Premier
patreon
Say The Line Bird! (Lay the Very Best - Chapter 386)
🕑 Added 2025-06-07 23:50:52 +0000 UTCMorgan had always thought life should feel like victory. Outpacing everyone, being the best. There was a heady delight in winning, and she would do anything to win. It was as much a part of her as the witch hat. She went into fights with her head held high and came out the superior, entirely in control of every moment. Sitting next to Calcine, still flushed from Heatstroke's dizzying touch, Morgan felt anything but superior. Calcine was radiant, her presence impossible to ignore. Raw power pulsed beneath her skin, heat lighting her from within, giving her a glow that made her seem carved from living stone. Morgan had always thought of Calcine as part of Brandy, an inseparable flame by her side. Sometimes leading, sometimes following, always part of something shared and shining. A brilliant ember in the larger inferno they built together.
But now, Morgan saw her as a blazing star in her own right. Entirely herself. Entirely Calcine. Volcanic, wild, consuming. The kind of power that could have overwhelmed anyone if it wanted to. But Calcine held a vast, smoldering power at bay in her heart, not out of weakness, but out of care. She didn't need to assert it to prove it. Every moment of silence, every gentle word, was Calcine holding back something massive because she cared too much to let it burn uncontrolled.
It'd always bothered Morgan that Calcine was holding back. She liked it when people gave their all. She never went easy on anyone. Facing people at their best, finding challenges to overcome, breaking her own limits. That's what she lived for. It had always bothered Morgan that Calcine held back. She pushed everyone else to give their all, to fight to their limits. Calcine's restraint felt like a refusal to meet her there. That they could never have a real bond until Calcine finally let loose. But now she saw it differently. Calcine had all this power, and she held it back because she had to. She was too much. Too hot, too strong, too intense. She could have crushed Morgan effortlessly, and Arceus help her, Morgan wanted it just as badly as the bug did. To be pinned under all that heat and strength, to be taken and made hers. To be undone completely. Not gently. Thoroughly. Arceus, she ached for it. She didn't want to fight anymore. She wanted to fall. To stop holding on and just feel not just the fire but the care wrapped inside it.
Maybe the Poison Gas still lingering in her bloodstream wasn't helping. Heatstroke had meant to use it to disorient and break her focus. Morgan had burst through it in the heat of the fight, cutting through the haze with a sharp, unrelenting will. But now that the battle was done, the edge had dulled, and the poison simmered in her mind, soft and slow, loosening her grip on control. Her pulse raced, her skin buzzed, and her thoughts coiled low and hot, dripping down her spine like melted honey. She could pretend it was the Gas, but it wasn't just that. Not really.
She wanted Calcine. The thought burned, clear and brutal. It wasn't just lust. It was the need to be undone by her. The Gas hadn't created it. It had only peeled back the layers of denial, left her raw and aching with a hunger she couldn't pretend wasn't hers.
Calcine's body was everything Morgan wanted. She was breathtaking. Towering and radiant, every inch of her sculpted muscle and molten curve begged for Morgan's touch. Nine feet of living heat, all glowing skin stretched tight over power, and she moved with that impossibly sure confidence. Her breasts rose heavy and high, kissed by the light of her own flaming hair. Her cock, thick and glistening, still slick from the attention Morgan had lavished on it, pulsed with heat. The taste still burned on Morgan's tongue, smoky and laced with heat. Morgan wasn't bothered by spicy food, but the taste of Calcine's cock still lingered like a brand, a reminder of how deep she'd already gotten into Morgan.
Calcine was inside her, and there was no going back from that.
The Poison Gas made it so much worse, dialing her focus to Calcine's scent, the heat of her presence, and the way her muscles flexed when she moved. Morgan's breath hitched. Her thighs clenched. She pressed her forehead to her knees, her heart hammering like she was about to leap into battle.
Desire wasn't unfamiliar. But this wasn't just arousal. It was reverence, an awe that bordered on terrifying. Morgan wanted to kneel. She wanted to climb her. She wanted to belong to her, and she'd never felt that way about someone. Not even Brandy. Maybe Harper, a little. But Morgan had never let herself act on it. She'd always kept the reins tight, always in control. But now, there was this trembling hunger in her gut, threatening to rip those reins from her grip. It was terrifying, the idea of letting go of giving in. A small part of her, still untouched by Heatstroke's lingering fog, screamed to hold back. To stay sharp. To not melt into the aching heat that had pooled low in her belly. Because giving in to Calcine wouldn't just be an indulgence. It would be surrender. Total, consuming, permanent.
Calcine saw the storm in Morgan's face and met it with a single, soft, warm, and so openly kind smile that undid Morgan effortlessly. Fuck. She was too good to refuse.
