Boys Keep Swinging

Boys Keep Swinging

It was a black day. Clouds swirled between the sun and the earth, while lightning tried vainly to bridge the gap. The wind screamed in the trees, and all good pokémon ran for cover. It was a day for wicked deeds, a day in which clefairies and cle-angels hid their faces. It was a day in which Team Rocket utterly failed to achieve anything constructive in the way of evil-doing.

Not, James reflected morosely, that there was anything highly unusual in that. Giovanni's least favourite underlings had never achieved much of a sterling record in pokémon stealing, although they rated rather higher in the general destructiveness index.

Usually, however, they managed to conjure up some token enthusiasm for their doomed mission. A day like this, with its dry storm, should have left Jesse bright-eyed with plans to harness the wind and lightning in some magnificent Pikachu-catching scheme. Instead, she had muttered something about having "girls' stuff" to do, and taken off for parts unknown.

She had done that kind of thing quite often, lately. James had sent Meowth to follow her once or twice, but Jesse had caught the pokémon and knocked him unconscious with the kind of efficient violence that made both her teammates disinclined to try it again.

Even when she was with them, Jesse had seemed preoccupied lately. James had hit her only the day before with a spectacular scheme involving himself in a white lace mini-dress. (Merely as a corroborative detail, intended to give artistic verisimilitude to an otherwise bald and unconvincing cover story, and nothing at all to do with James having just waxed his legs.) Instead of lighting up at the idea of her partner in drag, as she would have in the good old days, Jesse had merely nodded. And sent him off to buy the dress - alone. She hadn't even asked to see him in it yet.

She hadn't slapped him for days. And the last time he had clutched her to him in terror, she had practically pushed him away. Not nastily, but absent-mindedly, which was almost worse.

James was beginning to feel as though... Well, as though he was a fully individual and self-sufficient human being. He hated it. He had stopped feeling responsible for his own life thirty minutes after meeting Jesse, and he had no plans to return to independence any time soon. He had a nagging fear that, if his partner continued to drift away from him, he would be forced to go back to Jessibelle...

Girls' stuff. She could have taken him. James was better at clothes and makeup than even Jesse. At least he didn't think dressing like a teenybopper tramp was the epitome of style. His tastes ran more to the innocent sexiness of a Baby Spice - thus the lace mini-dress. Which no one but him seemed to care about.

Something about the ominous weather was making James depressed and lonely. Even Meowth had abandoned him, gone to investigate a rumour about that stupid slut Meowsie. Everybody, James decided, hated him. He protruded his lower lip in his trademark pathetic pout, and went to find someone to be affected by it. Any company had to be better than moping around alone.

* * * *

"Ow!"

James looked down at the prone figure he had almost tripped over, and his mood plummeted further. A Brock wannabe with a big brother complex was not the kind of company for which he was looking. Still, perhaps he could steal that stupid blue pretend-Pikachu. That would show Jesse he didn't need her. Of course, the part of James' brain that wasn't too busy sulking pointed out, that was exactly what he didn't want her to think...

James noticed the pieces of paper he had sent flying over the ground, and stooped to pick a couple up. He idly glanced over them, ignoring the fact that Tracy was whimpering and trying to remove his crushed hand from under a heavy-duty Team Rocket boot. Pokémon pictures. Boring. James sifted further down the pile.

"Hey, pencil boy. I thought you were a pokémon watcher. What do you think you are doing, drawing my partner?" James demanded. He had to admit the picture was rather well executed. Tracy had even captured Jesse's unique way of walking so that each of her breasts took turns to lead, a gait that James, through careful experiment, had discovered required a great deal of technical skill. It drew the eyes in a very effective manner, though…

"Nngh," managed Tracy, disengaging his hand and making a lunge for the papers. "Give those back!"

James evaded him, on general principles. He flicked to the next picture, and froze.

It was Jesse again. Her back arched in ecstasy, so that her full breasts were lifted and pulled tight. Her eyelashes brushing against her cheeks, her lips parted in a silent scream. Yes, Tracy was very good, James noted absently, as anything he ever told himself about not being attracted to his partner died a fiery death in his own immediate physical reaction.

His mind was so intent on trying to impose an image of the real Jesse, in the same pose, over the penciled Jesse, it was a moment before James realized whose head was represented between Jesse's legs.

"You child-molesting pervert!" he shouted, diving for Tracy, who had given up on the papers and was making a run for it. James managed to grab the younger boy's shoulder and slam him against a handy tree. A sudden thought occurred to him. "I bet Misty doesn't know you're fantasizing about her like that," he mused. "You wouldn't still be walking and talking if she did. Anyway, I thought you only drew from life."

Tracy, despite his position, made an attempt at salvaging his dignity. "I do. And I'm not the child-molester."

"You mean..." The words "girls' stuff" echoed mockingly in James' ear.

