that either had rare abilities or were found only in specific regions. Most of them had the name of the trainer and region written on the left. The last one, however, had a question mark.

“Let me help you put these back in order.”

Spark placed other papers over the one he read, and the Professor said nothing, the whole thing proceeding in a tense and strange sort of silence.

Usually, Spark stayed until it got dark outside, but this time he felt the need to clear his head by walking around the city aimlessly. Pidgey pushed his beak into Spark’s hair, obviously picking on his trainer’s turmoil, while Eevee was looking up in worry from near Spark’s leg.

“Spark.” The Professor’s voice stopped him in the doorway.

He waited for him to continue, using this opportunity to lean down and take Eevee in his arms — an anchor in a whirlwind of feelings — but the Professor seemed to have difficulty finding his own words.

In the end he just said, “take care,” which fell flat and like it replaced something else, something more meaningful.

“I always do.”

He meant it, even as his mind was buzzing with a nagging thought that he just knew was not going to end well.



The storm was raging outside, big raindrops hitting the window incessantly. After being out of commission for almost two days, he could only stand the dim lamp light. Which was why they were in semi-darkness, lightning occasionally painting strange shadows on the hospital room’s walls. Pidgey was crooning under his slow petting, hands almost completely bandaged.

But the dim light did not cover Professor Willow’s righteous anger and frantic gesticulations.

“You can’t go around and catch this type of Pokémon without back-up. Look what it did to you!”

Spark grit his teeth; he was hurting and itching in places he couldn’t scratch at the moment and he was receiving a lecture on top of that. How wonderful it was to wake up to a Professor that looked like he wanted to skin you alive — or at the very least, send you back into your previous state of unconsciousness.

“I was aware of the consequences, okay? I knew what Zapdos was capable of. You wouldn’t have chosen me as Team Instinct’s leader, if I wasn’t an instinctual man who also had a rational mind to back him up. I knew I wouldn’t come back uninjured, but I still wanted to catch it. It was the only one missing from your research subjects.”

Professor Willow pulled at his hair in frustration. “I can write my thesis without that last Pokémon! You didn’t need to go and almost get yourself killed for something that most probably will collect dust in one of my drawers and be forgotten by next year!”

Spark’s fists bunched the covers loosely in his hands.

“I did it for you, idiot. I did it because I care about you more than I should. I did it because I like you, Captain I’m Doing The Right Thing. But you never made any move on me, although you clearly want to, so I decided that if I could catch this one Pokémon for you, I’d confess to you. But things went awry at some point and now I’m here, hurting like hell and receiving a lecture from you on top of that.”

“That’s because you scared the shit out of me!” Things were coming to a head, Spark could feel it; they were both teetering on the edge of something enormous. “How do you think I felt when Pidgeot flew into the Center with your unconscious body in his claws? Do you think I kept my cool and didn’t almost lose my wits? Sycamore and Meyer had to drag me away from you so you could receive medical attention.”

Spark swallowed, the implied things in his anger-driven monologue sending his heart into overdrive.

“How do you feel about me, Professor? Do you like me?”

Willow’s sigh stopped midway out, eyes lucid and wide. Spark braved his shocked stare. This was a matter of make it or break it. They reached the point of no return and Spark only hoped that Willow would do the right thing that implied them being in a relationship that was more than platonic.

He didn’t know if he’d be able to repress these feelings, if Willow denied everything and asked him to return to the way things were. That wasn’t a possibility for Spark anymore.

It was in the marrow of his bones, that grinding feeling that he needed to get everything in the open because otherwise he wouldn’t be able to breathe properly.

“Of course I like you. How could anybody not?“

“This isn’t about what others think of me.”

Willow sighed. “I know, and I stand by my previous statement. I like you, Spark.”

And he stopped there, his haggard expression morphing into a pensive look that always resulted into a brilliant idea. Spark didn’t know if it would be the case in their situation.

“But as a friend, right?”

Professor Willow opened his mouth, an answer poised on his lips, but he paused; the answer wasn’t the one he wanted to give. He studied Spark’s hand, traced the shape of it, the edges of the bandages.

“No.” A frustrated sound erupted from his mouth. “It’s complicated.”



Spark waited, but when Willow stubbornly refused to continue or make eye contact with Spark, he sighed.

“Very well. Then I will tell you what kind of like I feel for you. It stemmed from liking you as a friend, but it didn’t stop there; it evolved, turned into something that’s closer to love, and it’s not a platonic love that I harbor for you, Professor. Which is why I need to know if there’s any point in letting these feelings develop any further or if it’s best for us to stop right here and part ways.”

“No.” The word was punctuated by Willow’s hand catching Spark’s wrist in a firm hold.

They both looked down at it, as if it was something from another dimension. A frustrated noise made Spark return his gaze to the man.

“Could you elaborate on that?”

Apparently, Spark was the better communicator between the two, which was unusual since the Professor was the more articulate one when it came to making speeches or presenting facts and new theories about Pokémon.

“I don’t want you to stop coming here.”

Spark waited.

Nothing came forth.

“So you want us to go back to how things were before.”

Willow’s sharp gaze met Sparks, and he hoped the Professor saw how that wouldn’t work for him anymore.

“It would be pointless, now, wouldn’t it? Not when we both know that we have feelings for each other that go beyond friendship.”

Spark’s eyes widened minutely, hope flaring like Moltres’ tail. Willow’s expression looked a lot like a soldier’s braving unknown territory that could kill him at a moment’s notice, and Spark huffed a laugh, head shaking.

“You still don’t know if you love me, yet you don’t want to let me go, either. Don’t you think that’s unfair towards me?”

“I know that I want you beside me.”

“That’s like saying that you want Zapdos, but without the temperament. I could do half-assed feelings, but I don’t want to. Not with you.”

“And I don’t want you to, either.”

“Then what do you want from me?”

“To be here. Stay… beside me.”

