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The Ties that Bind

Story and art by iguessineedanaccount (Squirtle)

It all started at the lab. I was a happy little charmander, content to sit with the professor and watch him work. I would hang out with the other pokemon sometimes, but I didn't like most of them...Especially him.

You'd figure that after a while, he would have just left me alone. But no...no, he was...special. He was large for his species, but he also had an unusual coloration."Wow, a completely green bulbasaur!" He was always the center of attention around humans. They oogled over him, always asked the professor where he'd gotten such a 'fine specimen'. It clearly went to Bulbasaur's head, because he conducted himself like he was the greatest thing since rare candy. Everything became his business. And, his business seemed to take a special interest in me.

"Why do you like being alone so much? It's kind of weird." "You're small. I bet I could beat you in a fight, even though you're a fire type." His comments weren't necessarily mean; just...rude, and critical. He didn't mean it to be hurtful, I don't think...it was just who he was...but it was still uncomfortable for me. I usually just left him alone and tried my best to ignore him, but sometimes he was very persistent.

This habitual, unintentional hazing went on for some time. For me, what had started as dislike turned into full-blown hatred. I would rip up leaves as I walked by plants just because they were green. I occasionally skipped meals just because I knew he'd be waiting to get his food too, and I didn't feel like dealing with his line of questioning. I slinked around in odd places at odd hours, enjoying the solace of seclusion.

Then one day I found out that I'd be taken by a brand new pokemon trainer. This was one of the happier moments in my young life. I was going to live the dream! I'd go all sorts of new places, make new friends...I wasn't the most combative by nature, but not every trainer was out to win glory battling; no matter what, I would try my hardest to be the best pokemon I could be. And, on top of that, I wouldn't have to deal with Bulbasaur anymore.

When the day came for me to be put out for trainers selecting their pokemon, I couldn't have been more excited. I remember having a smile on my face the whole morning; I literally glowed with happiness, the professor even said so. As he helped me up onto the display counter, I nearly trembled with anticipation. I had eyes for nothing but the door, waiting as patiently as I could while he hoisted the other pokemon onto the counter. I vaguely noted the other two being set out beside me, the first being an easygoing squirtle with knack for getting into mischief, and the second was...was...

Somehow it had never occurred to me until that moment that Bulbasaur might also be put out. That I might have to compete with him for a trainer's affections. And yet, my unrealized fears were now realized. My heart sank a little then, watching him get comfortable in his spot. But I wasn't going to let him stop me. No, this wasn't just about us, this was about me finding a trainer, making a life for myself outside of the lab.

So I stood as proudly as I could as the first trainer strolled in. His face was friendly, but serious. He walked with a certain grace that spoke of confidence, but humility. He seemed perfect.

I fell in love with the idea of being his Pokemon as he exchanged pleasantries with the professor. By the time he walked over, my tailflame must have been a foot tall.

He noticed me first. Really noticed me. Came up to me right away and pet me on the head.

"Hey there little guy, how's it going?"

I bellowed...well, he would have just heard "Char!", but it was the sentiment that counted.

I might have had him right then and there, if he hadn't glanced to his left. In retrospect, he struck me as methodical, so I shouldn't have been surprised that he'd consider all of his options. But, he saw Bulbasaur...

"Wow. Well aren't you something."

Bulbasaur stood more stoically than I had imagined was possible of him. His response was...well, again, just "Saur" to the trainer, but in a low, powerful tone, even for someone his size. The trainer looked at him for a while. He glanced at the squirtle briefly, then back to me, then back to Bulbasaur. Their eyes locked for some time.

"What do you think pal? Wanna give it a shot?"

Bulbasaur stomped a foot on the ground, yelled a fierce "Saur!" and nodded.

It hurt to watch them go. It really did. I think my heart shrank a little, even though it hung like a pendulous weight in my chest.

The trainer who came in next picked me. Even though I was still dismayed from putting all of my hopes on the first trainer, I started to look on the bright side. My new trainer seemed nice. He liked fire types a lot. And, I still wouldn't have to see Bulbasaur anymore!

