FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Old Flame

(Part 1)

By Dark Violet

"Mister Pouncer!" Firenze said, bounding up to him through the lounge, customers jumping out of his way. His tails flourished behind him, leaving an expanding wake in the crowd. "How's everything?"

The Grovyle regarded the Ninetales with a hesitant wariness. Firenze's slender muzzle wore a smile in a way that someone might wear a costume. "Everything's fine, Mister Firenze. Smooth sailing, as it were."

"Did the Morning Shift go well?" Firenze continued, falling in step beside him as they headed towards one of the corridors.

Pouncer glanced automatically at his clipboard, guiding them past a group of customers. "Yes sir," Mister Pouncer said, "Well... as well as ever, but the new hires seem to be getting the hang of it."

"Have you sorted out that problem with the new conditioner yet? I heard tell that there were still some of the scaled customers complaining about the blankets being rough on their hide."

Pouncer groaned inwardly. This was not going to be a conversation that would end soon. "Yes sir, all sorted. We figure that it was the same customers as before just reporting old information, probably looking for more discounts, I'd wager. We've changed it up and we haven't had any new complaints-"

"And the leak in Captivate, I assigned that to some of your crew." Firenze was staring straight down the corridor as he walked, seemingly at nothing, as if working through some mental list. "Has that been sorted? I never saw any scaffolding up there."

"Yes, all sorted, and no scaffolding needed. You'll see that when it next rains-"

"Good, good." Firenze's tails settled around Pouncer, easing him out of the way of a lolloping Houndoom. "Duke! No running in the corridors. Now, what about the large bedrooms? There was a Nidoking in one last night, and I know they can be rather, well, productive."

"The cleaning mice dealt with it once I gave them the requisite number of buckets. Incidentally, half of them want a pay raise, and the other half are fine with the benefits, but are requesting extra straws. Look, Mister Firenze," he spread his free hand at the Ninetales, "I apologise for being so frank, but you can let me handle these things-"

"Where's Rain Flower?"

Pouncer slowed. "Er... I don't know. Why, is she up to something?"

Firenze's eyes widened. His ears twitched. He curled a tail around a passing Midnight Lycanroc's arm and leant over. "Rock, find Rain Flower, and stop her."

"What's she doing?" Rock grunted, glancing between Firenze and Pouncer.

"Precisely."

Firenze let him go and continued striding down the corridor.

Pouncer hurried to catch up, almost having to leap over a gaggle of eeveelutions making their way out of a nearby room. "Look, Firenze, my shift was over half an hour ago. Can't you go to Terry with this?"

"Oh, I'll be talking to Terry as well," Firenze said distantly, as they rounded the corridor towards the Main Bar. A Scrafty stepped out of a nearby function room. "Nikki!"

Pouncer tilted his head back and closed his eyes. "I... goodness me..."

The Scrafty gave a small wave and a sharp smile. "What's happenin', Firenze?"

"Look, I've heard Dibble's got some new scheme for his shop..."

Pouncer glanced around as they talked. He felt like a drowning man looking for a rope. He found it in a Meowstic ambling past him; he caught his arm and leaned down.

"...I suppose I can do that." Nikki was saying, still talking to Firenze. "Gotta make sure he doesn't know I know, though."

"I believe in you, Nikki." He patted her on the shoulder with a tail. "Just make sure it doesn't get out of hand, okay?"

"Firenze!"

Firenze swung around as Nikki walked off, and came face-to-face with the Meowstic, which Mister Pouncer now stood behind as a sort of social Substitute. He wore a red shirt and beige cargo shorts, and with paws in pockets, he regarded the Ninetales with a half-amiable, half-wary, all-pointed stare.

"Nico!" Firenze beamed. "You're someone I wanted to see, actually. Have you-"

"Not here, please. Can we take this to the admin room??"

* * *

A few moments later, the door of the admin room clunked shut, muffling the bustling Café outside. Firenze sat on his haunches, claws playing at the soft green rug before the desk. His tails twitched.

Nico climbed up into one of the low chairs next to him. He interlaced his paws, rested them in his lap, and stared. "Alright. What's up?"

"I'm just..." Firenze started, then paused. He tilted his head to one side and stared past Nico. "It's that obvious, isn't it?"

"You know I'm not a telepath. But I don't have to be. What's on your mind? Pouncer and Terry are doing as fine a job as they always are. Café Plaisir is in no more chaos than usual. Everything's going as it always is."

"That-" Firenze started, but was interrupted by a high-pitched yelp from outside.

"Stoppit! I wasn't doin' nothin'!"

The sound of tiny, heavy feet thumped along the corridor outside. A jet of water splashed against the frosted glass of the door, followed by a canine snarl that vibrated the pane.

"Rain Flower, if you do that again-"

"I'm tellin' ya, he WOULD have wanted it if he just LET me!"

The footsteps and snarls disappeared into the distance.

"...is what you're worried about?" Nico finished.

Firenze gave a pained smile. He didn't quite manage the nod.

"Firenze..." Nico stared, leaning back in the chair. "Who's coming to the Café today that has you all wound up?" He froze momentarily. "...It's not your family, is it?"

Firenze's tails froze for a moment - then sagged, before resuming their anxious swaying. "Goodness... I suppose that puts it in perspective. Nothing as bad as that, no. Well... actually..." He paused for a moment, glanced at the door, and then looked into the empty air just above Nico's head. "I've told you about college, right?"

"A little. You were the first Pokémon to graduate from Seneca, right? Only one in your class?"

"Indeed. Well... that wasn't always going to be the case."

A cool air seemed to settle over the room. Firenze's tails slowed, and the light playing through the windows cast still shadows over the floor. Firenze's ears were fixed forwards, and he still stared into space. Nico stayed silent.

"When I started, it was not too long after the liberation. Pressure on all these institutions was growing rapidly, and my year was the first time they let Pokémon in. Yet, there was still a lot of hesitancy - not many Pokémon were so enthused about signing up to a place so strange, so... human. And even for those that had the lust, they weren't necessarily able enough to pass the entrance exams. College is hardly a stroll down the boardwalk, after all. But despite all that, there were... a few of us."

Nico's ears twitched.

"Four, to be precise. Seneca spread us about - we figured they were trying to not appear speciesist by lumping us all together," he chuckled to himself, "but... we got to know each other almost immediately anyway. Tara, a Delcatty, in Business Studies. Jetflame, a Cinderace, was trying to go down the Sports scholarship route, linking up with other Pokémon at nearby colleges. Me, obviously, doing English Lit. And... Jasmin."