Spark chuckled. What was he? A middle schooler who shied away from using the word ‘love’?

“I want to kiss you.”

That shook Willow out of his trance. “You can’t. I mean, you can, but you’re injured and—“

Kiss me, Professor.”

He looked at him with a challenge in his eyes, once again testing how he will respond. Willow’s gaze fell to Spark’s lips, then up again. Spark waited, summoning the last of his patience. If Willow didn’t— the Professor’s lips were slightly chapped, but warm and demure. He pushed his patience a little bit further, letting Willow decide how much and how deep he wanted to kiss Spark.

It was a slow thing, testing Spark’s self-control in ways that both made him horny and impatient. He wanted to take and devour and ravish his Professor. Show him how deep his love ran and how much he wanted the Professor like this.

The tentative swipe of Willow’s tongue broke the self-control and Spark’s hands framed Willow’s face — not pressing, just keeping them there — opening his mouth and deepening the kiss.

It was a while before they emerged for breath.

He thumbed away at the corner of his mouth, pleased with how much he unraveled his Professor. When he met Willow’s gaze it was like watching a beast waking up, gaze predatory and dark.

“How was that, Professor?” He sounded devious and cheeky, the smirk lifting a corner of his mouth. “Want to explore more or was that enough to satisfy your curiosity?”

“You were never a curiosity.” The granite was breaking in his voice, the sound titillating to Spark’s ears.

“Then what was I?”

“A distraction.”

The grin was self-satisfactory. “Never thought you liked to torture yourself, Professor.”

“Keep taunting me, and I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

And didn’t that just tickled Spark into pushing the good doctor even more? But he backed down with a pleased smirk, storing away the information for later use.

“Tomorrow they’ll let me go.”

“Good. However, I don’t want you to go about the streets for another couple of days until you heal completely.”

The smirk acquired an edge to it. “Oh, not even a question? I remember you were more tactful in the past.”

Now that things were in the open between them, Spark found that he couldn’t quite keep himself from teasing the Professor. And said Professor was realizing the same thing, if his narrowed dark gaze was anything to go by.

“I’m serious, Spark. Don’t make me drag you to my house and keep you under strict obs—“

His eyes widened — same as Spark’s — at the words. The silence was hilarious in it’s suddenness. Spark burst into a laughter that sounded the same way a bouquet of expensive, rare flowers would look like and the Professor scratched his head, looking away in embarrassment, most probably, but since Spark saw the potential in his eyes not long ago, he was more inclined to believe that his words painted a pretty interesting image of Spark and the Professor’s bed.

Or sofa.

Whichever came first or whichever the good Doctor preferred. Spark wasn’t picky when it came to him. He was sure that Professor Willow would take care of him whatever they did (or didn’t).

“Now I wonder how that strict observation figures in your head, Professor.” The devious smile was back. “Because I’m certain I’m not a good patient. What you see now is just for decorum. If the setting were to change, say, to your house, particularly your bedroom, I might find myself inclined to disobey the doctor’s or—“

The hand clamping down on his nape and working against Spark’s muscles was warm and calloused. Willow almost smashed their mouths together, but smoothed the rough handling by gliding over his lips, their chests almost touching.

Spark’s surprised gasp was stuttered and then lost between their lips.

“Patience, Spark,” he whispered against his lips. “Please have a little bit more patience. We’re both new to this, and I don’t want us to go head first into something we’re still testing the waters. I’m old enough to know that it can end painfully for both of us. And what I want from this is something lasting.”

The combination of words and warm puffs of breath fanning over Spark’s chin made his cheeks heat up. With difficulty, he leaned back, even though he was unsure what he was showing on his face right then. Was it the deer in the headlights that he felt in the frantic beat of his heart or the naked surprise, honesty making him look young and foolish.

“I knew you were good with words, Professor, but to the point where you unsettle me so thoroughly is something you’ve never done before.”

And for the first time, Professor Willow’s mouth stretched into a grin that knocked out Spark’s breath because it took off almost a decade and added more than a drop of charm that did not go unnoticed; it was impossible for the Professor to not have had a string of lovers covering the road to and from the Kalos region.

Not with that kind of smile that stirred Spark’s heart into a flutter.

“I thought I’d give you a taste of what awaits you, now that your foolish behavior opened the proverbial gates. Besides, I wanted to find out what makes you blush and lose your cheeky confidence.”

Spark grins. “Wouldn’t you like to see how far that blush extends in other contexts?”

He was expecting a bold retaliation, but instead the Professor’s gaze seemed to become molten lava poured in a glass of ice cubes and the tension in the room was pulled so taut that Spark found himself keeping his breath in wait for it to snap. He expected the Professor to jump his bones right then and there, but he realized that that was only his foolish thinking and projected desires as Professor Willow got up from the chair.

“We’ll see. I’ll come pick you up tomorrow.”

Spark’s hand shot out before he got outside his range.

“One last kiss,” he said, looking up at his Professor.

He regarded Spark for a few seconds, then faced him properly and caught Spark’s face with the other hand.

“Why do you think I’m leaving?”

“Because otherwise you’d ravish me right here,” Spark whispered, worrying his lower lip when Professor Willow started leaning down.

“And still you demanded such a thing of me.”

“What can I say,” he said, gaze going back and forth between Willow’s lips and the purring creature in his eyes. “I’m a selfish man.”

“Then we deserve each other.”

His lips were almost upon Spark’s, the rumbled words like the vibration of a deep bass in the concaves of subwoofer boxes.

“How quaint.”



The walk on the paved road to Spark’s little house wasn’t as slow as Willow thought it would be. Having a leg in a cast was hindering Spark’s usual gait, but not much, and since he forgone the crutches, it was Willow’s bulky body that kept both of them standing and moving forward.

“I could carry you inside, you know?”

Spark turned a toothy grin to him. “You’ll do that only if you intend to carry me to a bed and keep me there for the foreseeable future.”

