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A Flame Uncovered

The mad rush of air snapped and snagged at the young man's coarse hair, and at his earth-stained clothes he wished he had changed at the last town. He briefly attempted a recall, but the town's name had tumbled from his head as readily as the loose hairs caught in the teeth of air resistance. The taste of fur became the rite and ritual of riding such a creature, although 'creature' didn't seem appropriate anymore, not after some miracle blessed his friend and everyday travel partner with speech. Perhaps it was no fire stone, the souvenir that had belonged to his uncle. The memory of its heart's fiery glow burned in his own mind—how it presaged the warm, orange pelt he now straddled. It must have been some miracle stone, instead. Its purpose? To grant him a childhood wish.

“Gaar." Two taps and his mount's name and the graceful flight slowed to a trot.

“Here, Faron?" The question came more as a growl of disapproval between soft panting.

“Yes, here." Faron stroked the shaggy mane, its beige coloring offset by the blaze that comprised the rest of his fur, knowing his touch would conciliate the beast. Sandbars of jagged black stripes gave his eyes a place of rest from the sea of brilliant orange. Faron traced a hand over one stripe as he slipped off, the feeling of Gaar's firm muscles reminding him of the sheer power lying beneath the luxury of his fur. He could never tire of the dual feeling. Strength and comfort.

Gaar arced his head around, leaving a trail of wetness on his rider's face from a few forgiving licks. “That is fine," he said, his mane tussling about as he regarded the heavens, “but we abandon another hour or two of travel stopping now. The sky's fire still burns bright."

Faron patted the side of his Arcanine. Joy surged as he recalled finding him as a tiny, emaciated Growlithe pup in the grasslands of Kanto, and how he had grown—evolved—into the strong form he now took, able to nearly fly across whole regions within a day if he wanted. The inviting chatter of a slow-moving river behind the smokescreen of foliage reminded him of the reason for the stop.

“Get a drink, then some rest," the young man said, shucking his traveler's bag to dig for something, anything that would reverse the taste and feel of dry mouth. Before the big canine could protest: “I know we could have gone for longer, but I…" His brow furrowed as he unveiled a protein bar from its wrapper, his teeth sinking into its chewiness. Sitrus-berry flavoring burst in his mouth, and he could feel saliva flowing again.

“But you what?" A hind paw flew at an ear to tackle an itch.

“I worry about you. We've been wandering for weeks now…and I'm worried that this…this adventure I dragged you in is taking its toll."

“You wanted this spiritual journey, and I'm here to see you to its end." Gaar spoke in a slow, measured tone, his deep voice nearly rattling the nearby leaves off their stems. “Just because I now take this form, it does not mean I have forgotten your kindness that saved me from the weakling pup that invaded my infancy."

Faron could tell by the way his diamond-shaped ears flattened back that his companion was a little hurt he would suggest any frailty in the legendary form he now took—perhaps Gaar never outgrew the weakness of his puppyhood when he hadn't seen a meal for days, obviously too small and too young to forage for food. That frailty only took on a new form, just as that young Growlithe did when the fire stone ignited a new strength from within. That frailty simply nestled as a lonesome worry in the back of the Arcanine's mind—a reminder of his humble start, that mewling infant he could almost devolve to if he were to drop his guard.

“You've been having nightmares, Gaar. You kick frantically at night, you howl like you're in pain, you've even urinated—"

“You promised never to bring that up," Gaar snapped, exposing more of his pointed teeth momentarily before he caught his anger—sheathing dual swords.

“I know…but it's something we shouldn't ignore." Gaar trotted off, the straightness of his billowing tail betraying the growing flame of irritation within. “Where you going?"

“As you commanded, for water. Mustn't disappoint the master tonight when I urinate myself."