It was late summer, and the campus was crowded with students. He glanced around at the wary circle that had developed around him despite the crowds. Did the other Pokémon students have this too? He peered through the forest of screen-print T-shirts and dark jackets - he knew there'd be others, he'd read the news articles-

His eyes met hers through the crowd. The sun sparkled off them, and he was transfixed by the sparkles of jade. Jade! He'd never seen green eyes on a Ninetales before. He was so amazed, it was a few seconds before he realised that she was staring at him, too.

His heart fluttered.

Nico leaned back. An eyebrow almost twitched upwards. "And this is who's coming today?"

Firenze glanced at him and nodded. "Yes..." he paused for a moment. "She was another Ninetales. The English Lang to my Lit. Striking green eyes, a mane that travelled all the way down to her shoulder blades, and... well, you know how people say a smile can light up a room? She had this Sunny Day trick her father had taught her. Brought truth to the idiom."

He gestured with one paw as he continued. "She came from Florida. Her father was a prize-winning Contest Pokémon; she never participated herself, but still lived with him, her mother, and their coordinator. By the time I knew her, her coordinator had retired to a handful of acres with more than enough winnings in the bank to keep them all comfortable. She had lots of stories of trotting around orchards as a Vulpix." His head lifted. "She brought a bushel of fresh oranges back whenever she went to visit them..."

The sound of a door shutting, a stark, sing-song voice ringing out with an "I'm back!". The table was cleared, and there they were again, the four of them - oranges spilling out of a saddlebag across the table. Tara with two delicate knives. Jetflame, with orange stains down his chin.

A smile caught the corners of his lips now. "...Which happened a lot, in fact. College was so far away for her - she got homesick, and her family had the money to let her travel. It means she had a lot of comfort through the tough times." He paused. "...I wonder what would have happened if the other two had had that."

The smile disappeared. Again, he glanced away from Nico. "Jetflame was the first to drop out. Surprised us all, as a matter of fact. He had this headstrong nature, but, I know now, someone not talking about struggles doesn't mean they don't have any. A dozen too many jeering crowds, too many captains demanding he be sidelined."

Nico steepled his digits, looking away for a moment. "Mmmmm."

"Then there was Tara. She failed her midterms and didn't bounce back. She thought she was ready for the challenge, but, well... She found an apprenticeship almost immediately, back near her home - even going to college in the first place probably spoke enough about her. But still, it was a blow. We all had a lot of hopes for her."

The air was thick now with what wasn't being said.

"So that left you and Jasmin," Nico said after the pause had gone on a bit too long.

Firenze nodded.

"So, and please don't forgive the pun - an old flame is coming to town, and you want to put on a good impression?"

"Yes... and no."

Nico sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Firenze - both as a friend, and as someone who has work to do today - please tell me what's going on."

Firenze gave a hesitant chuckle. "So... old flame is probably right, honestly. We never... officially dated. But from the first freshman mixer, we were making eyes at each other across the tables. We did - well, what I now realise was the whole awkward-conversation dance, where we both said the sixth thing to come into our heads after passing it through enough filters of needing to appear attractive."

Nico hummed. "Very different from the Firenze of today," he said with a smile.

"Yes, now I don't have to try," Firenze breathed, putting a paw on his chest and giving a winning grin.. "...But seriously. Her and I, red and green... couldn't separate us for the longest time."

"Red and green." Nico mused, tapping his muzzle with his paws. "Rather festive that, isn't it?"

Firenze snorted, then cleared his throat. "You know, that joke is what got us into the same bed the first time? We were sampling some leftover bottles from a student party. The wine was awful, the hour was late..."

The breeze was light, but brought a chill that slid through their fur - a small herald of the coming winter. He was skipping, though - even bad wine warms the blood. And even with his prancing, she always seemed to be pressing up against him, even as she unlocked the door to her student accommodation.

"Bare again?" He asked, glancing at the walls when they reached her room.

"You want to put up decorations with paws and tails, hun? Halloween was MORE than enough."

"Just a shame is all. You're such a vibrant girl. You deserve some colour in your life."

"Like what?"

"Well, the holidays are coming up. What do you say we look into each other's eyes, and see if we can turn the whole place red and green?"

She turned to regard him with a raised eyebrow, and failed to contain her chuckle. "Felix, you're lucky you're cute."

...She thought he was cute.

Firenze was kneading at the carpet softly, claws brushing through the soft green rug. He looked down and chuckled again, making an effort to stop it. "You know, I have customers several times a week now. And that's just the partners that pay for my services. It's odd that I was once so awkward and hesitant about it."

Nico smiled. "That's okay. You remember how I was when I first got hired."

Firenze gave a winning, practised smile. His tails danced into an elegant curl. He hesitated before continuing. "...I feel like I shouldn't, as they say, kiss-and-tell. Which, again, feels odd after working here for so long. But needless to say, we... weren't strangers, after that. And especially after Tara left, it was just us - two Ninetales against the world, swapping Shakespeare and bedroom visits every other weekend..."

"Ah...!"

"Haaahh...!"

They'd supposed to have been studying. English Language and English Literature were starkly different things, so they had become tired of explaining to people, but they at least shared a lot of reading material. But when she'd invited him over to read Chaucer... had he honestly expected to do so?

"Nnnhh... Jasmin...!"

"Keep going... Arceus, keep going...!"

He clutched at her sides, pressed his muzzle into the back of her neck. Her scent filled his nose - the shampoo she liked to use, like a stream in the springtime - and the salty sweat of exertion beneath it, the mixture of scents that held him tight. His fangs grazed her fur, and she shoved herself back up against him.

"Right there!" she gasped, "Don't stop! Ohhh... blazes, do NOT stop!"

He'd never really liked Chaucer, anyway.

"That was how it went. Those were... some wonderful days. Until..."

He trailed off, staring at one of the corners of the ceiling. It was like there was an entire tempest flashing behind those eyes.

"Until she came to my room to talk to me one day. Said she needed to tell me something..."

She was silent when she walked in. Usually, you could barely get a word in edgeways, so that immediately set his hackles rising. She sat down in front of him, not quite meeting his gaze. Then she reached out with one tail, curling it around his foreleg. He let her lift it... and she placed it, most delicately, upon her belly.

She looked straight into his eyes.

Nico blinked. "...Oh."

Firenze kept staring. "That... is indeed what I said, too."

Nico's gaze flicked across the ground in thought. "Was this... the first time that you sired a kit?"

Firenze nodded. "The very first one, yes."

Nico put his chin in his paw, leaning forwards. "So what happened?"

"She kept it, is the main thing. Jasmin wanted to keep it from the start; that was never quite in question. Honestly, her father and her old coordinator were thrilled by the prospect of a new Vulpix running around, and I wonder if she also didn't want to be seen as part of the old style of Pokémon care - just giving up eggs to daycares when they're not wanted."

