HORMONES & INSECURITIES
A Pokémon fanfic
Morty/Matsuba & Falkner/Hayato
Disclaimer: Nintendo owns all. But then you knew that already.
Rating: M. Probably one step excessive but I don't really understand these rating systems so better safe than sorry. No violence, bad language or actual sex in this chapter, just some discussion of sex organs.
Notes: A piece of fan art I recently saw gave me the initial inspiration for this story. I originally intended this as a short piece of fluff but it grew. This is not related to my previous Honorshipping fic.
EDITED TO ADD: Okay, here's what happened. I had cool idea. I wrote it into a story. I liked it. It was called Raging Hormones. Then I decided to add more to it, so it became chapter one of Unintended Consequences, and the chapter became retitled to Hormones & Insecurites. That is how it was first posted. I added a second chapter that was bad and pointless. I then had a great deal of difficulty trying to write a chapter three. I then started an entirely new story. I was far happier with it. I realised I never should have tried to expand on this, so I've killed off chapter two, given it it's most appropriate title and called it complete. Now all is as it should have been!
"Hurry up Morty, we're going to be late!" Falkner half-yelled from the lounge of the suite they were sharing for the long weekend. "...Not that I'd be too sad if we missed the thing entirely, but if we have to be there..." he muttered, tugging again at the bottoms of his shorts' legs.
He and Morty were attending the biannual Johto League Leader's Conclave, this time held in Goldenrod. Falkner usually quite enjoyed these conferences. Once he had had a chance to get over his initial doubts as newly minted gym leader, he'd come to relish the opportunity to meet with colleagues, discuss ideas and gain some insight from the mostly older and more experienced group. And while not the most social person in the world, he generally quite liked that side of the proceedings as well. Generally.
Tonight's little gathering was an exception. It was a costume dinner party, which was not inherently awful, indeed the one at the conclave before last had been a highlight of the weekend. But the theme this time was to dress in the accustomed style of one of the other gym leaders. Which, to be fair, was also not necessarily terrible. The problem was that instead of choosing yourself who you dress as, the choice was made by picking names out of a hat at the beginning of the first day. Thankfully Whitney had been persuaded to have separate pools for the male and female participants, but in Falkner's case there wasn't a great deal of difference. Given the choice, Falkner would have felt far more comfortable in a Jasmine style dress than his current short, tight shorts.
Falkner stopped his pacing as he caught himself in a mirror. A short sleeved shirt and neckerchief coupled with long socks and hiking shoes completed his ensemble. Who do I kill first? Bugsy or Whitney? This was Whitney's doing...
The ghost trainer grimaced behind the door of his bedroom. Another of Whitney's surprises as this conclave's organiser had been to put the leaders in shared hotel rooms. The suites were large and lavish; each had two bedrooms and bathrooms for their twin occupants. Whitney had at least had the foresight to group them compatibly, and neither Falkner nor Morty had any problem living with their best friend. Well, not any significant problem, Morty thought. Just keep your head together Mortimer!
Any minor concern Morty had had on arrival had dissipated over the last three days. They had, so far, gotten by without a trace of the awkwardness he had feared. Why should there be any awkwardness? It's all in your head and you can exercise quite a bit of self-control when you want to, Mortimer. In fact Morty was a little sad that the weekend was nearly over - it was Sunday evening and everyone would be on their way home by this time the next day.
If he didn't want the weekend to end so soon, however, he couldn't have wished for tonight to be over quickly enough. Even more than Falkner, he'd hated the slip of paper he'd drawn and the dress it mandated. They weren't supposed to tell anyone who they'd drawn (unless they drew themselves and had to go again, as Falkner had done) and Morty had been quite happy with that arrangement. But now everyone had to know.
He looked in the mirror again. He'd been fully ready for longer than Falkner had been calling but he just couldn't bring himself to walk out the door. I look so bad, so stupid. Not the clothes. Me. He sighed, then looked to the door as Falkner called again. "Coming, Falkner. I'm coming," he said dejectedly, resigned to his fate. Falkner is kind, he thought, maybe he'll cheer me up a bit...
