Pokemon Fan Fiction / Pokemon Fan Fiction ❯ Brock's Love: Maiden of the Dastardly Dr. Rage ❯ Thirteen: What's better than a tickle fight? ( Chapter 14 )

Hello, there! Thanks for reading this far into my story. I just thought I should remind you to REVIEW!! Come on, people! Give me some feedback. And thank you Shadow for taking the time to review my story!! =^O__~^=

DISCLAIMER: Pokemon is not mine. So you can't sue me! And this chapter is a VERY lemony lemon. So if you can't handle the heat, get away from my fanfiction, ya wussies…

CLAIMER: Liz belongs to me. Rarr.

REVISED!!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Brock and Liz pulled up in the patrol car outside of the gym about an hour and a half later. Misty and Ash ran out to the car, after seeing a report on the news.

"Liz! Brock! We're so glad you're okay!" Misty said, hugging them both.

"Thanks," Brock said, "But could you let go of my ARM?!"

"Oops, sorry."

"Ahh, that's okay. The stitches are just a little tight." Brock reached into a vest pocket and pulled out a pokeball. "Here, Ash. Thanks for letting me use Charizard. You've trained him well."

Ash scratched his head. "Well, Charizard's just a great Pokemon. We're glad you're back."

Just then, a van squealed to a stop behind the leaving patrol car. The driver door opened and out jumped a tall man with brown hair. He ran over to the group.

"Oh my God. Dad?" Brock gasped.

"My boy!!" Flint threw his arms around his awestruck son.

"The arm! THE ARM!!"

"Oh, sorry there, son. I'm just glad to see you're alright."

Brock still looked a bit confused.

"I saw you on the news!" Flint explained. "I loaded the guys into the van and high-tailed it to Mount Moon, but when I got there, Officer Jenny told me you had left for this gym."

"Wait, dad. 'The guys'?"

"Your brothers and sisters, of course!" Flint waved to the van and out flooded Brock's ten siblings. They all ran towards him and didn't stop until they had knocked him down.

"Brock!"

"Brock!"

"We missed you!"

"Big brother!"

Brock's siblings hugged him and began talking all at once. Brock calmed them down like he usually did. He stood up and took Liz's hand.

"Dad? Everybody? This is Liz."

Flint extended his hand and shook her hand. "A pleasure to meet you, Liz." Liz blushed a little bit. ~*~

After a nice cup of tea and some polite catching up, Flint and 'the guys' piled back into the van and returned to Pewter City. Brock, Ash, and Pikachu sat in the kitchen playing checkers.

"So, did you tell her?" Brock said, breaking the silence.

"Huh?"

"Don't 'huh' me. Did you tell her?"

"Oh," Ash sighed. "No. I didn't."

"Why not?"

"Well, Misty is more like a sister to me. I value her friendship. I just decided that it would be best to keep my feelings to myself."

"Oh." Brock jumped one of Ash's pieces. "I see." ~*~

Brock stepped out of the bathroom in his scrub-like pajamas. ((AN: hospital scrubs are so comfy!)) Liz was seated Indian style on her bed, brushing back her hair. Brock flopped on his bed and sighed.

Liz's eyes closed as she brushed back wispy strands of hair. Her mind was a jumble of thoughts. A huge weight had been lifted forever from her shoulders, but she had no idea what to do. She couldn't remember the last time she had not been worried to death in the back of her mind. There was always that apprehension, that urge to move and push forward and farther away from her father, swimming somewhere in the recesses of her mind. But there was nothing to run from now, and although Liz was relieved, she wasn't sure what would happen now. She didn't have to run anymore, so what should she do with her freedom?

A hand placed itself atop hers and took hold of her hairbrush. She didn't jump this time, but simply let him take it. Brock began to gently brush her hair as they both sat in silence. Liz put her hands in her lap and decided to enjoy his attentions. It was so comforting to have someone to love; someone to love her.

"So, how are you?" Brock's husky voice invaded her thoughts. He sat behind her.

Liz let out a peaceful sigh. "I'm good, Brock." A faint, calm smile appeared. Brock noticed and continued his gentle strokes. "I haven't been this relaxed in years."

