Moving to Alola was one of the best decisions Grimsley had ever made. Now that he didn't have to worry about supporting his family anymore, he was free to pursue his own passions, which just so happened to be Mantine Surfing off the coasts of Ula'Ula Island. It was actually quite the refreshing change of pace from the dreary, dimly lit dungeon he had had to stay cooped up inside day in and day out in Unova so that trainers could come challenge him... It was quite literally a breath of fresh air.
On the other hand, he had different concerns here that didn't exit back home, such as the rampant gangsters who terrorized the islands of Alola. Up until now, he had managed to avoid their interference, but that came to an end when a group of them managed to snatch his Mantine right out from under his nose. He chased them all the way to some rickety old mansion that they disappeared into. He was cautious entering the house, grimacing at the state of disarray just on the first floor alone. It was littered with old junk and spray paint tags all over the floors and walls.
It was clear that this "Team Skull" had been squatting here for a while—and no one seemed to bat an eyelash at it all. It was sad, really.
Despite his weary skulking through the mansion, he was ambushed before he could make it to the top floor, forcing his hand into battle. He clicked his tongue as he found himself surrounded by four of these delinquents.
"You know, I don't particularly like being forced into situations like this," he drawled as he retrieved a pokeball from his yukata. "My pokemon deserve better than to have their talents wasted on the likes of you all."
They spat back some sharp-tongued quips, but before they could start the battle, a large door in front of them swung open. All eyes turned toward the bulking figure who stepped out, revealing himself to be none other than the gang boss himself—Guzma. Narrowing his eyes, Grimsley straightened his back as he regarded the man.
"What's all this fuckin' ruckus— Hah?!" Guzma's eyes landed on Grimsley, lip curling as if displeased to see him there. "What the hell's this guy doin' in our base?"
"He followed us here, Boss, but we nabbed his Mantine fair 'n square!" one of the grunts replied. Grimsley couldn't help but roll his eyes at the hypocrisy.
Guzma, none too impressed with his subordinate's confession, stalked forward and snatched the stolen pokeball out of their hands. He walked right up to Grimsley and, when he straightened up from his slouch, he was nearly as tall as Grimsley himself. Guzma pushed the pokeball into his chest, forcing him to scramble to catch it before it fell to the floor.
"There's your pokemon. Now scram," Guzma ordered. Grimsley scoffed.
"Are you being quite serious right now? Your goons here robbed me in broad daylight and you expect me to just walk away without recompense? You must be joking."
Guzma sneered at him.
"Look, guy, these morons ain't my 'goons' no more," he said. "Team Skull ain't been a thing for months."
Then, he whirled around to address the people around them.
"So what the actual fuck do y'all think you're doin'?!" he yelled. "I ain't your boss no more, we ain't a team no more, an' we sure as fuck ain't stealin people's pokemon no more."
The former gang members looked around at each other sheepishly before one of them offered a meek response.
"We just don't got nowhere else to be," they admitted. "Ya broke us up, but a lot of us can't find jobs or nothin' 'round here no more. Nobody wants to hire us—"
"Well, maybe that's 'cause you're all still runnin' 'round here like fuckin' good-for-nothin's an' everyone can see ya haven't changed." Heaving a put-upon sigh, Guzma put his hands on his hips and glowered at each one of them in turn. "Listen here. Plumeria's got a place on Akala Island. Y'all can go there to get cleaned up an' make somethin' of yourselves. Don't let me catch none of ya chewin' up my turf again, got it?!"
"Yes, Boss!"
"Thanks, Boss!"
"You're the best, Boss!"
The four of them rushed back down the stairs to fulfill Guzma's order. Grimsley watched them leave with a hint of intrigue. In spite of Guzma's brash attitude toward them, they were clearly still very loyal. For what reason, Grimsley couldn't begin to imagine, but Guzma must have had something going for him if he could command the respect of a whole gang of hooligans like those.
He watched as Guzma sighed again, more quietly this time, and his shoulders slumped, dragging a hand across his face.
"They wasn't s'posed to be out there doin' stuff like that no more," Guzma said. "Like I said, Team Skull is done. Ya got your pokemon back now, so what're ya still doin' here?"
He looked over his shoulder to pin Grimsley with a half-hearted scowl. Grimsley hummed, glancing down at the pokeball in his hand. He shrank it down to fit back inside his yukata before looking at Guzma again.
"That's a good question. Here's a better one: what are you still doing here?" he asked. Guzma's eyes widened as he turned around to face Grimsley properly. His mouth opened as if to spit out some knee-jerk insult, but Grimsley continued before he could. "You say your team has been disbanded, yet you're still hanging out in a place like this? It's hardly what I'd call cozy."
He kicked aside a stray piece of ripped-up cardboard next to his shoe.
