Tidal browsed the stalls, a smirk touching his whiskered face. His coinpurse was still quite heavy thanks to that winning wager he’d made against Team Montaine, and while he still planned to save for rainy days, there wasn’t anything wrong with a little bit of indulgence here and there after coming into such a windfall.

A Luminous Orb… hmmm, but he had one already. A TM? Tempting, but did he need it? Watercress curry… now that would hit the spot. His stomach rumbled… ah, but he was already paying for a swanky room in the best inn in the town—the whole region, really—which came with three square meals free of charge. He beat down his taste buds’ insistent pleas.

The Dewott rounded a corner and felt his brows raise. Now there was a rare treat indeed… something he had never expected to see among the common fare here. He strolled up. The shop displayed a variety of seeds, from common types like Blast Seeds to the more exotic Reviver Seeds (a must if going on a chancy adventure.) But he only had eyes for one in particular.

“How much?” he asked, jabbing a paw at the item.

The stall’s proprietor, a member of the Kecleon Clan, cocked his head in amusement. “That’s no good for your species, you know,” he said.

“I’m aware,” Tidal replied conversationally. “It’s for a friend. So how much?” He noticed that it was one of the few items that didn’t have a price listed, presumably so that the shopkeep could gouge if he wanted. Maybe since the seed wasn’t usually bought by the Oshawott line, the lizard would take it easy on him.

He was mistaken.

“Come on,” Tidal said, rolling his eyes, “do I look like I was born yesterday? Rare or not, no one-time item is worth that much!”

The Kecleon smiled, readying for a haggle. “Say,” he said, “I think I know you.”

“Oh?”

“I heard from a branch of ours in Fern Canyon that you left a lot of females feeling very happy.”

Ah, that. Tidal tried not to beam with pride. “Yeah, I’m pretty reliable. Say, since you’re gonna have lots of little nieces and nephews and cousins thanks to me, how ‘bout a family discount?”

The Kecleon responded with a hearty belly laugh. “I admire your gumption! But no.”

They haggled for a bit and got the price somewhere manageable and Tidal departed with a wave. A skip in his step, he returned to the inn. Maybe, if he played his cards right, tonight would be something to remember.

The common room was a pleasant room that smelled of fresh-cut mahogany, with a berry stew bubbling on the fire. The proprietor, a beaming Steenee, told him it’d be ready in an hour or two. Nodding, Tidal took the stairs and returned to his room.

His temporary lodgemate, Nettle of Team Montaine, glanced up when he opened the door.

“You get everything?” the Sceptile asked, reclining easily. He was a perfect specimen of his species: tall and lean, yet with an air and aura of strength to him that was hard to ignore. His viridian scales were smooth and uniform, punctuated by splashes of faded red on his throat and in a band around his stomach. Yellow seedpods lined his back; Tidal had heard tell that the brilliance and size of the pods spoke to their holder’s virility. If so, then Nettle would be very virile indeed. His long tail, with ferns sprouting from it, curled about him lazily. Though his usual accoutrements of an explorer’s badge and satchel were lying on a nearby stand, Nettle had a new accessory: a small, pink stone, oblong in shape, looped on a band around his neck. The Oval Charm he’d confiscated from his wayward teammate.

Tidal hopped up onto Nettle’s bed and approached the pokemon, picking up the band in his paw. Nettle didn’t seem to mind his closeness, the two of them relaxing comfortably in one another’s presence. Nettle’d had the good grace to act gentlemanly when he’d lost his wager against Tidal; Gabbro, his subordinate, had been less gracious, especially considering how he’d used the Oval Charm to try and cheat. The Lycanroc had taken a few weeks to “cool his head,” and Nettle and Tidal had gone on a few joint missions together to fill the time.

“Got everything, yeah,” Tidal said, playing the charm about his paws, fixated on it, in fact. For some reason, Nettle had been wearing it since he’d confiscated it from Gabbro—but not in any of their adventures had he taken advantage of its effects, at least not that Tidal had seen.

A chuckle rolled through the Grass-type. “Fascinated with the charm, are you? Don’t know why.” His voice was delectably masculine—confident and smooth, with a low lilt. “I’m not exactly ashamed of my fertility, but you’ve got to be the most virile pokemon I’ve ever seen.”