"Good. Glad to hear it." Brock tipped her head ever so slightly towards him. "Liz, I was just wondering." Liz opened her eyes and raised an eyebrow. "Could I ask you something?" He continued.

"You just did. Wanna ask me something else?" she joked.

Brock chuckled. He pulled her hair back and secured it with her scrunchie. "Yes I do. I just wanted to know if. . .you planned on staying with us. If you wanted to stay with me?"

Liz smoothed back her hair with a hand. "You know? I don't think I want to go." Liz scrunched her face in thought. "I've been on the move for so long. . . But after all of

this. . ." She turned to face him. She looked at him, feeling as if she'd known him forever, like a sibling. She felt so comfortable near him; comfortable with him. There was no fear that he would hit her, no fear he would leave or abandon her; there was no fear. She began to smile widely. Brock cocked his head. "Hmm?" he inquired.

She spoke finally. "After all of this, going back out there, alone with no friends. . . it would be unbearable." She reached out to him and clasped his hand. She studied it: the long, lean fingers; the slightly rough palm; the way her hand fit so neatly into it. She squeezed the hand; Brock squeezed back. "It would break my heart." She looked back up at him. He could see the smile on her face as her eyes glimmered, like she would cry. His cheeks flushed just a little.

"You mean. . . You'll stay?" He knew his soul would scream if she decided to leave. Nothing would be the same. But he couldn't blame her: it was her first taste of freedom. No one had the right to take that from her; not Rage and not him.

Before he knew it, Liz had popped him in the head with a pillow.

"Hey!" he chuckled. "What was that for?"

Liz stuck up her nose and folded her arms. "For asking a dumb question," she said, matter-of-factly. "I just said how much I like it here! Of course I'm staying, silly boy."

"Oh, so now I'm silly, huh?" Brock pinched her under the arm. Liz laughed out loud. Brock smirked and raised an eyebrow. He pinched her again. She wrapped her arms around herself and backed away laughing. "Aha! You're ticklish!!"

"N-no I'm not!" Liz backed away further.

Brock stood up. He took a step closer. Liz took another step back, until she felt her leg hit the other bed. Brock lifted his hands and wiggled his fingers. "I've gotcha now!"

He reached out and tickled her sides. She giggled and squirmed, crawling across the bed. Brock caught her and tickled her belly as Liz tickled him back and squealed. "Quit it! Quit it!" she begged. Brock was glad He could finally see the Liz he knew was there, deep inside her. No fear, just Liz. They rolled on the bed, laughing and giggling, until Brock was on top of Liz, panting.

"Truce?" he offered.

"Truce," panted Liz. Brock then collapsed on Liz's chest.

"Oh, thank goodness. I couldn't take it anymore!" he laughed. They shared a chuckle as they caught their breath. Brock listened to Liz's heartbeat slow. It was like the sweetest song; floating through his head. Her hand in his hair gave him light goosebumps, sending a wave of pleasurable comfort all the way down to his toes. Brock brought his arms in closer to Liz as he inhaled her scent, imprinting into his brain that soft smell of spring: warm and sweet. He could even smell the herby scent of her shampoo. It all mixed together in a barely traceable, yet intoxicatingly strong aroma. His thoughts fluttered as he snuggled deeply into her chest.

Now this was what life was supposed to be like, she thought. She was free to live and to love as she pleased. `Free to love. . .' Liz continued smoothing her hand through Brock's spiky hair. She could open her heart to someone, and be forever in someone else's. She finally felt her heart beat with love, with happiness, and not with dread. Brock had finally set her free and welcomed her into his heart. And she loved him dearly for that and more.

"That was fun," she whispered.

Brock leaned up and kissed her lightly on the lips, before sitting up on his knees reluctantly. He wanted to wrap himself around her forever. `So this is love,' he thought. He wanted to feel her body pressed against him more than anything else in the world. Snapping back to reality, he nodded and smiled. "There's nothing like a good tickle fight." He rubbed his arm, but the goosebumps wouldn't leave him alone.

Liz sat up and stared into Brock's eyes. "Well, I do know 'something' better than a tickle fight," she grinned. Brock looked at her in confusion. She couldn't have been talking about. . .Could she? No, girls didn't think like that. Sure, he did, but not Liz. . .

