Chapter Text
You were new in town, starting a new job, a new life. Rent was almost double what it was back home, and to save on transport you’d ditched your car, so walking to work was your new commute. It wasn’t all bad, though. There were great cafes in the neighbourhood, a farmer’s market where the community sold their surplus produce grown on shared lots, and most day-to-day shopping was a few minutes’ walk in any direction. Many of your friends already lived in town, and your new boss couldn’t wait to start throwing projects your way.
The change in lifestyle and new work took adjusting to, and the expenses ate away at your savings. After a few months, your roommate announced she was moving across town to live with her fiancée. The apartment that had seemed just a bit cramped at first now seemed way too big and way too expensive. You were going to need another roommate, the sooner the better.
You put out an ad and got some creepy and weird replies. Most of the girls that replied sounded financially unstable or awful to have to live with. The weeks ticked by. Some matronly forty-something divorcee promised rent on time and home-cooked meals, but you’d sooner move back home to live with your real mom. A couple of potheads that were quiet, respectful, and paid on time sounded ideal, barring the fact that their one habit could get the cops busting down the door, and you were pretty sure your new eevee wouldn’t like that.
Watching your roommate direct the movers with her furniture, you smile weakly and sip a beer, stomach in knots about the upcoming rent you couldn’t really afford. Your holocaster vibrates. You excuse yourself to the balcony for a bit of quiet and pick up the call.
“Hi, I’m calling about the ad for a roommate. Do you have a minute?”
It’s a male voice, energetic and youthful, but with a pleasant bass undertone.
“Um, I’m sorry, I think you’re calling the wrong person.”
He reads back the ad; sure enough it’s yours. You laugh awkwardly.
“Forgive me, I don’t mean to be rude but the ad is for a female tenant.”
“Yeah, I got that, but I was kinda hoping you might make an exception? I can pay the first two months in advance, I’m hardly home, you’ll barely notice I’m there.”
“Sorry, buddy-”
“The name’s Spark. Would you at least agree to meet? Maybe I can change your mind.”
“You’re really determined. Why do you want this place so bad, Spark?”
“It’s close to where I work. I just got to know the neighbourhood and I really want to stay in it.”
“Can’t argue with that.”
“Do you know the Prancing Vulpix? Would you like to meet there this evening?”
“I, um… I suppose? This doesn’t promise you anything.”
“I understand. But I’d like to try and change your mind.”
“Ok, seven? What do you look like?”
“Blonde hair, blue eyes, uh… today I’m wearing an orange hoodie and dark-blue jeans.”
“Alright, see you there.”
The café is mostly full of students studying in quietly murmuring groups when you get there. Picking a table facing the doorway, you sit and look around at each of the people already there. None match Spark’s description. You gaze out the window, watching the rain begin to come down, turning the blue evening even more dreary. The apartment was empty now, just you and your eevee and a lot of dust where your roommate’s things used to be. For the first time since moving into town, you felt pretty lonely.
A flash of orange catches your eye, brilliant against the drab backdrop of the city. Your eyes follow the figure as he dashes down the crosswalk, approaching the café. His hood is up and his head is down, but you’re pretty sure that’s Spark. You lose sight of him as he rounds the corner and then he’s walking through the front door, shoulders pattered with rain and reaching up to pull his hood down. Safe in your anonymity, you study him from afar.
He’s slim and tall -taller than you- and those jeans do a great job of highlighting his long legs. Can’t deduce much with that hoodie in the way, but you’d wager he’s not tubby in the middle. His hands and face look clean, and his hair seems in good condition, if a bit messed from the hood. So far he looks normal. You breathe a sigh of relief tinged with resignation and stand up to wave him over.
“Hi, Spark. We spoke earlier today.”
“Hey, thanks for agreeing to meet with me, I really appreciate it. Did you order anything yet?”
“I wasn’t planning on staying long.”
“Aw, c’mon, my treat. I dragged you out here. What’ll it be?”
“Oh, um… a peppermint hot chocolate would be really nice, what with the weather and all.”
“I know, right? My pokemon are totally buzzed. Cool, I’ll be right back.”
Left to ponder that cryptic statement, you find your gaze drawn down his back as he turns away to head toward the counter. The hoodie’s really not doing him any favours, but damn if that’s not a nice, firm-
Wait, is that a gym logo?