A small smile wandered across his muzzle. "More than that, though - she couldn't have the egg here, and she didn't want to just leave it with her family and miss the child growing up. But she couldn't both do that and her studies, nor I, so... we had a choice. And she chose our child."

It was early spring, and the blossom was just coming in, flecks of pink on fingers of trees barely blooming with life against a grey sky. Was it just him, or did her fur look more dull than usual too? He watched from the window, silent now, their last goodbyes still heavy on his ears and lips; she trudged off down the cracked path, hips swaying slowly from side to side as she did, laden as she was with her bulging saddlebags - which didn't quite hide the gentle swell at her midriff.

Firenze trailed a claw around the rug in a circle. After a while of silence, Nico leaned in.

"Thank you for sharing all that with me. It's a lot."

Firenze nodded. "You're right. I... I know I'm pushing people more than usual. I just want everything to be okay when she visits. I want her to have a good time when she's here - I want to give her a good time. I suppose I just feel... guilty, still, about her."

Nico frowned. "Was it your fault?"

"I... well, it was both our faults, I know. Too many it'll-be-fines, too many lust-drunk, hormone-driven trysts after half-remembered parties, without a thought to the consequences. Not enough morning-after herbs in either of our bags, even if they were less easy to find those days. But even so, it wouldn't have taken both of us to change how things turned out. If I'd been just a little more careful..."

Firenze opened his mouth... and shut it again. Then he looked back up at the ceiling. "There is one more thing..."

Nico leaned back into his seat to listen. "What thing?"

Firenze didn't respond at first. Instead, he looked up, and down, and up again. One of his forelegs was jiggling in place. Two of his tails were locked in a dance of entwining and separating. "...It... was on the day that she told me. I'd made us something small afterwards - some TV dinner or something, I don't think I had the wherewithal to make anything more elaborate - and it went cold while we talked for hours. About the future, about what we both wanted. She wanted both of us to pursue our dreams, but hers were changing; she didn't want me to interrupt mine, but she couldn't ignore hers either.

Firenze took in a deep breath. A few strands of mane were hanging over his face, swaying as he talked. "She left later, in some small hour of the morning. I never offered that she could stay over, and she never asked - things were too uncertain for that. I was still reeling myself - the fear, the worry... the wanting her to be okay, but not knowing what to say to make it happen."

Firenze's ears tilted back. He took in a deep breath.

"But when I went to bed..."

He stared at the ceiling through lidded eyes, but all he saw was her face. Mane tumbling in golden locks over his bed, shining in the lamplight. Her muzzle, open, panting, bright green eyes looking up into his. That night, that last night, not so long ago - it couldn't have been any other. It was definitely that one. He'd been tipsy, her probably moreso, but he could still recall every moan, every gasp; the tingling, spiced scent in the air that had been driving him crazy in ways he hadn't quite realised at the time.

It had been so... warm! So inviting! How she'd gripped him, held him like she would never let him go. He hadn't given it a second thought, but now? As he replayed it in his mind, the rising tide, the approaching inevitability, roared in his ears. Part of him wanted to cry out to his past self, to stop, to think, before it was too late...

But another part of him...

The other part of him had his forepaws roaming down his belly, towards loins that were aching like never before... and as he panted, and his eyes closed, his claws roamed towards his crotch as he fell into that scene once again...

Nico raised his paws. "I.. think I understand."

Firenze nodded, a grateful look on his face.

"Alright, so." Nico said, leaning forwards. "An old not-quite girlfriend is coming to visit. You're still feeling guilty about your part in making her a mother, which caused her to drop out of college. And you're also feeling guilty that it gave you - I assume - one of the best 'self-love' sessions of your life."

Firenze gave a half-smile, half-toothy grimace. "Made quite a living out of it, too."

Nico nodded appreciatively. "True."

Firenze went back to drawing patterns in the carpet with a claw. "But, I wonder about the cost - a cost that she paid, not me. If I'd not taken the chance - if I'd not given in to pleasure so readily..."

Nico tilted his head. "Not given in, hum? Firenze, of the Café of Pleasure?"

"I... suppose I've had a few close calls recently that have made this more on my mind." Firenze smiled. "A few moments when I've... questioned how much diligence I'm paying. Whether I'm really thinking through the consequences. And now, reminded of this... I wonder what will happen. If I keep letting this pleasure rule me... what new upheavals lay in the future?"

He took in a deep breath. "With Jasmin, well, I have already changed her life so much, and..." He stared now, with shining eyes. "I'm going to make an effort. If I can resist giving into pleasure, just with her, just tonight, then... maybe I'll get that confidence back. I will prove to myself that I'm more than just... heady pleasures."

Nico just stared at him, frowning slightly, lips creased together.

Firenze opened his mouth. "Wh-- Don't look at me like that! I'm being serious."

"I know..." Nico muttered, tapping his digits. "I have to ask. How did you learn she's coming? Did she contact you herself, or did you just see her name on a room reservation -- what happened?"

"We've been writing letters back and forth, about once a month, ever since we parted. I eventually said what I did for a living - I informed her of the name of the place, rather than just the street address - and she immediately booked a few days off to come over here." He tilted his head, a soft smile passing across his muzzle again. "That was only a couple of weeks ago. She was never one for waiting around."

Nico nodded. After another pause he said, "Have you told anyone else that she's coming?"

Firenze shook his head. "No," he said. The word hung in silence for a moment too long. He frowned, ears tilting back, "...Why?"

Nico peered up at him. "It bothers me that you've treated this so opaquely."

One of Firenze's eyebrows raised. "What do you mean?"

"If I hadn't pulled you aside, I assume you might've told nobody. You've been running around, agitated, trying to make sure Plaisir is okay - but have you stopped to consider if you are okay?"

Firenze gave an awkward chuckle. "I..." he said, and trailed off.

"You know you can talk to us about these things. You can talk to me."

Firenze was quiet for a while. He stared into empty air as ghosts danced behind his eyes. "I... know, yes." he said, eventually. "Thank you for reminding me. ...Perhaps I'd just been so introspective, having so much difficulty reconciling it with myself, I hadn't even thought about how to explain it to others..." he paused, a look of pain dancing on his muzzle. "...or realised how much it was affecting me."

Nico nodded. "I'm not going to try to get involved where I shouldn't. But I don't think I have to. I'm glad you're talking to me, I really am; now the next person you need to talk to is her. If her feelings are where your worries lie, then you should find out about them directly."

Firenze nodded. "Indeed, I know I do. Thank you for... helping me get my words in order."