No reasoning at this point, Faron knew—like trying to convince a Meowth to cough over its koban. He sunk his teeth into the last of his moderately satisfying protein bar before joining the angry fluffball whose head dipped towards the cattail-lined river to drink, his raised tail showing off his plump, black balls and large sheath. Of course, Gaar's genitalia weren't a bother despite his intelligence and ability to converse—Faron had raised him as a pup, after all. He'd seen it all. And it wasn't like the Arcanine hadn't seen the human naked, either. Faron had beaten off in front of him plenty of times, as naturally as eating a meal or answering the call of nature in each other's presence…but that made Faron wonder as he set the bag down next to the river and shucked his clothes on top of it, revealing a trim, muscular build from years of outdoor activities growing up with a Growlithe. He waded into the slow, cool water for a bath, avoiding the few worn stones adorning the otherwise soft river-bottom. Glancing back at Gaar, who was making a point to avoid all eye contact as he sniffed at a spot beneath a shade tree where he could curl for rest, Faron wondered if his companion had ever seen…_release—_had ever absconded for a mate to plow or… The thought brought a grin to his face: Could canines masturbate? All he'd ever seen of his internal genitalia was a spot of red shaft that emerged while Gaar slept on his back, the knot bulging against his sheath. Morning wood: Arcanine edition. Faron shook the thought of his travel partner's private bits, dipping into the deepest section of the river to cleanse himself of debris and the clinging stench of the outdoors, rubbing himself clean, including his own genitals that hung thickly in the water.

A bark sent the small hairs on the back of his neck and arms standing at attention, and the river burst as if a boulder had fallen from the sky into the once-calm water. Gaar stood, nearly drenched from his plunge, flashing a warning as he unveiled more teeth in a snarl. A brief surge of adrenaline warned Faron that his companion was more upset than he thought, until a large brown-and-cream-colored body surfaced in the water, a set of black triangular patterns nestled against the furious eyes glaring back at them.

“A Floatzel?"

“To shore!" Gaar barked. At first, Faron thought his Arcanine was addressing the weasel-looking thing whose yellow flotation sac bloated up, pulling it to the surface. But the command, he realized, was meant for him to get to safety. Dumbly, the human waded around as if caught in a river of glue instead. Confusion drowned reason until a slap of water knocked the wind out of him—and sense into his mind: the Floatzel had attacked!

But why? Faron sucked in air and scrounged for the riverbank as he made sense of what was happening, the sting of the water gun attack hoisting a gnawing redness from his skin. Floatzels were known for rescuing people from drowning, not attacking them for taking a dip in some river! Spinning around, he watched as Gaar pounced, hit home, sunk teeth into an arm, released blood that ran like thin Horsea ink.

A snarl and an explosion of water sent Gaar sprawling into the river. He heaved and fought for breath, the Floatzel spraying another angry, disorienting jet. Gaar choked, his paws unable to find purchase on the slippery riverbed. Vision soaked into blindness, a helpless yelp escaping his lungs.

“Gaar, get out of there! He's a water type. You'll die!"

A large stone near the traveler's bag found its way into a hand, then to the side of the Floatzel's head with a thwack, offering a brief enough pause from the assaulting cataract for Gaar to send his larger body slamming against the smaller one—but the blow knocked the Floatzel towards Faron. Worry blew Gaar's eyes wide as he watched the distance close between their assailant and the naked, confounded human.

Without hesitation, a pillar of flame burst from Gaar's gaping mouth. The Floatzel slipped into the water, the blaze roaring past just overhead, striking shore instead of flesh. But the Floatzel seemed to understand that his luck now ran thin as the blood still seeping from his arm. Deflating the flotation sac, it dove deep into the river, and fled downstream.

“Are you hurt, Faron?" Gaar, now a wet, panting mess, slipped onto the riverbank to check on the naked human clutching himself.

“Yes, but you're drenched!" Faron rushed over, helping guide the exhausted Arcanine inland. Gaar's eyes narrowed with concern at the red, inflamed skin along Faron's chest and stomach. “Water types will kill you!"

“That is fine as long as you are unharmed, although I see I have failed in that regard." The Arcanine collapsed onto his original spot beneath the shade tree, lying on his side. A breath escaped. The canine trembled and shook and gave off the dank, earthy smell of wet fur.

“No, don't say that," Faron said, rubbing at the stinging sensation that prickled his skin. “I'm fine, really."

“Good." Gaar offered a weak smile. “I'd hate to have you…waste one now—but maybe I can sleep this off…."

“A potion?"