"What's it to ya, huh? I go wherever I goddamn please, so how 'bout ya mind your own business?" Guzma shot back.
"I would but..." Grimsley tapped his chin, turning a slow smile on Guzma. "I'm willing to bet there's more to the story than you're letting on. Am I right?"
He watched the way Guzma's jaw tightened, his shoulders tensing up.
"Ya better watch your mouth, prick. Get lost before I—"
"Before you what?" Grimsley chuckled and shook his head. "You aren't going to do anything to me, Guzma. It's obvious you don't have it in you anymore."
Guzma lunged forward then and had his hand around Grimsley's throat in the blink of an eye. The former Elite Four member remained unfazed, still smirking down at his would-be assailant. This was like prodding a lion through its case.
"Ya wanna bet on that?" Guzma growled. Grimsley's smile widened.
"Oh, I must admit, I do love a good wager," he purred, none too subtly arching his back when Guzma's hand tightened around his throat. "So what'll it be? Are you going to edge me on forever, or are we going to have some fun?"
Another thing Grimsley discovered about himself since moving to Alola? He was insatiably horny.
All. The. Time.
Watching the red fill in ever inch of Guzma's face was unique satisfying. Grimsley felt his fingers loosen, a hint of worry bubbling up in his chest at the thought that perhaps he had pushed a little too far a little too quickly, but Guzma surprised him when he redoubled his grip and pushed him backward. He bullied Grimsley up against the nearest wall, the glare in his eyes glossed over with a different kind of fire now.
"So that's what you're after, huh? Ya some kinda whore or somethin'?" he asked with every intention of inflicting shame, but Grimsley only chuckled.
"Or something..."
He felt himself gasp quietly when Guzma's hand pressed tight against his throat, just slightly cutting off his air.
"You're a li'l old, but..." Guzma's eyes trailed down his body and back up, making a point of taking his time to consider. When his eyes met Grimsley's again, he smirked. "Game is game."
"I'll try my best to take that as a compliment— Ah!"
Grimsley was cut off by the shocking sensation of a cold hand slipping under the fabric of his yukata and spreading across his exposed chest. He leaned back against the wall, shuddering out a sigh as he felt calloused fingers brush over his nipple, already perking up at the attention. Guzma pinched it and twisted, giving it a brisk flick just to watch the way Grimsley bit down on his lip.
"You're kinda a freak, ain't ya?" Guzma taunted as his hand travelled farther down, working open the rest of Grimsley's yukata along the way. "Gettin' off to the thought of some lowlife thug raw doggin' ya in a filthy place like this... Pathetic."
Grimsley was starting to feel a bit warm himself now, Guzma's words sending trickles of pleasure straight down to his groin. He couldn't deny that they were true. Lately, his own fantasies had been getting out of hand. It was only a matter of time before he went looking for a thrill.
"And here you are, leaping at the opportunity for some tail that practically delivered itself to your doorstep," he retorted. "What's the matter, Guzma? Having trouble finding someone willing to suck your—"
In a dizzying blur of motion, Guzma pushed Grimsley to his knees in front of him, hand threaded in his hair to make him look up at his slightly irked expression from the floor.
"You were sayin'?" he drawled. He moved his free hand to work open the fly of his pants, but that was where he stopped. "Why don't ya be a good boy an' give me a real reason to wanna fuck ya?"
The hand in his hair gave his head a pat, urging him to lean closer to the growing bulge in Guzma's pants. Well, if Grimsley ever deserved to eat his words, now was certainly the time. He still wasn't daunted, though, so he ran his hands up the sides of Guzma's legs until he reached his fly, pulling it open the rest of the way and tugging down his pants to reveal the boxers underneath. He could tell by the outline behind the cloth that Guzma was rather well-endowed, and he licked his lips at the thought of eventually having that length inside him.
Grimsley was a man of patience, however. He wasn't so desperate as to rip off Guzma's clothes and start going at it like a man possessed; no, he had more tact than that. He leaned closer, letting his hot breath fan over Guzma's still clothed groin and relishing the slight twitch of interest he received in response. He fit his mouth over where the tip was beginning to protrude from the fabric. Pressing his tongue flat against it, he felt Guzma's hand tighten in his hair, a shaky sigh of pleasure coming from above.
With just a little bit of light sucking and gratuitous laving of his tongue, Grimsley brought him to full mast in no time at all. It was only then that he reached up to pull down Guzma's boxers as well, revealing what he was truly packing underneath. Grimsley's mouth was back on him in a flash, licking up the side of his length until he could close his lips around the tip once more and suck properly this time. Guzma groaned, hips swaying forward into the sensation ever so slightly. Grimsley didn't stop him, gradually taking more and more into his mouth until his nose was pressed against the patch of surprisingly fresh-smelling hair at his pelvis.