...Fate, if it exists, is cruel. His trainer and mine were rivals, it turned out. The first thing they did after leaving the lab was have us battle. despite the type advantage I had, we didn't know any real attacks at the time, so...he was a lot bigger than me...

"Told you I'd win." It was a proud statement, more from his happiness than my hurt. It still stung, about as bad as my freshly earned bruises.

My trainer didn't take the loss especially hard. As a matter of fact, he talked about it with Bulbasaur's trainer afterward. They were friendly. And they encouraged us to hang out. I almost cried; it seemed like too much hurt for one day.

~~~

Despite what I thought were rough beginnings, my trainer was a kind soul, and I gave him my all in return for his affection. I became a good fighter. We traveled the region, we captured more pokemon for our party, we won badges...and I was the star of the show, his favorite. Whenever we were on the road, I felt like a king. Or maybe a respectable knight. I felt loved.

Except when we met up with our rivals. No matter what I'd accomplished before then, all of my insecurities came crawling back to me every time I saw Bulbasaur. My trainer would always want to battle, and even if I was the star of my trainer's team, even if I swept every other pokemon on their bench, I could never beat Bulbasaur. As soon as he hit the field, I always felt intimidated and my concentration would slip and the next thing I knew I'd be sucking vine whips.

Our trainers got along well, so Bulbasaur and I were expected to as well. I think he actually enjoyed my company (or maybe just his own company with me present), but I always put on a facade. Every time I saw him it left a bitter taste in my mouth. It took him a little while but he finally figured out I didn't like him. Rather than leave me be, though, he made a joke of it, taunting me, using our relationship as a weapon.

I seethed.

It went on that way for a while. Our meetings became more sparse. I hated them all the same.

~~~

It was a, warm, gentle Spring night, a few miles outside of a small town where we had met up with Bulbasaur and his trainer. We were settling in for sleep. I had just curled up and closed my eyes, trying not to think about having lost another fight.

I learned a lesson that evening: Spring isn't just about the birds and the bees. A lot of plants pollinate during the season. This, in turn, perhaps unsurprisingly, causes certain grass types to be affected in...certain ways...

I was woken from a very brief slumber by Bulbasaur. He was licking my groin. I asked him what he was doing.

"Trying something."

His licks got longer, and lower...

...To be honest...I liked that part. I even liked the part where he humped against me, in a frotting gesture. When he tried to fuck me, though, I resisted. I didn't like it.

"It'll be fine."

He held me down and did it anyway. It was one of the worst experiences of my life; because it was painful, because it was strange, and because it was him.

After he finished, I was too worn down and defeated to be shocked or broken. He pulled out, lay down next to me, and fell asleep. I stayed up all night hurting. And thinking.

I'd hoped it was a one-time deal, but he did it again the next time our trainers met up. And the time after that. The third time I came while he was fucking me, and he figured from then on that I loved it.

This has become routine: meet up, lose fight, wait a while, have sex, sleep. There are variables: sometimes the sex is almost immediately after our battle, sometimes he has me suck him off instead. He started teasing me while he fucked me, just like he does everywhere else, and that stuck. And, eventually, he evolved into an ivysaur, and the act became considerably more difficult and painful. But one constant remains: he always gets his way.