A nod prompted Faron to glance at the remnants of the bag on the riverbank. Nothing but a smoldering charred mess, including the clothes he had set on top. The smell of burning leather and cotton wafted over, intermingling with the dank scents of wet Arcanine. Rummaging through the remains was a fruitless endeavor. Almost everything was destroyed: his extra clothes, the spare potion, the questionable food, the crinkled map, the sleeping bag, and various trinkets and baubles collected along the way—mementos of their adventure. Some outdoor cookware survived the blaze, as well as, miraculously, a small pillow stuffed in the pot, and his shoes he kept to the side.

“Sorry, Gaar. We're…uh…out."

Gaar lifted his head momentarily and saw the predicament he had created. When Faron returned empty-handed, the Arcanine lamented: “I bungled again, didn't I? I'm still the tiny useless pup from before." Faron dropped a hand to Gaar's head, stroking him softly, moisture staining his fingers and palms. Gaar turned his head away, ashamed. “Even in this form, I'm still a head smaller than all the other Arcanines we've met. I'm nothing but a runt."

“Quiet now, Gaar. Rest. You are my pup. Always. Don't worry about such things."

“But I can't even defeat a simple Float—"

“No fretting. I'm gonna search for some oran berries. I think I saw some growing several yards back. Rest."

Despite only having a pair of shoes to prevent complete nakedness, he trekked back to the route path and followed it down until he reached a stand of oran berry trees nestled within a curved bank by the river, the deep-blue fruit hanging tauntingly within his grasp. A few lay scattered within the dripline of the stand, some squashed or eaten away by bug types. Faron plucked off an armful and returned as the sun began to stain the sky a mixture of oranges and reds: warning colors that prompted urgency.

As he returned, a disarray of Pidgeys located their nests with their narrow, brown eyes. In the distance, a lone Murkrow with its feathery witch's hat tugged at the few strings inside Faron's heart that believed in superstition. Dripping with warning, he recalled his mother's touch, her dark hair draping over him from a hug one late evening. Punishment waited for him for sure, he thought, having stayed up so late at a friend's house feeding friendly Caterpies Vermilion flowers. On his way home, a lone Murkrow hovered overhead, its red eyes gazing down—watching without a sound. When he told his mother about it, she embraced him close, tears threatening to flee. She bolted the door and set a good dinner for him. Faron insisted to know what was so wrong before she finally sat him down and mentioned the uncle he had never met.

“What happened to him?" Noodles dabbed Faron's chin with savory broth.

“He had an adventurous spirit. Would leave for days and sometimes weeks to explore the world. Sometimes without a word. Your grandma and I—oh, such worrywarts we were." Tears again, brimming atop the bottom eyelid. “The day he returned from his latest trip to the Roof of Fiore, he spoke of a lone Murkrow that followed him through the Sekra Range, and the ominous chill it sent through his bones." A tear escaped, etching a trail over one cheek. “I told him not to do these things, not to travel far. But of course, just a few months later…another trip."

His utensil gave a quiet clink as he set it down in the bowl. “And…he never came back."

Faron adjusted his hold on the oran berries, the memory stinging clear as he gazed at the Murkrow still overhead. “Gaar will be okay," he whispered, dropping his sight and refusing to glance back up. The Arcanine had fallen asleep sometime in the hour he was gone. Batting away the thought of waking him to offer up an oran berry, he set them in a pile nearby and decided that a good night's sleep would be most beneficial. He debated gathering wood for a fire but relying on Gaar's incendiary abilities all this time had spoiled him from learning the use of flint and steel, and he had to unsummon yet again the thought of disturbing the convalescence of sleep.

The night's chill eventually bore down as he sat quietly, alone with his thoughts, the constant river-hum filling the otherwise quietude of the dark. Was there some connection between the portent of a lone Murkrow and the disappearance of his uncle? No body had ever been found, no trace. Faron often wondered if the man had simply decided to live his dream for good, wandering the entire world for eternity, more spirit than man.

“But that is unlikely," Faron muttered, watching as the sleeping mass breathed next to him from under the graceful light of the waning moon. He shivered—in part from the cold, his bare human skin ill-equipped to handle the trickling temperature outside, but in part from the thought that burgeoned in his mind like a creeping frost. Tomorrow, when the morning light pulled him from sleep, would he wake to find an empty spot next to him? Nothing but splayed grass, an impression of what once existed, Gaar having dissipated into a loose string of memories?

But the first memory gave Faron hope.