“That’s the intention. You need to rest.” He let Spark see the smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.

“Don’t play coy, Professor. You know what I mean,” Spark said. “But you’re right, I need to rest. Otherwise how am I gonna be able to be an active participant in whatever shenanigans you’re planning for me.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Spark huffed a laugh. “Empty words, Professor. I’ve spent enough time watching you to know when you’re concocting something.” Willow stopped right inside the doorway to switch on the lights and then closed the door behind them. “But your restraint should be a national sport.”

In a fluid move — like a pirouette from a practiced dancer — Professor Willow pressed Spark’s body to his own, arms tightening around his midriff to manhandle him into the door, forearms caging him in, forehead touching Spark’s.

“What if I decide to take you right here and now?”

They were but the product of a series of sounds crashing into a freezing ocean like chunks of icebergs disturbing the cold silence and Spark’s knees turned to jelly, eyes sliding shut to entrap the moment within himself.

His hands found fistfuls of material and the sigh was shaky and vulnerable.

“I’d let you,” Spark breathed out, then opened his eyes. “But you won’t do that.”

Rumbles reverberate from his chest, distant thunders inquiring for an elaboration.

“Because even when it shouldn’t matter, you always do the right thing.”

“This matters. You matter.”

“I’m also energy,” Spark said, cheekiness overpowering his soft tone. Willow swatted his flank, which elicited a chuckled from Spark. “You have every bit the advantage over me right now.”

He leaned his head to the side, nose pressed into Willow’s scruffy cheek. He imagined the burns on the inside of his thighs that neither would be able to prevent and the leather became a prison for his nether regions.

“I am completely at your mercy.”

A slow, controlled sigh, body tense to keep himself from moving his hardness against Spark’s own, just as Spark’s hands sneaked beneath Willow’s jacket, searing hot palms passing over his ribs and pausing on the small of his back.

“I wonder.”

Willow stepped back, suddenly and firmly, which unbalanced Spark and almost made him fall down, if not for Willow’s strong hands anchoring him.

“Sometimes you’re such a tease!”

Willow grinned, young and charming. “Pay back’s a bitch.”

Spark laughed at that and hopped closer. “Yeah, yeah. Now help me get to my room before you bring those infernal things that are supposed to make my temporary disability more bearable.”



He was in a serious battle with his pants when Willow entered the room, Pidgey flying over to perch on the wardrobe from the Professor’s shoulder. A single eyebrow was lifted, amusement pulling at his mouth.

“Pidgey would disrupt my work continuously until I followed him.”

Spark grinned. “Atta boy. He’s insufferable like that.”

“But I see he had a good reason.”

He crouched near Spark, hands working efficiently to untangle the pants.

“See, Professor, I’m clumsier than usual without you to prevent it. What did the grand romances of the past used to say? I can’t function properly without you around? This situation couldn’t be more appropriate to demonstrate that.”

Willow’s smile stretched, Spark’s mirth contagious. He still shook his head.

“You have one leg in a cast. No need to get dramatic, but how you managed to get into this mess is beyond me.”

“It’s an art few know.”

His hand reached into Willow’s hair then down over his jaw and the shadow of stubbles.

“And you’re among those few,” Willow said, a far-away thunder in his chest.

“Well, it’s another thing to add to my repertoire of skills that are frowned upon by the mass.”

It did come out as a joke, and he knew that Spark wasn’t the type of person who thought about himself in deprecating terms, but it still made Willow look at him.

“No matter what skills you acquire or develop, you’ll still be you. And that will never change. I don’t care if you’re dorky or clumsy or funny, because they’re all sides that make you who your are. The serious, the angry, the witty — it doesn’t matter. No side will ever overshadow the hard-working trainer that you are.”

The wide eyes and ajar lips slid into a grin that crinkled Spark’s eyes.

“Keep talking dirty to me, Professor. I like how you seduce me.”

Willow shook his head. “I believe your intention was to take a bath, right?”

Spark’s eyebrows climbed into his hairline, action made ridiculous by the grin. “Do I smell that bad?”

Willow rolled his eyes. “Come on, you sassy minx. I’ll help you clean up.”

“I wonder what other things I can persuade you to help me with.”

“I’d swat your ass, if my arms weren’t so full of you.”

“Mm, kinky. We should try and see where that gets us.”

He nuzzled behind Willow’s ear, content to let himself be carried, bridal style, into his adjacent bathroom. Willow didn’t even pause at the sparsely decorated room.

“Don’t you have a Japanese bathroom?” he said as he let Spark sit on the rim of the claw foot tub.

“I do, but this house came equipped with a Western bathroom, too, so I mostly use this to wash my few buddies or when I’m too lazy to go to the other side of the house.”

“Spark, you have an army of Pidgey. Don’t even try to fool me,” Willow said as he adjusted the temperature of the water filling the tub, sleeves rolled to his elbows. “Speaking of, I didn’t see any around.”

“That’s because I asked Blanche to take care of them for a couple of days.”

Willow sighed. “I pity her.”

Spark crossed his arms. “If she can’t handle a few Pidgeys, then she shouldn’t be called a trainer.”

“Army, Spark. Army.”

He pulled the plastic protection over his cast.

Getting into the tub, however, required more acrobatics than taking out his clothes, because at one point Spark’s balance tilted sideways and almost toppled over the opposite side, if Willow hadn’t been quicker and pulled him against his chest. Spark’s heart beat frantically against his ribcage and Willow’s forearm.

“That was too close,” Spark breathed out.

He grunted in response and then helped Spark ease himself into the steaming water, cast leg awkwardly propped on the rim. He soaked Spark’s hair, since the drain was a little bit off to one side under Spark’s head, lathered it with shampoo and then began a slow massage.

“Mm, those hands,” he said, words tumbling clumsily from his tongue. “I should’ve known that they were divine.”