Falkner turned toward the door as Morty stepped out and for just a second his jaw dropped. Were he thinking more clearly, he may have wondered why it had taken so long for Morty to put on what equated to little more than baggy trousers and a belt. Falkner managed to get his mouth closed but not before looking from Morty's loose hair down his bare chest and stomach, down the ruddy-brown gi pants and black belt to his bare feet. He brought his eyes back up to Morty's red face.
Morty looked away and fiddled with the white tape wrapped around his forearms. The look on Falkner's face! Oh god I'm gonna make such a fool of myself!
"Maybe... I shouldn't go. I really don't look the part do I? You can tell me, Falker, I look like a stick don't I? Some pathetic, scrawny, little stick." Morty shook his head, his hair moving so much more than he was used to. "Okay, I'm a mop! I..."
Falkner stopped listening to Morty's words. Morty was so upset and Falkner wanted to reassure him. Wanted to tell him how good he looked. How handsome. How sexy. But he couldn't, not directly. Falkner had been stunned when he first saw Morty. He'd never seen him shirtless before. Or even barefoot. Hell, this was the first time he had seen him without a headband! And he hadn't been able to handle it discretely. His jaw had dropped, actually dropped, in awe but Morty had misinterpreted it. He'd seen it not as a poorly controlled expression of lust but as scorn. And now Falkner had to find a way to convince Morty that wasn't the case without letting him know the truth, know how he felt about men. About Morty. Falkner's mind blanked. All he could do was stare at him.
But where his brain attempted desperately to hide his feelings, other parts of his anatomy were less concerned with such matters. Falkner was a fifteen year old boy with the hormones to match and his body did exactly what it was supposed to do when confronted with the most erotically appealing sight it had ever encountered.
More than ever before, Falkner began to mentally curse his never to be sufficiently damned tight shorts. Folder! his brain screamed and he turned toward the coffee table to pick up the binder containing his meeting notes. Morty still hadn't managed to bring himself to look at Falkner as he continued to berate himself and his body, if he could grab the folder and hold it as a shield...
Just then Morty glanced up at Falkner, timed just so that Falkner was in perfect profile and his state of arousal couldn't be more obvious. Falkner plucked the folder off the table and turned to face Morty again as he 'casually' held the folder in front of his crotch. Only then did he realise he'd been too late.
"I... err... Morty, I... err..."
"No, no! Don't apologise. Erm, I mean, it's perfectly natural... when I was your age I was like that all the time, it doesn't mean anything!"
Falkner met Morty's understanding eyes and felt the temptation to go along with that story, to pretend it was just one of the random hard-ons that plague boys his age. He'd had enough of them, after all. But that wasn't the case and for some reason Falkner couldn't pinpoint, he just couldn't lie to Morty. He never could. Never had. He'd withheld, he'd restrained. Lies of omission... But an untruth? Never.
And he was not going to start now.
"No. Morty. It does mean something: I'm gay. And I... care about you. I have done for a long time now. You are beautiful and handsome and incredibly sexy and I reacted to that. The sexiest, most attractive man I've ever met just walked out in front of me half naked and my body reacted. I'm sorry."
Morty stared into Falkner's face, his visible eye for long seconds. Falkner had been so calm. So resolute. So strong. Morty tried to find the words to express how he felt, tried to show the same honesty and bravery. But he couldn't. His knees felt weak, his hands trembled and his vision blurred with unshed tears. The emotional impact of that confession was colossal, but two words in particular broke Morty's heart.
"Don't... don't be sorr-" Morty's voice cracked, his tears were no longer unshed and all he could do was rush toward Falkner. He threw his arms tight around the younger boy, one hand sliding up into his silken hair and he pressed his cheek into the top of Falker's head as he sobbed.