Liz grabbed Brock's shoulders and kissed him. She licked the roof of his mouth and sucked on his tongue just a little. Brock was still staring, wide-eyed, as he put a hand behind her back. Okay, maybe she was talking about that. He kissed her back. He smiled as they kissed, both tongues battling for dominance. She tossed off his shirt and ran her hands down his back, just a little rough. Brock didn't even know this side of Liz existed, but he liked it. He knew now that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. He lowered her just a little off the bed and squeezed her tight. Liz's body seemed to fit into a perfect mold against him. The heat from her body drove him crazy. He had to get that shirt off. He had to feel her skin against his. But when he put his left arm down to balance himself, Brock winced as pain shot through his bicep.

"What's wrong?" Liz asked between kisses.

"Nothing's wrong," Brock said, trying to hide his discomfort. He'd be damned if a few stitches were going to stand in his way. He kissed her again, the pure pleasure dulling the pain.

Liz wasn't buying it, however. She figured his arm must be sore from those tight stitches. And he probably didn't put the ointment on them either because it burned. "Nothing, huh?" She pushed on his right shoulder, making him shift his weight to his sore arm. Brock wasn't expecting this, so he ended up toppling onto his side. "Yeowch!! Sheesh, give me a break," he whined.

"Your arm hurts, doesn't it?"

"Maybe. . . A little," Brock whispered. He didn't want to stop. He ground his teeth quietly in frustration. All the hormones were going to his head.

"Fine. You should've said so." She pushed on his right side again, rolling him onto his back and rolling herself on top of him. Liz reached over to the small dresser and pulled out the small bottle of cream for their stitches, rubbing it on gently. If he had used it when he was supposed to, he would be fine by now. "Men." Tossing the bottle back in the drawer, she looked back down at him. "Better?"

Brock could only mumble inaudibly. `She has no idea,' he thought. Liz was putting his restraint to the test, making him almost physically punch down his raging thoughts. Liz's face, her eyes, and that smile. And her curvy outline sitting literally in his lap. He clenched the sheets in his fists. `Come on, don't lose it!'

She was straddling his waist, looking down at him with molten purple eyes. Liz could see the last strings of control Brock had on himself were ready to snap at any moment. She reached down and grabbed the brim of his pants, pulling upward on them.

"Scoot," she said.

Brock scooted, and ended up in a sitting position, with his back against the wall. Now he could take the weight off of his arms. Liz then unbuttoned her shirt, sloooowly. Brock reached forward to 'help', but Liz playfully pushed his hand away. He got the message and watched her, his fists clenching again. She finally got to the last button and opened her shirt, arching her back. Brock was being given a full view. Liz pulled the hair band out of her ponytail, letting her soft hair dangle on her shoulders. She hooked her fingers under the waists of her pants and underwear, tugging them down inch by inch. Brock was going crazy watching her, exposing herself. His breathing became slightly irregular. Liz slid her pants around her ankles and slipped out of them. She crawled forward, locking her eyes with Brock's. She was kneeling right over Brock's aching shaft, placing her hands on his face. She smiled before placing her lips lightly over his. She then ran her hands down his neck, over his shoulders, and down to his hands. She clasped his hands and guided them to rest on her waist. She leaned in, rubbing her breasts against him. Brock let his fingers trace along the soft flesh of her back before pulling her as close as possible to him. He didn't care if he still had his pants on. `Damn these pants!'

Liz pushed herself down on his lap, feeling the stone beneath. Brock felt the moistness of her seeping through his pants. He just had to feel her; he had to touch her. Slowly, a hand made its way tentatively towards that place that promised him infinite pleasure. Why should he be the only one to feel that? Liz gasped and pulled out of the kiss as Brock slid a finger into her. Her fingers tensed as she closed her eyes. Brock pulled out his finger and replaced it with two. He used his thumb to gently tease the area around it, as he brushed it across a little nub of flesh. As soon as he hit it, Liz's whole body jolted. She bit down on her bottom lip. She rested her chin on his shoulder, and took deep breaths near his ear. He began to whisper into hers, sweet messages of love, of trust. He finally removed his fingers, as she lay cradled against him. Liz hugged him, her body humming.