The day after the Murkrow sighting, his childhood adventures brought him to some secluded corner of Kanto, a tiny whimper drawing Faron's attention as he skipped about. In the grass: the smallest Growlithe pup he had ever seen…and no mother in sight. Faron remembered the feel of a gelid mote in his own small palms while ambling back home, much to the discontent of his mother who worried about another mouth to feed.

“Cue the montage of growing up with you," Faron whispered, both the chill and memory drawing him close to the canine, his hand navigating for Gaar's head. Darkness had swept away the aroma of wet fur, leaving tufts of softness that delivered a smile. Perhaps his mother was wrong about everything. Perhaps the Murkrow augured a new friendship. Perhaps the one he saw today meant something good may happen—and this fortune would reveal itself during this adventure the Arcanine, so loyal and vigilant, agreed to share in.

“Oh, Gaar," he said, crawling in slowly to spoon against him…careful not to rouse the canine that radiated such heat. Faron's body curled and settled into the crevice of legs, fur tickling the bare skin of his back and rear. His head found its way between strong forelegs, and his own legs curled along Gaar's hind ones. Warmth soon engulfed him, and despite the discomfort of the cold earth underneath, the prickle of grass on his side, he drifted quickly to the comfort of his internal darkness.

* * *

Immaculate. The only word that fit. A soft glow emanated from everywhere, as if light had billowy arms that pulled everybody close, begetting a sense of infinite safety. Faron felt such warmth, as if his body had some spiritual connection to the wild flames that coruscated deep within the majestic creature. Somehow, he knew they'd been searching for hours within some ancient ruins. Time had its cruelty and its mischief, hiding away secrets and treasures somewhere beneath the dust and crumbled stone that betrayed the place's age—centuries of disuse.

The endeavor was fruitless.

But was it?

Riches beyond measure still lie undiscovered. Forbidden knowledge remained unlearned, its secrets meandering through the ghostly conversations of the past. Smashed artifacts and petrified tools warned of an impending floccinaucinihilipilification, although their lack of value was self-evident, as was the voyage here.

“Do you even know what that word means?" The Arcanine could read his mind—the link to his fire allowed that.

“Such a curious word. I spent months as a child taming it, just as I did with you." Skin touched fur, the beautiful mane.

“I believe the natural order of things allowed for our trust to grow organically. The so-called 'taming' you've accomplished beckons to the spark between new acquaintances as their relationship ignites, over time, into a true friendship."

“'Things?'"

“The nature of Growlithe, I suppose, and their intergenerational tie with humans—the years have fed the desire to watch and to protect, to ward off enemies with our warning barks. The mysterious capacity of love, as well, to birth harmony and comfort, to teach the silent language that two beings tied together, as we are now, can speak, as effortlessly as a stray ember sparking a conflagration that overwhelms everything, utterly and completely—the natural order of things."

The Arcanine's eyes swirled with flames caught in the twisting grip of a whirlwind. Relaxation overtook the human's body.

“We found nothing here. Our journey was for nothing."

“No, Faron." He spoke his name as if it were the first time he'd ever said it, with all the power and sense of wonder and history that came with it—waiting for discovery. “We found everything."

A pain slipped inside him, and the warmth and glow seemed to swirl like the flame in Gaar's eyes. His mind became dizzy. He reached out, to grasp at fur, at a paw, at anything that would offer more comfort. He became lost in a vortex as a soft discomfort prodded his insides.

“Gaar?" No response. More gentle pain. “Gaar?"

Again, something wet and spindly slipped into him. Faron gasped awake to the sound of soft panting and the realization that strong paws had pulled him close to a furry body—Gaar's body. Light spilled warmth over them. Faron gasped again as a few quick thrusts sent a long and bony protuberance probing at his insides, sending a strange spasm through him that was not quite pain, not quite pleasure—that uncertainty of in-between. His sleep-addled mind finally realized what was happening.

“Gaar, stop," Faron whispered as if afraid to wake the inhabitants in the trees. Gaar's paws rebuffed any attempts at freedom, pulling Faron in so tight his claws threatened to puncture skin. The Arcanine panted, thrusting at Faron's backside frantically, slipping in and out, in and out, large, furry balls slapping against the human's exposed rump. The spindly organ began to thicken, stretching him wider. Hands grasped at fur. Teeth provided some comfort by clutching at Faron's lower lip. “What are you doing, stop!" But the Arcanine continued his mad thrusts, not listening. Faron attempted to steal a glance of his face, to gauge what the hell his childhood friend was thinking, until a few whimpers tumbled from Gaar's maw, a sound he would never mutter knowingly.

