Alone

Author's Note: Content Warnings are spelt backwards below. If you view CWs as spoilers scroll past them.
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“He was so nice to me during our stay in Lavender. I was starting to think all the pain was in the past. Part of me wondered if Paul was why Tom had always been so angry. But it was always the same, I can see that now. After the worst of it, was when he was the nicest. And pushing Paul and Madison away, was certainly the worst thing he’d done to that point.”

To that point.

“It wasn’t long before he fell back to his pattern. Finding reasons to hit me. Without Madison and Paul around, I had even less time to do any research. In Celadon City, Tom beat Lily without much challenge, but I didn’t fair so well. I figured we’d leave for Fuchsia before I had the chance, but to my surprise we stayed in Celadon.”

Tom is gone again today when you wake up. You spend the day training outside town, your Poliwag twins coming along nicely. Tom’s words echo in your head, “It’s stupid. Wasting time with water types for a grass gym? Stupid.” “Stupid.” “Stupid.” You return the Poliwag to their balls, and call out Hitmonchan. Practicing with fire and ice punches. “Stupid.”

Back in your room at the pokecenter, you are scribbling a couple things in a notebook when Tom enters. You scramble shutting the notebook and throwing it in a drawer. “Pack your bags, I got us a place in town.”

“A place? We’re staying in Celadon? What about our journeys, the League?”

“The League,” he laughs, grabbing a beer from the mini fridge, “I found a better business opportunity, and let’s be honest, you aren’t much of a trainer anyways. Now pack our shit.”

You set to folding your clothes and his, packing your stuff into your bags. The huge bags to carry everything will not be a missed part of leaving your journey. If only there was a way to not carry everything with you. Maybe a service, storage bins in pokecenters where a caravan takes your items to the next town so they’re waiting for you.

SMACK. The sudden spanking jolts your leg forward, slamming your shin into the footboard. “Quit thinking, get packing.” A few hours later, you’re leaving the pokecenter for your new home with Tom.

3 Weeks Later

The sound of the front door snaps you out of your thoughts. “Sessile, put on something sexy, we’re entertaining some guys tonight.”

You set the sponge off to the side of the sink. “Entertaining?” you ask, drying your hands.

“Yea, our boss just got a big promotion. So we’re hosting a poker night,” he gently guides you back to the counter, kissing you. “Things are looking up. Harvey’s going to take me right up the ladder.” He’s so happy. “Finish up in here, I’ll grab some takeout, and wear something sexy.”

With everything in order, you get ready. A short little dress that Tom always likes, a cropped cardigan that covers the bruises down your arms, and a quick touch up to your makeup just to make sure the yellowing bruise on your cheek is fully covered.

“To Admiral Harvey!” Tom raises a glass, and the others join his toast. The air is heavy with cigar smoke, Tom holds you in his lap.

“I’m going to use the bathroom,” you whisper in Tom’s ear and he lets you up, giving your ass a squeeze.

The handle turns as you’re finishing. “Occupied,” you squeak, but the door doesn’t stop. The Admiral walks in with a grin. “I’m just about done,” you say, wiping and flushing. You go to pull up your panties, when he catches them with his foot, slamming them down your legs to the floor.

“Aren’t you a pretty little thing?” he grins. You gulp staring up at him. “Now Tommy, he’s an ambitious little up start. You wouldn’t want to make him look bad, would you?” He cups your chin, his thumb rubbing your cheek. “You scratch my back, I scratch his,” he chuckles.

“I-I,” you stutter.

“Or maybe Tom would be better off as a forever grunt. I’ll tell him that his girl needs to work on her hostess skills,” he brushes your hair back behind your ear.

Fear trickles down your spine. You just nod, and Admiral Harvey smiles undoing his belt. You gingerly reach out, stroking his cock. “That’s a good girl,” he groans, using his hand to guide your face to his crotch. You take it in your mouth, sucking on the tip. “Deeper,” he urges, and you obey.

You bob along his shaft, gagging when he pushes the back of your head down further. He reaches down pushing the cup of your dress aside, playing with your tits. He pushes you back, sliding his cock between your tits. He presses them together, thrusting between them. “Talk dirty to me.”

You swallow, “Fu-fuck my tits, Admiral Ha—“

“Lars. Call me Lars.”

“Lars. Fuck my tits,” you grunt, the toilet tank digging into your back with each thrust of his hips. “Give it to me.”

He grunts, the tip of his cock poking from your cleavage. It throbs between your breasts and white erupts across your collar, and neck, a stray strand hangs from your chin. “That’s a good girl,” he pats your head. He crouches down picking up your panties and slipping them into his pocket. “I need to piss, so get on your way,” he grips your arm and guides you out of the room without a chance to clean up. You grab a rag from the laundry to clean up, before heading back to the poker game.

“Tom started spending more time with them. They would go away for days at a time on jobs. Which were the best days, it gave me a chance to continue my research. Then he’d return, just long enough to give me new bruises. Then one day he just didn’t come back. I waited and waited, but 3 weeks in I got a positive pregnancy test. Then the past due bills started piling up until the eviction notice came in. I called your grandfather and he got me a job at a research station on Cinnabar Island.”

“That’s where you helped make the resurrection machines, right?” Paris pipes up.

“Yes, exactly. I slowly became myself again. Reconnected with old friends, dove back into my research, and helped at the lab to extract fossilized DNA and reconstruct it. It felt amazing.”