Tidal took the comment without getting a swelled head. It was just a statement of fact. He’d never failed at breeding a female, provided their species were compatible. “Just wondering what it feels like. Do you feel different with it on?”

Nettle shrugged and leaned back with a laugh; as he did so, he rested his claw comfortably on Tidal’s shoulder. An electric thrill raced through the Dewott at his touch. Yes… he was quite successful with females, but that didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy the other side as well. And Nettle was as prime a specimen as he had ever seen.

“A little bit,” the Sceptile admitted. “It’s… an almost invisible feeling, more anticipatory than anything, but it’s almost like there’s a little spark of power down… well…” he trailed off, suddenly looking to the side.

Tidal had to laugh at that. “We both saw each other’s cocks back in Fern Canyon,” he said, delighting in the recollection of Nettle’s handsome hemipenes. “I don’t think we have to dance around issues like this.” He scooted closer, still exulting in the closeness of Nettle’s claw on his shoulder, until his fur was brushing against the bigger pokemon’s scales. He felt Nettle’s powerful trunk of a body subtly rise and fall with each breath. The presence of him all around was delightful. Nettle looked anticipatory at his closeness, perhaps even a little unsure—but far from unhappy.

“I guess we did,” the Grass-type admitted. His arm tightened, ever so slightly, around his Dewott companion. “So yeah, the charm seems to give me a sort of… extra spark of power down in my loins. Very subtle, but it’s like I just know that I’ll be more productive. More fertile.”

“No wonder Gabbro put his faith in it,” Tidal said with a laugh. Nettle met his chuckle with one of his own. The two of them lapsed into a congenial silence, Tidal’s heart fluttering excitedly at the fact that Nettle’s touch was still pressing against him. The Sceptile didn’t seem to mind this level of closeness. But, thought Tidal, I don’t want to just cuddle…

“You know,” he said after a few minutes’ quiet, “I’ve been wondering—you’ve been wearing that charm since the incident in the canyon, but haven’t put it to use yet. Why not?”

“Dunno,” Nettle said. “If we’re speaking candidly, I’m not exactly a stranger to sex—and I love breeding. Knowing that females are likely to walk away from me carrying… it fills me with a level of pride, you know?”

“I do,” said Tidal.

Nettle rolled his eyes. “Right. Forgot who I was talking to for a second here. But weirdly… I just haven’t felt that vibe since Fern Canyon. Maybe cause of the sheer amount of eggs I gave them. Don’t want to muddy up the gene pool too much, I guess, eh?”

“So you’re just in a low libido mood? I guess that happens to every mon once in a while.”

“No, not exactly. I guess I’m just waiting for the right… pokemon…” Nettle trailed off as Tidal, seizing the moment, rested his paw on his compatriot’s leg. The two of them locked gazes for a moment, Tidal reflecting that the moment Nettle showed an ounce of discomfort, he’d quit—but while the Sceptile seemed surprised, he also seemed anticipatory, even excited.

Well, if Tidal was going to be obvious, might as not take half measures. “A breeder like you ever mess around with other males?” Tidal asked.

An undercurrent of crimson burned on the Sceptile’s face, a testament to—what? Embarrassment? Arousal? Judging from the way that his slit was starting to show itself between his legs, the smell of sex softly punctuating the room, Tidal guessed it was the latter.

“Considered it,” Nettle admitted. “A few’ve caught my eye over the years. But for whatever reason, I never went all the way. Guess I was waiting for the right pokemon…”

Tidal drifted his paw lower, approaching Nettle’s reptilian slit—the Sceptile shuddered, breath clawing out of him in a hiss as the Dewott stroked the inside of his thigh. “Like who?” Tidal asked.

By now, Nettle’s breaths were fast and shallow, more of his face flushed with arousal—and then, seemingly overcoming any reservations, he reached his own paw down between Tidal’s legs and gripped his companion’s quickly-growing erection.

Tidal grunted with delight. He was big for his species, with massive balls and an impressive knot, but the Sceptile’s superior size meant that almost the whole of his cock could fit into Nettle’s grasp. He pushed against Nettle’s touch with fervency, his own breath growing short, and the Grass-type squeezed his cock experimentally. The pressure on his erection was sublime, making Tidal shudder and moan, and Nettle repeated the action, harder and more confidently, the act quickly impelling Tidal to full mast.

