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72.09% The Professor's Secret / Chapter 31: The Bitter Aftertaste

章節 31: The Bitter Aftertaste

Lying on my back, over his couch, I focused my eyes on the white ceiling and pretended I was elsewhere. And to ease the angry agitation rattling my bones, I'd throw a ball I found lying around – I'd throw it up, watch it swirl around itself before falling back down, and then I'd catch it again as it tried to land on my chest. Then I'd repeat it, each time paying attention to a different detail – the sound, the texture, the speed, the distance… still those intrusive thoughts wouldn't let me go. The first time I slept with Sycamore, I was blessed by exhaustion's release and remembered very little of how that night ended, and the awkwardness that followed. Today I had not been spared: Sycamore held me down against his desk and rocked me back and forth as he slid into me… His rhythm grew erratic, and at length he began to shudder, to move spasmodically and moan a muffled, moist moan… Two or three deep, long thrusts, and I realized he spilled himself inside me. The embarrassment of his breathing resuming its normality, of the calm satisfaction his face showed as he let me go, pulled out from inside me, and wiped his member on my undershirt… it all made my blood boil… It boiled still!

So this is what it was like to face him after sex: a turmoil of anger, embarrassment and that annoyingly pull, the lingering feeling of having felt him as I did; the tissues that had been touched, rubbed and pushed against burned in physiological memory, my legs were weak and trembling slightly, and – specially now – I had quite the pain in my lower stomach.

"Darling, I am glad you have found an amusement for yourself…" he spoke from his distance, sitting at his desk and reviewing a series of papers, occasionally scribbling a hurried note on them "…but the noise is quite distracting!"

I ignored the hint and continued with my joyless fun. Only when I saw by the corner of my eye that he had risen his head from his work to look at me, did I stop and looked at him back. He stared, expectantly – and I, challengingly: I scowled and threw the ball upwards again, with more strength. Sycamore sighed as if impatient and made a motion to push back his chair… that's when two small knocks echoed through the door.

"Professor Sycamore?" A voice followed, and soon after one of his assistants waltzed in.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but – Oh!!" The woman stopped on her tracks, surprised into silence by seeing me on the couch. Whatever that image invoked, it disconcerted her and prevented her from resuming proper speech.

"What is the point of knocking if you are not going to wait to barge in?" The Professor observed sharply, without raising his eyes from his desk.

"I...I'm sorry, I..." she lost her words, her eyes moving quickly from the professor to me, trying to make some sense out of that situation.

I looked her way in my annoyance and recognized her as the same assistant I had met before, – the first time I was left alone with him - the one that uttered that unfortunate comparison that would never leave my impression... specially now!

"Is… is everything o-"

"Miss Anne is feeling unwell at the moment and has decided to rest here for the remainder of the afternoon." The professor dryly interrupted, having noticed her lag and promptly attributing it to my presence there.

"I-is there something I can do for her?" She found her voice at length.

"I have it under control, but thank you!" he quickly replied, then raised his head to smile – probably remembering that his charming manipulation didn't work as well without faking one. It wasn't too effective though: his ill-humor leaked.

"Maybe I should call her mother..." she insisted.

"As I have said before, it is well under my control. Now what was it you came here to do again?" he inquired with the shallow smile he had put on for show.

The woman sighed. Her eyes looked into mine expressing something like "sorry, I tried!", which only made me more annoyed that she should see us there, and that she should know I had fallen, even though she tried to warn me against it. My pride had really started bleeding that day!!

"Johto's research director would like to schedule a meeting."

"Set it for tomorrow..." he busily replied, returning to his papers and his keyboard.

She nodded and left the room, stopping to throw one last peek my way, probably hoping I would explicitly ask for her rescue...

…I turned away, threw the ball up and down again. She closed the door, sealing both of us, privacy and smothering silence resumed, as if nothing else could reach us there.

I heard Sycamore's ball pen running through the paper… I heard the ball I tossed cutting the air.

"It is so curious..." he sighed out of the blue. I looked his way: bent over his desk, firm and pale fingers holding the pen with the usual gentleness they possessed… His lips were red – I had established they looked particularly so after kissing for too long – and the collar of his shirt was loosely open, dissipating the heat his chest possessed just an hour ago. How irresistibly beautiful he looked! How that unnerved me!

