Chapter Text
Mike rolled his way out of bed. Mostly. Just enough for his front half to hang off. The patterns of his bedside rug offered little to occupy the mind. He was bored. It was a great day outside, judging by the cool breeze through the window, but the fridge was stocked, chores were done, and a field trip somewhere wasn’t so appealing…none of the girls had asked for one, anyway.
He tousled his brown locks with a palm. Lazy days could really suck. All but two of his team were resting in their balls today, so they must’ve been lounging around somewhere in the house. Or nearby. Mike sighed. They already had an idea of where he’d be spending the day, given his lack of plans to share for today. Hopefully Ava didn’t fly too far.
“Roc?”
A pair of white, furry paws in front of him that weren’t on the mat before. If he lifted his head, he’d see the long zigzag border with red fur that all midnight lycanroc had running along their thighs. He hadn’t been prodded with her claws yet, so she hadn’t been standing there too long.
“Hey Mizule.” he murmured.
“Ly-can?”
“Eh, as well as ever,” he replied.
Mike genuinely meant it too, but there was a high chance she’d prod him further—and so she did. Mizule’s paws stepped closer, a flattened growl coming from above. Another uncomfortable reminder of how well his team could take after him. The new standing place of Mizule’s paws made her ankles very convenient to grab, though.
“Rrrrooooc?” She drawled above him, swinging forward at the hip. Her maw now rumbled just behind his head.
Maybe being a bit more callous during their journey would’ve saved him now…revulsion drowned the idea near instantly. Toothy grins and claws of affection were worth it any day, and for that, Mike couldn’t help himself—as much as he’d avoid admitting it. The tradeoff was moments like these.
Get close, be calm, be firm— Mike didn't ever recall repeating that mantra out loud, but here Mizule was, trying it on him. On another day, or even a few hours later, he would’ve been proud of this wonderful companion, but getting ahead of a roc-massage strategy was much more important .
“I’m fine, really. This is absolutely where I want to be,”—he grabbed her ankles with both hands—”but I haven’t figured the right way to spend it,” Mike assured. He'd caught Mizule slightly off-balance, according to his palms. She wasn’t alarmed, so he waited until her legs felt settled, then added his weight.
Mizule gave a grunt of surprise at his new antic. What was her human up to? A voice in the back of her mind spoke up—she’d be too lucky if that was the case. Abrupt mating would’ve done just fine today, and she could tell the pack after that their Mike was finally in play. He didn’t do abrupt, though, and no matter how much she wished, he’d never take a night without those pesky clothes so she could catch a real bone—
One of the pulls at her legs shifted into a slightly higher spot. Then the other followed, on the other leg. Was he… climbing her? Really?
Mike chuckled at her exasperated yowl. “What, so a bunch of you can climb me as pups, but now I can’t do the same?” he teased.
Spouting lines like that made him feel like his father, something he told himself was still many years off his age, but he couldn’t deny the effectiveness. Mizule huffed, but stayed put, enduring him.
Internally, Mike congratulated himself on her training. Sure, the Elite Four’s 2nd was their insurmountable wall, but each of his girls were their own masterful fighting machines as far as he cared. Even now, his touch revealed the raw strength lurking in Miz’s idle muscles. Her calves were well shaped, tendons healthy. He’d need to move the joints to judge them, but that required getting up from where he was. A half-assed gripe, admittedly, given this ploy would slowly prop himself off the sheets anyways.
Mike fell into the old routine before he knew it, back when their home was mostly a tent. Waking up at odd hours in the morning—he never could do it quite on time—taking his team out, individually or all together, and physically checking their forms. As a fresh trainer, his first attempts were clumsy, the first books he read not quite covering how to avoid pricking fingers on the stones in a rockruff’s unique neck fur. Or how much of said fur was normal to have. But he kept studying, scrounging money from victories and odd jobs for books and workshops in every city he stopped across. Or every pokecenter.