His eyes followed the line of Guzma's happy trail up until he met the other's gaze again, half-lidded and hazy with lust. Guzma's lips were parted as he tried to mitigate his reactions to Grimsley's experience and skill, but that simply wouldn't do. Grimsley stayed there for several seconds, holding Guzma's gaze as he felt the pre-cum from the tip sliding down the back of his throat, and then, finally, he hollowed out his checks as he pulled back. His tongue traced the veins on the member in his mouth as he found a slow, purposeful rhythm, pausing every so often to pay special attention to the leaking head.
Guzma's grip on his hair was starting to ache, but Grimsley didn't mind one bit. It was clear when Guzma was getting close when he started guiding Grimsley's head back and forth, more or less fucking his mouth now as his pace quickened. Spit began to dribble out of the corners of Grimsley's mouth, sticking to the balls that bumped against his chin with every forward thrust. His hands rested on Guzma's thighs as he let his mouth be used like a toy made for someone else's pleasure. The thought alone made his own cock twitch where it was still trapped inside his yukata, but he didn't dare touch it. He preferred to save his own pleasure for the main event.
Without warning, Guzma pushed his hips all the way forward and held Grimsley's head in place, his dick pressing against the back of his throat. Grimsley felt it throb against his tongue just before a gush of cum shot down his throat, forcing him to swallow it all. He squeezed his eyes shut as he tried not to choke, gripping Guzma's thighs harder—but not pushing them away. He took it all with gusto, massaging Guzma's cock with the motion of his swallowing until he was finished.
He stayed like that for a moment longer, simply catching his breath as Grimsley obediently remained sheathed on his softening member. He pulled it out slowly, stuttering out a surprised moan when Grimsley hollowed his cheeks again on the way out to make sure he sucked up every last drop. Guzma was leaning with one hand against the wall behind Grimsley, face still flushed from a damn near perfect blowjob. Grimsley lifted a hand to wipe his mouth on the back of his sleeve, glancing back up at Guzma as his tongue flicked out across his lips.
"Was I convincing enough for you?" he asked, his voice notably more hoarse than before.
Guzma breathed out a heady "fuck" just before reaching down to grab Grimsley by the collar of his yukata and drag him back to his unsteady feet. Guzma spun him around to press his chest against the wall, hands fumbling around his waist to unfasten the sash that kept his yukata closed. Grimsley kindly helped him with the task, the fabric falling loosely around him and exposing his whole body to the cool air inside the abandoned house. Behind him, Guzma dropped down to his knees, pushing up the hem of the yukata until Grimsley could gather it in his hands and hold the bunched fabric out of the way.
Large, strong hands planted themselves on his ass, thumbs spreading him apart so that Guzma had a full view of his puckered asshole. Grimsley couldn't see much, so the anticipation only continued to build inside him until he felt a hot puff of air fan over his sensitive skin. It was immediately followed by a warm, wet tongue prodding at his entrance, and Grimsley could only moan as he felt Guzma lick his way inside him.
He had never been rimmed before, so every sensation was new and exciting. It was always just lube and fingers, something he was more than familiar with from his own experimentation, but this was on another level. The way he could feel Guzma's lips against him, his tongue pushing deeper and pulling back out to wet his hole—it could almost be intimate, if not for the fact that they hardly knew anything about each other and Grimsley wouldn't be caught dead consorting with someone like Guzma out in public.
That was what made it all so damn hot, though, wasn't it? After this, they would go on about their lives never knowing more about one another than the shape of each other's bodies. Although, depending on how good of a lay Guzma turned out to be, Grimsley could be convinced to come back for seconds...
Eventually Guzma introduced a finger while he kept Grimsley relaxed with his tongue around the rim. Then, a second finger, and a third, until Grimsley's knees were shaking from the way Guzma crooked them inside him and brushed right up against that spot that had him dripping from the tip of his erection that dangled between his legs. He still refrained from touching himself, knowing fully well that he may not even need to by the end of this.
Once Guzma had had his fill of teasing Grimsley right to the edge, he finally withdrew his fingers and stood up again. Grimsley was nearly prone against the wall now, hips jutted out and back arched at a fine angle. Guzma didn't hesitate to take advantage of this, gripping at his hips to pull them back against his own. Grimsley could feel the thick length rutting up in between his cheeks, the tip catching on his hole once or twice before Guzma finally, finally guided it inside him.
Grimsley's mouth fell open with a moan. Every inch that slid inside him was heavenly—Guzma didn't bother to stop and give him time to adjust at any point; he just kept feeding it in until he was fully sheathed inside, their hips coming flush together. Guzma draped himself over Grimsley's back, teeth resting on his shoulder as they both took their time to relish the feeling. This, time, though, it was Grimsley's turn to be impatient.