Some part of me likes it. Maybe even a lot. But I still hate him. For degrading me, for violating me, for being the only living thing that never fails to make me feel like I'm worthless. I hate him.

~~~

It's the first time we've met since I became a charmeleon. I thought my newfound strength might maybe be enough to let me beat him this time, but I might as well have known nothing more than I did the first time we battled when he stepped into the arena.

At least the place we're staying is nice. I quickly discovered a gazebo in the woods a little ways behind the apartment complex. The subtle tunes of the forest help me unwind.

There's a creak at the entrance.

As I feel the vines constrict around me, I put up a struggle, enough to make us believe that I'm still trying. It lets me keep a little dignity. That's what I tell myself anyway. I don't want to consider that it's the alternative. That I'm only struggling to keep it interesting for him.

He turns me around to face him. His golden bulb glimmers just like his eyes in the dying sunlight. Despite him being a quadruped, he only has to force me to bend a little before our eyes are level.

"Hey there Flamey. " His eyes give me a thorough once-over. "Wow...you're lookin good! Finally evolved, huh? Now you're a big bad charmeleon. Well, definitely a charmeleon, anyway..." He smiles. It's such a confident smile. I glare at him, even if I don't have it in me right now to hate him properly.

"Pssh. Fine, don't take a compliment. How've you been? I haven't seen you in a while."

"I'm fine."

"Oh yeah? Good, good. Well, I'm horny as fuck. It's been a looong time since we got to hang out."

I blush. "Long enough to find a pretty ivysaur?"

"Hey now. Why would I do that when I've got such a wonderful pal like you?" His voice lowers, coarse with lust. "Besides...don't pretend like you don't love it."

Fuck...I reflexively cross my legs in an attempt to hide my treacherous erection as it swells of its own volition. He notices almost immediately, his smile only widening.

"What, don't want me to know how hard you get off to this? You don't have to worry about that, Flamey. I already know."

He forces me backward with his vines, so that I end up supine on the floorboards, stomach beneath his head. He forces my legs apart with his front feet, standing on my thighs to keep me spread. I watch with morbid fascination as my erection throbs stiffly under his prying gaze. It's about average for a charmeleon...maybe a little smaller...

"See, that wasn't so hard. Nothin to be embarrassed about."

His warm breath tickles across the sensitive pink flesh, forcing me to concentrate some energy into not bucking my hips.

"...I mean, it's not the biggest or anything...but then again, you don't really need it to be for what we're doing."

He steps forward, coming to rest with his body above mine. He doesn't incline his head down to me, only glances down with his eyes. Other than that, he just stands there, smiling. He wants me to feel it hanging over me, wants me to think about it.

"Nah, you've got my dick for that."

He lowers himself, crushing his body against mine. His member grinds into my crotch, burying my own shaft in my stomach scales. I feel the slickness of pre dribble from my tip, lubricating the underside of his cock.

"Yeah...nice n' fat. That'll fill you up good, won't it? Well, maybe not as full as when you were still a charmander..." As he raises himself again, I catch a sinister gleam in his eye. "Though ever since I evolved, you were always too small to take all of me...even after I loosened you up a lot..."

The memories of intensive vine training come flooding back just as I feel the vines around my torso shifting, letting out more slack, though still staying coiled around me. He steps back again, and I notice a glint of light in the dabs of pre he's left on my chest. I feel his foot cover the base of my tail, and I know what's coming just as surely as he knew how I'd react. My tail still makes a feeble attempt to curl as the tips of his vines press against my star. I try to hold myself to just a blush, but as I feel his vines push past my ring, I gasp. They don't stop; my breath catches in my throat as I feel them keep slipping further into me. I swear they're more than half a foot deep in my three-foot-odd body when they finally hold.

"Wow...Flamey, you're almost as tight as you were the first time we did this."

