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My Dear Champion

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'I think I'm dead.'


A blink. Hazy images. Overwhelming headache.


'Nope. Still kicking.'


The digits of his hand started to move first. A little at a time, just to feel his motor skills back. A sharp exhale, making his lungs hurt. 


'Where am I? Hospital? Plateau? Dragon Den? Not on the floor of the Kimono Girls Dance Theater again, right?'


The feeling of cold steel pressed against his back. Muscles aching with every sudden movement. Dim light above agitating his eyes.


'You fucked up, Lance.'


Hazy. So hazy. 


'You done fucked up real good, Champion Lance.'


Lance finally refocused. Oh shit. The memories came back. He really did fuck up. 


Mahogany Town. The Team Rocket headquarters under the fake souvenir shop. Hyper Beam. Ethan. Kotone. Victory. Rescue. Parting ways.


Everything crashed the mushy gray matter inside his head. Lance wanted to rub the discomfort away but realized his limbs were tied down with tight leather straps and cuffs. 


Dragonite was tired and Blackthorn was a short walk through Ice Path. He was the Champion so no need to fear. 


Boom! Crash! Lights out. No time to react. No time to even shout for help. It was Team Rocket. It had to be. Nobody pulls a completely disrespectful, shameful maneuver like that.


Everything else was too blurry to remember. Lance tried to pinch his nose bridge but remembered he couldn't move his hand. 


"Where am I…?" Slurred, incapacitated syllables rushed together, "Get out. Out. Gotta get out."


Lance closed his eyes again, feeling his brain doze off for a few minutes. However, a cold feeling shot up through his toes. 


That finally brought him into clarity. The dragon tamer realized he had no shoes on. Or his cape, for that matter. 


'Man, I had a knife in my boot for this exact situation. They'll give that back, right?'


Lance reckoned that even though he might be in his early twenties, he could still hold steadfast against this scum of an organization. 


If not, at least he'll leave a handsome corpse. Red hair, gold eyes, muscles for days, and a cute smile to break the hearts of millions. 


Lance attempted to move his leg but found it completely unable to move. He could only move his head and neck a few inches, giving him a chance to look around. 


His Pokemon were gone. They were probably picked off and stolen between Rocket grunts. Hopefully, his team gave them hell. 


Lance finally could make out the room he was in. It seemed small, almost cozy in a jailhouse sort of way. The walls were made of hard concrete and the floor was tile. 


While the Champion couldn't see his position exactly, he could gather that he was strapped down to some observational table. His wrists and ankles were tied individually to some sturdy block under him. Each limb was stretched out just enough to stop him from summoning force to pull himself out. 


Oddly, his legs were bent a little at the knees and separated from each other. Lance could be in some stirrup fashion to prevent him from kicking. 


Mouthing 'shit' under his breath, Lance took stock in his view. No pictures or information on the walls. No signs. 


However, he spotted a swath of black fabric draped over a table near him. It looked like…


'They ripped my cape. That's genuinely fucked up.'


On the table was a neatly arranged manila folder and a large, black attache case. A bold, red 'R' was on the front lock.


Someone sitting in a small folding chair. Legs were slightly outstretched, resting their closest foot on the table leg. Clearly waiting around for Lance to come out of his short nap.


Even though the light was dim, Lance could see the defined lines of a man wearing a white jacket and matching pants. The same notorious red "R" stitched over his heart on his jacket.


A small, green book was halfway open in one hand. The color triggered a vague memory of Lance seeing a similar book tucked under Steven's desk to keep it from wobbling.


"Champion Lance of the Indigo Plateau," A polite greeting broke the silence, "I have waited a long time to meet you. I am Archer, Executive of Team Rocket. The League calls me by the codename 'Apollo' in their intelligence briefings."


Lance knew exactly who this was. Impossible to not know, "What did I do to get an audience with the second-in-command of Team Rocket? And where are my Pokemon?"


"You blew up our temporary headquarters," Archer reminded him, setting his book aside, "As for your team, they are safely stored. For now."


The clear crispness of the Rocket administrator's accent briefly captured the trainer's attention. It reminded Lance of Steven's posh accent--typical yuppie Harvard-Yale-Oxford elitism--but Archer's was a little more enticing. 


Like he was weaving this web around an unwilling victim, just waiting for them to fall in.


At least Lance's Pokemon were safe, if Archer wasn't lying through his teeth like a sad sack of shit that Rocket was known for.


"Good time too. You should have been there," Lance retorted, trying to look around some more, "Oh, Petrel was there. And the red haired woman, Ariana. Not you."


Archer rove his eyes over the binded Champion, observing every breath Lance took. Undoubtedly, to think of amazing places on the Champion's body to stick needles or knives or whatever fun things awaited them.


"I was busy," Archer stated, "With important matters. Imagine my reaction knowing that you and some riffraff caused such trouble."


"Really?" An annoyed yet smug eyebrow cock, "We took down your headquarters along with some of your colleagues and all I get is riffraff ?"


"A setback, Champion. A fleeting one at that," His correction came swiftly, "However, my attention has now been diverted to you. You must be dealt with and it has been made abundantly clear that I need to handle this personally."


Lance hadn't seen Archer up close before but he recognized the face very well. After all, the top Executive's headshot photo emblazoned multiple wanted posters (with bounties into the hundreds of millions) and League reports. 


With how long and how often the photos got updated, Lance reckoned that Archer periodically submits the glamor shots himself. There had to be some underground modeling agency that criminals use. 


