So I stopped playing Pokemon long enough to write something for Lions' birthday. It isn't big enough to deserve it's own thread so IT'S IN HERE AGAIN. Happy old forever day Lions! (Oh yeah, early warning, this is a bit of a textwall.) --- Bedclothes were unnecessary. They always ended up on the floor early on during the boy's trysts. The two were a rolling mass of sweat slicked skin and borderline pain, panting breath and lust fuelled heartbeats. The room quite simply stunk of sex. It was heady and settled like a wall in the air. One bit the other's lip, blunt fingernails dug into his skin enough to bring up bright red welts in retaliation and somewhere along the line someone got punched. Purpling bruises blossomed on their arms and sides where the indentation of teeth cut into their skin. Both were grinning, calling insults and grunting with pleasure as wrapped hands touch everywhere at once. One ends up on top and pins his near identical counterpart to the bed with trembling hands. They shake with adrenaline and lust, not fear or apprehension. They've both done this more times than they care to count, the scratchy bedsheets under them familiar enough that just touching them sparks memories. Legs are jerked into position roughly, another bruise to count later and the one on the bottom cries out. He bites back louder noises as the one on the top jeers breathless insults at his cry. His hands wrap around the other’s neck and flatten out on his back. A jerky movement and those tense fingers curl, digging into skin and pulling in time with the push of hips behind him. A cacophony of noise makes it impossible to disguise what they're doing; the clinking of dog tags, the pleasure-pain cries mixing with loud grunts and sighs. They're both very vocal people. The one on top braces himself and grabs the other's thighs. More loud noises echo around the room and the bottom cries out again, arching his back to the heavens as he comes. This leaves the other to find his own pleasure within the body of his exhausted partner. His hips snap forward at near random intervals, fire coursing through his veins until he reaches completion and drops his head onto the other's chest. The Scout's chuckle weakly, red flush of exertion slowly fading from their bodies. Neither can find the energy to move nor do they care.