It was then that he began kissing her neck. She sighed in pleasure, before suddenly pulling away. Brock was puzzled. Liz's eyes were wide and a hand went to her neck. What was wrong? She then looked up at him, and her other hand went to her neck. Her eyes welled with tears as she whipped her face away from him in shame. Her body shuddered, and Brock could see streams of tears pour down her face.

"Liz," he whispered. "What's wrong? Did I hurt you?" He reached for her wrist. "Let me see."

"No," she said quickly, but meekly. Torrents flowed off her cheeks as she shyed away from his hand.

Brock swallowed. He reached forward again. "Please. Trust me." She looked as his hand came closer and gently grasped her wrist. She closed her eyes and dropped her hands to her elbows, hugging across her chest. He would see them. . .

Brock's mouth formed a small "O" as he scanned Liz's neck. He could see bruises that had formed from the attack. And he could see the scratch Rage had given her on her neck.

Liz was beyond ashamed. When she had bathed she saw the marks from her father's attack. She had nearly fainted. The thought of his hands on her made her sick to her stomach. And now Brock could see. He could see the proof that he would never have her virginity; that she was tainted.

"They're just a few bruises," he said with sympathy. "They will heal soon."

"You weren't the first," she managed to say. "He took that; my gift that would have been for you that night." She began to feel dirty, covered in Rage's dust. Brock could read her face. He could tell she felt like those bruises would be her reminder that she wasn't pure.

"Dirty," she whispered.

Brock pulled her face to him. "No!" he said firmly. He kissed her tears away, nuzzling her face. She gazed into his eyes. "No?" she repeated, dazed. Brock smiled. "No. Beautiful." He kissed her lips tenderly. "Never forget how beautiful you are," he whispered.

"But-"

Brock ignored her and began to kiss every single bruise on her neck. "Beautiful," he said, over and over again. She nuzzled his forehead. Yes, this is why she loved him. She reached down and removed his pants. She wanted him now more than ever. She needed to forget.

She lowered herself onto Brock's shaft, in that same, slow, teasing manner. Brock's hands tightened on her waist as he moaned a little. Liz rocked against him in a slow grind. Their breaths came in shallow bursts. One of Brock's hands ran up Liz's back and into her flowing tresses. She leaned her head back into his hand, giving him full access to her chest and neck. He kissed her neck again, causing her to sigh loudly. He could feel the vibrations from her voice in his mouth, against his skin. He nibbled and nipped at the skin around her breasts as she continued to keep her rhythm, rocking on his waist. Her hands left his shoulders to run in his hair, tilting his head back. He looked up into those fiery orbs, dancing and teasing. Brock claimed her lips, biting softly at the bottom one. She opened her mouth with a moan, as he tasted her. He squeezed her waist again, feeling the hot flesh of her body push, melt into him. A light sheen of sweat glistened on their bodies. Brock slid his hand on her waist down over her buttocks and under her thigh. He pulled her, going deeper inside of her, receiving another pleasured groan. He pulled her down again, this time spilling his seed into her and feeling her muscles tighten around him. She threw her head back, wrapping her arms around his neck and tugging him closer. She felt waves of pleasure pass over her entire body, blossoming in her stomach. It all felt so wonderful, almost unreal, and even more intense than the first time.

Brock held on to her, fearing if he let go, she might leave again. He fluttered light kisses along her jawbone. Her legs were wrapped around him as they nuzzled against each other's faces. Liz moved to get up, but Brock's grip tightened on her. He couldn't be away from her, not now.

"Don't leave."

Liz smiled. "I'm not leaving." Brock reluctantly eased his hold on her. She stretched and turned off the light. She sat back down next to him. "I promise."

Brock felt more at ease, besides feeling like he would pass out for a week. Liz patted the bed, asking him to lie down and rest. He did, and she laid her head on his chest. They entwined together, Brock resting into her hair, inhaling slowly as he planted a kiss on her head.

"I'm not leaving," Liz whispered again, before closing her eyes.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Awww! Sweet, right? ^_^ I revised this just for you guys!! (and cuz I was bored…)