A/N: He lives! It seems on the eve of my one year anniversary for being a writer on this site I have finally mustered the wherewithal to write prose again, heh. How ironic. Or something. Anyway, I don't wanna take up too much space talkin bout it. Take a look over at meh profile page for that. At any rate, I have been toying with the idea of writing a Volkner/Lucas fic for some time. Since like, last fall. -_- I just haven't been able to write it. But, I keep finding myself writing it in my head so I figured I'd put my fingers to the keyboard and crank this shit out, yo. Yah, it's like shouta or whatever. But seriously, there's no way a 10 year old could do all the shit that happens in the games. And the lead protagonists always seemed more mature than their age, and were able to carry tremendous responsibility and like, save the World and all. I think that entitles them to smex. *is totally justifying his perversion* So I made Lucas 14 because that seems slightly more realistic, and Volkner 20.

Warnings: Uh..smexiness between a 20 yr old and a 14 yr old? Psshh, as if that would stop any true devotee of yaoi. *smirks deviously* No lemon or anything yet though D:

Lucas navigated the wondrous maze that was Sunyshore City with an even gait and furrowed brows as he contemplated the strange encounter that passed just minutes ago. His confusion was well founded, and several fold. Immediately upon his arrival to his penultimate destination before the final test at the Pokémon League, he had been accosted by an alarmingly jovial man with alarmingly red and voluminous hair. Lucas had half a mind to brush by him with a scoff when the bizarre stranger introduced himself as Flint, the third seat of the Elite Four. Any dismissal and deriding bemusement he had felt evaporated immediately and were replaced with deference and respect. Although this man might possess the appearance of a court jester, he nonetheless was one of the most accomplished trainers in Sinnoh. Lucas had every intention of beating him when the time came, but there was no harm in listening to his request now.

It seemed that Volkner, who everyone knew as the eccentric yet enormously talented gym leader of Sunyshore, had fallen into a depression. With no trainers of any admirable merit challenging him, he lost all interest in his duties, instead giving out unearned badges and spending his time with such obvious diversions as adding unnecessary renovations to the gym and sulking with pained desolation either in his private quarters, the Vista Lighthouse, or...less acceptable places of business (it was rumored that he would frequent bars on occasion and would drink himself into an unseemly state). Flint had heard of Lucas' exploits, and after meeting him in person, beamed that he was just the one to pull Volkner out of his quagmire of apathy. The boy couldn't help but wonder why an Elite Four member would intervene on such a matter personally, and figured that the two must have some sort of history together; though it could clearly be seen that Volkner's actions would have a direct and adverse effect on the League.

He felt it odd that this task had befallen someone of his age to be the savior, as it were, of one of his betters. Much less that someone of Volkner's caliber would allow himself to be reduced to this. But, as he walked and dwelled upon the subject, his mind unwound from its state of puzzlement cleanly, as anyone's tends to do with rational thought. While it was true that Lucas was only fourteen, he had proven himself rightly over and over as owning skill beyond his years. In the eyes of every gym leader over whom he triumphed he saw that glint of pure respect and future projection: they knew he would be the next champion. Flint had obviously been stirred by the same sentiment. And so when Lucas witnessed the look of earnestness and pain on Flint's face, he responded to the challenge. No, not out of pity for this complete stranger, but because only he himself could accomplish what was set before him. And thus he stood even straighter as he accepted the red haired Elite Four member's request.

Lucas neared the Lighthouse and paused, the sun's midday rays swirling about him and leaving him with a pervasive sense of warmth. He removed the cap from his head, stuffing it gently into his pack with a sigh. Yes, he could understand Volkner's reaction. If he himself felt so invigorated by the prospect of a test to his ability and will, which were born of him and a measure of his pride as a man, conversely, how awful must Volkner feel if he must constantly be handed one unworthy trainer after another? One takes great joy in seeing his competence stretched, and indeed, too, when it is outmatched. Left without stimulation, need to utilize all that which he is capable, any person would buckle under the weight of boredom and disappointment.

He, Volkner, made it his dream to become a gym leader, and not just any of the sort, but the most prominent, the strongest—the 8th gym leader of Sinnoh, the leader of Sunyshore City. He succeeded himself, accomplishing his vision with his own volition, skill, and passion. Yes, his pokémon were there at his side, but they were but extensions of himself, his own unshakeable will to prevail. And so, when he reached his summit, he had the naivete to assume that there would be others to match him. Unfortunately, this was not the case. In all the dull, anxious, unremarkable faces of the trainers that had stood before him, he read nothing but a pathetic plea: "Please, let me be victorious. Let me prove to the world that I am something...but then, my mother told me pride is a sin...maybe I shouldn't be here..." The first ones were easily cast aside like rag dolls, their pokémon struggling with the yoke of incompetence thrust upon them and finally collapsing from it. Very quickly, he lost the desire to allow his face to be spit upon by those not even worthy of holding his gaze. He gave out badges, yes, quite freely, without any battle at all. It sickened him to do so, almost as much as how he felt after a night of blind inebriation. But, wasn't it the lesser sin? Would it really be better to hack off his resplendent wings—to purposefully throw battles in the favor of his inferiors so that they might feel an odious, second-hand twinge of accomplishment, and he a lurch of revulsion? No. He knew his worth. Never would he offer himself up for such treatment. Better that he toss the Beacon Badge to a flock of wretched buzzards than to have them pry it from his defiled corpse.

