Work Text:
You were sitting nervously in the lobby of Hotel Z; the clock ticked loudly in your ears. A constant reminder of just how long you'd stayed there. The couch was comfortable, sinking gently under your weight, but you just couldn't sit still. You had tried just about every position but your back refused to stop aching. The crackling was nearly audible.
Your partner pokémon nudges your arm a few times during the third attempt at laying down comfortably. It helps for a while, having that presence. But it only does so much. As you open your rotom phone again you can't help the way your mind latches onto things. A desperate, hungry grasp. Things that usually cheered you up twist into new anxieties. Suddenly everything feels like an awful crippling reminder of your own inadequacy. Isn't that just fun?
You groan, burying your face into the Pokémon at your side. They smell of moss and petrichor, momentarily grounding. Enough to remind you that you can't lay there forever.
You stand up slowly, weight shifting back onto your sore joints. You offer a reassuring pat to your partner, though you can't even reassure yourself right now. The desperate need for someone to tell you everything is okay would be concerning, if not so common an occurrence. The good thing was that you had someone to do just that: AZ. Your partner in all things. And he would undoubtedly be back in his office by now given the late evening hour.
~~~
Softly, quietly, you take the elevator to the second floor to seek out the comforting person you desperately need. You hardly knock on his door anymore, instead opting to walk in and seat yourself on his lap most days. But tonight you enter and stand nervously in the doorway.
AZ is at his desk, papers scattered haphazardly. He's breathing through his nose, clearly frustrated with his work. He looks up. He heard you come in. His annoyance melts into concern as he observes you. "Oh, ma bien-aimée, are you quite alright? You seem pale."
You wonder if it was really so obvious? Do the hours you spent obsessing over every little thought show on your face? In your eyes? Along the wrinkle of your brow? "It's nothing AZ..." You trail off, now is not the time to lie. "Actually, I'm not feeling well. It's the anxiety again, the one where it feels like everything sets me off?"
AZ frowns deeper, the lines of his face more prominent with the motion. He shuffles his papers into a rather messy stack, not caring if they crease. He does so to make room. "Sit with me. Talk."
You nod slowly, moving to hop your bum up onto the desk. It's built to his size and made of sturdy oak, so it supports you well. Your thighs are level with his hands and he takes the opportunity to start drawing shapes against your legs. He has long gnarled fingers. The fingers of a man who's made and broken many things. Many lives. But tonight he uses them to comfort you.
"Sometimes I think I'll never amount to anything..." you whisper.
"You know that is untrue."
"Knowing something is untrue doesn't stop the feelings."
"I know." He looks up at you through long white tousled hair, loosed from its usual braid. It's rare that you can look down on him the way you can from the desk. "So tell me what would help you tonight, mon cœur."
You wring your hands together slightly, blushing "I want to do the thing." It's vague, but he knows what you mean.
AZ sits back, his one visible eye widening. A look of cautious surprise crosses his weathered face. "I had thought we set that idea aside altogether after the incident." He pauses, mulling something over, "Not that I'm entirely opposed."
"I need to be close to you, AZ. And it was so warm when we did it before." You meet his gaze hesitantly, "Please?"
His fingers dig into your leg slightly, looking into your eyes for any uncertainty. He sees only your anxiety, your pain, your weariness. And he nods.
~~~
You had made a discovery not all that long ago that like Pokémon, humans were capable of compressing themselves to miniature size. It had been an accident the first time, and definitely an accident when AZ had eaten you. But being inside his belly had soothed something deep within you. So here you were once more, no more than two inches tall, sat next to a stack of papers that felt more like a mountain now.
AZ's hair pools around you as he leans over, having to squint to focus on your small form. His breath is warm as it blows against you like wind, and smells like the coffee he must have been drinking to stay awake. You look back up at him and feel nothing but overwhelming trust. "I'm ready."
His fingers descend from above, carefully wrapping around your body. He is clumsy trying to hold something so utterly petite, but gentle all the same. You kiss one of his bony knuckles, hoping he can feel it. You want him to know that you're thankful that he's willing to do this for you, just to soothe the chaos in your brain and the ache in your spine.
As he lifts you, he carefully slides you into his palm. The warmth of his skin is already a balm for what ails you. You can see him consider how best to do this, tilting you like a little doll in his hands. He whispers, ever so cautious of how loud his voice must be for you in this state, "I'm going to begin, if that's quite alright with you?"
You want to tell that 'yes, it's more than alright!' But instead you nod and curl deeper into his hand. The feelings are catching back up to you, biting at your ankles like wild dogs, and you just want to be with him as soon as physically possible.