“You’re just easy to satisfy.”

Spark grinned. “Wanna join me, Professor?”

A pause.

“That’s a bad idea.”

Spark shrugged, eyes closed and smile permanent. “We’re both adults and we know when to stop.”

“Do we? Because I recall you being very enthusiastic about me taking you against the front door a couple of days ago, when you struggled to keep your cast leg from dragging.”

“Mm, and isn’t that a wonderfully wild idea? The image is exquisite, isn’t it?”

The hand that had been lying on the rim, glided over the bent leg, palm descending on the wet thigh until it submerged just under the surface of the water, so close to his semi-erection.


Spark opened his eyes to peer up at the Professor, the under chin and part of his throat thrown in shadow. Willow was focused on his hand, breath uneven. If Spark placed his other hand on Willow’s crotch, he had no doubt that it would be straining against the zipper. But then Spark would be unable to stop himself from palming him and then he’d demand more from the good doctor, and the good doctor would give everything to him if Spark persuaded him enough.

Something Spark didn’t want, not when the Professor wanted to take things slow and forge a lasting relationship.

He returned his hand on the rim, a pang of regret that he dismissed without remorse, and Professor Willow sighed in relief. When he looked down, Spark met his dark gaze with one of his own.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Why? Does my willingness to go further scares you so much?”



“Because I’ve had enough failed relationship to know that this could go wrong at a moment’s notice.”

Spark frowned, blood sizzling in his veins. “You know that I’m not so frivolous. If I do something it’s because I fully intend to see to it until the end.”

“I know that, which is why I never said that about you.”

“But you implied.”

Spark sat up, lather gliding over his neck; because of the position, he couldn’t turn around to look Willow in the face, so he contended to show him his back. It was also easier to parse through his own thoughts when the only thing he had to stare through was the foam in the water.

“I’m not your past lovers, just as you’re not mine, the few I had.”

“Spark, you don’t—“

“I want you for who you are, not an idea of a lover I might have formed in my mind. I liked you for your brains and easy charm, at first. Now I love you for the dedication you show to all the Pokémon that come into your care, for your determination to see that more truth is shed over Pokémon hatching, their abilities and evolution, for your dorky nature when I bring to you new Pokémon. These are not shallow feelings that will disappear once we have sex or the novelty wears off. I’ve been harboring these feelings for a couple of years now. Now tell me, do you still think I’m not serious about you?”

“I didn’t know… all that.”

“Well, now you do. Although I’ve been pretty obvious about my intentions towards you. I mean, do Blanche and Candela visit you as often as I do? Do they always bring you Pokémon or eggs for you to study? Do they ask you about your thesis or if you’re sleeping and eating enough? I don’t think so. You’re just a Professor to them.”

Minutes seemed to pass. Only breath and the broken rhythm of drops creating a hole in the foam that had gathered beneath the faucet were heard.

Then — then fabric was rustling and when Spark looked over his shoulder, the Professor had only his trousers on, which were in the process of being discarded. The shock was enough to have Spark stare at Willow for the whole time it took him to reach unhindered nakedness. When Spark met his gaze there was no shyness or embarrassment; the beast was peeking once again in those unfathomable eyes and Spark found himself scooting forward as best he could with one leg thrown over the rim.

Wordlessly, Willow joined him and Spark hesitated, unsure if this course of events was actually a good idea.

“Are we having second thoughts, Spark?”

No matter how many times Spark imagined how his Professor’s voice would sound when turned on or even marginally on his way towards that, this was not it. It was better, smoother than cashmere, hotter than scorching lava, rough where rocks were about to melt, their jagged edges catching, twisting, softening slowly. It was sake at its finest; it was Western alcoholic drinks, the ones that leave a burn behind and send spikes of pleasure coursing down your spine.

He shivered, hands dipping underwater to drag over Willow’s shins as he let himself lean back. This was such a huge deal because it was the first time they touched one another without at least one layer of clothing between them.

“I think I might,” Spark said, clearing his throat when pieces of eroding bluffs dragged down on the rock face and into the roiling ocean.

He felt the hmm — a chariot braving a gravel road coming from Willow’s chest — straight into Spark’s own core. Arms came slowly, but not tentatively, around Spark, and he watched how the thick wrists crossed for a moment before his forearms came to tighten in parallel on Spark’s chest.

A strange sound came forth, half of it caught in his throat, the other half exhaled. His head fell on Willow’s chest. There was something sensual about this simple act that had Spark’s cock hard and throbbing, but Willow’s arms prevented him from relieving the tension. Not that the good Professor didn’t sport a hardness to drill through the blade on an Excadrill’s head, which was currently trapped between their bodies.

It was unclear who had it rougher: Spark with his cock tickled by the water and unable to tend to it, or the Professor feeling constant pressure but no friction.

“I’m amazed by the control you have on yourself,” Spark said through a clenched jaw.

“That’s because I’m only helping you clean yourself.”

Spark’s laugh was a squeaky thing caught on breathless notes. “Don’t lie to yourself, Professor. Not when you finally have in your arms what you’ve desired the most for a while now. And willing to do about anything you asked. You respond so intensely to me that it’s hard for me to believe a word you say to the contrary.”

“Such confidence about my wants,” Willow said, gruff words right into Spark’s ear; Spark’s cock just reached a new level of hardness. “It’ll get you into trouble, if you don’t control it.”

Spark’s reaction was to move his upper body, but Willow’s arms kept him plastered to his chest. He couldn’t create any friction to throw this man off-kilter. The firm control he kept over the situation and especially over Spark started to irk him. He wanted to see Willow unravel, relax, let himself just be and not keep himself on such a tight leash.


“You’re playing with fire, Spark.” His breath was coming in short pants, and he sounded like he struggled with himself to keep his voice even.

“I’m playing with your control here, trying to make you lose it.”