Your eyes flick back to the graphic printed on his clothing. A silhouette of a zapdos with INSTINCT overhead, and GYM LEADER underneath. Well. This changes things. Maybe having a male roommate won’t be that bad? Spark returns a few minutes later with your hot chocolate and some whipped-cream drowned confection in a tall glass for himself.
“You’re a gym leader?”
He looks surprised and then smiles.
“Oh, yeah. You read my shirt?”
“Guess I don’t have to ask what you do for work. Is that why you’re not home much?”
“Mm-hm.”
He’s going to town on that whipped cream.
“You said you liked the neighbourhood. How long have you lived here?”
“Mm, like… two years? I’ve been living at the same place all this time, but they sold it and the new owners want to turn the place into an art gallery.”
“That sucks.”
“Yeah, I really liked it, too. It had a great view of the park, and my neighbours were super nice. I’m gonna miss it. Oh, do you like wood carvings?”
“Um, not especially. Why?”
“My neighbour’s selling some of his art to cover the move. S’ok, don’t worry about it.”
You blow gently on your drink and take a sip. You’re not. You’re wondering what this guy would look like with nothing on.
“So what do you do? For work, I mean.”
“I work in marketing.”
“Oh, neat. Have you been here long?”
“Just a few months. My roommate left today.”
“That sucks.”
“A little. I’m happy for her, though. She’s moving in with her fiancée.”
“Do you have any pokemon?”
“Just an eevee. I missed my cat back home so I found him at the shelter.”
“Aww, that’s so sweet of you. What’s his name?”
“The shelter called him Earl Fluffins. He doesn’t respond to it, so I think they made it up.”
“Oh, yeah. They do that for the ones that get abandoned. I don’t know who in their right mind could abandon a cute little fluff like that…” He trailed off and went back to whatever he was eating.
“Anyway, so… do you have any bad habits? Are you going to come home all drunk and rowdy in the middle of the night? Your bedroom’s not going to be an open-door parade, is it?”
The barrage of questions makes him pause, spoon in mouth. He swallows and grabs a napkin, coughing to hide his embarrassment.
“I don’t drink much or do any drugs. Hello, gym leader? We have to lead by example. Not that I want to, anyway, I’ve heard what that stuff can do to you.”
“Fair enough.”
“And bad habits? Um… I’m not the most proactive about laundry, but that’s cause I’m either working or working out. I won’t make it your problem, though.”
“Better not, and if I smell anything weird, you’re going to hear about it.”
He laughs at that. He has a really cute laugh.
“Sure, no problem.”
“What about girls? Or guys, no judgement here. Like, am I going to see a new stranger every morning, or…?”
“No, no, that’s… That’s not a problem. It won’t be a problem.”
“I’d just appreciate a warning, is all.”
“Yeah, absolutely. Um… what about you?”
“Single, looking, but not looking for one night.”
“I see.”
You sip your drink, glancing out at the rain coming down harder. Dammit, you realize. You left your umbrella at home.
“So, I guess if your laundry situation is any hint, you’re probably not big on other chores.”
“Well, like garbage and keeping the bathroom in order I can manage. I tend to get up early, and it’s part of my routine anyway.”
“Oh, ok.”
“I don’t cook, though. There’s a cafeteria at the gym, and right now I just keep some snacky things on hand. So the kitchen’s all yours.”
“Yeah, I don’t cook much either. Another reason I’ll miss my roommate.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Sounds like you guys were good friends.”
“Yeah, I guess we were.”
“Hey, I know you have your eevee, but are you cool with me having my own pokemon out?”
“What? Yeah, sure. You probably have all electric types, right?”
“I’ve got a mixed bag, but they tend to stay at the gym. More space for them, y’know.”
“Right.”
“Mostly I bring my jolteon and pikachu home. They’re pretty attached to me, since I raised them from tiny babies.”
“Aww, that’s really nice.”
You finish your now cooled off chocolate and dab your mouth with a napkin. Your ad had specifically stated female-only roommate, but here you were, majorly considering letting this gym leader guy move in. The paranoid little pidgey in your brain was screaming, “what if he’s a rapist? What if he’s lying about the booze and is really an alcoholic? What if he’s on drugs? What if his friends suck and they come over all the time? What if he’s into some really weird, kinky shit? What’s the deal with his laundry? Just do it, man! What does he consider snacky things? Is he vegan?”