"Move," he breathed out on a hoarse whisper.
He felt Guzma's cock twitch inside him just before he complied, withdrawing his hips just about halfway before drilling forward again, punching the air right out of Grimsley's lungs. His hands scrambled for purchase against the wall as he fought to keep himself upright against Guzma's ruthless thrusts. The sound of skin slapping against skin, their haggard breaths and moans, Grimsley's cock bouncing back and forth between his legs with every thrust—everything made his body that much hotter, his head lighter. This was the first time Grimsley had deigned to let himself be taken in such an uncouth manner, and, after today, Grimsley vowed that it certainly wouldn't be the last.
It dawned on him then, as well, that the two of them were going at it like animals in the middle of a hallway. A hallway inside of an abandoned, dilapidated mansion, yes, but a hallway nonetheless, with no doors to lock or blankets to hide under. The far end of the hallway was framed by a large window, and though it was boarded up with a dingy sheet hanging over half of it, Grimsley found himself imagining the thrill he would feel if he were being fucked up against the glass panes instead of this cracked wall with paint peeling off of it.
It wouldn't happen this time, not when they were both already so close, but Grimsley could fantasise. Oh, could he fantasise.
As Guzma's pace quickened, he reached around Grimsley's body to wrap a hand around his throat again, pulling him up against his chest as he continued to pound into Grimsley. He squeezed just tight enough to give the impression of choking him, just enough to shoot a spark of adrenaline down Grimsley's spine, while his other hand found the neglected, red cock between Grimsley's legs. While he'd been convinced he could cum without touching himself, he wasn't about to fight against the strong grip that stroked him fervently now.
His head dipped back against Guzma's shoulder as he moaned, reaching behind him to tangle his own fingers in Guzma's hair. His cock hit so much deeper at this new angle, drilling against Grimsley's prostate over and over again. The hallway was filled with a melody of Grimsley's moans and Guzma's grunts and groans as they both chased after Nirvana.
Grimsley came first, releasing a shout as he finally felt all the tension in his body unleash in a flood of pleasure. His cock spurted cum all over over his stomach and Guzma's hand, dripping to the floor between his feet as Guzma continued to thrust into him. He kept a grip on Grimsley's spent dick as he pushed him forward again to fuck him into the wall. Grimsley shuddered where he stood, feeling the edges of over-stimulation creeping in as Guzma used his body to seek his own pleasure for the second time.
Eventually he found it, hands clamping down on Grimsley's hips once more to jerk them back against his body. Grimsley felt the cock jerk inside of him, followed by a torrent of hot seed filling him up. Guzma rutted against him as he came, grinding forward as if he could push ever deeper to paint every inch of Grimsley's insides with his cum. Grimsley felt every pulse shooting wave after wave of thick cum into his body. It seemed to go on forever until, at last, Guzma slumped forward against him, his virile cock finally beginning to soften.
They stayed like that for a few moments, catching their breath to the sound of Guzma's spend dripping out of Grimsley and onto the floor. It was as disgusting as it was gratifying. Humiliating, yet exciting. It felt right in all the wrong ways.
Who knew that a slimy little hood rat like Guzma could leave a man feeling so thoroughly satisfied? How bizarre.
Grimsley had to concede—he was very interested in finding out all the other ways Guzma could make him feel.
"That's enough... Get off me," he panted, pushing himself off the way and pulling away from the loose circle of Guzma's arms that had been resting around his waist.
He winced when he felt the other's cock slip out of him, sending another trickle of cum down his legs. This was going to be a bitch to clean up.
"So that's it, huh?" Guzma said, leaning his shoulder against the wall as he looked at Grimsley now. "Got what ya wanted an' now you're gonna fuck off?"
"Well, what else were you expecting? Dinner and a movie?" Grimsley shot back with amusement in his voice. "Let me making something clear to you, Guzma: I don't like you. I'm not interested in you. I don't want to be with you. But this—"
He stepped forward and, without warning, grabbed at the retreating member between Guzma's legs, smirking at the way he shot upright and his eyes grew as wide as dinner plates.
"—This is the only thing worth my time," he finished. "If your ego can't handle that, then so be it. Otherwise...you know where to find me the next time you're up for a little wager."
With a wink and a parting squeeze, Grimsley released him, wrapped his yukata back around his body, and found his way out of the mansion. Was it incredibly foolish to walk back home with his ass full of cum that was still dripping down his legs? Yes, but his yukata would hide the evidence of his tryst well enough until he got home. Once there, he was going to enjoy a long, hot shower to scrub off the film of dirt he could feel sticking to his skin just from standing inside that place.
It was a good thing he didn't mind getting his hands a little dirty to get what he wanted.