Falkner tried to process what had just happened. What was happening. Well, he doesn't hate me, Falkner thought with profound relief. He doesn't hate me. Falkner allowed his own arms to curl around Morty's body. I've never seen him like this. He's usually so strong and confident. At work, anyway. I know he's more vulnerable outside of that but I never imagined... this. Falkner tightened his arms around Morty. I've never seem cry. I hope I never do again.
Falkner tried to focus on why Morty was reacting like this. It didn't help that he was still very much aware of Morty's exposed flesh – Morty's skin was so soft and smooth and warm beneath his hands and the cheek pressed against Morty's shoulder. Falkner also realised just how good Morty smelled, a light summery aroma so unexpected from a trainer of ghosts.
He's gay too I guess? If he were just being supportive, I could see him hugging me, but this? Crying? There's something really personal going on for him. There must be... There was only one explanation Falkner could think of, but it was so... convenient Falkner couldn't bring himself to fully trust it.
They must have stood that way, silently, for at least ten minutes when Falkner finally found his voice. "Morty? Are you... going to be okay?" He spoke softly, and ran his hands in small arcs up and down Morty's back as he did.
Nothing happened. For a moment Falkner thought Morty hadn't heard him, then he felt Morty nod his head and the blond managed a croaky "Yeah." He swallowed. "I'll be okay Falkner. I'm just... in shock I guess." Morty's tears finally stopped.
Falkner moved his head (reluctantly) from its comfortable perch so he could look into Morty's eyes. "There's more to it that finding out your friend is gay, though, isn't there?" Morty had never heard Falkner speak so gently.
"Yes. You are more than a friend to me Falkner. Much more." Morty squeezed the blue haired young man tight and touched his forehead to Falkner's briefly before continuing.
"I... have been... infatuated with you. Since the day I met I you. You were so handsome and proud and strong. And young. And I was young, only fourteen, and confused. I didn't understand how I could feel that way about another boy and even once I started to deal with my sexuality, became comfortable with it... I was never comfortable feeling that way about you." Morty let Falkner go and stepped back, beginning to pace as he spoke.
"You were three years younger than me and I felt wrong... Perverted. And you've never seemed gay. I know! I know that's silly, but... And we became such good friends. I'd wanted to avoid you but I couldn't. You took to me and I didn't have the heart to turn you away, especially once your father gave you the gym and you needed someone to trust so badly.
"And then I began to get a handle on my feelings, to get them under control. I was able to be your friend and not let how I felt show. My feelings never diminished. The more I got to know you, the more I fell in love with you, but I always managed to lock it all away." He turned to face Falkner, stepped closer and tucked the blue fringe to the side so he could look into both eyes.
"Until now. Until I felt so vulnerable – you know I'm not exactly happy with my body, oh I have a very pretty face and blond hair but from the neck down I-" he grimaced.
"Anyway, I was standing there, vulnerable and embarrassed and looking for support and then you gaped and turned away and I felt... more than embarrassed. All those feelings for you rushed in and the way you reacted..." Morty shook his head like he was trying to clear the remnants of a nightmare.
"At least... the way I thought you reacted. And then I saw your... and I couldn't believe that it might really be... and then you said, said things I always dreamed but never believed you would say... a-and I couldn't handle it.
Morty's speech had gotten faster and more desperate as he spoke and his eyes were flooded again.
"Don't be sorry, Morty. Don't ever be sorry for this." Falkner reached up to touch Morty's face and wiped spent tears away with his thumb. "Because now... now we can be together. Can't we?"
Morty just looked at him, enjoying the touch of Falkner's hand, unable to respond, until, slowly, Falkner's head leaned towards his. Falkner's eyes fluttered closed and he gently, gently, brushed his lips against Morty's.