“Do you have any particular things I should respect? Like, I dunno, are you vegan? Are you gonna flip out if you see me eating bacon or something?”
“What? No way, I love bacon!”
“I figure if you’re up early, you go to bed early. I’m usually up until eleven. Is that going to be a problem?”
“Up doing what?” He grins. “Just curious. It probably won’t bother me. I’m a heavy sleeper.”
Before you can steer your mind somewhere else, you can feel the blush starting up your neck and across your cheeks.
“Sometimes work stuff, mostly personal stuff. I mean like video games. Blogging.”
“Hey, no worries. You look kind of red –are you blushing?”
You turn away to cough.
“Did I say something weird?”
“Uh, no, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. That hot chocolate’s just doing its job.”
“Yeah, I love their menu. Did you know they do breakfast sandwiches?”
“Oh? I usually eat at home.”
“It’ll change your life. We should totally come here for breakfast.”
“We should totally go make- Uh, I mean… I should go.”
-Go make out with you in the rain, heeeyyyyy!
“Ok, wait, I’ll give you my number and email. I can’t leave the gym when I’m on call, but you can stop by any time. Hey, do you battle?”
“No, I only have my eevee with no real name.”
“Wanna learn how?” He pauses in the middle of briskly typing into his holocaster and gives you a grin straight out of a boy-band poster. “I could teach you.”
“We’ll see. I dunno.”
“Ok, there, all sent. Now that you know I’m a totally normal dude, I hope you’ll consider me for your roommate.”
“Surprisingly… I am.”
“What, really?”
“Yeah. Um, not to be that guy, but rent’s due in a week, and I could probably push it a few more days because of my roommate bailing, but you’re kind of the most normal person I’ve spoken to so far. And I know the ad said girls-only, but… I’m thinking about it.”
More like thinking about what your stomach looks like –WOULD YOU STOP THAT.
“Awesome! Well, I’ve still got another month left on my place, so there’s no rush on my part. But I would be really down to see your apartment, if you’re cool with that.”
“Yeah, sure. When are you usually free?”
“About this time, pretty much every day.”
“You work seven days a week? Isn’t there a law-?”
“Oh, no. I meant like what probably works for your schedule. You’re probably not up at five AM, and weekends are peak time at the gym, so my weekend falls on a Tuesday and Wednesday.”
“Oh, I see. Then evenings do work out.”
“I mean marketing sounds like an office kind of job, and offices usually have set hours. I could be wrong.”
“No, that’s pretty accurate. Ok, how about Wednesday evening? I’ll send you my address.”
“Sure, that’s great.”
A look out the window said the rain was easing up, but the rivers flowing along the edges of the road said it would be treacherous walking home.
You never did consider anyone else who replied after Spark. He moved in two weeks later and, as promised, paid two month’s rent up front.
Most mornings he was gone before you woke up, and came home after you, except Tuesdays and Wednesdays when he slept in, door slightly ajar and piled on by his jolteon and pikachu. The garbage never piled up and the bathroom was always spotless. He even took it upon himself to tidy the kitchen, though he claimed to not have use for it. He appeared to have no shame about exiting the bathroom after a shower in nothing but a towel, not that you minded the view one bit.
That first week when you realized he was still home in bed, you were convinced he was ill or dead and peeked past the threshold to call to him. His pikachu rolled over and blinked at you, seeming unconcerned. Spark hadn’t seemed to hear you so you backed out and pretended it had never happened. Still, were it not for the sheet across his rear, you’d have solid evidence he slept in the nude. You liked to fancy he did, and it kept you entertained during long, dull meetings.
One particularly shit Friday, you came home chilled and soaked through, and in the surliest mood because your period had started. Spark offered you a cup of tea, said he was ordering pizza, and shooed you off to the shower. It turned out to be the nicest Friday night you’d had in a while, sitting around the coffee table critiquing movies while eating out of the box. You finally settled on one to watch all the way through and woke up on the sofa during the credits, finding Spark’s head lolled back against your calves and he, too asleep.