Maybe some of the Joys remembered him. All the effort meant he improved pretty quickly, which also led to saving a ton on potions in the long run from knowing when to heal. Everyone was still getting a spin on the pokecenter machine, though, free or not. Ava usually took the most time on those mornings anyways: a given with all the membrane and wing structure that dragon-bat had. Checking under noibat fluff just to make sure her nutrition was right. Gently spreading her wings, examining the bones and membrane, then all the trials of managing scale and fur on one body…though Mizule held her own in the latter.
She had long clocked the shift in his demeanor, the rhythms getting too careful to be mere play. He began whispering to himself, stoking Mizule’s nostalgia with sounds he never seemed to notice. She’d come to appreciate them, a sign of his dedication to their growth. To hers. Warmth filled her eyes at the man who so easily lost himself for her—all of them, really. Ever fair, ever concerned. When it was just the two of them, she’d taken a loss pretty hard as a rockruff—a loudmouth boy and his growlithe. She’d wanted to show off, prove her worth. She’d lost, and worse, ignored his call—not that they would’ve won anyways, as hindsight proved—and he’d hugged her, encouraged her, and kept up the routine all the same. In light of that, it was impossible to nurse stings of negativity for long, which let something else crawl into its place. Something that'd long been waiting to hold him dear.
“...Take you running…” her human murmured below, just getting past her knee. It was his worst habit, endlessly chasing the best for his team. Now that they were ‘retired’, though they still trained regardless, the displays simply got softer. Less checkups, but they each had their own bed in this home. The halls were bigger to let Ava walk everywhere, freely.
“How’d you like that snack I left for ya anyways? The mart didn’t have the usual, so I improvised a little.” His hazel orbs met hers, smirking. The lycanroc huffed, a bit gloomy that her trainer hadn’t made it far up her thighs…
“Roc.” His smirk widened to a grin. It was part of why she was here, but that was a matter for later. Mike didn’t usually break out of these trances so often. Her paws hooked, nonchalantly, under his shoulders.
“Miz,” he began, “I’m basically flat. There isn’t anywhere for you to pull tha—whoa!”
Mizule certainly had ideas about how to ask. It seemed like she’d showed up to steal some bedspace, with how he’d been upended to lay almost perfectly straight on the other side of the mattress. Mike didn’t mind, though—it was somewhat impressive, firstly, and still better than his previous lying around, secondly.
He looked away from her bouncing mohawk to inspect his ceiling. “Well, hurry up then! Not getting shy, are you?” he teased.
Surely she didn’t just come here to flip him, right? The feeling of distant, shifting foam brought his answer, so he waited it out while she situated herself. This frame was ordered good enough to hold a Noivern, anyways.
“Ly.” Mike looked over. She’d propped up her back on some pillows, and now tapped the space next to her with a paw. He raised an eyebrow.
“Canro, ly lycanroc.” Old favor? He didn’t remember everything they’d done together in the earlier days, but he had just pulled a similar card. She probably wouldn’t try anything more mischievous than he did either. He rolled onto his stomach and soldier-crawled his way over. Mizule smirked, bewildering him more, then patted her stomach.
Mike found himself with a makeshift Lycanroc pillow. It wasn’t half-bad. He turned his head to face her, taking proper note of the sheer fluff going up her chest and torso. The stomach his cheek was on seemed thinner—he could feel her lurking abs, but there was still enough inbetween for it to be much better than lying on a sheet of paper over a grindstone. Mike knew her core was at least that strong. Maybe she‘d relaxed it for him. A smile broke out on his face. If not for those torso-claws, he might’ve gotten a chance to lay on that bountiful tuft instead. Hard to believe a chest was under all that, despite knowing otherwise. Mizule looked amused.
“Isn’t it a bit too early?” he asked her, worming up a hand to performatively scratch his stubble. “I’m pretty sure we only cuddled like this in the old days after sundown.”
“Can?” she replied, cooly. Her paw nudged away his arm to slip lower across his chest. From there, she gently pulled more of him onto her. Mizu pointed to where they’d been with her free paw. ”Ly-y-caaaan,” she began, mimicking his delivery over there, then gestured to them now. “Roc-can.”