Now that he was only a few feet from his eyes, the criminal took full shape. Lance tried to keep a mental note of everything he could view but his brain was still sluggish.


Archer was very lean and quite slender, contrasting his mandatory guest's muscular and athletic build. 


Every part of the powerful Executive screamed class and elegance. His sharply cut teal hair, the quiet, observing eyes, and his finely-tuned poker face…


Like a young businessman just walking out after scoring a lucrative deal. 


Lance was actually surprised. He expected Archer to look much older but genetics must have blessed him with the secret to youthfulness. Either that or he had the fountain of youth stored in his pocket.


Also couldn't count out drinking and bathing in the blood of virgins. 


"Many people feel that way about me," Lance replied, "It's all part of my charm. Ow. You couldn't possibly help me out of these restraints, right?"


A careful, precise scan over the table, "You know I will say no."


"Worth a shot," His mouth quirked into a playful grin before seeing the attache case again, "What's in the box? What's in the box?! What's in the box?!"


Archer stared right through him.


"...From that movie. You know. The one with the ending in the desert and serial killer and two cops? One cop keeps asking…" Lance trailed off before sighing, "Nevermind. What's in the thing on the table?"


"You'll find out soon enough," Archer answered, "My dear Champion. Do know that I prepared a great deal for your arrival. We'll have plenty of time to go through it all. You cannot play the world saving hero today. That has been shelved indefinitely."


For an Executive holding one of the most important League members as a prisoner, Archer was certainly acting very polite. If Lance wasn't at his mercy, this could have been mistaken for a conversation at a cafe or a gourmet dinner table.


No inch of Archer gave any hint of casual or common traits. He was a refined gentleman all the way through. Bred, raised, and properly indoctrinated into the upper echelons of society. 


However, every Rocket informat to senior field agents agreed that Archer was more than meets the eye, even terrifyingly so. He was considered the most devout and loyal man to Giovanni. Each deep pit of his madness was driven by desire to please his leader and master. Nothing would stop him from bringing a smile to the criminal mastermind's face.


Archer was cruel like Proton to attain his goals. Pleasant like Petrel to disarm someone mentally. Even seductive like Ariana to use and abuse a victim's love. 


Underneath the academic ivory accent and calculating heart laid a psychopath. Absolutely no point in reasoning, talking, or coercing someone of such nature.


"I won't stand by and watch you or Giovanni ruin our regions, even if I am trapped here," Lance bolstered his courage, "I'll do everything it takes to stop Team Rocket."


Ah," Archer humored his threats, taking satisfaction in Lance's predicament, "And you're going to be the one that saves us all."


"Ideally," Lance retorted, a smidge more emotional than he wanted to be, "Team Rocket is crashing down all around you. You know it's coming. Don't you…?"


"Don't make assumptions on what I know or want, Champion. You will only scratch that surface today," The Rocket administrator lightly chided, "I have arranged for my schedule to be cleared, just for your stay. I have read your information and your psychological profile. But I don't plan on holding a long conversation with you."


The manila folder. Lance quickly glanced at it, "That's my file, right there?"


"Yes," Archer replied, "Up to this very moment."


The captive's mouth slightly frowned, "Our files are in blue folders. Easier to find. Nicer too."


"I'm sorry our office supplies are not up to your League standards. It does the job, however, if you were concerned," A cool, seemingly nonchalant remark, "We're gathering intel on your little underage cohorts too. I'll see if we can upgrade our filing system by then."


Ethan. Kotone. Lance had to steady his gaze so his fear wasn't apparent. He hoped they got away scot-free. 


They were going to have to be strong without him. Just for a little while. 


Fucking around with Archer until he could think of an escape plan seemed simple enough. 


"I didn't realize--" Such arrogance beamed through the tamer's voice, "I was such a celebrity here. Been a fan of my work for long, Executive?"


"I have been aware of your League involvement since you became the Elite Four Leader," Archer said as he slightly pushed his book to the side and stood from his chair, "I wouldn't say 'celebrity', however."


The subtle stress that the older criminal placed on the word celebrity was a little unnerving. 


"Can I see my picture?" Lance said, trying to keep the mood rolling, "Surely there's one in there. How else would you know you got the right one?"


Archer's slender digits flipped open the cover, unhooking a paper clip. Wordlessly, he lifted a small glossy printout of Lance's most recent League Registration photo. 


"Huh," The tamer mused, "You should use my Hall of Fame one. It looks better."


The dim light glinted a little on the picture's sheen. Something odd caught Lance's eye. 


The picture was a little dirty. Smudged, even. Faint streaks were on the top center and frame edge as if they had been hastily wiped off. Did the picture get wet or something?


"... Champion."


A stir, "What, Archer? What could you want from me right now?"


"A lot of things. As I said. You'll find out soon enough."


The picture was tucked back in and Archer closed the file. Lance tried to move his wrist again but failed, feeling no slack. Damn Rockets knew how to keep someone against their will. 


Archer settled near the table edge, leaning a little against his prisoner. He had to crane his neck a little lower than usual to look at Lance but he probably preferred it. 


"Why aren't you torturing me?" Indignant question, almost annoyed, "I thought I was going to wake up to some eggs and broken fingers. Instead, I get you not laughing at my jokes."


A long sweeping gesture over the bound limbs, "It will happen. This sort of thing is an art form, my dear Champion. Think of this anticipation like foreplay. It's better for the participants involved."


Waves of disgust washed over Lance's expression, "You're not my type. And I don't take male lovers."