Spark was pretty much an ideal roommate. But then disaster struck.
“What do you mean, you got robbed? Are you ok?”
“I’m fine, but not really. Someone stole my jacket with my wallet in it, and my holocaster, and everything. I don’t know what I’m going to do, I can’t even make a new bank account without my ID.”
You pace the empty boardroom, gnawing your lower lip.
“Shit, that’s really bad. Have you filed a report with the cops? Does the gym have security video?”
“It’s going to take time to go through the videos, and I did call the cops. They said I’m better off just making everything new because my credit might be compromised, whatever that means.”
“Ok, well at least you’re alright. That stuff’s all just material.”
“I had pictures and videos of the boys as babies on there. Dash was still a little eevee.”
“Aww, Spark, I’m sorry… Maybe there’s a way to, I dunno, hack your stuff back?”
He sounds so heartbroken, you fan your face and look up at the ceiling, counting backwards from ten to keep from tearing up in sympathy.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t have access to my bank or anything. I won’t be able to pay rent on time. This is so not what you needed.”
“Don’t worry about it. You’ll get your life back together and we can work it out then. But what are you going to do about other stuff?”
“Company card and work it out later? Kinda have no choice.” He makes a frustrated sound. “That was my favourite jacket…”
“Hey, it’s going to be ok.”
“I’m sorry, I’ll make it up to you.”
“Just get yourself back on track first, ok? I gotta go.”
You slam the END CALL button. You could think of a few ways for Spark to make it up to you, and none of them were work-safe. You blow out a breath and fan your face before leaving the room.
You come home later that week, disappointed by the date you’d just had, and somewhat drunk. If that schmo was going to talk your ear off about his rubber stamp collection, then he was paying for your therapeutic booze. You try to grip the wall to get your dressy heels off and feel the world sway. The floor looks like it wants a fight, and then you’re tumbling over sideways onto it. A call from the living room sounds like Spark, and then his feet are approaching.
“Hey, you ok? Did you lose your balance on those things?”
“Yeah, I dunno, the world just kind of went, like… whoosh~”
Spark gets you back upright, but watching you wobble makes him hover a hand nearby to catch you. Why is he looking at you like that? You go back to trying to get your shoe off. Why is this so difficult?
“Have you been drinking?”
“Had to.”
“Bad date?”
“Yes. You know what? Yes! Woah, stop turning.”
“I’m not turning, but you’re kind of falling –just hold onto my shoulder, I got this.”
You wrap your arms around his shoulders –big, strong shoulders- and giggle as he grabs your calf up and starts fumbling your other heel off, holding your leg against his thigh like you were a wobbly foal getting their first shoes.
“I bet you could carry me. You definitely work out.”
“Yeah, I probably could.”
“How tall are you?”
“6’2, I think.”
“That’s like… wow.”
“How does this strap come off?”
“It’s a fake latch thingie. You unhook it.”
“Huh? Latch thingie? …Oh, I see what you mean.”
You reach down to try and be helpful, but standing on one leg drunk is too much coordination for one night, and you start toppling again. Spark shouts and rises to catch you, forgetting that he’s still holding your ankle. The end result has you awkwardly flopped against him, mostly unaware of your dress falling down and showing too much cleavage.
“Wow, your eyes are really, really blue. Like, bluer than the sky, blue.”
“I’m going to pretend you’re not flirting with me, and you know what? Let’s just carry you somewhere you’re not going to fall and crack your head open.”
“Flirting?”
You giggle, and then squeak as he scoops you up like a bride and hauls you into the apartment.
“Spark, oh my god, don’t drop me!”
“I won’t, you weigh like five pounds.”
He gives you a playful bounce and it turns your fear into giggles again.
“Ok, let’s go to the sofa.”
“Whee, sofa!”
With you plopped down on the sofa, he sits on the floor and puts your shoe on his knee to try and figure out how to unlatch it. You reach down to touch his hair.
“Wow, your hair is really soft.”
“Thanks.”
“No, like, this is baby-soft. Oh, my god, I can’t stop touching it. How is this your hair?”
“No idea.”
“It’s so soft~”
The latch finally relents and your foot is freed. With both hands in Spark’s hair, it’s easy to lean forward, elbows on knees, and kiss him.