"About that? It sounds like she's coming here by her own choice. She wants to see you, I assume?" Nico gave Firenze one of his rare, easygoing smiles. It was always a treat to see on his face. "You've made a career out of navigating intimate moments. I don't think you have anything you need to prove now. You'll do fine." He leaned forwards in his chair. "Just - for you - be honest with yourself. Watch what you're feeling. You might end up making some big choices today. If you do, I want you to feel happy and confident with them."

Firenze smiled, nodding. "You're very kind, Nico."

The Meowstic got up out of the chair, putting his paws on his hips. "Now, as for Plaisir - you're proud of this place. I know you are. I am too. You and I know these rooms and these people intimately. Whatever she thinks of the place, you should be able to--"

He stared at Firenze. Firenze stared back.

"I shouldn't say that out loud, should I?"

"No." Firenze said. "No, it may well tempt fate too much."

THUMP.

Two pairs of ears and eyes swivelled to a cabinet against the far wall.

"....stupid...get your..."

"YOUR stupid PAW that... fucking KNOT..."

Another few thumps vibrated the cabinet door. Then it swung open, spilling a pair of Mightyena out onto the floor in a cloud of sweat-scented air. Firenze got a brief eyeful of flailing limbs, and a pink spade shining and bulging-

He shut his eyes, whipping his head away.

"Gah!"

"Ow, fuck, Dex!"

Firenze failed to suppress a growl. "Sinister. Dextus. Please, each of you get off your sibling."

"HIS knot wouldn't go down! All that talk of knockin' some bitch up got the fucker panting!"

"It's HER fuckin' fault. She wouldn't let go of me!"

"As per Café policy on familial relationships..." Firenze grunted through clenched teeth, "I have no idea what you mean."

"Why'd you even come in here, anyway? Who even uses the Admin room for stuff other than sex?" Sinister muttered from the scuffling pile on the floor.

"Most of us," Firenze muttered.

"Some of us," added Nico.

Firenze opened his eyes, making sure to keep the undulating black-and-grey mound only in the corner of his vision. "Fortunately for you two, you're supposed to be on shift, so you're not actually here." He raised his nose. "I suggest you prove me right as soon as possible."

"Who d'you think you are, our boss?" Dex bit from the carpet. There was a wet schl-OP, and a pair of indulgent gasps.

Two Mightyena later - a trail of strong-smelling liquid notwithstanding - Nico and Firenze were also stepping out of the admin room.

"Funny how often it is you don't see things around here, isn't it?" Firenze muttered.

Nico patted his side. "I wouldn't know. They don't work for me."

They walked towards the main entrance. The autumn sun was lower in the sky now, and its rays were playing through the windows. In the distance, the shuttle to the nearby town had just delivered another troupe of customers. A bundle of tails peeked above the crowd.

Nico stuck his paws in the pockets of his shorts. "Fine timing."

Firenze gritted his teeth. "I was hoping to perhaps fit in another grooming at the Salon first."

Nico walked around to Firenze's front, frowning up at him. One of his folded ears twitched upwards, glowed with a cyan aura from underneath, and the same colour suffused part of Firenze's mane. The Ninetales held still as he watched a couple of strands of hair re-align themselves.

"Thanks, Nico."

"Resplendent as ever, Firenze," he said, then turned back towards the approaching customers. They were almost at the door now - a handful of humans and longer-legged 'mon being the first among them. Between them, pale fur shone in the sunlight.

"Oh, and, er, one more... one more thing," Firenze said at length.

Nico side-eyed him.

"It's not just Jasmin that's coming today."

If Nico had any questions, they were lost in the clamour of the new clients tumbling in through the door. The receptionists corralled them into a semblance of a line, flicking glances and hand signals as they went - but from the forest of legs and eager lusts strode a golden Ninetales, stepping past the reception desks and right towards them.

Firenze lifted his head high as she walked up. Her fur was closer-cropped than it had once been; freshly groomed, with a slight shine to it that played in the reception's lights. Her mane was longer than he remembered, and was swept back between her ears and all down her right side, with the occasional tributary of dreadlocks running through it that swayed as she walked. She wore only a couple of small saddlebags, and a broad smile, which pushed her cheeks up against dark green eyes flecked with warm jade sparkles.

"Felix," she said, and nuzzled into his neck. She was hot, so surrounded by the scent of sweet waterlilies that she practically tasted of them, and she rumbled with a purr as her soft fur pressed up against his.

"Jasmin," Firenze muttered, and after savouring the moment, pulled back to smile into her eyes.

"Or - hang on. It's Firenze now, right, baby? Am I pronouncing that right?" she said, grinning.

"Here, at least, yes." Firenze's ears flicked backwards, warm with a sudden blush.

"Ah, you always did like the Tuscan wines, didn't you?"

"They made so many fond memories... and a few bad hangovers," he said, staring back at her. She laughed, and in the pause, Firenze stepped back. "Jasmin, this is Nicolaus, a good friend of mine."

"Call me Nico," Nico said, extending a paw.

Jasmin shook it with one of her own, much larger front paws. "Charmed! Felix - er, Firenze - has told me literally nothing about you. And been so evasive about this place! Can you imagine?" She gave Firenze's chest a nudge.

Firenze, however, was staring behind her.

"Well, Nico," Jasmin continued, "You're blessed, because you're about to see something amazing here." She stepped aside, her tails billowing like a stage curtain.

A fox stepped out from her shadow, the light of the room catching her green eyes. She was a Vulpix - of a kind. She was taller, more slender, and her fur was more bronze than russet red. Her mane only had a shadow of the Vulpix's signature curls, and the hair had a shimmer of hay-like gold at the tips as it tumbled down the side of her head in wavy locks. Her tails, too, were longer, flowing out behind her like a meadow of flowers - and there were seven of them, difficult though they were to count with how they danced with excitement. And her eyes - flecked with warm jade sparkles, above a blossoming grin filled with tiny pointed fangs.

"Firenze, meet Alyssa." said Jasmin.

Alyssa hadn't stopped staring at Firenze the whole time. Her paws danced on the carpet.

"Hey Dad!"

* * *

Firenze leaned against the counter, absent-mindedly turning his wine glass with one paw. He was peering across Main Bar, between the crowd of patrons, to a little island of light in the far corner.

"Stop staring, baby," Jasmin said, sipping her chardonnay with a practised flourish. "You don't want her to feel watched, right?"

"I... simply..." Firenze started, but found he didn't know how to end the sentence. Alyssa - his daughter - was sitting at one of the corner tables, laughing with a Lucario customer, her two-tone hair shining in the dim, warm light.