Archer now lapped up Lance's aversion like sweet nectar, "How conservative you are. Close-minded, even. Does the public know that their beloved Indigo Champion hates the thought of homosexuals?"


Now Lance was pretty upset, "I don't hate anyone. I don't care if others do it. I just…"


"Just…?" The nectar must have been too much of a temptation for the Executive. 


"...I just don't like it for myself," Lance grumbled, almost as if he was convincing himself, "Nobody in Dragon Clan is gay. I can't be either."


He thought he heard Archer laugh a little but he could have mistaken it for his amused humming, "Such logic. If only I could keep it as a souvenir." 


Lance needed to regain control of the conversation. He averted his eyes to the ceiling before landing squarely on the center of Archer's nose.


"I have to know, Archer, in case this happens again…" Every sardonic drop bled through his tone, "How did you know to make the jump on me in Ice Path? I never take it."


A stringent smile, a little too taut around the older man's face, "I leave nothing to chance, Champion."


True statement, no doubt. Rumors of the Executives' personalities ran deep in League inquiries and anxious secondhand accounts. Tales grew more and more in exaggeration. 


"Fine, be like that," Lance exaggerated a long sigh, mainly for dramatic effect, "I always try to improve myself but you Rockets never help."


"On the contrary," Archer replied, "I want to help you reach full potential. It is you and the League who refuse to listen to reason. However, if your mind has changed…"


A groan, "Don't. Don't give me the spiel. I don't like melodramatic speeches and I especially hate condescending arguments. I have heard this before. You can save it for the next unlucky bastard."


Lance could see Archer brush away his comments like dirt off of his clothes. Not much irked him, it seemed. 


"You're a very mouthy young man," The way he levied that statement made Lance tense up a little, "Unsurprising. You Hyper Beam my agents without warning. Then have the audacity to taunt them afterwards."


"I gave warning. I told that guard to move and he didn't listen."


"And the other one at the entrance, after you arrived?"


"Now I know I told that one to move too."


Another smile, somehow even tighter than before, "And what of the two agents on the bottom floor?"


Lance paused for a second as if he was replaying the incident in his mind. However, his sudden eye-rolling made it obvious that Archer had a point. 


"They knew what they signed up for. At least I didn't launch some surprise attack and tie them to a table," Lance countered, "That would have been incredibly rude. Why, I don't think I could live with myself if I did such a thing."


"Mm. You learn to get by," Archer stated, "Before we get started, I will ask some questions to give you an opportunity to work with me."


"Can I--and I mean this in the clearest, most sincere way possible--just be absolutely horrible, snarky, shitty, and assholish every time I answer?"


"Certainly, but I don't take such statements to heart," His captor reached out to lightly check the restraint on Lance's wrist, satisfied, "Your full name is Lance--"


"It's actually Lance Peter no Wataru no Lens kara Siegfried Du atoni Mokho ," Lance interrupted bluntly, "And that is my full legal Dragon Clan name since we're making this formal. You were never going to get it right."


"...Fine. Champion. I appreciate the clarity. You became an Elite Four member when you were sixteen years old?" 


"They offered dental and a chance to thrash Rocket grunts around. I couldn't really say no."


"Why are you determined to destroy Team Rocket?"


"Giovanni once said I was a cheater for teaching Barrier to Dragonite. I'm still really sensitive about it."


Another check, this time on Lance's ankle, "Who told you about the base in Mahogany?"


"Nobody. There was a trail of breadcrumbs that I followed. I thought I could squeeze in ruining your day between going to the bank and grocery shopping."


"Mm. And still no significant other or children?"


"I'll be drowning in snatch when I tell women that I destroyed Team Rocket. When Arceus opens a door, you know?"


"Not now, I'm assuming?"


Lance had to laugh a little, "No, Archer, I saved myself for you. Teach me how to love."


Right after that jest, the Champion could see Archer's eyebrow raise a little. A chill went down his spine; maybe he should lay off a little. 


"I think I gleaned enough from you," Archer stated, "As illuminating as it was. Your punishment for meddling with Rocket business will be harsh, but necessary. You will not leave this place the same as you came in, Champion. And don't expect a daring rescue either."


"Wouldn't dream of it," Lance muttered before redirecting his reply, "You could let me go. And I could help you. You don't have to be like this. You don't have to do any of this--"


A low laugh startled Lance slightly, "Offering help to the right hand of Giovanni? You truly are a heroic soul. Alas, my dear Champion, I don't want to be rescued. I am here until the end."


There was no use in talking to a delusional follower of Giovanni. Lance sighed, quickly thinking of ten escape plans (maybe twelve if Lance didn't care for missing a limb here and there) before Archer unlatched his attache case. 


In seconds, a small syringe with a fresh needle appeared. The Rocket carefully prepped the device before Lance braced himself for whatever was next. 


"C'mon, Archer, I know you don't like me but do you have to drug me?"


A chuckle as Archer rolled his sleeve up, "It's not for you, Champion. It's for me."


Lance arched an eyebrow as he watched his captor inject himself in the forearm, noticing that Archer didn't even wince. Shots were already uneasy around the tamer but seeing someone else…


Was Archer using drugs? Perhaps it was possible. Team Rocket was involved in so many illicit activities so maybe it wasn't a stretch that the interim head was a big ol' drug addict. But Lance always pinned him as too arrogant for a vice like that and to look down on people getting high. 


Maybe he just started his addiction. Perhaps the Executive justified it as a method to stay awake or de-stress. 


Archer disposed of the needle and put the syringe back. Turning his attention to his captive, he slid his thumb across Lance's cheek. 


