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"What the fuck was that, Ignatius?!"

The inteleon doesn't wake where he rested his head, instead-he blinks a few times, his eyes must be betraying him. His pokeball is on the bed next to the leafeon. He must have been recalled and released just now. He's back in Rowan's hotel room. Who is standing before him, arms raised in a questioning gesture.

"I nearly got pinned for pokemon neglect and abandonment!" The caracal points at James, laying on the bed next to them. "If not for him, I'd be in jail!" His wild gesticulating is just shy of hitting Ignatius. "And you two would be in a daycare or something."

Ignatius has never seen a trainer like this, unafraid and ready to fight. Only with words, but it's disorienting.

"Look, if you really want to leave, I can take you wherever. Only thing I ask is that you explain yourself."

"I hurt you and-"

"You mean this?" Rowan interrupts as he lifts the pant leg of his sweatpants, revealing missing fur and an abrasion. "This calls for an apology. Not getting yourself nearly killed." When he lets the pant leg drop, he winces. "Again! I might add."

"What do you mean again?"

"You think I captured you because it's just what I do?"

"I was fi-"

"Objectively, no. Both times you had a red status bar." The caracal motions for Ignatius to speak and when he doesn't, says, "Start with the first time. What were you doing in what is the worst place for a reptile?"

"I..." The inteleon can't say the real reason, can he? If Rowan knows he is attracted to him, he might go back to courting him. Then again, isn't that better than being yelled at? "I was looking for a mate, and was attracted by your scent."

Rowan has James translate, then they laugh. "Fine, that one is forgivable," the caracal responds. "But the second, what the fuck? A scrape is no big deal."

Ignatius doesn't want to talk about this. But admitting his past stupidity is easier than navigating the mountains. "My previous trainer, I did something similar, and he...just left."

"For the love of Arceus." Rowan's tone is soft, and instead of flailing, his paws are over the inteleon's hands. "I don't even know the guy, but I know that you can't base any decisions on what you learned from him."

"Except the writing thing," the leafeon interjects. "That's cool; I'm jealous."

"Were you b-was he your boyfriend?"

"I wanted us to be, but..." Ignatius didn't mean to start that sentence and changes the subject. "How'd you and James do it?"

"Do what?" It takes him a few seconds, but the caracal realizes what he means. "No, I love James, but not..." He disconnects from Ignatius and scritches the leafon's big ears. "Not like that."

"Not to say that he doesn't like pokemon like that."

The inteleon doesn't hear it, but he knows Rowan's whispering lips are saying something like, "Shut up, James."

The caracal turns to Ignatius. "So, where to?"

He finally gets to return to finding a mate. But he won't find one in the forest--not a compatible feline anyway. With Jayce's pokedex, he'd done his research. So he knows of two pokemon he for sure would want as a mate: incineroar and meowscarada. "Can you take me to another region? Alola or Paldea?"

"Arceus no!" Rowan chuckles. "I buy you cheap jewelry and you think I have the funds for a world tour?"

"Paldea is workable," the leafeon contradicts. "With the pokedollars from the contest."

"That'll only cover maybe hal-" James cuts him off with a nudge into his side. "Fine, but only if we win."

The leafeon fetches the pokedex from the nightstand. He plops it out of his mouth and onto the bed, then operates it with a forepaw. "You got ten minutes."

The phantom pleasantness from the caracal's paws drives Ignatius out of the hotel, barely remembering to take his pokeball. Everything he heard proves that Rowan is a little worthy-worthy enough for a dance anyway. So, with directions from Rowan behind him, the inteleon navigates the half-full streets. The contest hall isn't far and he estimates they still have five minutes when they get there.

"This is a small contest-all I could schedule on short notice that doesn't have an abilities section." The caracal overtakes Ignatius to check in with the receptionist, then leads him further into the building. "So there's not a lot of competition, but we're also not prepared at all. We got a bracelet," he gives it to the inteleon, "a half-bath, and a pokemon who won't let go of his ball. Seriously, I know you can't dance, but you gotta know you need two paws-or hands."

Putting on his bracelet, Ignatius considers his options. He doesn't have much time as Rowan opens a door and they enter a theater; the stage already full of pokemon and trainers. He doesn't have pockets either, and only three holes the ball would fit in. The lower two would be too uncomfortable with something in there to dance. So he rinses off the ball with his fingertip and puts it in his mouth.

"Arceus you're stubborn."