I figured he expected me to ask 'what?', so I returned to playing with the ball. His silence lingered a while longer, then he gave in:

"It is so curious that I should sense this."

I rolled my eyes.

"Aren't you going to ask what, dear?!" He smiled, looking in my direction.

"What?" I grumbled below my breath.

"This heavy hostility in the air! Do you not sense it, too?!" He mocked. I eyed him with anger, then resumed my boring distraction.

Sycamore's voice went on through the rustling of the dry paper sheets he handled:

"Curious that you should be the one emitting it when it is I who have all the reasons to be upset!"

I caught the ball with particular hardness as it fell down this time, and turned to him:

"What reasons do you have?!!" I inquired.

"Why, the same as before: There is this little girl who has shamelessly escaped me, who hasn't even repented, and who plans on doing so again very soon..." he chuckled to himself, as if it was cute and pitiful at the same time. "what do you feign are your reasons?" he casually asked.

I went back to throwing the ball, sulking: I knew he only asked because he wanted to hear me talk about what he had done to me – which would probably only excite his perversion more and tease him into reassuring he did only what I inwardly desired, resorting to descriptions of what happened as proof to his point!

"Dear me!" he sighed "Did one as smart as you really think you could vanish as you did, and get away with it completely unscathed?!"

"You are so cynical it hurts!" I ground my teeth. He laughed, amused by my anger.

No wonder I was so eager to escape the first time he bedded me – again, my decision was justified and I regretted nothing: his voice afterwards possessed a slightly higher tone, carrying a full feeling of entitlement and impenetrable, overjoyed confidence. His laugh was too freely expressed, too deeply felt, almost mockingly in an intimate way.

"Come now, you darling thing! Let's not exchange injuries! Tell me at once: why are you so angry?! Do you resent my sullying of your shirt? Forgive me, but it was only natural for me to assume you'd retreat to my house for a shower and a change of clothes!"

The insinuation, the subject… all of it made me angry and bashful!

"Have I assumed wrong?" he probed "…Why! Are you going to be comfortable, dear? Resuming your journey and going your way when I've…" and a malicious chuckle sufficed to illustrate his thoughts.

I scowled, clenched my jaw, tossed the ball harder!

"Suit yourself!" he mocked, then resumed his writing.

Silence – my silence – began choking me. I tried to endure it, held it in… but eventually it bubbled up to the surface, and I couldn't help me:

"You've raped me!"

It took so much courage… so much strength to say those words, and yet how little impact they caused! Sycamore didn't stir… he didn't move, nor was he shocked by the accusation. The corner of his mouth merely moved with a short smile, his eyes barely distracted from the paper he perused when he dismissed me so lightly:

"Nonsense, dear. You can't rape something that is yours!"

What a sting! What a smart! It made me want to get up and punch him!

"Come now, I'll indulge you…" he dropped his pen and sighed, as if I was a bother "What makes you use so strong a word?"

"Because you've… you've…" I grimaced, my scowl twitching at the peak of my anger. "You've made me..." I now looked for a word that didn't sound awfully embarrassing, awfully descriptive… The images ran through my mind, taunting me, making the air grow thinner. Sycamore pushed his chair back, got up, walked slowly towards me.

"You made me..." I chased the anger back trying to finish it.

"...scream, perhaps?!" he laughed near me "moan, definitely!"

I threw the ball hard, wishing that it would hit the ceiling loud enough to make everyone in the building wonder what happened, but he held it in the air, bent down to observe me from above and smiled, challenging me to fight him. It took me a few seconds to recover from the paralysis his blue eyes inflicted once so near, and then I pushed him away, stretched my arm trying to reach for the ball... he held my wrist.

"Say whatever you will to that busy, paranoid brain of yours: your body disagrees through and through!" he smiled condescendingly, smugly, teasing me into rage.

"No!" I fought angrily, pulling back my arm. He grabbed it again in both hands this time, and sat on the couch next to me, seizing the bracelet from my wrist.