At first he seems resistant, maybe startled, but he doesn’t pull away. He seems content to let you kiss him, but he isn’t kissing back, which is kind of weird. Really getting mixed vibes here. You back off to draw breath and ask, and he caresses your calf and leans in to reciprocate. Your alcohol-drenched brain wonders if you scared him, or maybe don’t kiss as well as you thought, but he’s kissing back, now. That’s good.
Stupidly, you want to murmur about how his lips are even softer than his hair.
He keeps his hand on your knee, but one of his fingers keeps stroking your skin, and it’s ticklish, and really nice, and you’re starting to feel really warm. Is it warm in here? His hand touches your neck and he sort of gingerly pries your mouth open with his thumb on your chin. Oh. Oh.
Are you moaning? You are definitely moaning. That moan was all you. Your hands in his hair pull him closer, between your knees and probably hiking up this dress too far, but oh, his hand on your knee is moving again, moving up and up. His tongue is doing things inside your mouth that make you feel even warmer, and hey, is it horny in here or just you? He pauses for a moment, gasping against your mouth, and you’re breathing kind of hard, too, but just the sound of him breathing this close to you sounds sexy as hell.
“Well, don’t stop there.”
He laughs and climbs closer, pulling your hips forward and sending you back into a sort of recline. You eagerly find his mouth again. The warmth of him so close over you is making your insides shiver and shake. One hand leaves his hair to feel down his chest, down his stomach for the edge of his shirt. Is that it? You pull the fabric and press your hand underneath –oh yes! Skin! His stomach -you know from plenty of not-so-accidental glances as he leaves the bathroom in that fucking towel- ripples with muscle and trembles at the feel of your fingertips. You wonder if your touch is ticklish, or if he’s generally ticklish. His breath hitches, and you can hear it and feel it as it happens, and hey, was that a little moan?
But he’s moving away from your mouth and nuzzling under your jaw, and you let your head fall back as much as the sofa cushions will allow. Hell yes, this is good. Another moan as he kisses the side of your neck, and the twitchy tingling between your legs says it’s time to go, let’s go, let’s do this. You try to guide his head, and he follows your lead, and now his tongue is on your ear, and you’re gasping and trying to wriggle your hips against him because damn that feels good. You bite your lip and imagine what his mouth would feel like elsewhere.
You move your hand higher, following his ribs, the rhythm of his breathing. He makes a sound that definitely qualifies as a giggle and it makes you smile and turn to kiss his jawline. Feeling around blind, you know you’ve found a nipple when he gasps and twitches. Oh, yeah; definitely ticklish, this one. You can’t help giggling when you make him twitch again and he turns his head to mildly glare at you for a heartbeat before kissing you again.
But that’s all there is, and eventually you simmer down to just cuddling, and then next thing you know, there’s a shrill chiming from across the room and everything is confusion and panic and you’re cold, and Spark is leaving, why is Spark leaving?
Your arm is asleep, and your back is kinked from laying weirdly on the sofa, so the best you can do is first figure out why you’re cold.
Your dress is hiked. Oh. Did Spark see your panties? (If yes, you wonder if he liked them.)
The room is bright with daylight and your head feels like an angry mankey is throwing rocks at the inside of it. Spark is making his holocaster shut up, and hey, he’s shirtless. When did that happen?
“What-?”
A very apropos greeting. Spark turns to you and damn, he looks even better half naked in the daylight.
“Just my alarm. You should go to bed, though.”
“Oh. It was nice having you here.”
Not that there was much having of anything, but it seems like the right thing to say. You figure Spark agrees, because he’s turning an adorable shade of pink.
“I-it was nice, yeah. You’re ok with it?”
“Yeah.”
“Like, this doesn’t have to mean anything.”
“Can you kiss me and help me up?”
He obliges, helping you upright, and then to your feet.
“You sure you’re ok?”
“Can we have the weird talk later? I want to go back to sleep.”
You hold his shoulders and lean on tip-toe to kiss him. You don’t care that your lipstick is smeared all over his face. But you’re too headachy and sleepy to push for more, so you back away and head to your room to catch a few more hours of sleep before your own alarm goes off.