"There is something to that heroism, I'll admit," He commented, his drawn out touch unbearable for Lance, "It's rather charming in a childish, immature way. Like a little boy insisting he is old enough to have adult conversations. Juvenile but cute."


Lance glared, "I'm not some brat you can dismiss easily."


"You've proven that repeatedly by wrecking Rocket bases," Archer agreed, "You're like those children you've befriended. Everything is black and white, justice prevails, and I'm a bad man all the way through. You're the hero and you're destined to win. I'm merely the archetypal morning cartoon villain that you must defeat every week."


His thumb went over Lance's lips, gently sliding in-between as the young man's tongue touched the skin. A reflexive twist of the head forced the Executive to withdraw his hand. 


Archer tasted like blood, gunpowder, and obsessed loyalty.


"But these boyish daydreams must end. You will be a better man for it. And you'll thank me for educating you on such."


The room's aura felt different. A looming danger rising from the floors like a poisonous gas. Regret of not being more careful, more alert about his surroundings ate the Champion up inside.


"You're sounding a little too 'rapey', Archer," Lance muttered, "You shoul--"


"Am I? The libido drug must be working sooner than expected," Archer interrupted him smoothly, like a knife to warm butter, "By the time you're ready, it should take full effect."


Libido drug? The statement buzzed in Lance's mind. Long, strewn seconds of deliberate pondering churned in the Dragon Champion's brain before his eyes widened sharply. Air from his lungs had been robbed by the sudden realization.


" No. " No other words could be managed.


"You're welcome to keep saying that but it has the opposite effect on me," Archer rejected, "In fact, coupled with the drug, I think it heightens the pleasure."


Lance's mouth fell open in shock, his heart racing in his chest. He was never prepared or trained for a situation like this. He didn't even know this could happen to men!


", you're…lying..."


"No, my dear Champion. This is happening. A word of advice: the sooner you accept it, the easier you get through the trauma. Some even wind up liking it."


Survival instincts lit up in Lance's veins as he started to fight back against his restrictive bonds. Archer left his side and strode back to the attache case, remarkably collected about this. 


This had to be some intimidation tactic. Something to make Lance crack. 


His terrorized thoughts seized his brain and kept bouncing around irrationally. Men couldn't do this to other men. Or maybe only the bad men can. Lance couldn't be a victim. Or maybe his status, prestige, and upbringing made him the perfect victim. 


"But why would you need a drug?!" Every syllable sputtered in disbelief, fumbling and blurting out on what to say next.


"My body is under intense stress and sleep deprivation. I use several different types of hardcore pornography to aid masturbation. I haven't had a partner, let alone a submissive slave, in a long time. And I don't want to rob you of proper punishment," The Executive stated as if he was reciting mundane medical details, "The libido drug is necessary. I don't use it often but even if I did, it's perfectly normal. Plenty of homosexual men in my age use it."


There was a lot to unpack in that speech. Archer was gay? What sort of hardcore pornography could a Rocket administrator be into? Submissive slaves? Partners? 


Invisible punches started coming at him one by one. Everything that Archer was saying earlier. Every seemingly innocuous move. 


The picture. It was dirty because...


Fuck, Lance was in some deep shit this time. 


"Let's talk about this," Lance stammered, "Before doing something crazy. You really don't have to go this far. Please. Please. Don't do this to me."


"Hm. No," Archer didn't even pretend to humor the request, taking out a pair of sharp scissors from his case. 


Lance writhed hard against his tight bonds, feeling the cold steel of the utensil slice away his jumpsuit. 


"Listen, listen, Archer, just come back to reality for a second…"


One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Snips of the scissors and the Indigo Champion was laid bare for his forceful lover's eyes. Lance felt a little grateful he chose to not wear the Dragonite themed boxers he got for Christmas last year as he didn't need that humiliation tacked on too. 


Archer ripped down Lance's plain boxer-briefs. One. Two. Quick snips and he tossed the useless fabric behind him.


The first thought Lance could fathom in his desperation was that he prayed he wasn't sporting an erection. Giving Archer any sort of vindication was at the bottom of his list. 


The second thought that followed close behind was that Lance had never been with any man before. Could Archer tell from sight alone? 


A hitch in the Executive's breath. Fuck. Fuck . Archer's thick, frustrated exhale was a hell of a warning shot. 


"Archer. Archer, stop," Lance felt his voice crack slightly, desperately clinging to some flimsy defense, "You can't do this. You…"


"In your world of League rules and order, no. But this is Rocket and I can do as I damn well please," Archer cut him off as his hand trailed lightly over Lance's vulnerable abdomen, "You're welcome to tell yourself whatever you'd like, during or afterwards. Even if it doesn't make sense in the slightest. I don't judge coping abilities."


Every involuntary twitch and jerk of the Dragon Tamer was recorded and filed away in Archer's brain. 


"How long has it been, Champion, since intimacy?" Archer inquired, more curious than professional.


Truthfully, Lance couldn't remember when. Rocket had been running him around in circles day after day, never letting up. He couldn't even remember if the half-frozen, microwaved egg sandwich was today's breakfast or last week's dinner. 


Sex was purely filling a biological need and Lance usually found it in self-care. He mastered a quick release--a few dirty, hard strokes coupled with perverted thoughts of dominating his more busty Elites or Leaders--but it was to get it out of his system so he could work. 


When Lance had to share his bed with someone, often because he was so bottled up that he couldn't eat, sleep or even focus, he had a League employee to satiate his crude desires with. 