"I would prove it to you again since you appear so bent on disputing my veracity... but I won't, for you might murder me if I try!" he chuckled, too busy pulling out my mega-ring to notice me blush and give up on the fight "Now please lend me this, if you will." And he returned to his desk, where he sat and observed it under the light of his lamp, moving it from one side to the other. I blushed from the unexpected embarrassment of being left alone when I thought he would… well! He took notes on his papers, aloof again. My anger burned unheard… then it subdued into an annoyed curiosity:

"What are you doing?!"

"I wonder if I can calculate the amount of energy this thing can conduct, based on its size and structure..." he scribbled on.

"Find a way to make it work while you're at it!" I grumpily added, lying back on the couch.

"I might learn a thing or two, it is true... If I set my mind to it, I might uncover some news for you. That is, if you really do want it..." he talked while he worked, visibly absorbed. Then his eyes left the papers for a second and quickly flashed my way. His voice changed "...perhaps if you drop by my residence tonight? I might have some answers for you then..."

I expected a smirk to follow, so I could mock his poorly-subtle attempt at taking me back to his house, but there was none: he genuinely tried to trick me into returning to his house, and during the proposal his eyes dodged mine with more anxiety than usual about the effectiveness of his attempt. My heart skipped a beat: the solid suspicion that he might actually lock me inside if given another opportunity hit me, and it made me instantly desperate to leave.

He laughed to himself, possibly detecting the loud noise of my shortened breath.

"It's alright, darling. I shall even be as cliché as to promise not to bite..."

I sat up on the couch, feeling slightly uncomfortable. I was used to his flirtations and plots, but this one sounded strangely ominous – because for a second, I sensed his anxiety. And why would Sycamore be anxious? It implied more important consequences than just another night like the first one we had... Something bigger was at stake, bigger than that which he had already so easily achieved. What was he plotting? What would happen, if I obeyed him?

"Maybe this time you would be so polite as to stay until morning? Learning I won't devour you for breakfast, but rather seeing me eat like regular people do, might make you less reluctant to come to me..."

Sycamore stopped what he was doing to examine me. My face betrayed it – I looked too disturbed.

"...or even drive away that infantile ghost that haunts you." he walked up to me and sat by my side. I stiffened – he smiled.

"Now, this is much better, is it not?" His hand slid its way to my nape, where the fingers played against my skin.

I allowed myself to close my eyes for a second. His voice grew softer, leaning closer to my ears.

"A little Anne that doesn't stare at me with hatred, but rather looks away in timid denial..."

His palm held the side of my face that looked away, pulled it back against his warm lips and soft breath, kissed my cheek...

"One that doesn't try so eagerly to resist me..." he grabbed me by the back of the knees, pulling me to his legs. Once on his lap, it felt like all I could do to faintly try to stop him from ruling over my nerves and dictating their sensations was to hold my arms together against my chest.

Sycamore effectively detected that, and pulled them apart, smiling as he broke down my defenses, finding them to be not hard at all. He wrapped his arm around me, pressed me to his chest and brushed his lips against my face, landing a kiss here and there.

"And you are that good a girl inside, dearest..." he murmured to my ear as his hand pressed tightly against my thighs, teasing its feelings "beneath all this lying and all this denying that you put up to try and impress me." He kissed my mouth, lightly pressing my lips between his teeth "I know you from the inside now, Anne dear... And there are things you can conceal from yourself, but no longer from me..."

My body was hot again – the all too fresh sensations burning deeply and intensely now that the same string was pulled... However, there was something missing: His hands pressed, caressed and held me... but they failed to gently move my body against him as they usually did in situations as such. His voice was perhaps more involving than it had been before – the smile he enjoyed sounded clearer through it. Though foggy under the influence of his hands, my neurons managed to make it out: Sycamore was pretty satisfied himself, now only deriving a more behaved, moderate amusement from playing and controlling me.

"And if you promise to cease this silly war you have started against me for pride's sake, I promise I won't inquire any further..."

"I-inquire?" My eyes opened lazily, he looked deeply into them:

"Yes – Inquire!" His lips hovered close to mine as his hand gently, yet firmly gripped the hair on the back of my head and held my face close to his "...make you tell me everything you hide inside that silly young heart of yours, in the most sordid details... For I can do it if I wish to..."