And the Dewott was not the only one clearly aroused. By now, Nettle’s hemipenes were unfolding from their slit, both specimens swiftly growing. His cocks were large, and if individually they were slightly lesser compared to the type of specimen like Gabbro, then they more than made up for it by there being two of them. Tidal was excited to see that one of the two hemis already boasted a slick, tiny pearl of pre at the top of it, a testament to how worked up Nettle already was.

“Backed up, huh?” Tidal teased, reaching over one paw to stroke the nearest hemipene. The larger pokemon quivered at the touch; Nettle’s rod was solid and delightful, tensing under his ministrations. “Or am I that appealing to you? I’m flattered—ah! Ah—ah!”

His voice broke off in a peal of delight as Nettle squeezed his cock tight, the act sending aftershocks of pleasure galloping through his body. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you,” the explorer said without malice.

“Y-yeah,” Tidal replied, whiskers twitching confidently. He could feel the burn in his own cheeks, a counterpart to the crimson blush spreading across Nettle’s face. “You want me to put it to use?”

A moment of consideration held—and then Nettle reached over and placed a claw on the back of Tidal’s head. Excitedly, the Dewott let his temporary teammate pull him closer to the nearest hemipene, opening his mouth.

And then he took it in.

Giving head was one of his favorite pasttimes, and he was quite skilled at it. Nettle’s hemipene was large, but unproblematic—not overly huge, and without any hangups like barbs or a knot to get caught up on. At first, Tidal contented himself with the hemi’s tip, swirling it expertly about his tongue, pressing it against the roof of his mouth and lapping its underside. Nettle’s tension and the short bursts of noise told him that the Sceptile was appreciative. The best part was the taste… to be expected from a Grass-type, Nettle’s body smelled vaguely of greens and the outdoors even under normal circumstances, and it seemed that aroma only intensified during sex. A pleasant leafy flavor wafted over Tidal’s taste buds, and as little bits of pre touched down on his tongue, he delighted in the sharp, salty mixture it provided. Though there wasn’t that much pre, he still gulped it down, making sure to make the sound as loud, as lewd as possible for Nettle’s benefit.

After a few minutes of Tidal lavishing his tip, Nettle grunted and shifted his position, lining up his cock a bit differently with Tidal. The pressure on the back of the Dewott’s head increased a bit subtly as well.

So Nettle wanted a deepthroat, eh? Well, Tidal would be happy to oblige.

Angling his head the right way, readying his throat, Tidal grunted his assent, and Nettle pushed in. The pressure at the base of his throat was insistent, and Tidal opened for him, shuddering as he felt the squat pressure of Nettle’s cock settle snugly into his throat. Ahhhh… Nettle was just the right size for this. Big enough that the sheer presence of his cock was sending his receptors dancing alight, making his whole body go wild, but not so big that it provided discomfort.

Nettle held there for a moment, still breathing shallow, an act matched by Tidal as he took level breaths through his nose. Tidal swallowed around his friend’s cock, the gulping act massaging Nettle’s rod and making the Sceptile hiss with delight; for his part, the fruitless swallowing sent Tidal’s whole body rocking with stimulation. When he’d been younger and more unpracticed, that might have been it for him; now, though, he just felt his eyelids flutter with delight as he fought down his reflex and delighted in the sensation.

And even better was when Nettle oh-so-gradually began fucking his throat.

His voice low, the Sceptile gripped either side of Tidal’s face, his touch gentle, loving even, yet still confident. Knowing what was about to come, Tidal rolled his eyes up to meet Nettle’s gaze and burbled his assent. Nodding, Nettle swung his hips back so that his cock was half out, nearly leaving Tidal’s throat, only to push back in. The going was both slow and inexorable; Tidal couldn’t have fought it even if he’d wanted to. He sat there and felt his throat part as Nettle pushed in, felt the contraction as he slid out, only to give way as he pushed back in again. The pressure of it all was incredible. Tidal was as hard as he’d ever been; he reached down one paw to stroke his cock, even feeling his knot starting to swell.