And then again. And again. Morty whimpered helplessly, and when Falkner brought his lips to bear a fourth time he pressed into him firmly, sealing into a proper kiss, wrapping his arms around Falkner and pulling him into himself. Falkner's arms slipped around Morty's neck, and after a few seconds he opened his mouth slightly and allowed his tongue to gently run along Morty's soft lips. Another whimper from Morty, and then his lips parted to allow Falkner entry and their tongues engaged. The exchange started tenderly, but became more passionate as the seconds and minutes ticked by. Falkner's treacherous erection was in full effect, but Falkner slowly realised the source of the warm throbbing sensation against his hip and knew he was not alone. He brought one arm down from around Morty's neck and ran his hand slowly up and down Morty's naked side, just allowing his thumb to spill over onto his chest and stomach. As his thumb caressed Morty's nipple, firm from the slightly cool room, Falkner felt his partner moan into his mouth and shivers ran up and down his spine.
Then Morty slowly pulled back, breaking the kiss, one hand resting on Falkner's hip. His other hand grasped the hand Falkner placed on his side and moved it over his chest, over his heart, and squeezed it. "We can be together. We can be together."
He broke out in a grin, an infectious one Falkner returned and both began to laugh, out of joy and relief.
"We're late for the party," Falkner said with deliberate nonchalance, reluctantly pulling his hand from Morty's chest, twisting it so he could grip Morty's hand, their fingers interlacing.
"I'm still not sure we should go. I'd quite like some time alone with my new boyfriend," Morty replied with a soft smile.
"I..." Falkner turned away, pulling his hands from Morty's hand and shoulder, his delight at Morty's choice of noun tempered by another concern, and his face heated once again, "I'm not really sure... I'm not ready for that yet." He looked up at Morty again, eyes embarrassed and young.
Morty blinked in confusion then laughed. "Much as part of me would like to, I'm not talking about sex! I'm not ready for that either, y'know!" He chuckled again and Falkner smiled in relief. "I love that you said that though. It means so much to me that you can be so honest with me. I need that. And it's one of the reasons I love you."
Morty smiled again only for it to freeze as he realised the last three words he'd spoken. He hadn't registered that he'd already expressed that particular sentiment to Falkner already that evening.
"Don't worry Morty, I'm not going to read too much into it. We're both a little overwrought tonight." And I'm going to have to be a little careful about how I express my feelings too, he did not add aloud. No matter how much we care for each other, fifteen minutes into a relationship is a little early for the 'L'-word. Even if there isn't anything else remotely close and I've never felt more certain about anything in my life.
"Anyway," Morty resumed, taking both Falkner's hand in his, "I just thought we should talk for a while."
"Actually, I think we should go down. It really would be rude not to, and I think you just demonstrated that we need to cool ourselves down a little."
Morty squeezed Falkner's hands, "Maybe you're right, I just don't feel comfortable going down to a group of people after all that just happened. Especially dressed like this." He indicated his bare torso.
"Don't be silly. You look fantastic. Not everyone thinks the ideal male form is some muscle bound Adonis. I'm not one myself for that matter. Do you have a problem with that?"
"No. But then I've seen enough of your body when you wear those looser sleeveless gi tops in the summer to know that you are tight and toned and gorgeous. I'm just skinny. But that's not what I meant. I only care what you think and evidently you're okay with a rake.
"I'm just not sure about going down there like this if that means you'll be hard every time you see me. The damn thing still hasn't gone down!" Morty's eyes danced as he glanced down at Falkner's bulge.
"I have a cup with my sports stuff. That should hide it fairly well." There was usually some time to enjoy the inevitable sports facilities of the lush hotels in which the conclaves were held. This time the scheduling been a bit too tight to make use of them, especially since they had to go costume shopping but Falkner had come prepared.
Morty still didn't look happy. "Morty, I want to go to a party and see my friends and be on my new boyfriend's arm. I've actually fantasised about that, the two of us, walking into a hall arm-in-arm. I never really knew if that would happen, and I certainly didn't expect it to happen this weekend, but..." He shrugged.