My body shook, he smirked, capturing this feeling, too. "...How about it, dearest? You keep your immoral little secrets and all those compromising words you are so embarrassed of..." His fingers held my face, ran down my neck, as if he collected them right there: "Love, devotion... enthrallment... I won't wring them out of your lips. In exchange, you will give yourself to me – freely, though with a little nervous fit here and there, for I love them too – as it was before..."

Here I realized it wasn't simply for his amusement that he toyed with me. One hand held me firmly by the back of the neck to maintain the spell, the other slid down, subtly, to the pocket of his coat, from which he drew my Pokédex.

"A fair deal, wouldn't you say so?!" he deviously smiled, offering me the device "Come, dear..." He pressed his lips to mine in a hard peck, sealing the electricity inside as I longed for more "won't you take it?"

As with mostly all the rest, he impressed the consent upon me with his kiss, and as I closed my eyes, his hand casually opened my bag and placed the Pokédex inside. The Professor then proceeded to kissing me harder, closer and for longer - like he had made me crave for - in a way of reward. He kissed me and embraced me until I was numb, like a never-ending, never-relenting torture... but it did end, and it was only more frustrating: he smiled me the smile I hated... the one that said he knew I loved him!

As I left his lab, Professor Sycamore tried to coerce me into going to his house with him that evening. Fortunately the dread I had felt was sufficient to pull me back to function before he could take me, and I instead agreed to having lunch with him in three days' time – when he calculated I would have gone through Snowbelle city and earned my last gym badge. I bargained that it would have to be in a café – of course, stating only that I felt like going to one, instead of 'no way I will be alone with you', and he responded with a pleased remark that I was "finally bringing myself to asking him for stuff", as it apparently gave him some sort of higher-level claim over me... Perhaps it made whatever was going on between us a little more official, a little less like abuse? I hardly knew how to read him anymore...


章節 32: Lysandre's Café

There was something uniquely special about a winter wonderland that escaped the tumult of holidays and dispensed the pressuring socialization imposed by it... Thoughts drifted easily along with the light snowflakes that swirled down the Snowbelle City sky!

I wasted the morning away by sitting on a bench by the gym, from where the city's limited movement could be watched. And there, I thought about Sycamore – about the word he used last: love. Had I ever admitted to that? Had I ever... allowed him to know? All the eight badges were mine, as I had planned, and now what else was there to do? ...My clock beeped: it was time to go!

"Strange choice for a place..." I sighed as I sat down. I had easily spotted Professor Sycamore from the door as the handsome gentleman on the back of the café who ran his fingers through his perfectly unkempt hair and enjoyed a regular black coffee while he read the newspaper. And was I so late? He seemed quite engaged in the chosen distraction.

"I figured it would be the last place you would have chosen to willingly enter..." he explained without having to pick up his eyes from his reading to recognize me "Therefore, the one café in Lumiose you had yet to visit!"

He folded the paper between unhurried fingers and placed it by his side as he leaned on the table and finally looked me in the eyes: he had a warm welcome smile, but not much beyond that.

"So now you have it! And was I wrong?!" he scrutinized.

"No..." I affirmed, looking around me "I would definitely not have come here if I could help it..."

Everything from the outside in was exceptionally red! And yet, somehow, it seemed to be the darkest, gloomiest place I had been inside in all of Lumiose: the lamps that hung on the wall struggled, barely enough to light up the crimson room! That being said, the unnerving choice of décor was not the reason behind my unwillingness to linger: The sign outside read "Lysandre's Café".

"Why, darling?" Sycamore's hand running across my face pulled me back to his eyes "Does the color of passion intimidate you now?"

"Nothing like that..." I gently pulled his hand away, judging, by the strange atmosphere the place inspired me, that I needed all my senses in check "Although I have to say it's pretty unpleasant..." and here I looked at the bartenders: together with the waiters, they all seemed to keep an eye on me! I cringed a little, and leaned forward to whisper and be heard "But are you sure it's okay to bring me specifically to Lysandre's place?!"

"There will be no safer place on earth today!" he smiled, picking up his cup and enjoying a sip "Knowing Lysandre as I do, he would allow no tongue to wag unpunished. That, and they have the finest pastries: I do intend to begin enlightening your palate!" he seriously acknowledged, lifting the menu from the small round table.