She had been hired under the pretense of "maintaining the PC systems in the Indigo Plateau's lobby" but Lance specifically employed her to keep his sexual urges controlled. He paid her enough to keep quiet about the arrangements and she was happy she was earning a living by fucking the Dragon Champion. 


After all, her job was crucial. Lance couldn't go around sleeping with his Elites or Leaders which could cause needless drama. But he couldn't find someone outside his work or he would get hit with publicity tabloids and a mess of paternity lawsuits. 


He had planned to meet his little colleague a week ago but Lance got caught up in another Rocket raid and…


"None of your business," Lance snapped, feeling Archer's fingertips glide on his thigh, "Stop. No. Stop."


"Do you think if you say those words a few more times, it'll work?" Archer teased, his deadpan delivery bolstering Lance's fear, "Maybe you're just not saying it with enough conviction."


Each limb of the Champion became paralyzed as Archer dipped his hand low. Lance could feel the Executive's subtle fondling on his body. While the young adult had been blessed with a proud manhood, he didn't want to prove it. 


One stroke. Two more strokes, each longer than the last. Three fast strokes down the entire length. 


"No, no, no, stop, stop…!"


A wicked chuckle, "You like it rough and fast. That's the trait of a slut. Whores like it long and slow since they get paid by the hour. Sluts just want to be ridden hard and put away wet."


Lance struggled again but his bonds wouldn't budge. However, whatever ministrations his assaulter was doing finally got a reaction as Lance could feel himself harden a little. 


"Very good boy," Archer purred, his words dripping like velvet as his rubbing continued, "I can't help but fantasize that one day, you'll touch yourself to this memory over and over again. Laying in bed, secretly playing with your body... perhaps with a wife sleeping blissfully unaware next to you…"


A hard, deathly scowl, "I would never, ever do anything like that."


"Oh?" A twisted smile on the Executive's face, perhaps the first one that Lance had ever seen, "Ah. Of course. The intense, ingrained homophobia of the Dragon Clan. You probably were taught that this sort of thing degrades your masculinity. I can't wait to see how you'll convince yourself that you aren't a victim. Or how you'll wither under the disgusted look of your grandfather. This might be better than the fantasy I just mentioned. But do remember, you are aroused by this."


Lance had enough. He wasn't going to take any more of Archer's bullshit. He quickly summoned a wad of saliva and spat at Archer. 


Whack! A hard backhand across the face and Lance saw stars. Fresh taste of blood; he must have busted his lip. 


"You didn't even aim correctly," Archer chided, "And now you're bleeding. I hope it was worth it."


Before the prisoner could fire off a snarky reply, he felt Archer kiss him. Wrestling with each, making Lance understand the concept of tonsil hockey better.


A low, pained whimper escaped the Champion as everything just struck the poor trainer at once. Lance was going to be raped. By Executive Archer. He could do nothing about it and tell no one. 


Archer licked up the blood with his tongue, savoring the weakened state of his prisoner. 


"Virgin blood," He hummed, tasting every drop, "Not yet broken by the world. Oh, Champion, I simply cannot go on any longer. You've been too much of a tease with your protests and efforts. Open your mouth."


To that, Lance tightened his jaw and slithered his response through gritted teeth, "Fuck you."


Archer seemed to expect that. He pulled out a butterfly knife from his pocket, expertly flipping it around his forefinger, before sticking the tip at the corner of Lance's mouth.


"Open or I will make a new hole that will serve my purposes better."


 It took several seconds for Lance to decide, wrestling with his deep-seated, conservative beliefs, but he obeyed. Archer quickly removed the knife and unzipped his pants. 


His member sprang to life, clearly happy to be freed. Archer moved against the edge of the table, grabbing Lance's head and forcing him to face his groin. It was clear that Lance was having second thoughts as his mouth attempted to snap shut but Archer thrusted himself in. 


The jolt of the movement made Lance shudder painfully from embarrassment and humiliation. His face turned red as tears threatened to destroy his grip on reality. Two groans, mixed with a short gurgle, escaped from Lance's body. 


"Suck," Archer commanded, "Like your life depends on it."


Lance obeyed, now more out of fear than necessity, as his eyes burned with salt. His mouth tightened around Archer, slightly shifting his head side to side to further him along. 


The Rocket administrator's nails dug into Lance's scalp, picking up a slow grind with his hips. Usual stoic behaviors began to crumble and betray Archer with every thrust: tight, lustful moans. Sweat soaking his clothes. Flushed pink skin from arousal. 


A bitter taste slid across Lance's tongue. It was Archer's pre-cum-- no, Lance couldn't think that! He would vomit for sure. 


The tamer's fingers twitched hard, stiff from the torture. Lance would give anything, even his League title, to have just one restraint gone. 


"Relax your throat," Archer ordered, his previous manner gone and replaced with something sick, "Pleasure me. Look at me with those spiteful little eyes while you take me. Are you still saying stop, Champion, as I violate your mouth? How about no? Say it a few more times for me. Loudly. I want others to hear you."


A violent lurch later and Lance's throat got slammed with Archer's desire. Muffled cries kept coming as drool and spit pooled under Lance's cheek. 


"That's it," Archer hummed, gripping Lance's scalp as his prisoner gagged on his length, "You can listen to instructions when you apply yourself. If only you could learn your place as well."


Lance mustered up a glare, though he questioned the effectiveness of it since he was sucking off Archer. 


However, like everything else, the Rocket Executive merely twisted the situation, "You like pleasuring me, don't you? Have you wanted this all along?"