"Yes. I think our water pokémon expert is learning about new kinds of water sports," said Tracy, slipping effortlessly into Brock's narrator role.

James whacked him across the head. It felt strangely satisfying. Even if Jesse had developed an inexplicable taste for teenage tomboys, he could at least defend her honour. James just wished his somewhat embarrassing reaction to Tracy's picture would subside a little. If Tracy noticed, it would make James' outrage rather less credible.

"Pervert!" James snarled again, for effect "Show some respect! If Jesse wants to- well, if Jesse does anything, that doesn't give you the right to spy on her," he added, conveniently forgetting the fact that Team Rocket were the proud owners of some of the most powerful binoculars in existence. He remembered, instead, a virtuous dictum, drummed painfully into his head in childhood. "Gentlemen don't watch ladies when they don't have their clothes on," he said sternly.

"Some lady-" Tracy caught himself before he said anything irredeemably stupid. Who would have thought that James, of all people, would come across the preux chevalier bit? Tracy began to babble soothingly. "Calm down, James. I'm just an artist. I'm not interested in your partner, honest. I don't even fancy girls."

Well, maybe he hadn't managed to catch himself in time after all. Not only was what he had just said a blatant lie, but it was also an extremely stupid thing to say to a man who not only specialized in girls' clothing and flowers, but who was currently pressing him against a tree.

Tracy shot a panicked look up at him, and realized, to his horror, that James' tense expression had a somewhat disturbing effect on his beauty. Those huge emerald eyes were almost luminous with fury, and his skin had paled to a translucent white. Then Tracy shot a look downwards. Oh no...

James' cheeks reddened slightly at the revelation that the other boy had noticed his hard-on. To distract attention, and as some revenge, he grabbed Tracy's chin and forced him to look at the picture of Jesse and Misty. "Then why did you draw that?"

The way James was holding the paper, Tracy's eyes were about level with Misty's bare bottom. Blood rushed to his cheeks. It hadn't really seemed all that arousing when he was drawing it, but then he hadn’t been chest-to-chest with Misty's lover's partner at the time.

James adjusted his grip, bringing the image of Jesse's breasts into Tracy's direct line of sight. The blood just as abruptly deserted Tracy's cheeks and rushed elsewhere. Of course, he had always thought Jesse was rather magnificent. He wasn't the blind one.

"Uh," he said, intelligently.

"Right. You're going to have to be punished," snapped James.

"Ah..." Tracy felt an unexpected jolt of pleasure at the idea. Punished? By James? He shook the idea off. Ridiculous, the man was a wimp. Tracy could take him in seconds.

Once more, Tracy mentally cursed his poor choice of words. He didn't really want to think about taking James, not when they were pressed together, the warmth of James' body countering the harsh wind. Not with silken lilac hair tickling his cheek, moist breath in his ear, twinned hardnesses almost - but not quite - touching...

Oh, what the hell. Tracy wrapped his arms around James' back.

James was taken by surprise by Tracy's sudden move. To be strictly honest, his own mind - what of it that still had enough blood to function - was more on future opportunities with Jesse than with the current situation. He had never had cause to consider any of the members of Ash & Co. as potential sexual conquests, however open-minded Jesse seemed to have been. There had certainly been no indication that Tracy was, as it were, up for grabs by anyone except Officer Jenny. That might explain it, actually. Through his hormone-clouded mind, James tried to remember if it had been Brock or Tracy who had seen him in that blue miniskirt.

He was conscious of a flicker of pure annoyance. It was enough trying to deal with his own bad timing, deciding that he absolutely, madly loved and needed his partner the moment she started neglecting him in favour of a teenager with bad hair. (Not only treachery, he reflected bitterly, but exceedingly poor taste.) He didn't need to deal with a pass from one of the twerps as well.

On the other hand... James surreptitiously tucked away his new little treasure, and considered Tracy more carefully - not difficult, as the younger boy's face was inches away from his own. The aspiring artist wasn't all that bad, on close consideration. Rather nice, in fact. Wide, dark eyes, and the dense, satin skin of youth, or at least of the youth that was lucky enough to escape adolescent acne. There was a kind of gentle, boyish attraction about him that James had always been too preoccupied with other matters to appreciate. And the fact that Tracy possessed another, rather impressive asset was rather forcing itself on James' notice.

He had always assumed Ash's boring self-righteousness was contagious. But in his pocket was intriguing proof of Tracy's perversity... James pondered his options, absent-mindedly slipping a hand down to cup Tracy's groin and registering the younger boy's subsequent moan with interest. It would be a shame to waste two perfectly good erections, after all.

"Tracy, can I ask you something?" He wrapped his own arms around the younger boy.

"Yes, please," said Tracy, obligingly. He hugged James more tightly, forcing their erections hard against each other, and began to move his pelvis in tiny circles. "Please... Anything."