“Damn,” Nettle said after one particularly luscious thrust left Tidal’s muffled voice moaning with delight. “You’re incredible at this, Tidal.” The Dewott almost beamed with pride. Though his work as a breeder sometimes threatened to overshadow it, he took great joy in how effective a lover he was for the males as well. And to be Nettle’s first… that was an honor unto itself.

He almost smirked to himself. At the risk of arrogance, he wondered if he was so good that all other males might disappoint Nettle in comparison.

As Nettle gradually picked up the pace, voice ragged and pleased, Tidal’s own hardness started to become all-encompassing, and he groaned as best he could around Nettle’s hemipene. An orgasm was starting to build; already he could feel himself dribbling pre onto the inn’s lush bed.

Nettle didn’t seem that far, either. His pace improving by the second, the Sceptile reached down and gripped his own cock, pumping it more or less in time with his thrusts. Tidal did the same, attending to himself with pleasure. And the two males rested there, one’s mouth and throat stuffed full of the other’s cock, both attending themselves, as Nettle pushed faster and faster—

Tensing suddenly, Nettle grunted and then bucked his hips as best he could. His loins slammed against Tidal’s mouth as the hemi surged deeper than ever, and suddenly the cock in Tidal’s throat was pulsing, jetting him full of cum as he happily gulped it down, feeling it settle in his stomach. Nettle’s other cock sprayed true, covering both Nettle’s claw and Tidal’s face with cum, the Dewott shutting one eye closed as he was covered with lizard seed.

The sense of being filled was enough to tip him over the edge, too. Tidal tensed, arched his back, and then jetted straight down, leaving an impressive pool of seed directly underneath him.

Sagging happily against Nettle, Tidal was content to rest there with his partner’s cock slowly deflating in his mouth. In counterpoint, Nettle gently stroked his paramour’s fur, his dexterous claws starting at the base of the tuft atop Tidal’s head and running down his neck and back to lose themselves in the darker blue ‘skirt’ that girded his legs and lower torso. The act wasn’t sensual, it was intimate; comforting and brimming with affection. Tidal was filled with a sleepy happiness at the repetitive tempo of Nettle’s touch, his throat pleasantly exhausted as the hemipene still squatted within it.

And then suddenly the moment was dashed.

A knocked sounded on the door and both explorers tensed. The Steenee’s voice broke in: “The stew is ready, master Tidal!”

After a moment’s silence, her voice came in again, somewhat confused: “Hello?”

“Uh, y-yes, thank you!” Nettle called out, clearly embarrassed.

Another moment’s silence, and then the Steenee’s voice returned: “Um, is master Tidal there? I saw him come up but not come down…”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. Tidal popped his mouth free of Nettle’s loins, wincing slightly at the weary, ragged feeling in his throat. “I’m here!” he said, hoping he didn’t sound too hoarse. “We’re discussing, uh, future… partnerships. We probably won’t make it for dinner, save us some bowls?”

“Very well.” The innkeeper’s steps rang against the wood as she toddled off. As she left, Tidal and Nettle met one another’s eyes—and then a grin broke Tidal’s face as he wiped up a bit of Nettle’s cum trickling from the corner of his mouth. The two of them fell into hale, mutual laughter, slumping together.

---

“That was good.”

Nettle’s voice broke the long period of cuddling the two of them had fallen into after having sex. Tidal had been more than content to just lean against the larger pokemon for support, resting his head against Nettle’s torso. He leaned his head up to look at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Didn’t expect…”

“What?” Tidal said with a laugh. “That a breeder would go both ways?”

Nettle shrugged in response.

“Gotta admit, moments like this?” Tidal said, reaching up to trace the ridge of Nettle’s shoulder, delighting in its firmness. “A big part of the appeal of the adventuring lifestyle to begin with.” His paw drifted down, again toying with the Oval Charm looped about Nettle’s neck.

“Feel you there,” Nettle said. “Though at first, I didn’t even realize how active an adventurer’s life could be on that front. For me, it was all about the thrill of the frontier… seeing wild places, encountering places no town pokemon has ever seen. I think that’s still the biggest draw for me.”

Tidal could respect that. He leaned into Nettle’s comforting strokes with a sigh. “That’s relatable.”