They line up with the other contestants. A minute later the three judges examine them, glossing over Ignatius and Rowan with the comment, "What's in the inteleon's mouth?" All but one pair are asked to wait off to the side. With nothing else to do, the inteleon watches the other performances. They're all dances of a solo sort and flashy too with bombastic music playing. The trainers watch the same as him, giving directions when needed.

Finally their turn, Ignatius and Rowan stand alone on the stage. The caracal offers his left paw, which is ridiculous with how much shorter he is. So instead of taking it, the inteleon shakes his head and offers his left hand.

"You wanna lead?" Unable to speak, Ignatius only nods. "Well, we can't lose any harder." He takes the extended hand.

The music starts and, while slower than what else was playing, forces them into a medium dance instead of a slow one. The inteleon sways with his partner until he adjusts, wishing he could dance to his own singing instead-not that he could with a ball in his mouth. He attempts to lead Rowan into a simple box. But the caracal realizes too late and overcompensates, stepping on Ignatius' foot.

"I think we both lied to each other. I have very little idea on how to dance."

And the inteleon has no idea how to help Rowan; he's never danced with somebody who hasn't done it for years. So he tries the same thing again with some success, just stilted. They make the box, but there's no way they can do more than that.

Ignatius spits out his ball, which grabs the judges' attention more than anything else so far. "Do as I say," he commands.

Conjuring memories of his mother teaching him, the inteleon guides the caracal through the steps. He's still not fluid-neither of them are, the tempo is too fast for this kind of dancing-but Ignatius is having fun. Teaching hatchlings to dance is the last and most special part of parenthood. After which the hatchling courts with the new skill and makes more hatchlings. Then they'll teach them to dance and the cycle goes on.

With another box completed, Ignatius lifts Rowan's paw above his head. There's a pause, in which he almost tells him what to do. But the caracal turns, his ears staying pointed towards the inteleon as much as they can. Instead of his shoulder, Rowan's left paw lands on Ignatius' neck, right below the membrane on his head. Intimate, but not unwelcome.

Ignatius finds his right hand reciprocating, lowering to the base of the caracal's tail. It feels more natural there, and the inteleon initiates a dip as a reason to hold tighter. Rowan requires instruction this time, but executes it gracefully. The only unfortunate thing is the caracal's clothes filtering the touch.

The music ends and Ignatius has to shake off his disappointment. "You should pick up your ball," Rowan says.

The ridiculousness of holding the ball falls on him. He can trust the caracal who saved him, twice. "Can you put it in your bag?"

The caracal chuckles. "What, don't think I'll use it with your slobber on it?" He retrieves the ball and drops it into his bag that is off the side of the stage.

They place dead last in the contest, which is what Ignatius should be disappointed about, but he isn't. They're both silent on the walk back to the hotel.

Maybe hatchlings can wait; he can't deny anymore that he wants this caracal, hatchlings or no. He looks weak (and cute), but his motivations aren't predatory like he thought. All those things he's done was because he cares. And he was willing to let go of the inteleon without getting more than a handhold.

"Fine, I'll say it," Rowan drawls. "I'm the reason we did so badly, so I'll still take you to Paldea. We'll have to earn money along the way, but it's the best I can do." He lays on the bed and closes his eyes, looking like he's about to fall asleep. "That cool, Ignatius?"

"Yeah." The instant the word is out of Ignatius' mouth, he regrets it; he doesn't want to go to Paldea and maybe find a mate. He looms above the caracal, enjoying the ability to examine him free of notice. "No."

"No?"

The inteleon speaks quickly, "I don't want to go to Paldea anymore."

"Sorry." Rowan's eyes open and ears swivel in Ignatius' direction. "Can you speak slower?"

"I think I..." Before, with Jayce, Ignatius never said what he wanted. He cuddled up with the puma claiming he's cold, talked about how much he meant to him, and tried to teach him to dance (he never agreed to it); but he never said he wanted a romantic relationship. The inteleon isn't going to make the same mistake. "I want to be with you."

Rowan tilts his head. "In this hotel room or?"

"Romantically." Ignatius keeps his words slow and deliberate. "You're cute, not scared of me even when I want you to be, and you listen to me in a way I'm not used to. You never try to make me do something I don't want to. I just..." Nerves are catching up to the inteleon. But focusing on those adorable ears calms him enough to finish. "I want you as my mate or boyfriend or however you want to say it."

