You're perfect

Camaraderie

NARRATOR

In his lodge, where the vibrant afternoon cascades itself onto the lonely forest, the day appears seemingly calm, except for one who ventures inside the lodge. Nate struggles against Zeraora, who pins him against the wooden wall. The wood creaks under her force, and Nate closes his eyes tightly, his teeth gritting and his face contorted in pain as her claws dig into his skin. Her vision is clouded by her overpowering desire, and she fails to resist her impulses.

Nate grunts, his tongue rolling against the roof of his mouth as he desperately tries to keep his eyes open. Finally, he manages to open his right eye slightly, catching a glimpse of Zeraora burying her nose deep into his neck.

"Zeraora... Please, stop..." His words are filled with desperation, and he can barely speak. It becomes clear to him that he's powerless against her. Compared to him, her strength is unparalleled. With a heavy chest, his legs tremble in fear, or perhaps it's acceptance. It's hard for him to discern the motive of his body.

The passion Zeraora displays is aggressive. It injures him, cuts on his wrists with her sharp claw. Her snuffle turns into a lick, then turns into a soft bite where her fangs almost pierced through his veins. Her paws are stained with his blood, but she can't seem to stop herself. Nate's resistance is futile, and her instincts override any logic or commands to stop.

As her aggression escalates, Nate's chest tightens with terror rather than thrill. Cold chills run down his spine, and he breaks out in a cold sweat. Her growls become an eerie ambience, resonating through him, while her purring sends tremors through his bones. He can't understand the conflicting emotions he's experiencing; pain and pleasure, fear and comfort.

His stare into her dilute eyes accelerates his huffing.

He eventually surrenders to her, realizing his powerlessness. He knows he can't do anything to help her regain control. A person dedicated to researching Pokémon for their betterment, he feels a heavy weight of remorse for failing to attend to just one Pokémon. It suffocates him more than Zeraora's physical force.

Nate closes his eyes, his palm clenched into a fist as he mentally prepares himself for the pain he expects when she tears at his clothing or scratches his skin. But to his surprise, nothing happens. The creature who had lost control suddenly freezes in front of him. She continues to breathe heavily into his neck, but her paws and claws move away from their intended target. Nate can only stare at her silently, the room's silence occasionally broken by her soft growls.

"Zeraora?" Nate asks when he notices her aggression stopping. It might be a sign that he can finally talk to her.

As he speaks, her growl momentarily intensifies, surprising Nate with its sudden rise in volume. Then, she slowly calms down, retracting her fangs, and her growl returns to a purr. Nate watches her transformation in silence. Her once overpowering strength now seems to be fading. It's his chance to communicate with her.

"Are you okay?" He checks on Zeraora, slowly kneeling down to get to eye level with her.

His blood flows from his wounded wrist, staining his palm crimson, but Nate pays it little attention. His focus is on the distressed Zeraora in front of him. Zeraora lowers her head, her ears flopping down, and she scratches her left shoulder with her right paw, displaying her discomfort.

She panics when she sees him bleeding because of her. Her paws reach for his wrist in a rush, but Nate winces. His wound doesn't seem too severe, thankfully. The claw was shallow enough to avoid damaging his veins. It must have been her inner self holding back even in the midst of her intense desire.

"Hey, relax. You're breathing too fast," Nate reassures her, gently caressing her cheeks with the back of his hand to avoid staining her fur with his blood. His words, however, fall on deaf ears. She continues to reach for his wounded wrist, but then stops herself, reminded of the pain she had caused.