“Mmm.” Nettle continued holding him close for a few minutes, the two of them delighting in one another’s warmth. “Say, Tidal—what’s the best job you ever did?”

“Me? Well… you know that army of outsiders that descended on Amber Isle a little over a year ago?”

Nettle sat up straight, his interest clearly piqued. “Pull the other one. You’re saying you were part of the counterforce?”

“If you want to count that,” Tidal said with a laugh. “To counter the outrider army, the Amber Guild hired a veritable army of their own—hundreds of freelancers as mercenaries to guard their outskirts, and I was one of them. I patrolled the coastline. There was a lot of fierce underwater fighting. I remember a Dragalge almost got me, but I’m a water specialist for a reason.”

“You didn’t happen to see the battle between the Guildmaster and the outrider leader, did you?”

“Arceus, I wish. That’s one of the most legendary fights of our era! Still, when we were called back, the guild was in triumph and the outriders in disarray. The guild had seized a trove of treasure from the enemy army and doubled the payout to all us freelancers, and treated everyone to a night of party and entertainment in the guild itself.” He held off on the rest of the story, waiting for Nettle to ask the inevitable follow-up question.

And the Sceptile took the bait. “The stories that the afterparty devolved into a giant orgy… are they true?”

“I did say it was my favorite job for a reason,” Tidal replied impishly. “Spirits, even I was exhausted by the end. You know, at one point in the night, I ended up with the Guildmaster himself on his knees in front of me… looking up as he slurped.”

“Holy fuck,” Nettle said. “Really?”

“Yep. Now that was the real reward.” Tidal leaned back, a smile on his whiskers on the remembrance. He wondered idly how many children he’d sired that evening. Most of the eggs were probably laid and hatched by now, and he had no doubt the Amber Guild would take good care of his offspring. “What about yourself, Nettle?”

“Probably my first real job after graduation,” Nettle said. “Team Montaine didn’t exist yet. I was a follower in a smaller team of grass specialists, Team Wisteria, and still a Grovyle. We were sent to see if Ash Valley, which had been desolated by an eruption a decade or so back, was back to being fallow again.” He leaned back and his voice filled with happiness and reflection. “We spent ten days on the road. That’s nothing now, but at the time it was the sort of journey I’d scarcely dreamed of. We crossed rocky crags, climbed over glaciers, even passed through a crumbling ruin at one point… outriders harried us every now and then, but in one forest, our team leader had a congenial meeting with them and arranged for us to stay the night in their village. That was the first time I learned they weren’t unilaterally hostile to town pokemon.

“I’ll never forget when we finally made it to Ash Valley… we were climbing up this ridge covered in sharp, crumbly volcanic rock. The air was dusty and the whole landscape looked grey and brown. I’d already mentally written up a report of failure. But then we crested the ridge… and saw it.” Wonder crept into Nettle’s voice. “Such a vast expanse of greenery and life. Flowers everywhere, almost crawling all over each other, and the wind heavy with pollen. Saplings were sprouting like weeds. I just sat down in wordless awe. That moment… I’ve always tried to recapture it. Dunno if I’ve ever succeeded, even after all these years.”

They lapsed into companionable silence; Tidal appreciated Nettle’s storytelling. If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine the moment, the stony, desolate ridge transforming into a verdant spread of greenery… Nettle’s wonder was palpable and infectious, helping to reignite his own love of adventuring for adventure’s sake.

Arceus above, but he was quite the catch, wasn’t he?

“Nettle?” he asked.

“Hm?”

As the Sceptile leaned down to look at his compatriot, Tidal rose up, and pressed his mouth to his. The two of them met in a kiss; it was not lewd or sloppy, but a quiet, passionate thing. Immediately, Nettle pressed him closer, gripping him tight, and Tidal let him, leaning in and closing his eyes. Deprived of sight, his other senses filled in the gap; he could feel the warmth of Nettle’s claws through his fur, hear the thundering skip of his heart, nearly taste his breath as it stirred his whiskers.

The two of them slowly melted down into a laying position on the bed, holding and caressing each other, passionately kissing, feeling a burn of delight in one another. Tidal idly reflected that the poor innkeeper probably wouldn’t ever get a chance to give them her stew.

As the two of them broke it off, Tidal rose with a blushing smile. “You know,” he said, “when I was out shopping today, I found something I think you would like.”