"But tell me, dear..." he delicately cleared his throat after a moment's silence "why have you offered me such a cold reception? No kisses or smiles from Miss Anne, now that she has beaten all of Kalos' gym leaders?" And he winked at me.

I blushed and couldn't keep the proud smile from crossing my lips.

"My congratulations!" Sycamore bowed his head.

"Thanks..." I embarrassedly replied.

All eyes were on me. They all weighed heavily! And yet, Sycamore carried on, most serene.

"A perfect opportunity for a celebration, wouldn't you say so? Allow me to think of something for today..." he smiled tranquilly as he went through the menu. I tried to emulate his calm: if he was this composed, why should I be beating myself up over a bunch of strangers looking at us – or at me, as it specifically felt? I limited myself to watching him and trying to move and sit as he did: elegant, composed and relaxed. The least I could do was to look good on the cameras, lest someone catches us...

And as I took such precaution, my mind was allowed to wonder through Sycamore's silent and busy attention: Why wasn't he worried about being seen with me? Was there a resolution I didn't know of? Was there something different, perhaps a change of priority or intentions?

I had seen them argue over me before, and it seemed like nearly suicide for him to take me to Lysandre's café. Though cynical, Sycamore was not that careless, and wouldn't willingly choose war over peace, so something must have changed. Perhaps because I had all the badges? - My heart grew warm with pride again - Or... Perhaps it was because I had collected them, but Charizard still hadn't managed to evolve? The bracelet around my wrist weighed and burned against my flesh, and now my chest was cold with apprehension: Was I of no use or interest to the research anymore? Had I officially failed? it was okay for me to decide to quit it, but an entirely different scenario and range of emotions to get kicked out of it!

"Is there something wrong?!" The whispered words escaped out of me without permission. Sycamore's blue, penetrating, chilled eyes rose from the menu to mine. Seconds later, a smile followed:

"Hardly!" He sighed, putting down that mean of distraction, too "I am merely taking the liberty to choose for you, if you will let me take you through another one of my favorite places in Kalos, that is!"

"Go ahead..." I shrugged, and Sycamore soon called out the waiter to place an order.

All eyes were on me... All of them were hard and strangely familiar! Where had I seen those faces before?

As we waited, Sycamore's hand drifted to mine on the table. Our fingers entwined, our eyes locked and he smiled.

...There was another hypothesis. What if he genuinely didn't care anymore? What if the public display was something actually meant to be seen? Did that mean we were... the word gave me instant vertigo…

...A couple?

Their heads turned, as if they could hear the thought. As if synchronized.

One... two hours were quickly past inside the shady place, enough for me to get quite used to its sickly illumination and overcome its influence over my disposition. And watching Sycamore, how could I nourish so many worries? He had never been so relaxed, not even my presence excited his nerves as it usually did.

I wiped my lips after the meal, and watched as Sycamore's collected eyes moved to the glass doors. A content smile stretched there when a subtle wind blew through the streets of Lumiose. He was more pensive, now even more distant in thoughts that seemed to amuse him into a sullen tranquility. I turned to watch the quiet buildings as he did: It was a rare Friday of small commotion, very few people could be seen surrounding the Prism tower that stretched prettily into the sky. A pleasant view, indeed...

For a second, Sycamore's disposition reminded me that of my mother when we were at the beach one particular holiday during my childhood – we would sit at a restaurant and just wait for the hours to pass, watching the distant waves rocking. There was nowhere to be, nothing to do... only a more pleasant perspective awaited after that one, the near future was safe from stress.

Those were Sycamore's eyes there: not a shadow of obligation tainted them as they dived into the pleasantness of a very still day.

Meanwhile, I had started to feel a strange, almost dreadful energy emanating from my Pokeballs: someone was worried.

"Huh?" Sycamore exclaimed, awaking from his daydream as I pulled my bag open and looked inside it, my palm open, ready to pick up the ball of disturbance, but finding myself too puzzled to do it. "What is the matter, dear?" he lazily asked.

My hand was frozen before I could touch the Pokeballs: they all seemed to vibrate with different levels of commotion. And why did it suddenly affect me so much? Perhaps I was feeling it, too...

"What is wrong?!" he repeated more emphatically as I looked gravely inside my bag.

