Getting Some Sleep
by Quintus

When I joined the Guild, I imagined myself as a sort of wildland bounty hunter, catching outlaws and being paid enviable amounts of money. I knew Sleep to be a focused, no-nonsense sort of worker and capable in a fight, so when he formed Team Sleepaway I jumped at the chance to be a part of it. But then he fell in love, and the three became four, and when she left he fell to pieces and the four became two. We remaining two did whatever we could to pay the bills, but we didn't exactly have the manpower we used to have to take on those dangerous and higher-paying jobs. So we were left with the shit jobs, the bitch-work, the jobs that had to be done but that were too easy and low-paying for the better teams to waste their time on.

A day of this could be mind-numbingly tedious, but I was not a person who could just go to bed after a hard day's work. On this particular night, it happened that the only one awake was Sleep, so with nothing better to do I went to his room to see him.

I poked my head in through the curtain. “Hey. Want some company?”

“No.”

Asshole … I stepped inside.

“This room looks like a prison cell. We have got to get you some furniture besides that damn pillow. At least throw a rug down or something, you know?”

Sleep said nothing.

“Path and I had a lovely day today helping a baby skitty out of a tree. It was a worthwhile use of our considerable skills. What about you? I'm sure you had an exciting and productive day as well.”

“Fuck off, Dust,” he said.

“Come on. You know I'm just busting your balls.”

“If you're looking for someone to entertain you, why don't you take Path and go play with that skitty's mother?”

“Please. Path crashed the moment he stepped into his room. And I sure as hell know you didn't tire yourself out today, so I figure you owe me this time.”

“Well, I'm so honored to be the life of your party,” he said.

“Since you're awake at this hour, I take it you can't sleep either. And you look like you haven't in a while.”

“Is it that readily apparent?”

“Trust me, I can tell when you're not your usual, handsome self.”

“Well, thanks for that too.”

“Anyway, you know what I like to do on a sleepless night?”

“Get drunk.”

“Get a dri—okay, that is what I was going to say, but did it have to be the first thing you go for?”

“Leave me alone. I'm not interested.”

“In all seriousness, a drink would help you relax a bit, don't you think?”

“You only think that because you've been drinking so long that 'sleeping' and 'passing out drunk' mean pretty much the same thing.”

“Okay, rude. Anyway, what have you got planned that's so important? A big night of sulking?”

He pressed his face into the pillow and folded it around his ears.

“Guess I'll just have to go by myself, then. Just as well—I'm sure I'll meet a much more interesting guy, and he and I will have a great time. With the alcohol and the atmosphere and the late-night crowd, who knows what could happen? …”

Sleep lifted his head from the pillow and looked at me. “You seriously wanna go that route? You're gonna extort me to go to the bar with you on the basis that you'll fuck some random stranger if I'm not there?”

“Why Sleep, I'm shocked that you don't think I would maintain the level of professionalism expected of all Team Sleepaway members, even in my downtime.”

“You know what? Fucking fine. You want me to go along to play watchog, and keep your junk out of places it shouldn't be, I'll fucking do it.”

“Wonderful.”

There was only one bar in town, and that was the Greasy Grovyle. Having a monopoly on alcohol did surprisingly little to the price of a beer, although they charged a left-hind leg for the good stuff. We entered. It was probably the noisiest spot this close to midnight, crowded to the walls with revelers, but we managed to find a spot at the bar and called for service.

The barkeeper was a spindly spinda by the name of Rod, and like you might expect from a relatively frail individual who makes a living serving psychoactive substances to peacekeepers and enforcers, he had developed his own methods of intimidation. When I called for him, he turned his head to me with a toothy, ear-to-ear grin, then put his paws on the table and his face right in front of mine.

“Another late night, eh Dust? Need some witch's poison? Some grandma's medicine? Some Sandman's powder on those beautiful eyes of yours?”

Sleep wasn't amused. “Are you gonna serve us or just gab off forever?” he said

“Sleep,” Rod continued, drawing the word out chillingly. “You look even more in need of my healing brews than your friend here. Very well. Will it be Bug Lager as usual?”

“Vodka,” I said. “Two in shot glasses, then just keep it coming.”

“Oh my. I suppose it hasn't been a wonderful day in dreamland.”

He set the shot glasses on the counter, one for me and one for Sleep, then poured the clear liquid from the glass bottle. I gripped the rim of my glass with my front teeth and knocked my head back to pour it down my throat, a motion I'd practiced carefully. I set the glass on the counter to see that Sleep was just eying his.

“You gonna drink that?”

He took in a breath through his nose and knocked back—and immediately gave into a hacking fit.

“It burns a little on the way down,” I said. “You get used to it.”

“Can't I just drink cider or something?” His voice was raspy.

“No way. We're here for grandma's medicine, not apple juice on a warm afternoon. When it comes to winding down, nothing's better than one-hundred-proof liquor.”

Rod came by and filled our glasses, and I knocked back again. We also ordered oran juice, a tall glass for each of us. I used it to chase my shots, but after a couple more I noticed that Sleep was just sipping the juice and letting his vodka sit.