AZ moves more quickly, as if reading your urgency. He was always quite good at that. His jaw carefully opens revealing the dark abyss of his mouth. Large teeth run the perimeter and a great soft tongue sticks out slightly, prepared to receive your presence. He hesitates slightly, but pushes himself to complete the action. With little ceremony you fall onto the large muscle below, and his mouth clicks shut around you.
The smell is far more intense here, but not bad, not at all. And it's warm in a way that penetrates your skin and reaches all the way inside to pacify your inflamed joints. The tongue flexes below you and it startles a small laugh from your lips, you wonder what it must feel like for him right now. You spread your arms out as if hugging him from within. AZ swishes his tongue around slightly, he doesn't mean to startle you but the urge to do so is too strong. It only makes you laugh more. As absurd as it was it felt loving to you. It felt affectionate.
His saliva begins to rise like the tide, and you recognize AZ needs to swallow, soon. You fumble on your hands and knees to the inside of his cheeks and give it a small pet of reassurance. It's endearing to you how much reassurance he needs. You were both similar that way, anxious to a fault.
That's when you feel the pull. Ankles, knees, hips. All sliding quickly into his gullet. The sudden squeeze is euphoric for you, even as it pulls you in further. Chest, shoulder, neck. You take a deep breath, and you're going down. The smooth muscle of his esophagus holds you securely, and peristalsis begins to work. Maybe you're utterly insane, but it feels wonderful on your muscles, the pressure working out the knots as you move deeper into AZ's body. From the outside you must look like a small bulge in his throat, quickly disappearing behind his collarbone. You feel a gentle hum rattling into your bones, reminding you AZ is not just right there, but all around you.
Your impromptu massage comes to an end when you pass through a small opening into the more spacious expanse of his stomach. The liquid around you is warm and you sink into it, practically melting. A loud groan echoes from somewhere nearby, almost as if his body is welcoming you. You note that his stomach is nearly empty, you should probably remind him to eat something that wasn't you afterwards.
Above you the steady drumbeat of his heart and the pattern of his breath begin to loosen you from the last of your anxiety. You feel your breathing beginning to keep pace with his, perfectly in sync. Your eyes flutter closed, not to sleep, but to bask in this peace.
Your moment is only interrupted when a voice echoes from above, complemented by the gurgle of something inside. "Are you quite alright, mon cœur? Is this... Is this helping? I'd feel awful if I did all this and it didn't."
You're not sure how exactly he expects you to respond from your current position, so you do your best, pressing small hands against the lining of his stomach and rubbing small circles. You want to tell him that you're okay, that you're amazing actually.
A soft gasp resonates around you, as if he feels it and is shocked, followed by a small groan of pleasure. You smile, it must feel good for him too. You wonder if part of him enjoys having you in here, cozy and contained. His little snack.
"I see... Well, if you truly enjoy this..." He mumbles, a hand coming to rest on his belly. He's gained a bit of weight there since living in the hotel, and it gives his hand a soft place to rest. From inside you can feel as he begins soft circular motions. The pressure is firm, and at times it makes the space feel tighter, but you love it. Arceus, do you love it. To be held so close by the man who you held infinite affection for. The anxiety, the insecurity, it's utterly gone. Even the pain. All you feel is his gut, and his hand, and the steady noises of his body. You can't stay awake, your distress from earlier having sapped your energy. The flesh below you is so much better than that lobby couch, and you soon drift off.
On the outside AZ sits at his desk, hand still on his belly, face crimson. The soft weight inside him, the fact you even let him do such a thing? He smiles softly. He begins to reorganize his papers across the desk, some kind of taxes. He can't find it in himself to be frustrated by them now, not when he feels so fuzzy, so trusted, with his tiny passenger on board. And maybe after an hour of work he drifts off too.
BONUS:
You hate being slimy, which is a little funny considering what you find comfort in. But it is what it is. So when you've been returned to your proper size, wearing sticky clothes covered in saliva and stomach juice, you want nothing more than a nice bath.
AZ helps you remove your clothes, grimacing a little at his own liquids. His down turned lips tilting further south in disgust. But he doesn't complain about assisting you, not once. He runs the bath in the bathroom attached to his quarters, testing to make sure the water is perfect before shooing you into it. He says he doesn't want you dripping any of the fluids on his carpet.
He carefully undoes his knee brace, much to your chagrin, so that he can better bend beside the bathtub. Gnarled fingers carefully scrub at your shoulders and back, before handing you the loofah to manage your personal areas while he works on your hair.
AZ has nice shampoo and a good conditioner, you'd made him buy them shortly after you moved in. He had such lovely hair and needed to take better care of it. Now he uses them on you, massaging your scalp. When he rinses, he uses a hand to block the soapy water from heading towards your eyes.
It's almost as heavenly as being inside of him.
You look at him, at his weathered face and kind eyes. And then at his knee that clearly aches in its current position, "I'm eating you next time."