What?! Lance only realized his own full-on erection at that moment. Despair slid over his face, unable to even shake his head. 


"You must like the idea that I am getting relief from your body," Archer was taunting him now, "To be a sex toy for a Team Rocket Executive...I am a little jealous. That was something I fulfilled for Giovanni and no longer can."


Son of a bitch. Lance didn't want to know that. Even worse, the information didn't make his erection go down. 


The blood from Lance's lip got agitated again, rubbing and mixing with his spit as Archer kept forcing himself down into his throat. Dizziness started to overtake the trainer's senses. 


"Yes! Fuck!" Archer let a curse slip, his gasps of eagerness filling the room, "Make me cum, Champion! Come on! Keep sucking me off!"


Lance whined in pain as his bruised throat took the abuse. Archer's knuckles must have been white from gripping his hair so tightly. 


" Mouthy little boy," His wretched little laugh, "My favorite kind of slut too. Especially ones that are convinced they would never be with a man and be their dirty, filthy, little sex slave. But they always do. And they always like it."


Darkness started to creep in from the corners of Lance's eyes. He was going to pass out. He needed air. He needed someone to save him.


Finally, Archer pushed himself to the brink and emptied his seed into Lance's throat. The Champion had no choice but to swallow as Archer kept his thickness firmly lodged inside. 


Every single glob of semen was salty and bitter. Lance wanted to retch as some mechanism to protect himself but he just couldn't. 


A wave of satisfaction rolled over Archer's body, making him shudder openly. He pulled himself out as Lance struggled with the sudden intake of oxygen. 


"As my colleague would say…" Archer's twisted smile came back, "You're a little bit of a cocksucker, aren't you?"


Lance definitely had no interest in knowing which Executive said that. Did these Rockets just fuck around with each other while scheming nefarious plots? 


Or fuck around with unwilling prisoners while the others watch.


"Eat shit, Archer," Lance fired back, raw from his exposure, "You better kill me because when I get out…"


"Ah, ah," A slight gesture of Archer's finger, circling a little, " When being the keyword, my dear Champion. When I do let you out, if I choose to, you'll walk right back into my embrace."


Baring his teeth in disgust and hate, Lance retaliated, "Fuck you. And fuck Rocket."


Archer smirked, using one of his free hands to stroke his once again erect length, "Choice words. In Team Rocket, that carries great weight. That sort of talk gets you into trouble. Maybe it's the trouble you like?"


Was this bastard hard again ? And so soon? Lance figured that Archer was getting off on seeing and hearing him resist so hard. He was hyping himself up for another round and the libido drug was helping. 


As the running gag was, Lance was helpless to stop him.


"Creep. You would like that," Lance muttered, "You and all the other sick creeps."


"I would love to see it," Archer agreed too enthusiastically as his hand continued to stroke himself, "And all the others would too. Rocket always appreciates a good show and you'd be perfect entertainment."


There was just no use in talking to these crazy Rockets! A deep, primal growl cut across the room's atmosphere as Lance tried again in vain to free himself. 


"You don't give up, do you?" Archer said, practically drinking in Lance's refusal to submit, "Even when you lose. You must be used to calling the shots. Unfortunately, Champion, I am the one who decides your fate in this place. When Giovanni comes back, he will be the ultimate judge of…"


"Get off it!" Lance hollered, his rage and sorrow boiling over, "Giovanni is never coming back! You're the one who loses! The whole damn Team Rocket is done for!"


The remaining words of Archer's sentence dropped and broke on the floor. Pure anger and bewilderment flashed across his teal blue eyes. His stroking stopped completely. A nerve had been struck, possibly left defenseless from his extreme lustful excursion.


Lance realized too late that he wounded a lunatic psychopath deeply and he was the only target to take it out on. 


"Is that so?" Every movement of Archer's mouth screwed up in vengeful fury, "Then I will make you understand. You will understand."


His hand flew into the case and a small rod with two prongs appeared. Archer's thumb flipped over the button and an electric spark flew out. 


Instant dread and panic flooded Lance's soul, "No, no, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…!"


His abuser said nothing. Without much poetry, Archer jammed the prongs into Lance's softening member and turned on a jolt. 


Extreme pain hit Lance like a ton of bricks. It was so excruciating that he couldn't even scream, just weakly choke out a cry. His body didn't know what to do or how to react. 


A little bit of semen shot out, possibly as a reflex from fright and pain, but Lance felt no enjoyment. 


"Giovanni is coming back," Archer's words slowly became unhinged, "And you will be on your knees for him."


Another shock. Lance screamed this time. 


"Giovanni is coming back and he will want Team Rocket to stand behind him proudly. I will do everything in my power to ensure that," His ramblings continued, "Even if I have to go through you or the League or any snot-nosed brat. Nobody disrespects Giovanni in my presence."


Another shock. Lance almost blacked out but a swift knock to the head forced him back into reality. 


"Say it, you little cocksucker."


There was a long button click before a powerful shock seized Lance's muscles. Every part of him vibrated from the electric pulses and all of his nerves lit up. 


"Giovanni is coming back! He's coming back!" Lance shrieked, his voice shrill and suffered, "Stop! I am sorry! I am sorry I said it!"


Archer kept going. His raving madness took hold, even making his grip tremble in wrath as he tortured Lance. 


"Team Rocket will live forever," His voice got increasingly pitched, "Over our bones and ashes. You'll be grateful to take a bended knee to Giovanni and offer your blood to strengthen our walls."


"Yes, yes, I understand, just stop! Please!" Lance's tears freely ran down his face, "I can't...I can't take...anymore…!"