Mike snorted. “I wonder if Ava’d agree. You can’t be the only one with a ‘rightful lazy place’,” he quipped. She snorted in response, spraying him in a light mist.
“Agh!” Mike shrieked, wiggling. Her ‘cuddle’ had also served to trap his arms, for which she snickered above. “You and your roc-snot!” he cried, but she only looked to make herself more comfortable.
A masterful way to rub in her successful counter-ploy, he begrudgingly admitted—there was an idea. If he couldn’t leave his ‘pillow’ to clean up, he’d make do. Mike started furiously rubbing both sides of his head on the fur around him. Mizule snickered harder from this, her abs tensing enough for their outlines to feel as distinct to his cheek as his fingertips usually knew.
It was odd to feel nostalgic, tickling his lycanroc’s stomach with his own face, but the warmth of those memories couldn't be overstated. Today was great, too. When had he last checked her core, anyways? A jaw stood no chance of doing a good job, but sweeping over what he could like this was surprisingly calming. Maybe going a bit slower would be even better. Her diet was probably still as balanced as it needed to be, and the scents getting stirred up from her fur were pretty pleasant. Mostly her favored shampoo, but it only served to emphasize the muted hints within that he’d come to know as hers .
It was good to be this close. In fact, coming home to still-full team of 6 felt like a stroll on Cresselia’s rings, but the lycanroc patting his head took precedence. Mike looked over her body again, other matters blurring away. As far as battling was concerned, Mizule had a great body , which probably made her twice as great to her fellow variants. Sure, he was partly responsible for it, but she’d done the work. Countless evenings sparring against rocks, trees, and her own teammates. Running (or flying, in Ava’s case) around routes, trails, and towns.
She’d really come into her own. Nonchalant, but power rolled off her on the field, and seeing what it could do never got old. A perfect specimen, who came by to plant him on her stomach. In the middle of his daydreaming, some drool had been building at the corner of his mouth. Mike only noticed by the time it fell.
Mizule jolted, making a quizzical noise at the droplet soaking through her fur. There was only one person that could come from.
The paw that’d swapped to lazily brushing his hair now settled firmly on his head. Mike found himself shimmied onto her thighs, the lycanroc using her freed hip and stomach to lean directly over him with an oddly focused expression.
Mike’s chest froze, trying to pin down the rest of his mind encouraged by this behavior before his next breath. It’d been a bad time to daydream. She didn’t seem to be annoyed or amused—in her eyes, there was simply…searching.
“I…” Mike found his throat suddenly dry. Why was Miz’ so silent? The paw that’d trapped his arms reappeared on his stomach, pressing and sliding on him over the fabric. Her snout dipped a little closer.
“I, ah…Miz’, a-are you…” Stuttering was bad. Her deep breaths were very audible. The pressure trapping his arms relented, then gingerly reappeared on his stomach—cyclical and shifting. As frozen as he was, something clicked—he knew that pattern she traced on his stomach. A breeze that reminded of the dew each morning, except he always kept focus on where his hands were. Mizule’s stare was solely on him. Her persistent glowing eyes calmed him long before the sunrise.
His logical side of him climbed to the front. Mike could overlook the minor discrepancy in technique—after all, he’d never taught them—but why wait until after they were alone, and this close? His team could battle each other to understand their physical strengths, but he couldn’t clash with any of them and leave unscathed.
Was Mizule doing this to gauge his strength herself? A brilliant idea, and even an interesting window into how pokemon instincts understood him, but it didn’t explain the proximity. Her stare grew heated, and he found his shirt being pulled above his stomach. Her paw returned to its position on his stomach, resuming more directly on his skin .
His gears were jamming. The...The technique was needed to gauge physical strength and wellness…Is this how it felt? Mike imagined Mizule kneeling instead, the sensation at his stomach in the forest…in countless forests. He’d be lying if he didn’t say he wanted to float into that paw. Strength, and...wellness, which were very appropriate qualities to know for a caregiver. And for a trainer. Indeed.