Memories of photographs flickered through his mind. A small bundle of russet fur nestled in blankets. A duo of white tails mid-flick as a small fox peered through a summer window. Big green eyes and a beaming, sharp-toothed grin right into the camera. That last photograph was in a small frame on his wall, unassumingly placed by the door.

But she wasn't a photograph.

Firenze's glass twitched back and forth over the bar counter, pinot noir swirling in the light. His ear perked, and he realised he was trying to pick out her conversation through the hubbub without even meaning to.

"If you're worried about her being in here - she is an adult," Jasmin said, glancing over herself. "She turned out to be a quick grower. Gone through all the usual stages, and then some."

"So I see. Natural evolutions are somewhat rare for Ninetales in my family... did she get that from your side?"

Jasmin shrugged, turning back towards him. "I guess. It's possible that might come from Dad, what with him being a Rapidash. Never asked Mom about it. Either way, the quick-growing deal she's got going seems to be from your side. Seems you got some good genes!"

Firenze gave an awkward chuckle. "Indeed... it seems you're not the only one who thinks that."

"Yeah, about that," she leaned an elbow on the bar, swirling her chardonnay in her other paw. She fixed him with a surreptitious smile; fangs gleamed past black lips, and she narrowed her eyes at him. "How come you've been runnin' this place for so many years, and only told me about it a few months ago, eh?"

Firenze stared into his pinot noir. "I am not running this place. That's Jack, that Typhlosion over there with the glass. I'm just the supervisor for all the waiters, along with a few more things here and there."

"That's dodging the question."

Firenze bit his lip. "Okay, okay. I suppose it's a little difficult sometimes to admit it to some people. You know, that I manage a brothel and all."

"To me though?"

Firenze met Jasmin's gaze and felt a cold drop of water in his heart. Did she actually look hurt? "I... apologise. Yes, I should have told you sooner."

"Especially after everything we shared. Arceus, I hope you're not embarrassed by it or something. This place is... it's incredible!"

Firenze smiled. "Thank you. It is indeed, in every sense of that word. Have you seen your rooms yet?"

"Room, singular. We'll be sharing the... 'Normal-type bedroom'. We read it's got a pullout couch, right?"

Firenze nodded. That was fortunate - he couldn't 'go back to her room' if Alyssa was sleeping in it, after all. A little less temptation.

"That is, unless she finds a waiter to bed with."

Firenze's eyes went wide. "Jasmin-!"

"Whaaat?" She snickered, swirling her wine. "Like I said, she's an adult. She can make her own decisions. Unless you don't trust your waiters?"

Firenze stared at Alyssa at the other end of the room. She was leaning over the table now, talking to an Umbreon. It was Chai.

"...I certainly... trust them..." he said, at length.

"Speakin' of which, you need to introduce me to this place. Look at iiiit!" Jasmin said, waving a tail around them. "An entirely Pokémon-run establishment! You said you joined here just after graduating?"

"Very soon after, yes," said Firenze, letting out a sigh as Chai walked away from the table. Alyssa's gaze hadn't lingered, thank goodness - but it did turn to him. She smiled, her tails flicking back and forth behind her. He gave a pleasant smile back before hastily refocusing on Jasmin. "...Yes, I joined right out of college, in a way. One of our recruiters found me in a bar the night after the ceremony. I was busy... musing about my options, we shall say. She, meanwhile, had been seeking me out. Figured she could give me a good offer."

"I suppose she liked the idea of a well-read, well-bred fox under the sheets." She smiled at him, taking another sip of wine. "She's not the only one."

Firenze's heart fluttered. "She certainly isn't," he murmured, smiling back at her - before dropping his gaze and clearing his throat. Careful. "So, hum... what about you? What did you do after college?"

Jasmin turned back towards the bar. "Well, I gave you most of it in my letters, you know?"

Firenze smiled, thinking of that particular drawer in his desk. "I keep them all. But I still want to hear you talk about it."

Jasmin smiled warmly, suddenly finding difficulty in meeting his gaze. "Ahaha... Well, I went back home, had Alyssa, lived off my family for a year or so. Eventually, Jerry - our old coordinator? - he had someone quit, and needed someone to manage the books for the orchards. Been doing that ever since. Money's alright - not a lot, but I've been saving to head back to college again. Seneca says they'd consider my application in a favourable light. Might be a long time, but hey." She leaned back. "We're Ninetales, baby. I got a few centuries yet."

Firenze chuckled politely. "I often forget that you're that much older than me."

"Hey, watch your tongue, babe. You're not allowed to remind me. Ninetales women only get proud of their age past the half-millennium, didn't your Gram-Gram ever tell you that?" She took another sip of her wine. "And I'm only a couple o' decades older than you, anyway."

"Oh, I'm just musing. A couple of decades difference is odd for humans, after all."

"I'm shocked. Shocked!" she said, flourishing her glass, the wine threatening to spill out. "You been serving humans for so long you're thinking like 'em now?"

"They are a fascinating bunch..." Firenze mused, his voice trailing off. He was staring over her back again. A series of drinks had just arrived at Alyssa's table. A bottle of beer dangled from one of her tails.

"You know," Firenze said, running one forepaw against his chin, "fast growth or not, I'm pretty sure she's not above the legal age to drink alcohol."

Jasmin glanced back at her, then pointedly tilted her glass towards Firenze. "Neither were you, youngin'."

Firenze coughed to hide the chuckle. "Yes, but I'm in charge here."

"Well stop her, then, big daddy. Want to walk on over there and tell her off?"

A shudder went up Firenze's spine, and he bit his lip before he knew what he was doing. What was that about? He turned back to his wine, a fixed smile on his face. "I... suppose I just see the other side of things these days, you know?"

"It happens. But I think that part of being a student is that you get to make those decisions, for worse, or better." She smirked into her wine glass. "And some of them were certainly better. Like, Royal Vineyard '98...?"

A paw rested on his leg, digits teasing at his fur.

Firenze's mind sparked with images; there'd been a post-midterms party in one of the tall college buildings. Someone had found that the door to the roof was unlocked, and before long the two of them were out there, in the middle of a nighttime cityscape, distant streetlights gleaming off drips of too-fancy wine, as their heads swam and their tails interlocked...

He coughed again, shifting in his chair, deftly sliding her paw away. "So, did you ever hear anything more about Tara-"

"Felix, put my Arceus-dammed paw back on your thigh."

Firenze's eyes went wide.

Jasmin fixed him with an expression that could crack boulders. "What's gotten into you, babe? I'd worry that you've gone all prude like your family, but you live in a brothel, for Arceus' sake."