You’re tired and moderately hung-over at work, and the only real motivation to get you through the day is knowing lunch is paid for by the company today. You feel rather human after that.
That decent mood becomes tinged with doubt as you walk home. Why did Spark resist at first? Were you out of bounds? In all fairness, you were kind of drunk, but then he kissed back, too. So what gives? A thought stops you cold.
Was Spark a virgin?
It’s so radical and out there you feel like you may have just solved the big bang theory. Content with your assumption, you continue on home. Your eevee barks and circles around you, tail wagging and ears twitching. You run a bath and toss in a fizzy bomb, not sure of the actual health benefits, but it gives the water a violet cloudiness and fills the room with the scent of roses. You brush out your hair and bring your holocaster to the tub, mindful not to let it fall in.
You lay back in the rosy bubbles and catch up on social media, thinking little about anything. It’s so nice to have quiet, and a hot bath, and nobody around. Whatever remnants of the night before were surely being soaked away.
The front door slams and you sigh.
A naughty nugget of a thought presents itself –maybe Spark would like to join?- and is immediately followed by cold disapproval.
You are attracted to your roommate. You made out with him last night. What the fuck, girlfriend?
Hey, he said it didn’t mean anything.
Of course he did, he’s a guy. This is the perfect escape route.
Well, maybe I liked it, and maybe he did, too.
You need to get laid.
…That’s out of bounds, and you know it.
Truth hurts. And he’s hot.
I thought you were trying to shame me for liking him.
You don’t. You lust for him. One ride, maybe three, and you’ll be over him.
So? He’s a guy.
And what if he’s a guy with more than dick for brains, huh? What then?
I don’t think I like your attitude.
You mope and hang an arm out of the tub and rest your chin on it. Your logical self did have a point. And, hypothetically speaking, if you did follow last night’s delicious make-out session to completion… what then? You still lived together. What if he thought this meant easy convenience whenever either of you were alone? What if he was already with someone -no, I don’t want to be the Other Woman!
Your bath is cooling off, and you’re starting to get pruny. You pull the plug and get the shower running.
Spark’s on the balcony, grooming Dash, his jolteon. His pikachu, Boomer, is perched on the railing, chattering what you can only assume are instructions. You head to the kitchen to reheat the doggy-bag you smuggled home from lunch and pull the towel off your head to mop water from your ears. Through the kitchen window cracked open, you can hear Boomer sounding exasperated and yammering at Spark and Dash. It makes you smile.
“Enough already! I know what I’m doing, Boomer!”
“Chu, pikapi pichu pika pikachu pika!”
“Yes he does, he’s fine with this. Stop being so bossy.”
That makes you laugh aloud, and the argument abruptly stops, and you wonder if they heard you. The sliding door opens and Dash prances in, pauses in the hallway to give himself a good shake. All his neatly-combed fur clumps into static-charged spikes again and, apparently satisfied, he heads off to do his own thing.
“Babies being bad?”
“Oh, Boomer invented pokemon care, don’t you know?”
You laugh again and take your meal to the kitchen table.
“How’s the re-identification thing going?”
“They’re supposed to call me at any point next week. I shouldn’t complain, they did fast-track me because I’m a gym leader, but…”
“Yeah. You want your life back now.”
“Among other things. That was my favorite jacket.”
“Maybe it’ll turn up in a pawn shop or something.”
“Maybe.”
He pulls up a chair and sits across from you. His hair looks slightly frizzed and goosebumps cover his bare arms.
“Um, so… What happened last night?”
“I kissed you.”
“You were kind of drunk.”
“So? You still kissed back.” You give him a moment to process that, and then ask: “Why did you hesitate?”
He looks away, starting to turn pink.
“You surprised me.”
“What do you think we should do about this?”
The room is uncomfortably quiet. You get up to get a drink.
“Come on, Spark, talk to me. You’re the one who looked nervous this morning. So clearly this is a thing, at least for you. What’s on your mind?”
He runs a hand nervously through his hair, and it crackles faintly. How odd.
“It’s… been a while. It was nice. I guess I kind of forgot how nice it could be.”
“Making out?”
“Cuddling and kissing. Yeah.”
“Oh, cause I was kind of worried you were just taking advantage of me drunk.”