Nettle eyed him as he hopped off the bed and made his way to the satchel. Digging through it, Tidal pulled out the item he’d snagged from the Kecleon earlier that day—

An Empowerment Seed.

“Catch,” he said, and Nettle caught it, looking down with awe. “Seriously?” he asked. “Where’d you get this?”

“Kecleon,” Tidal said airily, returning to the spot on the bed. He had one of his own, on the other side of the room, which he’d used for most of their stay—but he thought that it would probably go unoccupied for the rest of their time here. “I happened to come into a lot of money recently, you know.”

Nettle smirked, and then he had a look alight on him. “I’ve only Mega Evolved a couple of times,” he said, “every time as an option of last resort in dungeons.”

Tidal nodded. “That’s what it’s for, or so I hear.”

“Yeah. But you know? When I’m like that, I gain the Dragon-type. And dragons… they—we—get certain urges.”

Tidal’s brows raised. His heart rate picked up.

“Dragons are wild and uncontrollable,” Nettle continued, “with a powerful urge to spread their seed… which, I’m not going to lie, meshes well with the Grass-type. But whenever I assume that form, it’s never in a situation where I get to sate those urges. It’s infuriating…” He eyed Tidal with a smile. “Sometimes, you just want to breed.”

“I appreciate the sentiment. After all, I’ve been known to enjoy breeding myself,” Tidal replied. “That said… if you’re suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, I feel compelled to point out to you that we don’t share egg groups. …and also that I don’t have a womb.”

Nettle chuckled, eying the Empowerment Seed. It was a twisted thing, its outer shell all aligned with stripes of varying colors. “I’m aware,” he said. “But don’t worry. The urges won’t care that much, I think. Not to mention there’s no worry about ‘wasting’ my dragonic seed.” He reached over to his satchel and pulled out a jar. “If you want to help me fill it, that is…”

“Do I.”

Nettle smirked. “Well then.” And without preamble, he popped in the seed.

The effect was instantaneous. Energy filled the room, transforming Nettle immediately. Tidal watched in awe. It was the first time he had seen Mega Evolution up close.

Nettle’s tail lengthened into a dramatic, crimson-tipped dart reminiscent of his namesake. But though that was the most immediate transformation, it was far from the only one. More seedpods sprouted along his tail, colored orange and red in contrast to the normal yellow. The leaves on his wrists and elbows lengthened, and his brows rose as he obtained a draconic crest.

But the changes were more than just physical. There was an immediate change in Nettle’s bearing, a sense of insatiable power and confidence that radiated out of him. He looked at Tidal with open lust and Tidal swallowed, well aware that he was still carrying Nettle’s cum in his stomach. The Sceptile’s cocks, too, were transformed, darkening into a deeper red and lengthening into formidable draconic spears.

When the transformation finished, Nettle rolled his shoulders experimentally and then smiled. “So,” he said, his voice deeper and richer for his transformation. “You want to get bred, little otter?”

Tidal’s cock quickly surged to full mast. He could play this breeding game. “I’m water,” he said. “You’re grass. Normally, you drink me up… but I’m happy to play the reverse.” He approached Nettle, leaning back and using his lower paws to delicately grip the reptile’s hemipene. Nettle rumbled a happy assent at their touch as Nettle began giving his teammate a pawjob. “Show me the might of a dragon,” Tidal said. “Big. Powerful. Ceaseless. And the fertility of grass… Spread your seed. Let your power take root. Pollinate me, Nettle.”

With a hungering grunt, Nettle arched his hips up, thrusting in time with Tidal’s pawjob. Tidal leaned back, using his flat tail to brace himself on the bed. His lower paws were long and dexterous, perfectly suited for the task at hand, and he shimmied them up and down Nettle’s hemipenes. “Give it to me,” Tidal whispered, eyes wide and wanting. As he spoke, one of Nettle’s claws reached down to stroke the cock unattended by Tidal; the other caressed the back of the Dewott’s head, its presence both comforting and insistent. “I want your seed. Show me your virility. Your potency. We both like breeding, so breed me.”