He lies down on his stomach, putting his chest on top of my tail so that my ass is directly in front of his face. I feel his cock against the tip of my tail, where my tailflame burns. I could hurt him quite a lot, probably stop all of this right now...he has more pressing concerns at the moment, though. I catch the casual expression on his face before I throw my head back and cry out from the sudden outward pressure against my walls. His vines pull me apart, spreading me open for his inspection.

"Sheesh...you're gonna need a lot of lube. I can't hardly stretch you to half my cock's width. And here I was, getting all excited about you being bigger..."

The heat of his breath is suddenly replaced by a warm wetness against my ring,. I feel his lips touch my scales as his tongue forces its way into me. His nostrils flare as he exhales, breath warming the base of my member. I don't like it. But...it feels...really, good, considering. I try to clench around his tongue, but, with a grunt, he reaffirms his vines' presence, pulling even harder against my walls and making me wince. He leaves his tongue in for a while, occasionally flicking it around. He's...being surprisingly methodical about this...which...

He pulls out. Tongue and vines. I feel very vacant as my tailhole tries to close and partially succeeds. When I get enough sense about myself, I notice him looking at me expectantly.

"Roll over. Claws and knees."

I realize as I comply that it's the first thing he hasn't forced me to do himself today. There's a little rumble of a chuckle behind me at my expense, but he doesn't taunt.

"And the tail. Slut."

It's not a hateful slander, just an amused one. An afterthought. I still hate it. Even so, I raise my tail like he wants. I feel his vines return almost immediately. The little swells at their ends press through with much less effort this time. They only go in an inch or two before spreading me this time.

I only have a second to notice my tail being knocked aside before his forelegs slam into my back. My elbows buckle so hard that my arms flail to the sides. The air is forced from my lungs as my chest is crushed into the floor, followed in pain by my head, which whips into the wood. I take a couple ragged, gasping breaths against his weight. He gives another grunt of amusement.

"That wasn't even a hard shove."

I wouldn't have anything to say even if I could speak right now. His vines give another little yank...and then I feel it.

I guess I had been hoping this would be an easier fit, but he was right to assume it wouldn't be. As I feel the tip of his cock press against my hole, I know this is still going to be as painful as ever. I can't even feel the sides of it against my ring, just a slab of meat resting. His cock is fairly long, but it's really the girth that always makes this so hard. Despite being an ivysaur, his member could probably measure up with an average venusaur's.

"Relax."

Easy for him to say. But I try.

He bears down more forcefully on my shoulders, pushing himself forward. The pressure's immense, and I whine in spite of myself. He's relentless; I feel the tension of his muscles rippling through his body. And then finally, with the shlick of what feels like an absolutely minimual amount of lubrication, his head grinds into me.

"Ohhh, OHHHH!"

It's so painful, it hasn't been this bad since the first time. I want to yell at him, tell him to pull it out, tell him to stop, but he stomps on my back again and I quickly shut up. And then he just stays there, huffing a little.

"Fuck..."

I feel movement in my ass; it's only after a moment I realize that he's withdrawing his vines. Their tips, previously a pretty manageable fit, make me gasp with all of the air I don't have left in me as they tug out from my ring.

"Fuck..."

His vines wrap around my waist, crossing in a horseshoe pattern. He rubs them against my sides.

"Clench."

"I can't-"

"Try. It's for your own good."

I try. My ring's so stretched that I don't think it can move, but I try. I don't feel myself squeeze, but I feel his tip throb inside of me, and I suddenly realize why he's doing this: a good squirt of pre globs into my passage. One of his vines draws a line down my stomach scales to my groin; he doesn't ever touch my cock, just traces circles around its base.

"Good. Keep going."

I do. I finally, actually feel myself start to squeeze his member. It doesn't take long before he's leaking like a faucet.

"Hrh...Yeah...good boy..."

He starts rocking his hips a little. It doesn't get him anywhere, just makes me gasp and whine again, but I feel even more pre pumping into me with each small thrust, trickling deeper into me. His vines twist their way around my hips, looping a couple times.

And then he stops.