Firenze opened and closed his mouth. "It's not that, Jasmin. I... suppose, I-"

"You feelin' guilty, is that it?"

Firenze paused, staring back into her eyes. Then he looked down into his pinot noir and chuckled. "I guess I'm just an open first-edition today, aren't I?"

"You are feeling guilty," Jasmin breathed. Then she leaned back. "Oho. This is new. My ever-so-suave partner in Lit is thinking now. You lost your brashness in short order, didn't you?"

Firenze frowned and swallowed. That actually hurt. "Hey, now, I-"

"Felix, if you want to say something to me, then say it."

He opened his mouth... then stared back into his wine. Well, if this was how it was going to happen... might as well do it. "I... wanted to apologise." He said, still staring at the glass. "Again. For.. not thinking, all those years ago. For letting my pleasures get away from me."

"Alright." Jasmin said. "You wanna say that again, while looking at me this time?"

Firenze's gaze shot up into her eyes. She was smiling.

"Felix, listen to me. I'm okay." She leaned forward, putting her paw back on his chest. "What happened was... big. Very big. And it did upheave my life like it's never been before or since, as it does for anyone in my position. Being a single mother... it's never easy. But I've done lots of things that aren't easy - that doesn't mean I regret them, and I certainly don't regret Alyssa. And it doesn't mean I blame you, either. Hell! If there was fault, it was on both of us, hun."

"It would have only taken one of us for it not to happen-"

"And that one could have been me as much as you," Jasmin said, leaning forwards. A dreadlock swung down the side of her head. "I didn't know you thought this. I thought we talked it out that night. And even if - even if I had had any doubts or lingering blame about you, well, all the child support you paid - I mean, it didn't even apply to Pokémon back then, and you did it anyway." She leaned back. "Listen. Upheaval it was for sure, but from that night forwards, things... they turned out how I wanted them to. Including dropping out."

Firenze stayed silent, looking into eyes that stared into the past.

She took in a breath. "Seneca was fantastic, but... it was so distant. So different, and sterile, and so... cold. You know how many times I went home. I lived for those moments. Every golden afternoon or ray of sunshine at college, I couldn't stop but think how much nicer they would be if I could just walk back through the orchards at the end of the day, and say hi to Mom and Dad and Jerry and... everyone. True, I wanted to stick it out, to get the degree, but... but when Alyssa came along, it was a kick in the backside, and one that I needed."

Jasmin was swirling her wineglass now, but she looked back into his eyes when she continued. "So what if I wanted to be some big world-class professor? Nobel Prize before I was a hundred? If I wanted to go back to Seneca before now, I'm sure I coulda worked somethin' out - but I didn't. Didn't want to. Instead, I got to spend some wonderful years with my family, I made a bunch o' new friends, I got a job, I got some money, and most of all I got a daughter, babe. I got to see her grow up. A major in English Language? To me? It ain't nothin' compared to that."

Firenze held her gaze. His heart was thumping in his ears. He closed his eyes and took a deep, long breath. "...Okay."

A paw rested on his. He opened his eyes to find her smiling again - a warm, motherly smile.

"I don't want you to be guilty. You're Firenze. You run a Pokémon brothel-"

"Part-run-"

"Shush, babe, I'm talking. Now I've seen just two rooms of this place, and already I know you should be proud of it. And honestly, listen to me Felix, I want you to be proud."

Her paw pressed harder on his.

"Things turned out how they expected for you. That's made you very happy. They didn't turn out how they expected for me. But still, how they did turn out, that also made me very happy. That's all there is to that."

Firenze let out a long breath. His claws twitched beneath her paw. And then, a smile slid across his muzzle, and he leaned in - and they nuzzled. His head swam with the scent of a spring stream - that same aroma that reached out across the years, Arceus, she still used the same shampoo - and her nostalgic warmth made his tails dance and play. They stayed like that for a while, and when they pulled back, green eyes met red. They smiled.

Well... that was half of the problem, at least. But still... even half the load on his mind lifting felt... freeing. He let out a delighted chuckle in relief.

"Now," Jasmin declared, finishing the rest of her chardonnay in a single swig. "You need to show off this place. I want to see just how proud I should be of you."

Firenze smiled. His ears burned with a flush, but his heart was warm. "In that case, allow me to show you around."

* * *

The worry did not fade all at once. But with every step Firenze took, he felt a little lighter, defter on his paws. Jasmin took a bottle of Pinot Grigio for the tour, and with every sip, and every smile, and every wide-eyed marvel at each new corner, the warmth returned - that long-lost feeling, slipping back into his stride.

By the time they arrived at the Massage Area, he was beaming. Jasmin took in a steam bath, and then dried off in the sauna while they mused on old stories of lacklustre accommodation at Seneca. She almost talked herself into a massage - wanted him to give it to her - but he managed to steer himself out of it with a smile and a promise of more to see. He may not feel as guilty, but he still had a promise to himself to keep. Just one night.

Jasmin, meanwhile, was only too happy to keep exploring. She laughed when she saw Captivate. "Just like you to have a stage", she said, though her amused gaze also lingered on the catwalk and poles. "How many Shakespearean plays do you put on here?"

"None that I'm proud of," he said, twisting a couple of tails up. The memory of a recent run of "A Midsummer Night's Breed" sent a linguistic shudder down his spine.

After that was Dark Pulse; her eyes lit up at the strobing lights, tails rippling to the trance that was playing. He told her to not get too excited at the songs; they were just a warm-up to the harder, more modern stuff later. She flicked a tail in his face. "Now I know you don't run this place. You'd never have had this put in yourself, would you?"

"Well, they rejected my plans for a concert hall."

Her long-familiar laugh was a shimmering window into a gold-drenched past.

They got another drink at the bar, only to find Alyssa in the corridor outside - she'd been looking for him, apparently. So the three of them retired to the Lounge, getting a table just outside on the veranda, framed by the Lounge's large bay windows and surrounded by delicately-kept flowerbeds and hedgerows. As the last of the sun's light faded from the sky, and the scent of roses and wine drifted around them, they sat and talked of days past.

Jasmin told stories of Alyssa when she was young. "You know, before she got her third tail? Absolute terror. You couldn't get her to slow down..." she cackled, playing with the dregs of another Chardonnay bottle.

Alyssa sat there demurely and endured it with only a faint smile. When her mother had finished, she rounded on Firenze, staring at him from beneath her waving mane, and pointed a claw at him. "So let me tell you what she's like as a mother..."

Firenze couldn't quite remember the next thing she said. He was laughing too hard.