James repressed a gasp. His body was rather urgently pointing out that he could sort out the more complex issues later. Maybe, it suggested, it would be a good idea to stop worrying about Jesse and stop and smell the roses. Right now. But he had to know something first.

"Tracy... Ooh... Does Ash know... ah... that Misty is... don't stop... with Jesse?" For some reason, James was finding it difficult to speak with his accustomed smoothness.

"Mm-hmm."

"Was he up-upset?"

Tracy's movements stilled, much to James' disappointment. The liquid eyes filled with compassionate sadness, to rather flattering effect. "Poor Ash. He was heartbroken."

An innocent smile flitted across James' angelic face. Deep jade eyes glowed as he imagined a truly beautiful sight - Ash's face. As he realized that both his two best human friends were being fucked senseless by Team Rocket members. It should be easy enough to stage a revelation... eventually. The situation couldn't be more perfect without Ash's own Pikachu eloping with Gary.

"Good," James whispered, and leaned in for the kiss.

Tracy responded without much expertise or subtlety, but with a kind of youthful enthusiasm that James found quite enticing. When he finally managed to disentangle Tracy's tongue from his own and get some air, he found his own pulse was racing and his erection had become almost painful. He leaned his full weight against Tracy, pinning him to the tree again, and dropped one hand to cup Tracy's groin, eliciting a strangled whimper. James used his other hand to hold the younger boy's head still as he explored Tracy's mouth in finer detail.

And what a sweet mouth it was. James carefully traced the cupid's bow curve of the upper lip with just the tip of his tongue, using all his strength to prevent Tracy's urgent attempts to capture his tongue within his mouth. Tracy gave a somewhat determined thrust of his own tongue, and James pulled away. Tracy moaned in protest.

"Cut that out or I'll stop," James warned softly, and was gratified to see Tracy immediately freeze. He made a very pretty sight, with his head flung back, eyes half closed and mouth parted. The Rocket boy reached up to pull off that ridiculous sweatband, and Tracy's silky hair fell to frame his flushed face.

James returned to Tracy's mouth, sucking the full lower lip between his own teeth. He delicately indented the fragile skin with his teeth and simultaneously squeezed Tracy's groin. The younger boy gave a strangled half-cry. James noted with pleasure that he had enough sense not to try and return the kiss just yet. He gradually increased the pressure of both hand and teeth, until he tasted metallic salt and felt Tracy straining desperately against him. Then he released his grip and gently lapped at blood on Tracy's mouth.

"God, James, what are you trying to do..."

James smiled very sweetly. "Kissing you," he explained patiently. He leaned forward and began to flick his tongue against the pulse racing behind Tracy's left ear.

"But... That's not how you k... Oooh... No one's ever..." Tracy protested weakly.

"Has anyone ever kissed you at all?" James asked sharply, bringing his head back to look into Tracy's eyes.

A dark blush answered him. James grinned to himself. A virgin, even...

"Exactly. So be grateful you're being taught by someone who knows what he's doing." James began to ply his mouth with soft, fleeting kisses, just allowing his tongue to barely brush against Tracy's on every pass, until Tracy stopped objecting and began to helplessly try and return them. Finally James pulled Tracy tight into his arms and kissed him deep and hard, feeling their bodies mold together as the boy eagerly responded. The air sung with static electricity, and thunder sounded from nearby.

When they surfaced, Tracy half-collapsed against the lavender-haired boy, breathing hard. James smiled into his neck and lowered his hands to cup Tracy's buttocks, massaging the firm flesh.

When he recovered enough to speak, Tracy whispered, "Punish me."

"Eh?" James didn't appreciate being dragged back into conversation.

"You promised you would punish me. For harassing Jesse..." Tracy sighed seductively, gazing up at James with shining eyes.

"What exactly do you have in mind?" James asked cautiously.

From his rather beguiling look of confusion, Tracy didn't have much of an idea of what he meant by "punish" either. James sighed, reflecting with irritation that when he was submissive he knew exactly what he wanted done to him. He was damned good at getting it across, too. (Please, don't hit me... Oooh... Please don't put that in me... Yes...)

"I think," James said, "you need to pay penance for insulting my partner." Tracy's eyes lit up. but he dropped his eyes submissively. "You can start by doing something about that," James suggested, gesturing downwards.

"What do you mean?" Tracy asked, looking bewildered.

It didn't take any role-playing ability to slap Tracy in the face for that. James knew Tracy was a virgin, but some levels of stupidity were unforgivable.

"Get - down - on - your - knees," James spat out. His hand stung, but it was worth it, to see Tracy's own pants swell out further at the blow.

"Oh." Light dawned, and Tracy dropped. "Like this?" He reached out for James' fly, and looked up for approval. A crack of lightning bathed his face in white light for a moment. He was an engaging sight, his hopeful expression shining mere centimeters from the bulge in James' pants.