“Had enough already?” I said. I was slightly giggly.

“I'm … I'm just starting to see a little wobbly, is all,” said Sleep.

“Come on, that's only, what, your third shot? I bet even f'rggin' Path could handle more shots than that …”

“Ffffffuck you, bitch. I don't even like being drunk all that much. I only come here when your stupid ass drags me here.”

“A'ight, you pansy, you want som'n a little nicer? Som'n fruity for your delicate pallet?” I scanned the bottles along the back of the bar. “Well, it jus' so happens that Rod 'ere's got a brand new bottle of Sitrus Berry Brandy. I'll order it for you, but … you haf'ta drink it all'n one go.”

“Why the fuck would I do that?”

“Because … You do that, 'n you don' throw up or pass out, I'll suck your dick.”

He gave me a look, then looked at the bottle, then back at me.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he said. “Are you that certain I can't hold a little brandy? You want me to spill my guts on this counter top or pass out on the floor and become the diversion of the night, and you think that offering to suck me off is how you'll get me to do it? 'Ha, look at Sleep lying there in a puddle of his own vomit! Would you believe he tried to down that entire bottle? Amazing what you can get a guy to do when you offer to polish his knob!'”

“Hey …”

“You know what? Fuck you, and fuck your smart-ass mouth, you wanna make that bet, I'll fucking make that bet. Rod!” He banged his shot glass on the counter a few times, spilling the vodka that was still in it.

“Hand me that fucking bottle. She's paying.”

Rod placed the bottle on the counter, and Sleep grasped it by the neck. He even kicked his stool out a few inches from the bar so that if he passed out, he would tumble right onto the floor. He knocked back, slowly leaning backwards as he sucked down the contents of the bottle, and I waited at the edge of my seat for him to lean just a little too far.

Five seconds.

Ten seconds.

I grit my teeth. He sat precariously on the stool, the brandy slowly but steadily draining from the bottle to his belly, but he absolutely refused to fall backward. My heart started to sink when he got to the last fifth of it. Then it was gone. He came back gasping for breath, wobbling on his stool and staring off as if he didn't know whether to cling to consciousness. The empty bottle fell to the floor with a loud crash.

He looked at me, looked at Rod, looked back at me and started laughing. A little chuckle at first, then a louder one. Then he gave in to full-blown laughter, and his laughter turned to uncontrollable guffawing. He locked eyes with Rod, sucked in a breath to regain control of himself, and said:

“She's paying.”

It took him a moment to navigate the curtain to his room, and he stumbled a bit on his way to the pillow. He sank into it, leaned back and made himself comfortable.

“Are you waiting for an invitation?” he said.

“Sleep, heh …”

“Did I say something funny? I won your stupid bet. You don't get to say shit like that and then not make good on it.”

I tentatively stepped forward and put my muzzle near his crotch. It had a musky scent. I licked his sheath a few times to make his bits come out—first the tip, then the shaft rose up slowly like a tube of lipstick. I ran my tongue up and down his length, and I heard him sigh contentedly.

When I took the whole thing in my muzzle, he responded with an even stronger groan of pleasure. Pikachu dicks aren't that big, so even with my nose against his fur it only went up to about the back of my tongue. I closed my mouth around it and started to bob my head, but he drew back sharply and muttered, “Teeth …” I started again, slower and more gently. With my teeth apart, I pressed it between my tongue and the roof of my mouth. I bobbed my head slowly, and he relaxed.

He put a paw on my head, and I felt a shock go through my entire body. Electricity coursed through me. There was a tingling sensation all over, most intense in and around my mouth, like I was sucking a live wire. My muscles trembled.

“What's the matter? Can't move?”

All I could do was let out a low-pitched growl.

“Hey, calm down,” he said in a scolding voice, still smiling.

Prick … You should be pleasuring me. I'm the one who worked today.

Holding my head in place, he started pushing in and out of my mouth. He drew back a second time and snapped, “Teeth!” a bit more loudly, and I relaxed my jaw a bit more. He made a loud breath as he got into it, softer at first, then louder.

Eventually all words gave way to his pleasured breathing, except for an occasional, “Yeah … Yeah …” uttered barely above a whisper. The electricity got more intense as he approached his climax. My jaw was getting sore from hanging open, but he wouldn't let me go.

He reached his climax, and his hips made a few final spasms into my mouth. I felt the first warm spurts hit my tongue and throat, then he pulled out, grabbed his cock and rubbed the rest out on the top of my snout and head. I swallowed what was in my mouth, and he sat still, letting it go limp in front of me and taking a few satisfied breaths.

“Hhhaahhhh … So … Was that as good for you as it was for me?” he said.

My eyes were locked in a death glare—as much of one as you can make with someone's cum on your face.

“What? Hey, if you're so put out, why's your tail wagging?”

Fuck.

I pushed my tail down between my legs as quick as I could. He finally lifted his paw from my head, and I was free.

And just that moment, the bastard slumped over on his pillow and passed out.