In fact, as the night wore on, there was quite a lot that began to slip away. The table seemed to fill up with empty bottles that he didn't quite recall drinking. Jasmin had mentioned finding out how deep the Café's selection of white wines was, and Firenze briefly worried it hadn't been a joke. Alyssa, meanwhile, seemed to have amassed a few bottles of Stout of Stoutland - which was odd, since he knew it was Simon who was working the Lounge's bar that night, and he should know better (both to serve to Alyssa, and to give her something so vile). A memory was emblazoned in his mind of her lounging back on the chair, smirking absently, dark lashes outlining her mother's green eyes, while a half-drunk bottle dangled from a curled tailtip.

But however it happened, the conversation flowed like a bubbling river. There were fragments he was aware of, here and there - a dictation by Jasmin on the best time to pick an orange, a brief sass-filled disagreement over which was the strongest of Brontë's works, tales of a previous holiday to the west coast....

He could remember one bit particularly vividly - Alyssa, it turned out, had also been inspired by the family's orchards. "You know wild pollination is actually increasing on the east coast?" She had said, staring at him as she gestured wildly with three of her tails. "I listen to this podcast, The Hivemind, and they say that there are entirely new variants of lemon being discovered, grown completely naturally. I've even found some in our own trees. So I got in touch with a professor at the local college, and..."

Jasmin had been beaming throughout, sliding his paw against his. Firenze figured she was about to burst with pride. He knew the feeling.

Firenze, meanwhile, found a few stories to recount himself. Old, juicy professor drama from his final year at Seneca. One or two of the less-sordid stories from being a supervisor at Plaisir. There was a heart-stopping moment when Alyssa inquired about how Firenze was hired here; Firenze's face burned, and he worried about having to hide his ears, which must have been flaring a bright shade of red. But, despite a drunken voice strangely eager to blurt out the particulars of his aptitude test with Plaisir's recruiter, he reigned it in to a delicate "Well, I just..."

...something or other. He didn't remember what he said. Alyssa seemed to find it satisfactory, smirking and draping a tail over his leg afterwards. And as the night wore on and words gave way to laughter, all he seemed to recall were smiling faces over bottles, warm and genuine gazes, and a familiar paw on his thigh. His mind swam with sunny fields and lamplit bedrooms, warm air and hot touches...

And then...

* * *

Firenze woke up, feeling like a Snorlax was lying on his head. A miasma of musk and sweat hung in the air, and familiar, soft bedsheets were crumpled up beneath him.

What... what time was it?

He attempted to roll over, and was reminded of old descriptions of shifting continental plates. At length, he crashed onto his other side. A few moments later, he levered one eye open. Well, he was in his room, for one thing - that was something of a relief. He peered at his old analogue alarm clock on the side table.

The big hand was... up there. And the little hand... just past... IV? The room was dark, too, so... four in the morning.

He groaned, closing his eye again. He screwed it shut, even. He lay very, very still, which wasn't hard, what with feeling like he was being sat on. But, despite all the motivation of a... a very... motivated thing, sleep did not return. His loins were aching, and for once, not in the nice and fun way.

Against all his wishes, he opened his eyes, and dragged himself out of bed. He wavered on his feet for a moment, before dragging his claws over his carpet as he lurched towards the bathroom.

Arceus. This was why he stayed away from white wine...

A few moments later, he stumbled back into his room. The creamy taste of the oran berry potion was still strong on his tongue, and he sighed indulgently as the oppressive weight on his head began to - slowly, gradually - lift away. He stared, bleary-eyed, at the mess of his room.

Had he left it in such a state this morning? No, he was sure he hadn't. But his couch had somehow disgorged its velvet cushions all over the floor, and the armchair was askew, half-facing the fireplace and pushing up the rug as if someone had shoved it aside. His bedside lamp was also on, casting shadows across the rumpled bedsheets. The atmosphere was heavy, humid, and stank of stale air and semen.

He blinked, still swaying with sleep-

Wait.

Jasmin.

Oh... fuck.

He put a paw on his head, wavering to the side. Oh by the heavens, no, he...

Wait... wait, no. No, he remembered walking back to the normal-type bedroom with her and Alyssa. Jasmin had been... well, she'd probably been the most drunk out of all of them. He distinctly remembered closing the door behind him.

Firenze breathed a sigh of relief. He stumbled through the detritus of what had once been his nice, neat room, and feeling indulgently like a toppling tree, fell into bed with a heavy whommf.

He could tidy up in the morning.

...

Arceus... dammit.

He dragged himself back out of bed the way he had climbed back in, and half-stumbled over to the chair. He turned to the side and levered it back into place with a few heavy - if ungainly - shoves of his body.

Okay, so... if not Jasmin, then... who? It couldn't have been a customer; surely he knew better than to try and work on commission when he was several bottles deep. He dragged the rug back into place with his teeth, smoothing it with a hindpaw. A waiter then? Maybe. Oh, by all that is holy, did he go to Rain Flower again? Forget giving in to pleasure, she was more like some stubborn rising damp. Urgh. He'd hear about that in the morning...

He picked up the cushions one by one in his tails, fitting them back onto his couch. He picked up a bottle laying beneath them, glancing at the label-

And stared.

The door to the normal-type bedroom shut behind him. He smiled at it, chuckling to himself. He'd actually managed it.

"Hey. Can I see your room before I sleep?"

"Sure," he said.

He staggered over to the side of his bed and leant against the covers. Fumbling it in his tail, he held the bottle up to the lamplight.

"Here she is. The room that launched a thousand... clientships."

"Wow. Fancy, ain't it?"

The sound of the door clicking shut made him turn around.

The label was peeling, wet with spilt beer, but it was clear enough. The picture of the dog, the pseudo-fancy serif font. Stout of Stoutland.

He dropped the bottle. The clunk was muffled, far away.

Alyssa stood in front of the closed door, a large smile on her face. She swayed, and her gaze danced down... and up. With how he felt too, it was like looking in a mirror.

"Shouldn't... you be heading back to your room?" Firenze said, chuckling.

Alyssa stepped closer, taking another swig from a beer bottle in one tail. She lifted her muzzle, her nose just brushing his chin. "I wanted to spend some time with you..." she breathed, warm air against his neck.

A shudder travelled up his spine, and he gasped as it rolled through his mind.

Lips brushed against his, hovering there, warm and tantalising. A voice in his head - a voice long-suppressed, never admitted even to himself - said, "...to hell with it."

And then they were kissing. It was a sloppy kiss, wet, with ungainly tongues slipping over one another. Fangs clacked together, grazed muzzles, and their moans filled the air - his deep and rumbling, hers light and airy. He leaned back against the armchair, and it scraped along the floor, and he curled his paws around her shoulders to keep her close. A paw pressed on his chest, then another, working down through his fluff, down to his underbelly...