Gaar was asleep.

A groan burst from Faron's lips unexpectedly, and he arched his back as the Arcanine prodded his insides almost furiously, touching him in places that somehow felt so good…and not so good all at once. But Faron's body betrayed him—his arousal growing and growing. Faron cursed loudly, unable to contain the pleasure of a hardening canine thrusting inside him so frantically, with such want even in dream. Brown eyes navigating the bits of light to his member, another curse and a string of saliva flung from his mouth. His heavy erection, so hard and long, beat against the ground in tandem with Gaar's thrusts. The Arcanine stretched the human wider and wider, his hard, red dick spurting watery pre-fluid, some seeping out and trailing over the curve of Faron's backside to dampen the grass below. Sex smells radiated like the heat between them. Dawn approached curiously.

Faron gave in.

He touched himself.

“Keep going," he breathed, two words followed by a rumbling groan. His hand, wet and ready with saliva, found its favorite position around his member: palm down, thumb in. Sparks of pleasure made his maleness jump as he stroked the plump head, fingers stimulating the underside of his shaft. The pleasure Gaar made him feel…he realized he wanted all of him. He wanted his Arcanine deep inside—and the thought made his own dick hard. Harder than it had ever felt.

Faron beat himself off nice and fast. When he felt a mass of flesh distend at the base of Gaar's member, he knew he needed to feel it growing within him. Gaining as much leverage as he could as those broad paws held him close, he pressed himself further along Gaar's long member, the ballooning knot soon swallowed tight by the ring of muscle in Faron's backside, inviting a harsh sigh. Another lustful breath popped from his lungs. Arcanine's hips bucked in short, quick bursts, his knot tugging and pressing Faron in such strange-feeling ways that he couldn't stop the moans of pleasure from disturbing the bird types perched in their trees.

Gaar whined and let out deep, labored breaths, his eyes fluttering open. “What is…what is happening?"

“Keep going, Gaar."

Gaar jerked, startled. He attempted to lift himself up, his dick, fully knotted deep in the human he trusted, unable to free itself. Faron gave a soft cry, but the feeling made Gaar thrust back in, as if from instinct. His hips bucked again, and again. The slick, veiny organ, the fat knot: all pressed against parts deep inside Faron, sending twitches and spasms through his own dick. He moaned—never knew such stimulation existed. Pre-cum leaked. Faron's large balls, which joggled about from all the frantic thrusting and the hand beating off his thick, long malehood with rapid strokes—they pulled in.

He was close. And the Arcanine…

“Faron…I'm going to…" Tongue slipped out. Forepaws pulled the human in so tightly against his body, Gaar worried he might suffocate him. But the human let out a series of cries, and the smell of Faron's cum splattering the grass in long, sticky jets sent Gaar's nose into a fury—the smell of the human, his human during their mating, it sent him over the edge. His hips gave one final thrust, his large balls slapping against skin as his body spasmed and spasmed. Stars exploded into view. Pleasurable grunts and groans—some his, some Faron's—woke everything nearby. Cum filled the human's insides in powerful bursts, the orgasm of the moment making Gaar's head swim, made every ache from yesterday's battle disappear. Panting hard, he dipped his head down closer to an ear, whispered Faron's name so lovingly, so longingly as his dick continued to spasm, cum starting to leak out, leaving milky trails along the smooth, curved skin of his rear. Faron lifted a hand to his own belly, which seemed to bulge, he could swear, from everything the Arcanine had pumped inside him. Gaar let out a huff. The spasms, now decreasing in frequency, felt so good. Tying together with the only being he ever loved—this…this was bliss.

Moments ebbed by until the pleasurable spasms subsided, although his knot kept the two held together as one. Eventually, Faron gave a laugh. “Never thought I'd see the day where I'd get tackled by you legendary types, Gaar, although we should find a more comfortable position next time." He then groaned, unashamed, rubbing at his chest first, before his hand traveled down to his backside, stretching his cheeks wide to test the strength of Gaar's knot—the tie. “Gonna cramp, here! Seriously, no more side positions." When Gaar offered no response save for steady breaths and a thumping heart, Faron clutched at one of his paws. “You all right?"