"Nothing..." I closed it, shaking my head and deciding it might be just my imagination "For a second I thought I... uhm... Nothing!"

"Huh..." Sycamore smiled to the side, and broke into a very casual speech about Couriway Town: about the place's history, and how he would love to return once more and take his time there with me...

However interesting, his nostalgic descriptions of how the town used to be and what had changed couldn't reach my attention too much: my heart pulsated in a different rhythm, moved by the swirling distress of my Pokémon. It chased away the last drop of security I felt!

"I hope you have no plans after this, darling..." he sighed, potentially noticing my restless distance and calling me back with something of my interest: "I am decided we should later retire to my house and enjoy ourselves for the rest of the day" he smiled, measuring the reaction on my face "I'm afraid I possess a rare bird that doesn't enjoy the freedom of the outside so much, for she looks utterly indisposed!"

I shook my head with a short negative and allowed my view to wander while I processed an answer. My eyes laid accidentally on the small TV on the corner near the door: There seemed to be a tumult happening on the news.

"Actually, I..." I started, but quickly lost my attention to the screen.

"You what, darling?!" Sycamore chased it back.

"Actually..." I immediately lost focus, tensing my eyebrows as I tried to read news ticker scrolling sideways on the bottom of the screen, for the sound itself was on mute, or too low to be heard from the back, where we were. "...I was thinking of starting to train for..." I managed to half-finish the sentence as Sycamore subtly grimaced with impatience over my delay.

The words on the distant, small TV read things like "Mayhem", "Escaping" and "Time", as well as something about Lysandre.

"Hey, can you raise the volume on that?!!" I looked back with an urgent plea to the waiter, hoping the tension would have possessed the entire café by now.

Everyone inside looked at me, of course – My distress surprising all of them. Again, their eyes weighed... but no one listened.

"Anne, Dear..." Sycamore started his composed, mocking laugh and his hands calmly stretched, holding mine on the table.

I was up before I could fully feel them! I walked to the TV, my blood being replaced by some cold liquid as the feeling of calamity possessed me: The look on the reporter's face through the mute screen, people running behind her, negative words being tactically stressed... quiet, empty Lumiose just outside!

"Are you guys not seeing this?!" I looked around, appalled – no one cared. Everyone carried on with their meals only stopping to look at me as if I was some sort of freak disturbing their dull enjoyment.

Looking back, Lysandre's face was on the TV in the recording of a Holo-Caster call. The small letters bellow explained something about a statement. I narrowed my eyes, trying harder to read them.

"Darling, pray sit down! You are making quite the scene..." Sycamore asked from the table, seemingly embarrassed out of reason.

Then the same news changed to a new location, to just another mysterious calamity I couldn't fathom – I had been to that place: it was the Pokéball factory in Laverre city. Calem, Shauna and the rest were all there – as were a bunch of Team Flare grunts! My eyes grew wide... the impulse was immediate!

"Anne!!" Sycamore yelled, standing up so fast the chair fell behind him.

I had burst open the doors, running outside as fast as I could!

***

I had reached Prism tower, running north from Lysandre's café, when I heard Sycamore calling me between my heavy breathing. I looked back briefly – he stood far away. I knew what his opinion would be if I stopped. I knew how important his help could be, but how useless to ask and trust it! I shoved a hand inside my bag and pulled out the first pokeball that came to reach, hoping it would be the right one: without stopping, I threw it up and sent out Talonflame. He let out his shrill cry as he flew up in the sky – after a pirouette, he dove down and stopped to hover next to me. I needed not issue any order – his trusting eyes were ready: I held on to his back and we flew high up. I looked back in time to see Sycamore racing shortly after us, then stopping halfway, now only capable of following with his eyes. He was the only person I could see standing outdoors in the entire Lumiose now...

It felt strange to simply leave like that... It felt odd to watch him from a distance and not know exactly what his expression showed as he watched us fly away. It was a burden in my heart to choose, and ultimately, it was all that was left for me to do: the right decision!

"Alright..." I sighed, saying my own farewell to the small professor looking up from the distance. I tightened my arms around Talonflame – flying wasn't like anything I had done before, and though I could feel the danger in it, I also felt the excitement. "Let's go to Laverre!!" I commanded both myself and my Pokémon- we were going to help our friends!


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