Your grin is met with disgust and horror. Ok, note to self; never make non-con jokes about Spark.
“Kidding! I’m totally aware of everything that happened. And it was really nice. But… just curious, and don’t read into it too much when I ask but, uh, why did you say it doesn’t have to mean anything?”
“Oh, that? Well I figured you might feel like… not pressured?”
You laugh, and slam the bottle of soda on the counter to keep from spilling it.
“Are you kidding?! No!”
“No?”
“Ten on ten, Spark. Would do it again. Like, only if you wanted to, too.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“Why not? Is there anyone in your life that might object?”
“Is there in yours? This all happened because you were fed up of your date and drank too much.”
“Ok, first of all, I know I had exactly five martinis, and dinner. I wasn’t stupid levels of drunk. Stop judging that. And second, yeah! My date sucked. But then I came home to you!”
The kitchen becomes a whole new level of quiet. In your excitement to have this discussion with Spark, you’d destroyed the can of worms –exploded it all over the kitchen. and now the two of you were covered in it and staring at each other like you were waiting for the other to pull a gun.
“Ok, ok, sorry. I just really wanted to be sure you were ok with this and not going to like, report me for assault or something.”
“Oh my god, Spark. Seriously?”
He looks thoroughly embarrassed and you feel your irritation turn to a bit of sadness. He unfortunately has a point, and part of you wishes it could get your hands on whatever bitch put that thought in his head. If him kissing me is assault, then I should be locked away forever for what I think about doing to him. You finish pouring your drink and return the bottle to the fridge. The glass joins you at the table, but instead of taking your seat, you go over to Spark’s side: one hand on the back of his chair and the other on the table, and you lean over him, putting your face level with his.
“I’m not mad. I’m not going to have you written up. But I’m kind of sad to hear what you just said. That’s not the Spark I know.”
“You’re right, that isn’t me.”
He doesn’t elaborate, but he doesn’t look away. Damn, his eyes are so blue. It’d be really nice to kiss him sober, like, for comparison. For science! Is he moving closer, or are you? You tilt your head and make good on closing the rest of the distance between you when a sharp sting smacks your mouth and you both jerk apart in surprise, you yelping and covering your mouth to save it from further assault. Wide-eyed you look around for the source, and then it hits you.
“Your hair!”
“Are you ok?”
“Your hair’s full of static, probably from Dash.”
“Shit, I forgot about that.”
He pulls a cloth from his back pocket and rubs it briskly over his arms, chest, and finally hair. You’re not sure what it’s for, aside from making him look like a mess, but his hair isn’t standing on end anymore, and his goosebumps have dissipated.
“Are you safe?”
“Yeah, I should be fine now. Sorry. That was a real zinger.”
You both start laughing and he reaches for you. You tumble sideways into his lap, and you’re rather aware that you’re not wearing a bra and your whole body has broken out in goosebumps thanks to Spark’s sparks.
“Did it get you here?” He pecks your nose and you shake your head.
“No, it was more like over here.” You demonstrate by kissing his upper lip.
“Oh, I see where.”
He kisses you full on the mouth, and it’s even better than you remember from last night. Science, take note. His hands are warm, and they soothe the goosebumps on your arms. Part of you wants to grab his hand and put it on your chest, but you figure you’ve moved fast enough for twenty-four hours. If kissing was going to need a discussion, you weren’t sure what groping or more would need. An affidavit and mother’s maiden name. Probably a sworn testimony. You really hope he’s not going to be fussy about doing more, but the kissing sure is nice.
By the time you manage to break free of each other, your hair’s almost dry, and your yoga pants are covered in jolteon fur. Your lasagna needs reheating again.
Out one night with a guy you’ve been not-seriously dating, things start to turn serious when he invites you home. You agree. You could do with some attention. His name is Fen, and he’s alright-looking; works in financial something-or-other, so he’s pretty well-off as evidenced by his really posh condo. You feel out of place just being in it, but he’s stroking your neck as he leads you in and oh, look at that, there goes the living room. Guess we’re not getting the grand tour.