Then he was picking her up, his paws under her forelegs, just enough so that he could lift her. "No, no-no..." he panted, blinking. "Let me..."

A brief image flared brightly in his mind: her, on his couch, on her side, forelegs curled up, back legs spread. Her eyes were wide, but she was smiling - mouth half-open, her gaze flitting up and down his body, whiskers twitching. The folds of fur on her hinds, two rows of dark nipples, drew all attention to the dark spade nestled in the dusky bronze fur of her crotch.

What's wrong with one more pleasure? It's who he is, after all...

His tongue delved inside her. She was wet, and she tasted incredible - those floral notes he'd come to love had an extra honey-like sweetness. Sensations pirouetting in his mind, making his hips writhe on the floor and claws dig into the couch cushions. Her hinds danced - he flopped his forepaws over her belly, pulling her closer, holding her down, snaking his tongue between the tight, clenching walls, then out to run up and down over the hidden nook of her clit. She gasped, cried out with ragged pants, and he rumbled happily, knowing the soundproofed walls meant it was only for him to hear...

And then he was leaning over her, great drops of drool and juices hanging from his tongue, and she was looking up at him with a devilish grin.

"Is... is that bed... where you take most of your customers?" she asked, a paw dancing up his chest.

"Indeed it is..." he panted, swallowing some of her juices. His head swam in the taste.

And then Alyssa was on his bed, on her back, shuffling into position, and he was leaning over her, forepaws sinking into the sheets. She lifted her front half up, peering down at his swelling shaft flopped against her tails. She pressed up with a few of them, moving it into position; the heavy black flesh pressed down against her small, pliable vulva, his tip hanging above her underbelly, framed by the rows of her nipples. A shot of pre spurted over her, landing across her chest and underbelly, where it gleamed in the lamplight. She stared at his cock, chest rising and falling, and then looked up at him with a panting smile.

Firenze dragged his eyes away from his grinding to return the gaze. "You know we shouldn't do this," he muttered with a smile.

"Mmmh... mhmm..." she looked back down at his cock, nose twitching.

He slid his shaft back, the tip sliding against the spade now. The heat, oh the heat, it was unbearable. "Last chance to stop..." He murmured, his paw brushing against her cheek, her neck. Her heart was racing.

"Do it..."

He pressed his hips forwards, and his tip sank inside her. She gasped again, a different sound now, one of sudden exertion - but the heat, the tightness, his animal brain surged into control and he pressed his hips forwards, stretching her even further.

"Stop-stop!" she gasped, her delicate paw batting at his larger one. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to halt. His shaft started to slip out, pressed back by the sheer tightness inside her-

"N-no..." she muttered again, panting loudly, the air shimmering with heat above her muzzle. He eased his hips forwards, keeping the shaft exactly where it was - not an inch deeper, and not letting it slide out. For a moment she just lay there, eyes closed, chest fluttering up and down. He caressed her cheek with one paw...

"O-okay..." she breathed. "S-slowly, please..."

And he pressed forwards, sliding his shaft back into her, easing it deeper with each slow, careful thrust. He ran his paw over her cheek again, holding her head, watching her expression as he did. She gritted her teeth, eyes glazed over, as she tried to hold his gaze. "Y...yes... yeeeesss..." Then she closed her eyes, lolling her head back, groaning. "A-aahhh...! Yes...! Right... there...!"

And then he was thrusting, thrusting, and he could barely see because it was all he could do to focus on the tightness around his length, the way the spade gripped hungrily onto his flesh, the way she was hot - so hot. His strokes had to be shallow, far too shallow for his liking - he needed to thrust hard, to hammer his hips against hers. His knot, threatening to swell already, ached with the need to lock inside her. But he held back, he had to hold back; he clambered past his body's urge to pound this small girl, and continued the rhythmic, careful, yet oh-so indulgent, thrusts...

Now he was pressing his front paws against the back of her neck, holding her in place, and staring at where their crotches met. Her spade was stretched far beyond its original demure point, now pulled tight around his length. And every time he slid back, it clung to him, as if not wanting him to leave, leaving a sheen of her juices along his black flesh which shone in the warm lamplight. Then his rolling hips sank it back inside her; at her crotch, where her bronze fur and dark spade blurred in an elegant gradient, her body bulging with the sheer size of the intrusion.

His balls slapped against her tails, against her rear - heavy, eager, a rhythm above their combined moans. Alyssa was gasping, squeaking, "Didn't... th-think... I'd feel those..."

"You like them...?" Firenze breathed, fangs bared as he thrust.

"Yes...!"

Your mother did too, he mused to himself.

Her taste was on his tongue again. He'd leaned down, giving a great lap across his length, her spade, over the nub of her clit, up the twitching bulge in her belly. She trembled beneath it - then exploded, letting out an almighty cry, the room flaring with light as green embers danced from her mouth. Her spade gripped tighter, oh-so-delightfully tighter, and he gasped - blood thrummed in his ears as pleasure swelled in his loins, a rising tide crashing inside him...

Firenze hunched over her, wrapping his paws around her neck, the sheets bunching up around them. He held her there, close to him, as he thrust slower, harder, his knot beginning to ache and swell against her tails.

"A... Alyssa...." he breathed, paws trembling now.

"A-ahhh...! D... haaahhh...!"

"Say it..."

"Nnnh... D... Dad...!"

His knot throbbed almost painfully with the lack of a tie as it bulged and swelled. Firenze's whole body was shaking now - a tingling started in his teeth, and he gritted them just before flames lanced out around them. His growl rumbled the air, the bed, and he held Alyssa tight, tight, so Arceus-damn tight as his legs trembled and his breath caught in his throat and his cock throbbed and pulsed and he came, came, came right inside her...!

Right... inside her...

Inside her...

Firenze stared at the wall, but he didn't see it. His head and chest buzzed. His face prickled. He rubbed it absently with his free paw; it felt like ice...

One last memory...

Alyssa. On her back. Green eyes gently glowing beneath lidded eyelids. Her forelegs stretched up above her head, digits gently kneading the warm air. Her small chest, covered in messy tufts of saliva-wet fur, rising and falling. Her hindlegs, spread, one hindpaw twitching, claws clenching and unclenching.

Her spade, dark, stretched, a trail of pale white seed drooling out of it, dripping in great, thick strands into a puddle at the base of her tails.

She was smiling. Her mouth twitched, breathlessly forming happy half-trills between shaky gasps of air...

Firenze slumped down, leaning his head back against the mattress, the image seared into his mind. He absently felt for the vice grip that clenched around his throat...

...while his other paw massaged his bulging sheath.

To Be Continued