Lance didn't really know if he believed it or if the pain drove him to it but Archer let up on the shocks. The Champion's head rolled back, trying to get through all of the physical agony. 


"Don't speak such lies again," A warning of great threat. 


Lance could only falter, breaking into pieces. Tears kept falling. He tried to reach out for a branch to hang onto but he kept plummeting.


Archer must have snapped back into his lust as he gave his organ a few quick rubs to get back into it. 


"Now then…"


A flurry of fingers flew over the Executive's outfit and in seconds, a fully nude Archer tossed aside his clothes. 


"This has yet to be concluded."


Lance couldn't even struggle this time. Some unfamiliar sensation rolled over him. Perhaps it was acceptance of the situation or total surrender. 


Either way, the Executive had beaten him. 


Archer positioned himself between Lance's legs, rubbing the head of his rod against Lance's entrance. The Dragon Champion found no strength to even brace himself for what was coming. 


His attacker didn't even care that Lance was weeping. In fact, he might have thought the tears were a convenient lubricant if he needed it.


"Hm…" He heard Archer muse over it, "It might be too tight."


Lance prayed that it was a deal breaker. Unfortunately, no deity above was listening as he felt Archer's fingers stretch him.


"Ow! It hurts!" Lance shrilled, trying his best to not cry even more, "Stop that!"


"What exactly do you think my job is here?" Archer questioned, stretching him again even more, "Now relax. Your cherry is getting popped either way."


In the midst of all of the looming assault and abuse, "...I thought...cherry...girls…?"


"Your orientation doesn't have a monopoly on sexual metaphors, Champion. As such…" Archer moved his body up against Lance's, "There it is."


Lance could feel this prodding. Rubbing. Pushing against him. 


In a blink of an eye, pain. The captive's body jerked violently as a burning, hot need shoved deep inside of him.


This was happening. This was real. Lance's mind grappled with the shock and despair as Archer carried on his sinful desire. The tears stopped suddenly as Lance spiraled into complete frozen shock.


"Please... please take it out…" His croaking pleas echoed, "It's deep, it hurts, it…"


A chuckle, "My dear Champion, I am only about two inches in. You still have plenty more to go in order to satisfy me."


Lance whimpered, closing his eyes so he wouldn't have to tolerate the sight of the Rocket administrator any longer. However, a cold grip grabbed his jaw. 


"Look at me, Champion. Watch me fuck you."


His eyes fluttered back open, seeing Archer's face reveling in perversion. In a moment of sick curiosity and disbelief, Lance gazed downwards and saw Archer's length forced in and out of his body. 


Nausea swept him. He didn't know what was worse to look at. 


"Let's get you adjusted to my size, hm?" Archer suggested, his tone indicating his sadism, "Stretch a bit."


There was no time to ask what that meant before Archer sheathed himself fully into Lance's cavity. 


Every part of Lance burned now. A moan darted between his lips as his skin shivered in release. 


With how close the Executive was, Lance could sense a pulsating need in Archer's groin. The man definitely wanted to fuck Lance's brains out now. 


"So tight…" Archer murmured, "I can feel you opening up around me. But there's just a little bit of resistance...I do think you like this, deep down, and the little fight you put up is just for your fetish fulfillment. After all, you were saving yourself for me."


"Fuck you," Lance spat, summoning up his last scraps of bravery and dignity, " Fuck you."


"Like I said," Archer pulled his face a little, leaning over to play his hot breath on his lips, "Those words carry weight here. You want to fuck me, Champion? That's too bad. Nobody fucks me except Giovanni. But I am going to fuck you like I own you."


His hips started to grind against Lance, going in and out. The poor Champion simply wanted to pass out but he was unable to. 


Archer was going slow and deliberate on purpose. Dragging this out and making Lance feel every type of pain on every level. Desperately wondering when this torture would end. 


Most men would have gotten their jollies from their partner and left but Archer was proving himself to not be like the rest. 


However, one thrust hit something dark and exciting inside of Lance. His body quivered a little. Another one. And another.


"You're flushed," Archer commented, keeping his hips steady as Lance writhed in pain, "Please tell me you didn't just fall in love with me, Champion. That would be very inconvenient for you."


Lance hissed an unintelligible remark, trying hard to block the rape from his mind. However, he was in that horrible, sick, sweet spot where Archer was going too fast so Lance couldn't lose interest but not fast enough so Lance wasn't able to focus on pleasure. 


Archer slid his head a little lower, giving Lance another hard kiss before going for his neck. The sharp teeth sank into the young man's skin, leaving harsh bruises. 


His slender hands ran across Lance's frame, tracing and rubbing his hips. 


"Have you given up on telling me 'stop' and 'no'?" He mocked, feeling Lance flinch, "Say it again. I like the way it sounds when you do. It makes me think of all the awful things I want to do to you."


Lance clamped his mouth shut, refusing to obey. Archer tittered to himself before smacking Lance across the face. 


"I really wish you wouldn't make me do that...I do like to look at a pretty face…" He remarked, seeing Lance tremble, "Now. Say it."


"Stop. No. Please stop," A whimper, "Please."


"Now look at my cock as it fucks your slutty, stretched hole and say it."


Lance cringed, obediently following commands as tears started to well up again. Archer's shaft disappeared inside with every movement, coinciding with the Champion's sensations. 


"Stop, stop,…"


That must have turned on Archer quite a bit. He picked up fervor, pounding away at him like he was nothing but meat. 