When nothing came forth, Spark whined another plea, this time actively fighting Willow’s vice-like arms; he didn’t budge. His short nails dug deep into Willow’s thighs, dragging up and leaving red welts behind. Willow stopped breathing for a moment, and when he exhaled a curse or two rolled off his tongue with it, his trapped cock throbbing.

When Spark tried to wiggle his hips, Willow’s leg came over Spark’s, keeping it still while the other one broke the surface of the water, knee pushing Spark’s cast leg closer to them on the rim.

He was completely exposed and the thought pulled out a deep moan from Spark.

“If you don’t do something, I swear I’m—“

The rest of the words where muffled and blocked by Willow pushing two fingers into his mouth.

“Hands on the rim,” he ordered, the grinding, lower notes of a cello breathed into his ear. “Don’t move them, understood?”

Spark could only nod as he continued to alternate between sucking and swirling his tongue around or in-between Willow’s fingers.

They had no lotion near them, so Willow took care to not tighten his fist much, but the moment his hand closed over Spark’s neglected cock, Spark thought he was going to climax right there and then. But Willow stopped that from happening and Spark whined around his fingers.

“You don’t get to complain, when this wasn’t even what I came here for. But as with many things that concern you, nothing ever goes according to plan.”

The grating words had Spark wondering if he was receiving a lecture right now or the Professor was only half serious. Thinking about it as a lecture, somehow turned Spark on even more and he moaned, hips trying to meet Willow’s strokes, but to no avail.

“I’m constantly worried about your well-being, so when I see you harmed or in harm’s way, I lose my cool too easily for a man well in his thirties. Why do you think that is, hm? Is it mere infatuation?”

Spark made a sound of protest, brow dipping. Willow chuckled and worried Spark’s wet skin between his teeth.

“You already argue against that. I wonder if this overconfidence in my feelings for you is just that or it is your intuition that guides your hand and your direction as well as who you let yourself connect to. Because the thing is, Spark, that you’ve only been forth-coming since catching Zapdos, which both entices me and makes me suspicious.”

Spark’s protest almost had Willow’s fingers out of his mouth, but Willow twisted his hand, thumb teasing his slit and Spark was prey to shudders that momentarily made him forget what he was trying to protest.

“But not in a bad way,” Willow continued. “It’s a suspicion borne from many failed relationship. From wanting to have this open connection you are all too ready to have with me, and failing constantly to achieve it.”

Spark fought harder against him, but Willow wasn’t done yet.

“On the— on the bottom line,” he said, stressing the words the same way his arms tightened to keep Spark from freeing himself. “I fell for you along the way. I fell in such a way that I’m afraid to let down all my barriers, because if I do, then it’s no coming back from that. I love you, Spark, but my love is possessive and intense, the kind that drove my past lovers away.”

A frustrated sound erupted from his chest and he brought both hands down to pry Willow’s hand away from his mouth. Half-turned to make eye contact with Willow, he settled for glaring at him.

“That’s because your past lovers gave you a reason to be possessive of them, made you feel insecure about your relationship, which is the worst and very much unforgivable. I’ve never been the kind, and you’ve known me for enough time to realize that I’m loyal to a fault.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that I’m a possessive person.”

“Who isn’t of what’s his or hers? Do you think that Candela and Blanche are better at this? They’re constantly careful to not tip the balance they struck between their possessive natures. And they make it a habit to tell each other what bothers them.”

“You like your freedom, Spark. I’m— not such a flexible person.”

“Then we make compromises: I ease down on my Pokémon hunting and you keep in mind that no matter how long I’m gone, I’ll always return to you.”

Willow fell silent, gaze tracing Spark’s lips absentmindedly. He brought a hand to catch Willow’s jaw, forearm resting on his chest.

“Now, I want to kiss you because you finally said that you love me and because I’ve been wanting to kiss you for some time right now.”

He waited, though, gaze intense and questioning. With a sigh, that sounded a lot like he was relieving stress, he nodded and Spark’s mouth was on his own before he had time to breath in completely. With a twist of Willow’s hand and Spark’s enthusiastic moans they were both coming within a minute or two of kissing. The awkward position got to Spark and he ended the kiss rather regretfully.

“I can’t wait to unravel you, Professor,” he said, making himself comfortable within Willow’s arms.

“You’re spending too much time in the company of Pidgeys. This overconfidence and spontaneous choosing of people as yours is not good for you.”

Spark huffed a laugh. “Pidgeys are awesome, Professor!”

“They totally rubbed off on you.”

“Nah. On the contrary, I rubbed off on them. They show more expressions than the usual passive-aggressive nonchalance.”

“Then Blanche is having a couple of field days, studying them.”

Spark chuckled as he delighted in Willow’s wandering hands, exploring, massaging, tickling.

“Maybe I should bargain that over the gallon of coffee she threatened me that I owe her.”

Willow hummed noncommittally while Spark passed him the shower head to rinse off the shampoo from his hair.

“I fear that someday I’ll open the door and Pidgeys will fall over me, and I’ll need to fight their passive-aggressive attitude to get to your body.”

Spark was shaking from all the laughter he had in him.

“That’s a pretty ridiculous and precise image you have of my future, Professor.”

“It’s a very near future, considering your fostering tendencies.”

“Who says that I won’t give you some of them to keep?”

“Impossible. My house doesn’t have the capacity to hold more than a couple at a time.”

Spark turned his head to nuzzle under the Professor’s chin.

“Then what excuse will I have to pass by unannounced?”


“You don’t need any excuse to come to my house.”

“I don’t?”

The languid vowels and lazy smile that bled into the words alerted Willow of the teasing, but he played along.

“You already have the key to my house from the time I had to keep those Tyranitar eggs under constant observation for a couple of weeks. Unless you lost it.”

“I didn’t.”

“So you can come and go whenever you like. Be it to deplete my fridge or just lounge on my sofa until I come home.”