Mizule’s muzzle lowered to a fist’s length above his, sharing air they never had before. And a mate, his mind added.
The entire time, it’d been nothing but her breathing, her paw’s fur bristling on his stomach, and the breeze rustling the trees outside. He’d taken no real part in this so far, but his mind’s last whisper couldn’t be denied. The weight of it all pooled into him, dripping from the girl above he’d held countless times, and lust caught aflame. She’d already decided, perhaps long ago, based on how they were arranged, and the paw on his stomach was a mere courtesy—
It was like a switch flipped in Mizule. Her expression fell from intense to simmering, a sly smile spanning her jaw. Mike didn’t bother speaking—if she hadn’t seen it, she would’ve smelled where his blood was going—instead raising a hand to scratch behind the ear of this increasingly horny pokemon. Grasping the skull behind it more firmly, he closed the distance.
Mizule pushed her tongue into his mouth with reckless abandon. Mike was ready. To breed. Mike wanted to breed. With her. Mike needed to breed, to breed to breed her and—the paw she’d blindly flung toward his stomach, searching for a waistband to rip, found only more skin. Her arms were certainly long enough to reach one of those. Mizule broke off the kiss to see his pants already discarded, his meat already partially exposed by lowered briefs—her nose twitched.
She inched out her legs from under him, completely locked onto the current prize, then dove for his legs, leaning over his crotch while she wormed enough paw under the elastic to yank the underwear down his legs. In thanks, Mike’s cock promptly slapped her muzzle. She growled in approval, grasping it in a paw while she set to rub every inch of it into her nose.
Meanwhile, her stunt left her lower half comfortably on its side next to Mike. From what little he could see over those hips, her tail was a blur, but more than that, the cunt well within arm’s, or even neck’s, reach was already looking drenched. He spread it with a thumb—or tried to, her lips barely budged!
Incredulous, he stopped to groan as a tongue-bath started on his head, Mizule gripping the base to point it toward her, and lock it against her broad tongue for every pass. His precum didn’t get a moment to live outside the tip. Her muscles rippled under Mike’s palm, returning his gaze to the cunt between her shifting thighs. What about her?
Mike felt, amid the pleasure spearing into him, that he should return in kind. She’d already jumped to mouth stuff, and his hands would be better off spreading her. “Hey!” Mike called, tapping her upper thigh. Mizule turned her head enough to spare him a glance, still lavishing his head, then held it aloft. He immediately turned to his side, to which the lycanroc simply enclosed his length in her mouth and continued.
Mike braced himself against her cunt, breathless, barely aware of the foreign taste smearing his lips. He hadn’t expected this level of readiness. Scrambling against a building climax, he hooked both thumbs just inside either side of her labia, and started a slow, desperate pull. The exertion kept his peak at bay, but then Mizule moaned around his cock, and the vibrations kicked up such an urge to thrust that it almost broke his focus. Even through his thumbs, the echoes of those steel bands doubling as muscles within her were clear. He wasn’t sure how his length would survive in there, but by Palkia’s pinks did he want to see more—and pink she was, pulsating flesh slowly but surely revealed to him. Dogged to stall himself a bit longer, Mike slipped his tongue in, slurping flesh with all his might.
Fresh air met his cock as Mizule popped off in a moment of surprise, the angrily throbbing cock forgotten as she devolved into moaning from the feast between her legs. Fighting her muscles directly was futile, he’d learned, but each squeeze had a delay between each direction he’d be pushed from. Mike learned to roll with it, which had the added effect of redoubling her walls’ efforts to milk his muscle. It sounded as good as it felt. Did it look good too? She pulled her head from between his thighs, placing shaky paws over them as she inched her upper body back to his head. There was only so far that a back could arch, however, and Mizule didn’t dare shift away from the tongue stirring her insides. A low whine started—her disappointment at the act just barely being out of reach, before another idea came. She hooked a paw around her raised leg, gasping, and pulled.