James smiled to himself. This was more like it. "Just like that," he crooned. "Now take it out..."

At least Tracy didn't ask what "it" was. He hesitantly began to unbutton the older boy's fly. His fingers were shaking, whether from excitement or nervousness, and it was a slow process. His fingers fumbled and knocked against James' groin with every button. James began to breathe more shallowly and raggedly, inhaling with every clumsy bump.

Tracy hesitated for a moment when he reached the tented silk, large eyes widening still further. James was afraid for a moment that he was going to back out. But then he moved to free James, now fully erect, from his underwear.

"Beautiful..." Tracy whispered. James stiffened in surprise. It certainly wasn't what he had expected to hear. "You're so beautiful..." Tracy's fingers brushed through violet curls, dipped down to encircle tightening testicles, moved up to trace rose-dark skin. "I would love to draw you. I would love to -"

He broke off suddenly, his reverent touch firming into a secure grip at the base of James' shaft. He leaned forward of his own accord, engulfing the weeping peak of James' erection in warm heat, and swirling his tongue against the sensitive tip.

"That's it." James reached down and guided Tracy's head further inwards, groaning as he was taken further in. Tracy's mouth was as sweet to touch as it had tasted, hot and silky. "Now suck. Hard..."

It was good, almost too good, but not nearly enough. James encouraged him to slide his head back and forth, as he sucked with commendable vigour. But the pressure was too gentle, the penetration too shallow. James needed, furiously, to thrust; to forget his partner's inexperience, grab his hair and drive down his throat, fucking his mouth until he choked...

With an inarticulate cry James forced Tracy off him. The dark-haired boy looked up with glazed brown eyes, but the Rocket was beyond explaining.

"Stand up." He yanked Tracy to his feet with a handful of hair, and shoved him back against the tree, not caring that he must have hurt him. He found Tracy's trapped erection beneath his shorts again, and forced himself against it, holding the boy in place with his full weight. The tracksuit material was soft torture against his oversensitive skin.

"James -" Tracy started, but James muffled it with his kiss, driving his hips desperately against him. Tracy gasped against his mouth and met him, thrust for thrust, the inescapable friction building. This was right, this was easy, this was what he needed... James was aware of Tracy spasming beneath him, crying out his name as he came, still fully dressed. Nothing mattered but his own need to release this pressure.

He climaxed at last, clasping Tracy's suddenly limp form as the release took him, sharp and sweet. Tracy made a sound something like a sob, and hugged him close.

When the darkness had cleared from his eyes, James drew back. Tracy, he noted, looked like a bomb had hit him. His lips were bitten and swollen, his hair disheveled and sweaty, disregarded tears on his cheeks. Those gauche shorts were an interesting sight. Evidence of exactly what Tracy had been up to was all too visible. He looked beautiful, and completely decadent.

"You look well and truly fucked," James told him softly. He set about restoring order to his own appearance, adjusting his pants and finger-combing his lavender hair back into place.

"Yeah..." breathed Tracy, and James was amused and delighted to see a glint of laughter in his eyes.

"Did you enjoy that?"

Tracy nodded mutely, then glanced down and noted in horror his own appearance. "Oh, no." He tried to pull his shirt down to hide the mess. "I hope Ash isn't back at the campsite yet..."

James didn't bother telling him that he hoped the exact opposite. He picked up Tracy's headband, and used it to push damp hair back into place. He dropped a kiss on the bared forehead. "You'd better hurry, then," he said gently.

"Yeah... James?"

"Mmm?" James gathered up the dropped pieces of paper.

"Can I have my pictures back?"

James hesitated, then carefully separated out the pictures of Jesse, noting some for future, more detailed perusal, and handed the rest back.

Tracy didn't protest. He took the pile, and then impulsively leaned forwards and kissed James. "Thank you."

"My pleasure," James told the retreating form. He smiled to himself and began to head back to the campsite.

The darkness of the dry storm still hung over the landscape, but James' mood had considerably lightened. It had turned out to be a pleasant day after all. He had discovered a rather interesting new resource, as well as a potential means to torture Ash. And corrupting an innocent, even if it wasn't precisely in the Team Rocket job description, was surely in the right spirit.

And Jesse would probably be back by now. He suddenly had rather a lot to say to her. Anticipation, hardly dulled at all by the fulfillment of moments ago, began to hum in his stomach. He possessively touched the paper crackling in his pocket.

Of course... A sudden thought struck him, and he uneasily wondered just how literally Tracy had meant the crack about water sports.

Oh, well, even if he did have to learn... new skills... it would probably be worth it. James had a sudden vision of Jesse standing above him, naked and dominant. It might even be fun, in a weird way... He had enjoyed ordering Tracy around for a change, but taking the lead wasn't really his game.

James smiled, and went home.

END