"Then come here you sexy goof." At Ignatius' continued reluctance, the caracal tugs on his leg. Not enough to make the inteleon move, but he falls forward anyway, landing on the caracal's chest. His shirt's a little small so some of his fur pokes into the inteleon's scales. Ignatius finds the spot with his hands and goes under the shirt, pulling it up in the process. "Here, I'll get that out of your way," Rowan says as he shucks the shirt off.

Ignatius forgot how good fur feels against his scales. He rubs his head along Rowan's torso, while his hands wander everywhere-abdomen, flanks, arms, neck. He can't get enough and the caracal purrs at his ministrations. The inteleon presses closer; he could only make Jayce purr in his sleep.

Ignatius' franticness calms a little. For a few minutes, they only enjoy each other's presence. Then the inteleon feels something touching on his membrane. When he looks up, Rowan tries and fails to kiss him-the shape of their mouths is too different-instead licking his face. Ignatius' tongue reciprocates the affection on the caracal's ears, amplifying his rumbling.

"I, um, don't know how to ask this," Rowan says after he stops purring. "Do you have equipment?"

"If you mean genitals, then yes, I have genitals." Fighting a laugh, Ignatius continues, "How do you think more inteleons are made? Mitosis? And doesn't your pokedex tell you?"

"Sorry, I caught the yes, but that's it. Did you say what kind?"

The inteleon slides up the bed and whispers into Rowan's ear, "Why don't you find out for yourself?" He places the caracal's paw on his genital slit and sees something unexpected on his face: disappointment. Ears down, eyes distant, and paw still after it started tracing the inteleon's slit. Despite his bravado, Ignatius has never done this before, and doesn't know how to respond to that. Panic, panic seems the best way to proceed.

When Ignatius starts to shift away, Rowan apologizes then explains himself, "I like both kinds of...equipment. It's not that. It's-this is gonna sound so dumb. Look, 'Ignatius' seemed like a great name, but Arceus is it a mouthful. I wanted to shorten it to 'Nate,' but now I don't know. Igna? Natey?"

"Names are gendered?" Rowan nods. "And 'Nate' is male while the others are female?" Rowan makes an affirmative noise and Ignatius returns the caracal's paw on his slit. "Take a closer look."

It takes Rowan a while to shake off his hesitation and penetrate the inteleon's opening. His movements remain slow in a delightful, almost teasing way making Ignatius squirm. Especially when his cock is touched.

"Hello there, Nate." The caracal swirls his finger around the tip. "Is this just an inteleon thing or?"

"Reptilian."

"I see, the Galarian sex education system has failed me. It must come out, though. Are you just nervous? No reason to be." Rowan grinds his bulge into the inteleon's thigh. "I'm out of my cock-home."

"Not nervous," Nate lies, grabbing the hips grinding into him. "I just want it inside while you are also inside."

"Will that all fit?"

"I think so, depending on what you got under these." Nate pulls the sweatpants down and they get stuck on the caracal's hipbone. Identifying the knot as what's holding it together, the inteleon tugs on it, tightening it further.

"No, you gotta..." Rowan attempts to untie the knot with little success. "Fuck it, I'll teach you how waistbands work later." He cuts it with a claw and the inteleon gets rid of the obstruction. Then another in the form of boxers.

Nate has never seen another cock before. He's only seen the sheaths and slits of various pokemon (and Jayce). While he didn't expect it to be the same as his own, he didn't expect it to be so different: thicker, shorter, pink instead of black, and with protrusions below the head. Getting a hand around the maleness, it's firmer too with defined blood vessels. And those barbs tickle his scales pleasantly. Transfixed, the inteleon does no more than feel and examine.

"Can I see yours too?"

Nate lets his member spill out and on impulse rubs it against the caracal's cock. The inteleon can't decide if the sheath fur or barbs feel better against his smooth skin.

"Nick dick you have here." Rowan runs a finger along the black shaft. "You sure you don't want to put it somewhere?"

Nate responds automatically, "Put where?"

"Never mind. Continue with your plan."

It's strange to retreat his member while erect. But envisioning frotting with the caracal in the snug confines of his slit is more than enough motivation. Nate lines the pink maleness up to his opening, bending it, and tries to thrust himself on it. The angle doesn't work and he attempts to bend the cock further, resulting in a paw on his wrist.