“Mm, keep talking dirty to me, Professor.”

Willow swatted Spark’s thigh, which made him yelp and then laugh.

“You need to stop calling me by my title.”

“Why is that?”

“You always make it sound lewd when you pronounce it.”

“Well, it does have a certain cadence to it, like a melodic song, the kind you might hear from me if you know what buttons to push.”

“Spark,” Willow said, a warning that sounded too light-hearted.

“Yes, Professor?

“Get your lewd self out of the tub.”

Spark laughed.



Pregnant clouds were sitting over the city, a suspended air clogging the streets and making Spark’s t-shirt cling to his sweaty skin. He had to sign enough papers that he almost resented going to all the troubles of catching Zapdos, but not enough to damp down the joy of finally getting rid of the cast. 

Professor Willow wasn’t there.

He saluted the doctor and the nurses and strolled out of the hospital just as big, fat drops turned the ground a darker shade. With a serene sigh he walked out from under the awning, welcoming the cool rain. He didn’t go far, however, because a car pulled up to the curb.

“Get in,” Professor Willow said, not really looking at him.

A grin split his face. “Why, Professor? Do you intend to kidnap me? I’ll have you know that Blanche will turn the world upside down searching for me if I don’t come to pick my—“

Willow leveled a loaded gaze towards Spark and they stood like that for enough time to make Spark realize that the rain was getting heavier by the second.

“I’ll wet your upholstery.”

“Now, Spark.”

Once in the passenger seat, Willow threw him two big towels that he used to keep eggs or Pokémon warm and secure. One of them Spark used to cover the seat as best he could what with the small space, and the other one went for his hair first, before Spark decided to take off his shirt and dry himself. He’ll have to take a shower, because his trousers might be leather, but water still infiltrated beneath them.

And he was starting to feel cold.

The rain was pelting and visibility was scarce, but the Professor kept rushing. He took care to slow down when he had to take corners or when he neared intersecting streets, but the city was desert. Not even water Pokémon could be seen.

“What the—,” Spark said, watching as Willow entered the garage. “This is not my house.”

“Full points for connecting the dots, now get into the house. And take both towels with you.”

He did as he was told, amused by his Professor’s no-nonsense attitude that spoke volumes of what he actually felt. Spark was giddy with anticipation. Once inside, the drying was taken over by the Professor, who dragged Spark into the bathroom — and wasn’t that a sort of déjà-vu?

“Doesn’t this remind you of our last time together?”

“It’s a shower, Spark. Not much to remind me of your claw foot tub.”

“My tub can function as a shower, too. But you’re right, it’s not how we used it.”

“Can you please take off your clothes and get into the shower so you won’t catch a cold?”

He grinned. “Yessir.”

Once done, he hoped behind the glass and looked back at the Professor expectantly.

“No, I’m not joining you. I need to prepare food for us.”

But Spark was reaching for the Professor, and Willow caught his wrist, a warning look in his eyes.

“I haven’t seen you since last week. Is it wrong of me to want to kiss you and be near you? Or are we back to square one?”

“I want to take care of you, Spark.”

“And kissing me is part of taking care of me.”

Willow looked at Spark, assessing him. Finally, he let out a sigh and stepped up, pulling Spark’s arm to make him close the last inches between them. With a hand covering Spark’s nape, they kissed, both struggling to go in different directions: Spark to make it more intense and Willow to downplay it.

“Enough, Spark,” Willow said, breathed out, pleaded, even as Spark continued to kiss whatever fell under his lips. “Spark, I really need to go.”

“Then go.”

“Hard to do that when your arms are vice-like on me.”

“You’re stronger than me. You can pull away.”

Willow’s hands fell on Spark’s hips, not pushing him or pulling him in, just keeping him there, anchoring himself somehow.


“I’ll let you go only if you promise me that this won’t be the end of it.”

Willow sighed even as he dug his fingers into Spark’s hips, pulling out soft sounds from the man.

“I’m not a saint. Never been. Never will be. I just want to feed us warm food and not instant noodles.”

Spark released a long-suffering sigh. “Very well. But we’re not done.”

They dined at Willow’s round table in the kitchen, Spark enveloped into one of Willow’s bathrobes, the black one. The view outside wasn’t much, what with the downpour darkening everything, which meant that the only thing Spark could see in the window was the reflection of the kitchen and them as they ate.

His Professor didn’t usually cook, because he didn’t quite care what kind of food he put in his mouth as long as it staved off his hunger, but he had a few dishes he made that were delicious.

“Are you perhaps wining and dining me to get in my pants?”

Willow paused while he brought his glass of (boring) water to sip from.

“Is it working?”

Spark’s amused smile turned into a grin, teeth peeking from between his parted lips.

“Why, you continue to surprise me, Professor.”

“My taking care of you surprises you? I thought you were used to this by now.”

“Not to you going to all these great pains to pamper me. Although taking a bath with me and ending up giving me a handjob isn’t how relationships usually go in the early stages, right?”

“When do things ever follow their natural course with you?”

Spark laughed, conceding the point. “Are you saying that it takes someone unique like me to undo you, Professor?”

“I’m saying that you’re talking a lot for someone who wants so much action. Now finish your meal.”

“I’m not hungry anymore.”

Willow’s fork and knife clinked on the plate as he placed them on the edge. He leveled a gaze that was unfathomable darkness and liquid desire.

“I advise you to eat, because once we leave this table you’re mine, and you won’t leave my bed until I say so.”

Fuck,” Spark said, the spike of pleasure making his joints weak and his movements uncoordinated. “Blanche will execute me and dance on my grave. I’m supposed to take—“

“I already took care of that,” Willow replied, resuming eating with precise and mechanic moves.

Spark frowned. “You did?”

“The reason why I couldn’t be with you at the hospital was because I went to take your Pidgeys to Sycamore and Meyer. They agreed to take care of them for a while.”