“Faron," the Arcanine started, “what ever did you hope to find during our travels?"

This seemed to give Faron pause.

Gaar realized the awkwardness of such a question considering the awkwardness of the position they were now in—the fact that they had mated. Faron, a human, and Gaar…

A thoughtful sigh tumbled from Faron's lips. “Like I've said…to discover myself by discovering the world. Growing up, not knowing my uncle—just knowing of him—made me feel like a piece was missing. Perhaps following in his footsteps, much to my mother's dismay, would help me to understand what he was always searching for. His adventures never seemed enough. Wanderlust snagged at every waking thought whenever he would return. He experienced the world, Gaar—explored ruins, discovered cultures, touched strange geological formations and rare man-made artifacts that spoke of history. He saw all sorts of things that few ever get to see."

“But he never found the unnameable thing he sought."

“No." Faron adjusted an arm, tugging on the knot still buried in him and forcing a grunt and a few libidinous pants from the Arcanine. “He brought home souvenirs galore—I was handed down the fire stone that brought you to this form." Faron grinned. “The one I'm enjoying in new ways right now."

“I know," Gaar said, sidestepping the revelation that the human…lusted for him. Without the fire stone, none of this would have ever happened. “You've told me."

“You're right, though." Another adjustment. Another tug at the fat knot. Another Arcanine grunt. “He never found whatever it was that tugged at his spirit day by day, that forced him into this never-ending quest to explore the world…until he never came home, if one who was more away than back could ever truly have a home."

Gaar grew aware of the humming river nearby. The aches from yesterday's battle seemed to return. He felt his malehood subsiding slowly but wasn't ready to part ways with this feeling, united with the human he had always known. He nuzzled the top of Faron's head. “Do you think you will ever discover yourself by the end of this journey?"

Faron closed his eyes. Gaar's malehood softened, slowly slipping out with a wet sound, the hole he once sealed now exuding cum. Both human and Arcanine stood, stretching out the kinks that had formed from their oddly positioned mating. The air smelled of fresh morning and sex. After giving a good, rump-raising stretch, Gaar padded over to nuzzle Faron affectionately. His tongue lapped at the human's cheek and pursed lips. Gaar's tail thrashed about in adoration. He lapped some more.

Faron smiled, catching his breath once the Arcanine offered him mercy. “My, aren't you affectionate suddenly. How are you feeling from yesterday's encounter?"

“You never answered the question." Another lick.

Faron smiled, letting a hand drift to the side of Gaar's face. “I dreamed of you—of us. It now makes sense." Eyes shut again momentarily. “Perhaps our true selves are not discovered at the journey's end, Gaar." His hand wound around a diamond ear, scratching there. The Arcanine smiled, as much of a smile an Arcanine could give. Faron kissed the top of his head—a rare gesture these days now that Gaar had evolved from the small Growlithe he once was when such kisses were common. “Perhaps that is found during the journey, with those we trust most."

Gaar said nothing, although the softness of his eyes said plenty.

Later, Faron decided to chance the frigid river to wash away the mess of their mating. The cold water sent his skin into goosebumps, but he acclimated. The red skin from yesterday's attack had nearly faded, the pain gone. Nearby, the Arcanine sat and watched, despite how his body ached, although the few oran berries he snarfed down eased some of these aches, their sweet juice still lingering in his mouth. But right now, he was on alert. Ears picked up for odd sounds. Eyes scrutinized each disturbance in the water. A black nose searched the air for the heady incense of danger. Inside him, he felt the flame burning hotter, as if a new flame had joined him, feeding him strength—a new purpose: or, perhaps, the realization that he knew his purpose already but never the courage to admit it, to exercise its discovery, unveiling itself day by day having survived his beginnings as a tiny pup—near death and useless.

Ever vigilant, he kept watch as Faron finished his cleansing routine. When the human—his human—stepped out of the water, his genitalia still hanging low and heavy despite the cold, his tongue couldn't help but loll out at the wonder of a new discovery, of raising his tail for the one being he could ever trust, that he ever wanted to be with—until his journey's end.