The mixed echoes of their session got louder and louder. Pleas were met with deep, satisfied groans of pleasure. 


"Just so you know," Cruelest, most pleasant little tone, "Every Rocket from here to Kanto will know we fucked."


Lance could only picture the sneering and snickering of the other Rocket grunts. At least he didn't have to hear that now .


Archer pushed himself as deep as he could go, making Lance involuntarily curl his toes. Waves of gratification rolled over the dragon tamer. 


No. No! He couldn't be enjoying this! Lance was being violated! ...But he wasn't being violated, he can't be violated, men can't be raped…


So he wanted this then? But no! Nobody wants this! Except Lance right now. Except he didn't want it. 


"Archer, please! No! Stop!" Lance begged, feeling his captor hit his feverish spot perfectly every time, "I can't...I can't…!"


"Don't then. It makes no difference to me if you don't find relief," Archer interrupted, slamming his hips against Lance and feeling his toy vibrate from unwanted, lustful eagerness, "It just might make it easier for you to accept this if you find... euphoria. And judging how you've started to tighten even more around me, you're starting to embrace this."


Lance's tongue felt hot and dry, sticking to the roof of his mouth as his heated breath increased. 


Sick, carnal thoughts sprung out of nowhere from unimaginable depths rooted in his brain. Archer could fuck him like this all the time. Instead of torture and a drawn-out execution, Lance could just give himself over to the Executive for fun. He'd even consider throwing a few missions just to get punished hard and long.


Archer could even come to him and force himself on the Dragon Champion. At Lance's home or office or…


'What the fuck am I thinking?!' Lance broke his newfound fantasies, 'Rocket is evil! Archer is a bad man! And you're not even gay! Why sign up for being some fuck toy for him?!'


Because Lance wanted this all along. He got caught on purpose. He liked bad men. 


'Stop thinking that!'


"My dear Champion," Archer crooned a bit, "You're not telling me to stop anymore."


Lance faltered, feeling another hot kiss. Boiling heat started to rise in Lance's flushed cheeks. His knees became weak. Rolls of an incoming, relentless climax flowed through his pelvis.


'I can't...I can't...not with him, anyone but him…!'


"Don't hold back, Champion," Archer instructed, his hands pinning Lance's neck as sensations increased. 


"No, no, please!" Lance cried out, feeling his body convulse as air was constricted, "Archer, pleas--!"


The most wonderful, intense, deep, quaking orgasm that Lance ever had took over, shooting his cum over his abs and stomach. Archer grunted a little in relief as his spent desire filled Lance to the brink.


The floor dropped quickly under the Dragon Champion. How could Lance let a Rocket Executive cum inside of him? Be his sex toy for an hour? And have an incredible orgasm with him? 


Mixed feelings of guilt and perplexity settled in easily.


"Good boy," The older man said, sliding his softened member out, "For a first time, you didn't do half bad."


Archer's seed slicked Lance's entrance, making the younger man flinch as it dribbled out onto the table. Lance's own cum started to dry on his own stomach and pelvis, etching a deep sense of shame into his soul. 


Internalize. Cope with it. Be strong. Not a victim. Fuck , that orgasm felt amazing. Archer didn't even have to touch him. No! He just used him! It felt good but didn't feel good. Lance didn't like it, he just had a mind-blowing ejaculation. 


"You learned how to be quiet. That's quite a start," The Executive remarked, straightening himself up, "So Champion Lance of the Indigo Plateau can be taught something. That will be a useful skill in your Rocket career."


Lance blinked, unsure if he heard that correctly. Archer quickly discerned the confusion on his captive's face. 


"You didn't think I would let you go, did you? A strong, powerful trainer who recklessly disrupts our business? You've proven yourself malleable, to be shaped into a perfect tool. It will take a long time to perfect you. But we're both going to enjoy it, won't we? Soon, love is all that you will have for Rocket. For me. And you're going to wonder why you ever resisted us in the first place…"


Lance couldn't breathe, "I can't...I can't...not...even more…"


Archer smirked, seductively kissing his ear before whispering, "Well, that's why I brought the libido drug, my dear Champion."


A dread washed over Lance as fear took him by the throat. Sputtering vowels and weak protests before Archer slid his finger across Lance's lips, making a shushing sound. 


"You will find purpose and pleasure in being a tool for Rocket. We all do."




Months later, Kotone and Ethan attempted to wrangle the Goldenrod Radio Tower free from Team Rocket's control. 


They had gone up the floors and were quite successful. Good strategy, teamwork, and courage earned them victory after victory.


 But upon reaching the top level, their worst nightmare had been waiting for them. 


They had expected the Executive known as Archer waiting for them.


What the two didn't expect was their former friend, Lance, challenging them to battle as Archer sat behind the desk. The very same Lance, once a proud Champion and shining beacon of justice, who disappeared after the Mahogany incident. 


A cold, listless, and driven Dragon Tamer with no fond memories of the two. A red "R" emblazoned on his uniform, sewn over his former heart. 


Also noticeably less mouthy. 


Ethan and Kotone, not quite ready for Lance's skill and reeling in shock at the betrayal, were thrashed in moments. Mercy was not rewarded for their loss as the young kids were taken away by grunts, forcing the two to await whatever fate Team Rocket had for them.


While Team Rocket did what they pleased with disobedient children and as the signal blared on, Archer waited it out with Lance. 


After all, Lance still has so much to offer the top administrator of Rocket, especially bent over a desk.


As long as Archer had his book and his dear Champion, he could wait as long as needed for Giovanni to hear the signal.