Morgan sat with her knees pulled up, watching from the edge of the arena floor as Calcine used her sheer size and steady strength to draw Hustle and Heatstroke together. With one broad hand on each of them, she shifted their weight with gentle but irresistible pressure, easing them into closeness with the unshakable confidence of someone who could move mountains and chose instead to guide with care. The two Pokémon were trying, but failing, to synchronize with each other. Heatstroke was all urgency, her tongue darting forward with teasing flicks, while Hustle held her ground, steady and deliberate, refusing to be rushed. It should have worked. In theory, their contrast would balance. But theory didn't account for pride or the tangle of unspoken need between them.
"Heatstroke," Calcine said, voice like a slow rockslide. "You're all fire and no focus. You want to win, right? Then listen."
Heatstroke's long tail twitched, agitation bubbling under her scales. Calcine gently caught her chin in one hand, and the protest fizzled.
"I am listening," Heatstroke said.
"No," Calcine murmured. "You want to take charge. But that only works when you're paying attention to her too, not just chasing what you want."
Heatstroke frowned, clearly confused. "I am paying attention."
Calcine shook her head slowly. "You're watching for what turns you on. You're not seeing what she needs."
She leaned in, voice lower now. "Look at her face. Her body. She's not pulling back because she's shy; she's holding firm because she wants you to meet her there. Not steamroll over her."
Heatstroke's tail flicked again, this time with uncertainty. She glanced at Hustle.
"So what, I just wait?"
"No," Calcine said. "You match. You find her pace and build together. You're fire. She's stone. Fuse it right, and you'll both be stronger for it. But it takes patience. That's the power you're not using."
Heatstroke blinked, then looked at Hustle with something like realization. A pause, and then her stance shifted. Less force, more invitation.
Her other hand reached for Hustle, settling on her shoulder. Hustle straightened under the touch.
"And you," Calcine added, turning her glowing eyes to Hustle. "You're letting her take the lead when you're just as hungry. You're big and strong. You could make her melt if you just took what you wanted."
Morgan watched the exchange unfold, and her stomach twisted with longing. Calcine was so good at this sort of thing. Not just dominating someone but using the power she had over them to help them get what they wanted. Just like Brandy did, though Brandy wasn't nine feet of raw, rumbling power, so the effect was even more potent.
Calcine shifted Heatstroke gently, her massive hand settling her tail across Hustle's waist with just enough pressure to hold her there. Hustle didn't fight it. She just looked surprised. Unsure.
"Feel that?" Calcine said, voice low and steady. "She's not going anywhere. You don't have to chase. Just meet her where she is, let her lean into you, not run from you."
Heatstroke looked uncertain, teeth catching on her lower lip. Her tail twitched, but she didn't pull away.
"Try asking," Calcine added, nudging her.
Heatstroke turned, hesitant. "What do you want?"
Hustle's eyes flicked to Calcine, then back to Heatstroke. "I'm not trying to race you. I want to enjoy you. To take my time. You keep leaping ahead, and I'm still settling into it. I want to savor you. You're too good to be rushed."
Heatstroke blinked. Then, slowly, her stance eased. Her arms loosened, her weight shifting toward Hustle instead of over her.
Calcine let go and stepped back with a faint smile. "Good. Now, meet in the middle. Start from there."
Morgan's throat was tight. Calcine caught her eye and waved her over.
The tension between Hustle and Heatstroke finally broke, not with another instruction, but with a kiss. Slow, searching, then deepening as they melted into each other. Heatstroke's tail tightened around Hustle's waist, but this time, it just held her close with no attempt to restrain. Hustle leaned forward with a low rumble, her strong hands cupping Heatstroke's face, guiding her gently. The kiss turned hungry. Heatstroke moaned, her hands roaming, then bracing herself against Hustle's broad chest as she let the Mudsdale make the move.
Hustle didn't rush. She pressed in, slow and sure, her massive frame moving with the patience of someone who knew just how much power she carried and how to use it gently. Her cock, thick and heavy, nestled between them and brushed across Heatstroke's belly with each movement. Heatstroke felt it, and her lithe, scaled body trembled in answer. But she didn't grab for it. She leaned in and let Hustle set the pace, her own urgency tempered by the grounded pressure holding her. The kiss deepened, slow and consuming. Hustle cradled her like she was precious, and Heatstroke shuddered, letting herself be taken. Not forced but claimed. They finally found rhythm in each other's mouths. Passion met patience, fire met stone, and the fusion sparked beautifully. It was a kiss that didn't stop. It deepened, slowed, and they finally tasted each other. Hands caressed and clutched as tongues tangled. By the time they finally pulled apart, they were breathing heavily and leaning into each other, flushed and grinning.