Spark blinked. Then he laughed. Long and hard and genuine until tears were leaking from the corner of his eyes.

“I cannot believe that you’d go to such lengths just to ensure that nothing disturbs us from fucking each other senseless.”

“Sycamore and Meyer know about us, and I believe Blanche suspects, so no third party involved in this situation is innocent.”

The hearty laugh Spark released pulled a smirk from Willow.

“I’m in over my head with you, aren’t I?”

Willow didn’t look at him as he continued with his mechanical movements; cut, thrust, lift, bite, chew, swallow, repeat.

“You are, but you chose me despite not knowing what kind of person I really am, so I’m about to show you. Now eat.”

Spark deferred to his Professor’s command, even thought he wanted to defy it just to see what happened, and finished everything he had on his plate. But the fact that Willow was so in control over himself when Spark was barely able to sit still and eat decently grated some sensitive nerve. He felt like crawling out of his skin — or jump his Professor right there and then.

He peeked up and saw a man that was resolutely not looking at him, as if he was actually dining alone. Well, that put a damper to his roiling emotions, anger eating at them, until the Professor placed his knife on the edge of his plate to take the glass of water and it was all so textbook perfect that Spark wanted to flip that table and yell at him.

But the textbook perfection nagged him.

And then it dawned on him.

With an amused huff, he shook his head, berating himself for being so irrational.

“Is something the matter?”

Spark chuckled as he finished eating. “Yes, you and how much control you exert over yourself to not give in to your desires.”

Willow’s grin was wolfish and full of teeth and Spark’s skin became oversensitive beneath his bathrobe. Spark sighed, though, and stood up to clean the table — the least he could do after Willow cooked for them.

“I’m still not sure if I hate that about you or—“

His hands could only secure the two plates in his hands, the rest — glasses and silverware — toppled over when Willow slammed into him, strong arms gathering Spark into a tight embrace, back to Willow’s front. They both had slippers on so the shards of glass didn’t injure either one, but Spark wasn’t so sure the plates wouldn’t end up having the same fate, considering the tremors that ran through his arms.

Willow was unrestrained strength and heat and desire, mouth working in a frenzy on his skin.

“Leave them on the counter.”

With difficulty Spark managed to do that, but once his hands were free, he turned around and devoured Willow’s mouth, something Willow participated in with just as much strength and hunger. He was up on the counter before he felt the change in perspective — he only heard shards scattering on the floor — but he didn’t stay there for long, since Willow pulled him off and carried him to his bedroom.

Spark was amazed that they made it there without crashing into anything, although he pretty much monopolized Willow’s attention and mouth, hands free to explore and do whatever he wanted.

The kiss was in no way gentle and tender, and at some point Spark tasted iron, but he didn’t care because Willow threw him on his bed, where Spark bounced, bathrobe barely covering him, but still obstinately restraining his arms where it gathered at his elbows so he got rid of it with a sort of impatience that was unlike himself.

Breathing through his nose as if to calm himself, Willow asked, “are you sure you’re okay with this?”

“Yes! Now get rid of these fucking clothes. We’re ending this sexual tension now.”

He pulled at Willow’s buckle, when he returned to kiss Spark because they were both starved and there was no patience left in them. The buckle resisted, Spark growled into the kiss, and then it was free; the button was next and Willow wasn’t helping one bit, using his body weight to push Spark down, but he did have the common sense to lend a hand when Spark had to push the trousers down.

The first skin-on-skin contact, full-bodied and without layers, had them both gasping and renewing the hunger in the kiss. They bit each other countless times, sometimes to the point of drawing blood, and Spark left scratches on Willow’s back and both fought to pull Willow in even more and push him away which drove Willow crazy.

No patience at all, the both of them.

Not even when Willow prepared Spark, the lotion dripping copiously on the sheets. It was messy, and neither had any restraint as if they both forgot about their more humane side. This was passion and anger and sexual tension finally exploding, Willow leaving bite marks all over Spark’s chest and stomach, fingers working in a frenzy to open Spark up as he alternated between grunts, moans and little whines. But he never once showed signs of pain, so Willow continued to let himself lose control.

He was at the point where he wanted everything he was out in the open and laid bare for Spark to see. He wanted Spark to see him. Not the Professor. Just Willow, a man whose desires incinerated his very existence.

Spark opened his eyes when Willow paused for too long and they were glassy and liquid and barely holding anything resembling the witty and devious man he’s been these past weeks.


A plea, a command, an assent.

Willow was powerless in the face of such utter abandon. He thrust in one, long go and Spark’s pale neck arched, a column that bent up under the pressure of such intenseburningunciseled hunger.

There was no room for words as grunts, moans, whines, gasps and half-formed syllables took over, Willow’s unforgiving thrusts pushing Spark up on the bed. He had to plant his palms against the padded headboard to withstand Willow’s force just as Willow had to use the same headboard for leverage.

He wanted to devour Spark whole, leave him a quivering mess from the immense desires he had in him. Spark held well against Willow’s onslaught, let Willow use his body in unforgiving ways, both trying to reach an orgasm that was slow to come; it made the torture all the more sweet, this animalistic chase after one’s release heady and overpowering.

Spark’s unmitigated surrender to the act spurned Willow on even more, and he thought that he was going to die in the next moment from how good it felt to let himself go and show the extent to which his desires ran. Somewhere in the back of his sex-addled mind he was still waiting for Spark to tell him to stop, to show signs of pain or discomfort.

“Oh god, I’m gonna—“

Spark came in short, trembling spurts that went on and on for a while, a cry caught up in his throat, mouth open to let it out even though no sound was heard.

Willow relented then, close enough to his own orgasm, but too mesmerized by the way Spark’s manifested. His gaze pored over Spark’s face, drinking in the way his expression changed from blissed out to slowly becoming aware of his surroundings once more.