Mike had paid little mind to the panting coming up his torso, instead enjoying the freedom to focus more intently on pleasing her, and then the thigh comfortably above his head pulled away further. Surviving the assault on his dick made it easier to track two things at once, so the breath near his shoulder meant she’d come around to watch.
He tilted his chin up, pressing his tongue deeper while bringing more of her red eye into focus. She looked as frazzled as she sounded—tongue flopping whenever he hit a spot that made her twitch. He aimed for it more, as her squeezes allowed. His neck wouldn’t do too well like this for the long run, but for now, Mizule simply looked so hot . Her one visible eye caught his.
“Lyy-ke,” she breathed. Goosebumps raced up his skin, fingers clenching at her cunt a bit tighter. Not to mention how he’d caught the start of a howl in her tone. His lycanroc was close. Mizule abandoned any more interest in watching, hugging herself more to her thigh so the other paw could slip down to spread her lips further. It had the benefit of freeing one of Mike’s hands, which he then got fumbling for her clit.
“L- Lyyke ,” she moaned. Arceus, Ava could’ve been on the other side of that door by now. Miz’ certainly wouldn’t cum quiet. Would she want him, too? His lycanroc was beginning to tremble.
“Ly…Ly! Rrroclyc—Roc lycan! Lycanroc! Lyyke, Ly lycanroc! LYYKE!”
He didn’t think Mizule could harbor such thoughts about him. They’d have a lot of fucking to do after this first time, to which his second head bobbed in approval. Meanwhile, he’d caught her nub, rolling his fingers over it before a few dangerous clamps made him think better. Instead, he swapped his tongue and digits, trusting the latter to brave the assault of her shallows while his tongue relaxed on the button outside.
It didn’t take long, the customary passes with his fingers on her clit more than enough to start her final ascent. Three passes with his tongue instead, with three wriggling fingers in her pinks—any less might’ve been dangerous—and a swirl around the clit to boot, and his Mizule howled.
Mike’s fingers were forced straight as she rode it out. He entertained the idea of licking her nub further, but then the paw on the leg above him slid twice, and survival instincts ultimately won. Instead, he spoke sweet nothings up at the lycanroc cumming her brains out. He wasn’t sure whether she’d catch any of it—how he couldn’t dream of anyone else by his side, how she truly made him feel—but Mike couldn’t help himself.
Mizule beamed when she recovered, pushing him onto his back to align their bodies face-to-face. Her big claw-mohawk flopped above his head, curtaining them in a small shadow. They gazed at each other, and Mike finally realized why he craved her eyes’ morning glow more than the sun. He confessed why, and watched them flare in equal parts of joy and lust. Arceus, he needed her again. They kissed, her paws cradling his head as she pressed as much of her body into him as possible. That chest tuft did feel amazing.
At some point during their cuddling, his tip caught in her folds, and without skipping a beat, they steadied their hips and thrusted, meeting in the middle. Mizule gave herself to the apparent way humans mated—a slow tangle of skin and fur, moaning into the other, and tight embraces—the rhythmic thudding in her core a constant reminder of his love, professed repeatedly to her. She whispered it to him, too, loving the way he throbbed in response.
Eventually, their slow pace built to a crescendo as passions peaked. Mizule rutted herself atop him until climax weakened her legs, and Mike caught her into an embrace as her grasping tunnel pulled him over the edge. Panting, Mizule enjoyed the afterglow atop him for a few moments, then rolled them over, her depths easily holding the still–spasming length inside while she positioned her human…her Mike, her mate , at long last, on top.
Exhausted, their mouths met again. She was really starting to get a taste for this human mouth thing. Tasting his seed would come later, after she made up for all the past time she’d needed it deep inside.
Ava pulled her tail from her sopping wet cunt. It didn’t take her ears to know what’d happened upstairs between the two—the scent that wafted downstairs was more than enough. Her ears did help the imagination though. Their male would finally breed his team, and by her scales could he ! She rose on shaky legs, not caring for the mess she’d left. There’d be many more of those now. All around this home. She was next.