Morgan basked in the heat of that glow, knees hugged to her chest. Then, slowly, she rose and stepped toward Calcine. She'd been offered a space, and she wanted to be close. Ducking beneath the curve of Calcine's powerful arm, Morgan tucked herself into her side, fitting against the warmth like she belonged there. Calcine shifted slightly, accommodating her without a word, and her massive body curled protectively around Morgan.
"You're quiet," she said gently, flicking the rim of Morgan's hat.
"Just watching."
"Do you feel left out?"
Morgan almost said no. Almost. But her wings trembled, and her voice broke. "I just feel ... dumb."
Calcine tilted her head, waiting.
Morgan swallowed. "I thought I had to win you. Show how good I am. Make you want me."
Calcine reached out, brushing a hand over Morgan's cheek. The warmth wasn't searing. It was the gentle, ambient heat of banked fire.
"Morgan," she said, with a rumbling, silky voice like lava slowly melting a perfectly smooth channel through stone. "You don't have to be better than anyone. I know how good you are."
Morgan looked down. "I don't feel it. I feel small and-"
Calcine cut her off with a quiet kiss. Just a press of lips. Nothing overwhelming. Not domination. Just contact. It made Morgan tremble harder.
"Being small doesn't mean anything," Calcine murmured. "Sparky was small, and Dani still is. But they gave their best, and they've done nothing but impress me. And you? You never hold back, no matter how you're feeling.
Morgan curled her fingers into Calcine's arm, trying to pinch at the impossible tough Coalossal. "Saying I overreacted when I broke up with Cassidy?"
" Maybe a little," Calcine said with a soft, amused smile. "But that kind of feeling? Rotten as it was for you? It means you give your whole heart to what you're doing. That's something I admire."
Morgan hesitated, her gaze dropping to where Calcine had rested a hand over hers. She swallowed, tried to speak and failed. Her fingers twitched to tug more, then slowly stilled beneath Calcine's touch.
"I don't what to say right now," Morgan murmured. "But I do want to say something. Does that make sense?"
Calcine squeezed her tight. "We'll work it out together."
Heatstroke and Hustle had sunk into a slow, sensual rhythm. Hustle was on top now, her powerful body straddling the lithe fire lizard beneath her. She rocked her hips in a steady grind, her thick cock pressed between them, slick and insistent as it stroked against Heatstroke's stomach. Heatstroke trembled under her, and her hands clung to Hustle's flanks, claws dimpling thick thighs as her back arched into the motion. She murmured into Hustle's ear between gasps, her words soft, unguarded, and frequently melting into moans. Hustle rumbled in response, her pleased hum vibrating through both of them as they moved together, slow and steady, completely in sync. Morgan had to admit that it looked like a really good time. Heatstroke was going to get a soft pounding that'd have her eyes rolling out of her skull.
"They adore each other," Morgan said quietly.
"They do. They just needed a little direction. A nudge in the right way." Calcine gave Morgan a little nudge and smirked when Morgan looked up with a glare.
Morgan sniffed, then let out a short sob of a laugh. Her throat was tightening up, and she couldn't stop it. "You're good at this."
Calcine's eyes glowed gently as she gave a proud smile. "I've had a good teacher and a lot of practice with stubborn people I care about."
"Wonder who that is, couldn't be me," Morgan laughed, finally letting herself lean in fully. She pressed into Calcine's chest, arms wrapped tight around her thick body, resting her head on a wonderfully soft breast bigger than her head. Calcine's hand cradled the back of her neck and stroked the feathers there with powerful fingers.
"I love you," Morgan whispered. Quiet enough that if Calcine hadn't stilled, she could have believed they'd have missed it. Morgan closed her eyes and pressed on. "I think I always have. But I wanted to be you, and I couldn't. So I thought loving you was losing."
Calcine let out a slow, rumbling breath. "I love you too, Morgan. Just as you are. I wouldn't want you to change."
Hustle and Heatstroke were curled up together, bodies entwined with laughter and breathy kisses, and Morgan watched them from the shelter of Calcine's arms, letting the words sink in.
She'd admitted she was weak, and she'd never felt more powerful in her life. There was a fizzle in her heart. She half expected to start glowing, to evolve right there and then. It would have felt right, just like it would when she told Brandy, but the feeling slowly faded. A second admission didn't fix her anxiety. She still felt that anxiety curled up in her gut, panicking at the idea that this was getting too close. That she could get hurt. That it was safer to take flight. But it'd have meant leaving this warm body and soft, pillowy breast, and Morgan wasn't going to give up such luxury.
Morgan hugged Calcine closer, watched two deeply in love Pokémon fuck each other senseless and tried to feel loved.
Minute by minute, it got easier.
Comments
Irish Not Sane
Morgan is going to be one hell of an evolved bird at the end of this and her doubts will be consumed in a Calcine volcano of Morgan’s creation. That’s also one hell of a win for Calcine helping their opponents become the team of lovers they are meant to be.