When he blinked his eyes open, Willow greeted him with a smile, albeit trembling. Spark’s mirrored one was lazy and satisfied like a cat’s, but then he pulled Willow in for a kiss that was all tongue and teeth and sloppy.

His cock throbbed inside Spark and he gave a couple of thrusts that made Spark moan in a way that Willow could only describe as consciously filthy. He bit Spark’s lower lip and Spark chuckled, arms keeping him plastered to himself when Willow tried to pull up.

“Now that I’ve recovered a little,” Spark said against Willow’s ear. “I want you to resume fucking me in earnest.”

He said it in such a way that made Willow groan and bunch the pillow in his fists. If he continued—

“Pound me like you want to mesh our bodies together. I want to feel owned, to feel like there’s no doubt that I’m yours.”

Willow groaned and bit down on Spark’s shoulder which pulled a gasp from him.

“Yeah, like that.”

Spark tensed up his inner muscles, hips gyrating as much as the little room he had permitted him.


The warning was grinding like tectonic plates spurning forth an earthquake and Spark delighted in the sound.

“Make me scream in pleasure, make me want to orgasm again — wreck me,” he whispered, hot breath and liquid words against Willow’s ear.

His hips snapped forward, and Spark’s smugness died on his lips as he rolled his eyes back under his eyelids. Willow looked down at him, a wolf baring his teeth and conquering Spark with his gaze alone. Spark couldn’t hold him down when he leaned up, hands grasping Spark’s hips and keeping him there as Willow returned to his brutal pace.

Spark couldn’t help himself but moan his assent, the up and down movements sending the pillows on the floor and the covers and sheets in disarray, but neither cared about them. Spark was getting exactly what he asked for and he abandoned himself once again to Willow’s strength and hunger, his gaze scorching on Spark’s skin.

In a spur of the moment decision, Willow grabbed Spark’s hands and pulled him up against his chest just to push him against the padded headboard and pound into him as if he wanted to send both of them into oblivion — or through the wall.

Spark’s moans became cries and the assent was spilling from his mouth with every thrust that touched the bundle of nerves inside him.


Willow obliged only because he was on the same wavelength and he only needed to ram his cock once, twice, thrice inside before he came so hard that his vision whitened.

When he returned to himself, brain a nest of cotton and thoughts extinct, he found himself sprawled on top of Spark, along the headboard, Spark’s hands running through his hair and back, and making soft sounds.

He didn’t let Spark know that he was back, reveling in Spark’s embrace and the loving way he made those sounds. If he could, he would freeze this moment just to relive it time and again.

“Professor,” Spark said softly. “I think it’s time for you to wake up. I’m kinda suffering from too little oxygen. Don’t get me wrong, I adore the way you are completely relaxed and carefree in my arms — I think I fell for you all over again — but I wouldn’t mind a bit of room to breathe. So wake up?”

Willow snorted a laugh before he caught himself and he moved to one side to peer down at a smiling Spark.

“You were awake!”

“Had a hard time bringing myself to end that moment.”

“Oh?” Spark lifted a mischievous eyebrow. “Someone is touch-starved.”

“I believe that every new couple is touch-starved initially.”

“True,” he said as he leaned up to steal a kiss from Willow.

Only steal he did not as Willow grasped the side of his neck to keep him where he wanted to.

They ended up sharing a shower to clean up the mess and sweat and Spark couldn’t think of anything short of another round of sex that could top Willow taking care of him. He delighted in it, and returned the gesture in earnest. They kissed more — at this point it was impossible for them not to. The wandering hands were a natural occurrence, but kissing required a bit more energy and focus; it wasn’t mindless, nor was it an afterthought.

Spark stroked them both when Willow’s fully erect member sought friction against Spark’s own hardness, and Willow caged Spark in, prepared to chase his second orgasm like this, but Spark pushed him against the opposite wall.

When he went to his knees, Willow’s shock would have sent Spark into a fit of laughter, if he didn’t feel even more aroused by the fact that: 1) Willow wasn’t expecting Spark to give him a blowjob; and 2) the heat in Willow’s gaze settled around Spark like a cosy cloak.

Being enveloped in a wet warmth that spurned his arousal on when Spark started to hollow his cheeks out and twirl his tongue around his cock, was something that Willow thought he forgot.

Curses spilled from his mouth. Spark huffed through his nose, but otherwise kept himself busy with Willow’s girth, which was no laughing matter. The Professor was endowed. And that was precisely why he had to use his hand to cover what his mouth couldn’t; yet, Willow didn’t look like he minded this — at all, if the way his face slackened, opened up to an expression Spark had never seen before, as if caught up in the throes of passion, was anything to go by.

The only warning Spark received was Willow’s tight grasp on his shoulder, before he came into Spark’s mouth. Some of it dribbled from the corners of his mouth, unable to swallow all of it, instead he took care to lick whatever was left until Willow had to push him away from his over-sensitized cock.

“You’re insatiable!” Willow said as he helped Spark to his feet, the latter chasing the come from his lips.

Spark grinned while the Professor took hold of his hips to slowly push him into the wall.

“I have reason to believe that you’ll best me.”

“Mm, we’ll see.”

He kissed Spark, long and hard while Willow stroked Spark into coming for the second time and before they separated to breathe, they were both half-hard again.

“Shall we test our stamina and refractory period?”

Willow smirked. “I’m more interested to see how much you can resist without coming.”

“What do you have in mind, Professor?”

“A lot of fantasies.”

Spark chuckled as he let Willow carry him out of the shower.

“Good thing that I’m willing to help you make them real.”

Willow smiled this time, and it made Spark’s heart skip a beat.

“I’m the luckiest man on earth.”

Spark sighed and touched Willow’s forehead, tightening his arms around his neck.

“You are,” he whispered. “But so am I.”

Willow kissed him and the next ten minutes were partly spent trying to reach the bed (and obviously failing) and partly giving Willow’s new wardrobe a run for its money.