Morty couldn't quite believe Falkner wanted to go downstairs to the private dining room holding hands and announce (verbally or not) that they were an item. They had been together less than an hour! But when he went to voice his concern, he looked Falkner in the eye – And damn that fringe, I love his haircut but damnit if there aren't times... –and realised he was wrong. They'd go down hand in hand and tell anyone who asked they were a couple, because they had both dreamed of this moment for too long to put up a public pretence and because they were so proud of their beau.
"Okay, Falkner," Morty replied levelly. "Let me just go fix myself up a bit. My eyes are probably a bit puffy from crying."
"Good idea. I'll go get that cup," Falkner grinned.
A few minutes later Falkner returned from his room, properly camouflaged, shortly followed by Morty, still holding the cold, wet cloth he'd used on his eyes. "Much better," Falkner declared. Morty put the cloth down on the coffee table, looked in the living room mirror and sighed.
"You're really attracted to this?" Morty said dubiously as he curled his arms and flexed his average-at-best biceps.
"Ooh yes." Falkner gasped, closing his mouth and swallowing just soon enough to stop himself drooling on his chin. He stepped over to Morty and laid a quick kiss on the tense muscle. "Yeah. You may not be able to see it," he looked down and confirmed that his crotch looked perfectly normal, "but I'm, well, you've got me going again!" If Falkner's eyes and voice seemed more comfortable with this subject than earlier that evening, the blood vessels in his cheeks weren't. "Actually, it's really quite uncomfortable."
"Maybe I should wear a shirt?"
"And shoes." Morty looked at him blankly, as Falkner realised what he'd said. "I mean, err..."
"Foot fetish?" Morty said evenly. Falkner's cheeks flared again. "I'll take that as a 'yes'." Morty smiled and pulled Falkner into his arms. "I think we're gonna have some fun together, you and I."
"Do you...?" Falkner pointed in the general direction of their feet.
"I've never given it any deep thought. Which probably means no. But then, I'm more than open to trying. Whatever makes you happy." He kissed Falkner's forehead. "And I'm sure I've got a few kinks you don't share that you'll be more than happy to go along with."
"And those would be...?" Falkner returned nervously.
"Wait and see... when we're both ready." Morty chuckled, releasing Falkner. "We really should get going, and despite any discomfort on your part I think I'll stay shirtless and barefoot. After all, we're building my body confidence, aren't we?" Morty smiled.
Falkner returned it and headed for the door. "Yes. And it would be a bit silly for 'Chuck' to be wearing a shirt and shoes. He never does in the gym. I think he resents having to do it in league meetings enough! And besides, if you really wanted to keep me calm, you'd have to wear a headband too." Morty raised an eyebrow at him as they stepped into the corridor. "I never told you how much I love your longer hair. I dared not say it when you first grew it out. And that mullet really was awful! It's especially nice seeing it free flowing, probably just because I'm not used to seeing you like that," Falkner said as he ran his fingers through Morty's shaggy tresses. Morty chuckled, putting an arm around Falkner's waist and kissing the top of his head as they walked toward the elevator.
"Well, I'm sorry love, but I'm not gonna be letting you go change me now we're together. Like it or lump it!" Morty grinned, and Falkner felt himself return it. After a difficult hour Morty was back, in fact he was even more the real Morty than Falkner had ever known, he realised. As he pushed the elevator button, he realised how much he was looking forward to getting to know the new-old-real Morty.
It wasn't until the lift was halfway down to the ground floor that he realised the name Morty had used for him.
"'Love'?" Falkner queried with a lopsided grin.
"'Love'," Morty returned firmly.
Maybe it's not too early for the 'L'-word after all. Falkner found himself tugging at his shorts again.
But I'm still going to kill Whitney.
Hope you enjoyed. I originally intended this as a one shot, but I think it's quite a nice set-up so I'll probably add some more to it. After all, it'd be good to put some actual pokémon in a pokémon story, wouldn't it? And, of course, things can't just go smoothly from this point forward, now can they? [Edited to add: Prophetic or what eh? In case you didn't read the introduction, I won't be adding more after all.]
Feedback and constructive criticism are always appreciated.
Thanks for reading.