"Okay."

Not a second later I feel his toe claws digging into my back again, and the pain in my ass returns in full. He grinds forward while his front legs hold me in place, his vines pull me into him, and I feel like I'm being stretched apart twice over. Tears stain the corners of my vision; I moan and cry out freely. He doesn't care. He only cares that his cock ends up inside me. And it's going to. Even with the preparation, it still has to rip me apart centimeter by centimeter, but he's relentless, and it never stops moving forward. I can hardly think straight. I vaguely notice his claws have probably drawn blood, though it seems an unoffensive wound by comparison.

And then he stops, and I know it's in. I keep whining anyway. He doesn't stop me. Instead, he huffs, and I feel him relax. Feel his cock, all of it, throb in me.

"Hoooly shiittt...You're so, fucking, tight, Flamey...that's a good fucking charmeleon..."

I try to take a couple deep breaths, allow myself a second to adjust. Something pokes my cheek. As my eyes flutter open, they're drawn to the tip of my snout, where a vine tip slides across my lips. Its partner quickly joins it, hovering instead in front of my nostrils. The first one forces its way between my lips; In the half second it takes me to decide not to protest, it slips past my parted teeth, into my mouth. It probes unrestrained while the other vine presses lightly against my nose.

"Bet you love that, don't you? They've got your flavor all over 'em. Go on, show me how much you love them."

It gives me something to think about besides the only somewhat dulled pain in my rear. I pucker my lips and suckle on his vine. It plays against my tongue, twisting around; I treat it more like a blowjob than a kiss, though. My own deepest scent permeates my nose as I breathe in the air around his other vine. My cock throbs, and I feel how squashed my prostate is against his cock. My head swims.

"I'm gonna get back to work now."

"Mwhaih-"

He doesn't wait. The pain's almost as bad going out, and it's still slow. As my walls try to compensate for all the stretching, I notice a bunch of new pre being squished throughout my passage, and I briefly realize, in spite of the usual soreness, that he gave me more time to adjust than usual...not that it's much of a mercy.

He gets out to about the tip. As he starts plowing back in, I hiss, wincing with the sting of what's surely a new wave of torn tissue. As he bottoms out in me, my knees start shaking against the floor, and I give a pathetic little whimper, but he's already pulling out again.

The second vine joins the first in my mouth. It takes my mind off of the pressure of his cock for a second. It's a quick second though.

He doesn't pull out all the way this time, just gets about halfway. With a grunt, he gives a sharp thrust and fills me again. Despite my choked cry of pain, my cock still throbs hard enough to spatter pre against my tummy scales.

He repeats the motion, and I moan around his vines. He pulls out again, pretty far this time, then slides back in a little slower, seeing how well I'm staying open for him. My pain is slowly starting to dissipate into a numbed discomfort, but I still wince. No matter how used to this I am mentally, it hurts.

He pulls out all the way. The sudden emptiness is terrible. I feel something warm trickle down to my crotch, a direct contrast to the cool air around my tender, normally sealed tailhole. He puts his tip back against my ring.

"Mmm...yep...gettin nice and loose now..."

He plugs me in one hard thrust again. I moan, but it's not from hurt anymore; no, I moan like a bitch. He gives a low, rumbling huff.

"Oh, yeah...you fucking love that, don't you?"

"F...fuhch..."

I know he's smiling. His vines slide around my mouth, idly roaming like a pair of twiddling thumbs.

"Whaddya say? Think you're ready for a proper fucking?"

I instinctively try to say no, but he doesn't wait for an answer before pulling out forcibly; my "No" turns into a "N-UHhh!".

He thrusts right back in. He starts driving into me, breeding me. Once again I find myself breathing at his mercy as my moans start to synch with his pace. My mind flutters, foggy with...pleasure...lust...

I cum. It's so sudden, so unexpected...he's only hilted me maybe fifteen times. My breath catches and I go completely silent. My entire body clenches up. I feel my cock throbbing hard, but my prostate's so crushed by his girth that my cum can only trickle out.

He stops thrusting. I know he feels me milking his shaft.

"...Did you really...?"