“Fuck,” Nettle growled, bucking his hips in time with Tidal’s pawjob. His cocks were standing at full mast, amazingly even larger; the tip of the one receiving the pawjob was pushing well past Tidal’s paws, its pressure nestling insistently against the otter’s own cock. The act of bucking made his body shake, and the Oval Charm about his neck was jingling, glowing pink in the lamplight. Tidal wondered how much it would affect what Nettle had to give him.

“I saw how you looked at me in Fern Canyon, Tidal,” Nettle said. “You liked what you saw.” He bucked his hips again, his cock gliding pleasingly against the bottom of Tidal’s paws, the pressure still knocking against his own penis.

“I did,” Tidal panted. “I know what I like. A strong, confident male without any of the hangups of someone like Gabbro… you were the perfect partner.”

“Say it again.”

“The perfect… hnn,” Tidal whined as the pressure of Nettle’s cock against his own was almost too delightful to bear. He continued giving a dutiful pawjob. “The p-perfect partner.”

“I saw you looking at me,” Nettle repeated. “I admit, it stirred things in me… I fantasized about your mouth about my cock, about seeing your own red rod on display, having you cum thanks to me.”

“Looks like… you got your wish…” Tidal panted, barely holding it together. Nettle was bucking at a pace he couldn’t keep up with, the dragon’s cock rubbing maddeningly as he frotted their cocks together. Nettle’s grip through his fur was tight and dominant.

“I guess I did at that,” Nettle said, voice proud. He bucked his hips even harder and Tidal groaned as their cocks rubbed together—and then his eyes widened as the tip nestled in his open mouth, the other cock resting against his cheek.

“I’m going to cum now,” Nettle said. He leaned over, leaving the open jar against Tidal’s cheek. “Flush you full of my seed. Pollinate you, like you said. So be a good little breeder and gulp it down.”

Tidal nodded. He could do that.

“And,” Nettle continued, “I’m going to save as much of my seed here as we can. You’re very, very good, helping me save it all. Now let’s—let’s—”

He broke off, grunting, as he came. And if Tidal had thought that Nettle had a lot of cum before, then now—transformed by Mega Evolution, under the effect of an Oval Charm—he had to reevaluate his expectations.

Cum flooded into him, and he gulped down as much as he could, throat working over and over—but there was just so much. His cheeks bulged, his throat ceaselessly swallowed, his stomach radiated a sense of fullness as he was filled with Nettle’s cum, but there was just so much more than he could handle, and some of it inevitably spilled out of his mouth, dripping onto his fur and paws.

And that was only one of Nettle’s two cocks. The other erupted in a fountain of white, splashing Tidal’s cheek and face with cum, marking him as a dragon’s partner; Nettle hissed pleasingly, stroking Nettle and telling him he did a good job as cum dripped into the jar. Finally, as Nettle finished, Tidal came himself, shuddering with bliss as he jetted again and again. His cum collected as a messy, glistening puddle atop the satin sheets.

Cheeks burning, body loose with orgasm, Tidal sank with a half-lidded look, only for Nettle to gently lift him off of his cocks. As his mouth broke free with a smack, he looked queryingly at the Sceptile.

“Sorry,” Nettle apologized, screwing the lid onto his jar. “You did so, so well. But could I ask one more thing?” He held out the jar. “You know Blizzard, right? I’d like it preserved…”

Tidal’s whiskered twitched into a smile. “Simple.” Summoning frigid energy about his paws, he took the jar from Nettle, and his icy touch coated the jar with rime, the contents within freezing into a solid, pearlescent whole. “How’s that?”

His companion stroked the fur on his cheek, impishly wiping off a small bead of cum. “Perfect.”

In the afterglow, Tidal and Nettle reposed together, the Dewott happily nestled in the crook of the bigger pokemon’s arm and using him as a pillow. He felt both sleepy and happy, his body languid with the well-used laziness of one who had just had some great sex; he was full up on Nettle’s seed and knew he wouldn’t be having any stew tonight.

He idly wondered how long Nettle would stay transformed; what Nettle had in mind for the preserved seed of his Mega Evolution form; when they would inevitably have to part ways as Gabbro returned to Team Montaine and Tidal resumed life as a freelancer. The questions swirled through his head.

But there was no need to answer them at the moment. Surrendering, he closed his eyes and happily fell asleep, taking pride in a job well done.