"It'll be easier the other way around." The inteleon stares at Rowan, who guides him with a paw to lie on his back. Due to the part of his membrane on the back of his head, Nate has to lay his head sideways, looking at Rowan with one eye. "Like this." The caracal climbs atop Ignatius and aligns himself. "Ready?"

"Definitely."

It's a stretch to house more than double the thickness the slit's designed for. But a well-lubricated-Nate's slit-fluid and pre from Rowan-and welcome one. The inteleon's walls enjoy the subtle feel of the barbs. His glans do too, albeit too much; he spasms and his membrane unfurls on its own, taking up the rest of the bed.

"You alright?" Breathless, the inteleon only nods. The caracal isn't satisfied with that. So Ignatius coils his tail around Rowan's, running out of tail to coil around before tail to coil with. He thinks it at least communicates contentment, but the caracal doesn't continue.

"I'm more than alright." Nate pushes his hips forward, but doesn't get more cock in him because Rowan matches the movement. "Keep mating me."

"I forgot you had wings." The caracal traces the edges of the inteleon's membrane. Pleasant, but not as pleasant as what was happening before. "If you can fly, why haven't you?"

"I can only glide." The inteleon can't retract his membrane while he's laying on it. So he levers himself up, only to be encouraged by a paw back down. "Can you keep going, please?"

"And here I thought you stayed because you were horny for me the whole time."

"Can you forget about all that and get back to the mating?"

"What's that?" Rowan smirks. "I can't understand you with that whine in your voice."

"There's no whi-"

"You're terrible at being teased." Rowan shifts to the section of the membrane on the opposite side of the inteleon. "Since I'm so nice, I'll give you a hint: you have to play along to get what you want."

The caracal is engrossed in his analysis of Nate's "wing," only paying the inteleon mind with his ears. Rowan's waiting for Ignatius to play along, with what he's unsure. Three incorrect statements, which one is he supposed to pretend is correct?

"I can fly," Nate whines, growing unintelligible as he's rewarded with caracal cock. The barbs are no longer along his glans, but his slit burns fiercer the deeper it goes. Rowan bottoms out an inch before he reaches the base of Nate's member. Pleasure fades into the full sensation of his slit and the squished feeling of his dick.

Having given him all he's earned, the caracal returns to playing with the membrane. The tingling doesn't help the inteleon think, but he manages. "I didn't fly away because I'm weighed down by the erection you give me." The whine is present without effort.

"See? It's simple. You give me what I want and I give you what..." Rowan's words become huffs as he starts to pull out.

The barbs are more pronounced going the other way, creating trails of bliss. One of them gets stuck on the inteleon's corona, and yanking it free turns the caracal into a mewling heap on top of Nate.

"Arceus. I love the feel of your cock so much." Rowan picks himself back up. "I think you deserve the full experience now." He rams himself back in. Before Nate can process all the wonderful things happening inside him, the barb is tugging itself free again. "Beg for more."

"I need your dick. Please, give it to me." The inteleon processes his own words at the same time Rowan's ears perk at them. The embarrassment is flushed away by the euphoria of getting what he asked for. "Don't stop." His hand feels at his opening and the member pistoning with more vigor for every word. "I'm close. Please."

"Yes, come for me." Rowan works his paw under the inteleon's back to the center of his membrane. The caress creates a familiar spasm. This time Nate's tail flails into the nightstand, knocking it over and shattering the lamp on top of it.

One thrust and it's forgotten, another and everything is lost to orgasm. The smacking sound becomes sloppy with Nate's cum, leaking out when Rowan pulls out. Despite how much is staying inside, it isn't full enough. "Shoot your seed, please. I need to feel your everything."

"Can't understand you." Rowan hilts a final time and bathes the inteleon's cock with his essence. "But I think," he collapses onto the inteleon's chest, "this is what you w..." His words strain out of his mouth as a mewl finds itself more pressing and comes out.

It joins Nate's cries, his climax extending with the previously-untouched part of his member being jetted upon. Even as he comes down, his desperation to feel more of the caracal doesn't ebb. Especially when he purrs again, the vibrating coaxing them into much needed rest. But before he falls asleep, a weight is added to his membrane.

"I knew it! You've had the hots for Rowan from the beginning." The leafeon nudges the caracal. "Admit it. I was right and you were wrong, Rowan." The caracal is sleeping, or at least pretending to. "Fine, be that way." James unashamedly cuddles up to the still-connected pair. This time Nate dozes off first.