One of his forelegs lifts off of my back and slides down along my side. He puts his foot in front of my cock, and my seed dribbles onto it as I try to touch my tip to his leg, try to rub my shaft against something, anything.

"...Holy shit Flamey..."

I blush what I'm sure is a deep crimson but I don't god damn care, it feels so fucking good. I ride my orgasm, gripping around his member in rhythm with my cock's spasms.

I feel his clawtips scritch my tummy as he wipes his palm on my scales. The light touch is a surprise my body can't process properly, so I whine, exhaling my held breath. My cum continues to leak freely, surely puddling on the floor beneath.

I can't believe how long it lasts...my cock finally starts to twitch a little less frequently...my knees are shaking again...My back is sore where his other leg is still bearing down on it...

"Did you like that?"

I nod a couple times in my haze, give a garbled but loud "Yes" through his vines, which I suddenly remember and begin sucking on affectionately. He rubs my underside, palm still sticky with cum. It's really soothing...more than I expected...

It seems like it's been a while before he gives me another little scritch and says,

"You're gonna take all of it this time."

Oh...fuck. Oh god, fuck...but...

"O-okay..."

I can do it. I don't care anymore, I can do it. I don't care. I want it. I feel him shift on my back.

"Ready?"

"...Please..."

The thought is already dust in the wind. He gives a couple slow, gradual humps, and I feel how raw I am already, how tired my poor rear is. I push back into his thrusts anyway. He likes that. He gives a quick, hard pump to let me know, and I moan back my appreciation.

Then he starts again. We both know it's whatever he wants now, I'm just along for the ride. It's so intense; I think I'd be flailing if he wasn't holding me down. He ruts me, uses me, but love it. I fucking love it. I moan, and if I could form words I'd tell him "harder".

My throat suddenly feels tight, and I realize his vines are pressed against the back of my mouth. Before I have time to react, I'm gagging, and I feel the green appendages slither down my throat against the clenching muscles. Tears well at the corner of my eyes; I keep trying to cough, but I choke instead. He never breaks his rhythm, keeping me good and split for him.

"...You're so beautiful, Flamey..."

Despite everything happening, that sinks in deepest. I blush again, though I don't really know why. Can't think why.

He suddenly can't fit quite as deep anymore, and his thrusts become shorter, a little faster. He grunts every few times he slides in, and I feel the swell at the base of his cock bump against my ring with each. His claws dig into me. My cock's stiff and leaking again.

My tailhole's already stretched to its limits, but his pounding is insistent. Each wet slap brings a little more pressure, a little more strain on my ring. His vines retract from my throat; I cough, notice how light-headed I was getting. His vines slip under my chest, double back around my shoulders and like a harness. I catch my first clean breath in a minute.

"Pleeease-"

He pulls out to the tip, pauses, then slams forward. He grinds, takes a step into it, keeps grinding. It's tearing me open, I moan sharply enough to match a loudred, but he just takes another little step and digs in again.

"FUCK!"

It slips in.

I give a choked gasp, which is drowned by the almost pained growl tearing through his throat. I feel it, all of it, throb in me. He can't stop himself, he keeps hammering, rutting me. He hardly moves, but the bulge at the base of his cock is so thick, I still dig into the wood with my claws and whine. He's so close...

The waves of pleasure crash over me, burying my last rational thoughts. My orgasm hits so hard it hurts. Even with his girth buried in me, my cock to draws up so tight that my first shot paints my chest for a good second. He keeps grinding into me, then flat out roars, and as he hilts as deep as he possibly can, I feel his cum shoot straight through the still-tight part of my passage, filling me like a good bitch. My entire body quivers as I play living cocksleeve for him, milking him with my own orgasm. It's mine, he's giving it all to me...The warmth spreads through me, and it's so good that I almost forget how tightly I'm squeezing his cock, how much I'm crushing my body against his shaft from the outside. I couldn't relax if I tried.

He collapses on top of me, and I'm smothered underneath him. My cock keeps twitching against the floorboards, keeps painting my scales with sperm. And he keeps draining in me...