He’s a good kisser, you have to give him that. And his bed is luxuriously comfortable, not that you’re on it long. He pulls up your skirt and pulls down your panties in record time, and his fingers do the bare minimum, but it’s touch, and your body wants this even if your mind is drifting astray. He not-so-subtly directs you to his lap, but you’re wearing your expensive Kalosian lipstick today, and his dick doesn’t need it. He presses your head forward when his patience with your hand is wearing thin, and you glare and bat it away. He gets the message.
More kissing and Fen rolls you over, legs straddling him. You take the lead, eager to have anything between your legs if it quells your frustrations. At least on top you can pleasure yourself easier. You’re trying to think about anything that turns you on as you take him in, mindful not to go all the way because he’s too lazy to work you out first. A hand goes between your thighs and you begin to move. His hands reach for your hips and you worry he’s going to pull you down harder, but he’s polite about it, and merely holds you steady.
The thought of your roommate comes to mind suddenly. It’s a fantasy you’ve been working on for a while now, playing it out when you need a little help getting off, but this is the first time you’ve been with someone when it came up. The background is cheap and interchangeable, but the end result is Spark fucking you senseless. Nobody knows, nobody needs to know, and it’s harmless.
It’s pretty easy to replace the guy you’re with, with your blonde-haired, blue-eyed gym leader rent-buddy. Closing your eyes, it’s easy to imagine his hand is on your hip right now, the other teasing your clit. You wonder how big he is, if you can take him. Your fantasy shifts and now you’re picturing Spark’s head between your legs, mouth and fingers knowing just where to tease to get you off. It’s working; you’re getting hot and every imaginary lick of his tongue sends a jolt down your body. You can feel your breathing coming faster and sharper.
“Oh, yeah, you like it?”
“Mmm, feels good,” you purr, but you’re the only one who knows you’re not talking to the guy you’re riding.
You’re getting really wet now, and taking in your date’s dick all the way doesn’t feel like such a chore. You find yourself wishing it was Spark underneath you, and the instant you think it, you can picture it so clearly that you shudder and have to pause for breath. You’re so close to coming, and all you can think of is your roommate? What the hell is wrong with you?
“Almost there, honey. Want me to take over?”
You pick up where you left off, confused but horny and honestly, this is the first guy you’ve had since moving, so you’re going to enjoy it however you can. You put aside your guilt and confusion and just go with it. In your mind, you’re riding Spark, and he’s clutching your hips and moaning as you work both of you to completion. You’re moaning aloud, now, gasping and focused entirely on your own pleasure. Your heart’s pounding and your fingers know just what to do as your hips jerk and stutter, so close, so close, so—
You cry out and feel your body spasm and you stop moving as you lose coordination for a moment.
“What did you call me?”
Your euphoria is interrupted like a balloon popping right in your face and you actually jump a little.
“What-?”
“Spark, oh my god?”
Your face pales and you feel your heart thud sharply against your ribcage.
“Did I-? Um, no, it’s just this…”
“Other guy? You know, I figured as much since we didn’t talk about being serious, but damn, girl? Right when I’m about to nut? You’re killing me.”
You’re officially too embarrassed to continue anything and sheepishly get off Fen’s lap to scamper into the adjacent bathroom. He flings your panties in after you and that’s about as much farewell as you know you deserve at this point. He’s not on the bed when you creep out of the bathroom again, and you silently grab your coat and purse and leave. As you’re waiting for the elevator down, you count your money and hope you’ve got enough for a cab home.
Spark’s asleep when you get in, and the apartment is dark and quiet. Boomer meets you at the door and you bend to pet him on the head after you get your shoes off. You stop in the bathroom to get your makeup off and pee again for good measure, then head to your room and shut the door. You don’t hear from Fen again, and you can’t blame him. It makes you feel sad and a bit guilty, but it also makes you realize you and Spark might have a problem.
No, you have a problem. Spark’s flawless.
Do I deserve someone like him? I just called his name while I was riding another man!
I think that’s proof you deserve exactly him.
There is no way I am ever saying anything about this to anyone.
Maybe you should talk to Spark?
No way. None. Never.
You’re being hysterical, kinda.
No, this is the proper amount of guilt and embarrassment I should be feeling right now.
Ok, but imagine if you really could ride him-
ENOUGH.
…
…Please. I’m tired. I don’t want to think about this. Like, ever.
Damn, bitch, shut me down. Just saying what’s good for you.