~~~

My eyes flutter open. I'm still beneath him, but...I think...

I shift a little, feel his cock still deep in me. There's a sort of wetness on the back of my head. I realize he's licking me. Long, gentle licks. He pauses.

"Think you blacked out there for a second or two."

He resumes. I feel so warm under his body...so warm all over...

I blink a couple times, controlling my body heat before I do something stupid. He stops again.

"I'm gonna get some sleep." He pauses. "...Do you want me to pull out?"

He's...never asked...before...

"I...uhm..." I swallow a bit of saliva pooled in my mouth. "...Y-yes."

Silence for a couple seconds. Then he gives me another lick. "Hold still."

Easy enough. He stands up again, and my rear raises out of necessity. He puts his forelegs on my back, a little lower this time. It's tough at first, but it pretty much slides out on its own after the base. I feel a string of cum follow his tip out, but most of it stays pooled deeper in me. He sighs. As he takes a couple steps back, I flop to the floor again, wanting nothing more than to sleep myself.

...He doesn't leave, though. Doesn't turn around, or even lie down. I suddenly feel subconscious. I lower my tail for the first time since we started. I don't move otherwise though, just wait for him to do something.

He doesn't. After a few minutes, I slowly push myself up, turning to face him in a sitting position. I curl my tail over my legs, which are bent in the same direction in front of me. I feel a trickle of cum start to leak out of me due to the added gravity, but I try my best to ignore it. He's looking right at me. I meet his gaze. His golden eyes seem to be searching for something in mine. I've never been one to back down from an awkward silence, so I wait for him to explain himself.

It takes him a bit.

"...I'm sorry."

He lets it hang. I think he expects me to ask him something, say something back. I don't.

"...You...I know you don't like me...I know you probably never did..."

He seems somehow smaller in the light of my tailflame.

"...I don't think I ever gave you a reason to like me...but I always liked you...and...I only teased you because I didn't...I was dumb, I didn't know how to talk to you..."

He has my unwavering attention. Something begins to stir in me.

"...I figured out eventually that you didn't like being around me, but I couldn't bear to think that you hated me...so...I just kind of laughed it off and...and I ignored it..."

I hear the faintest *plink*, and I suddenly realize that he's crying.

"I...I love you, Flame...and I just...I don't...I didn't know how to get you to love me...I just wanted you to love me...you probably just h-hate me even more..."

I feel the tears welling in my eyes.

"No."

I stand up. The feeling in me spreads, and I suddenly realize what it is.

Fire.

"No. You didn't want me to love you. You wanted me to like you. You wanted me to like you, like everyone else did, because nobody had ever told you no. I was the only thing you couldn't have."

My eyes bore into his, and the tears that run down my cheeks evaporate before they reach my chin.

"You spoiled little brat."

I can't barely think straight right now.

"After everything you've done to me, to ME, you want ME to feel SORRY FOR YOU?"

Through his sniffling, his tears, I see something I've never seen in his eyes before: fear. I like it. If my sense of humor didn't leave me moments ago, I might have smiled.

"YOU DON'T DESERVE PITY. YOU DON'T DESERVE A DAMN THING YOU'VE BEEN GIVEN. Don't you ever, EVER, presume you deserve to be pitied."

My throat feels raw, sore, swollen, but it's not from yelling. I let out a little sob, gasp for half a second.

"...But the worst offense of all, right here; the worst offense! Is that after everything! after all the time you've had to think about this and come up with an apology! ...It's still all about you."

"It's not! It's about you-"

"SHUT, UUUUP!"

It's only after I watch them engulf his form that I realize the flames are mine. I close my mouth and they stop. The floor of the gazebo has a few loose embers scattered about it, smouldering cinders of old wood. He lies weakly in the middle of them. His face, really his whole body, appears charred, bulb included. A small fire burns through one of the leaves on his back. He looks up at me with those same golden eyes, now edged with red, though they close again as his face contorts with pain and sadness. His plea is rasped wailing.

"I'm sorry, Flamey! I'm so sorry!-"

"GET OUT!"

He does, limping quickly away into the woods. I watch him disappear from sight, watch the little fire on his leaf disappear into the night, then I fall down on my ass. It's still sore, and the reminder only serves to fuel the flow of tears.

"Get out..."

I cross my arms over my knees and bury my face in the dark recess between.

...I win.