Lucas entered the lobby, lingering and taking the time to marvel at the modernity of the structure—another one of Volkner's projects. He formed a pleased smile, which still retained that unabashed innocence of youth, and of simple joy. He didn't know why he was smiling; he didn't have the full maturity and intellectual grasp of root causes yet to integrate stimuli on an abstract level. If he did, it would be because he felt at home here, knowing that it was Volkner's will that made this building what it is. That it was Volkner who truly guided the vessels to safe harbor. He ascended with the elevator, listening contently to the soft murmur of cable and pulleys executing their task with precision, all the while wondering with what he would be confronted. The thought of seeing such—in his mind—a prideful man broken made him curl his arms about himself and frown. And what if he couldn't rouse Volkner to battle? Could he be that forgone and hopeless? He shook his head and spoke aloud to himself, "As long as he is alive, there must be something within him that will continue to fight. If I can't convince him, then yes, there is no hope. But I won't give up easily, and I won't go in showing any sounds of doubt, weakness, or pleading." He exeunted the lift once the metallic doors slid open, and made his way to the observation deck. As he turned the corner, he felt his mouth part in what was pure adulation.

There before him was the most beautiful man he had ever seen, sitting on one of the benches, slouched forward, arms crossed carelessly across his prominent knees. He wore black jeans that were neither too tight, nor baggy, clinging ideally to his thighs, a low cut black tee, that exposed just enough ivory skin, and a blue leather jacket that added to his air of sangfroid. He stared blankly toward the ocean, as though looking at nothing, yet his amber eyes reflected the incoming light and made the orbs dance with life, though just an illusion. The strains of private torture didn't mar the perfection of his face, with its Grecian sculpture cheekbones and nose, with the lovely alabaster complexion characteristic of that faultless marble. He looked like a god, reigning from his firmament with that crown of golden locks, so messily neat. Lucas blushed, turning his gaze away momentarily, for it was lingering longer than what was acceptable. He had seen Volkner's picture on television before numerous times, and in other media. But this was wholly different. To be so close...to see his heave of chest, the veins on his hands, his tongue absentmindedly glaze his upper lip...it made his breath quicken, made him feel warm in a way the sun hadn't earlier. He couldn't explain it, but he knew it meant something. Closing his eyes briefly, he regained focus, and walked over to the brooding man with firm and resolved, yet unobtrusive steps.

"Excuse me, sir. You're Volkner, the leader of the Sunyshore gym, right?"

The man redirected his eyes toward the source of the purposeful and tender voice, registering slight surprise when appraising him. He looked too young to command such confidence and such an experienced gaze! For a second, light made an inroad against shadow, but that gain quickly faded, and with a bitter smile he replied, "I suppose you could call me that."

Lucas inclined his head respectfully, "My name is Lucas. I am from Twinleaf Town, and I want to challenge you for the Beacon Badge."

Although the statement was phrased as a wish, Volkner couldn't help but take it as a command. This boy is so serious, so determined, he thought. He is far younger than I, yet he speaks as though we are equals, looks at me as though we are equals. He found himself smirking some despite himself, adjusting his posture so that he was now reclining backward, crossing one leg over another. "I see. Nice to meet ya, Lucas. However, as you must know, I am not taking challenges any longer. But if you want I'd be more than happy to—"

The younger boy frowned, narrowing his eyes, "Don't even say it. I would never take a badge as a hand-out."

Volkner raised an eyebrow, "Is that so?" His blood was racing now. He felt as though, suddenly, he were no longer observing himself, his life, detached and distant, like a disembodied spirit. Once again it was he who moved his fingers excitedly, with the anticipation of action, not some puppet string. He wanted Lucas to speak more. He craved this feeling, this sense of being drunk on the idea of living. It felt much better than vodka.

He nodded, "Yes. I have earned all previous seven badges rightfully. I beat each gym leader with my team, with my skill. No one gave them to me out of pity or boredom! It's an insult to us both to even suggest such a thing."

The blonde smirked, lowering his gaze so that his bangs shrouded his eyes. He felt like his cheek had been slapped; he even swore he could even feel it burning, and brought a hand to it, rubbing the skin faintly, "Yes...you're right...I apologize." He really meant it.

Lucas nodded, accepting it and dismissing it at once, "Volkner look...I'm not demanding you battle me bu—"

He smiled wide, genuinely, "Oh, but you are."

Lucas stopped, blinking his eyes, then smiling as well and chuckling, "Yeah, I am. Because I can. I've worked far too hard and too long to get to this point, to let your jaded depression deny me my dream. I know I sound selfish, and I am. I want to be the next Champion more than anything. I'm not like the other trainers, and you know it, because you're smiling right now. You know I can give you what you've wanted all this time, a battle with my life on the line, with all my mind and heart there on the field alongside my pokémon."

Volkner was smiling, indeed. But it wasn't like the first; there was more than amusement here. It was of admiration, a pure response to Lucas' unbridled will, to all that was best within him, demanding the same of himself, by the virtue of that request. He knew he would agree whatever Lucas asked when he first laid eyes on the boy. He wanted to hear it in words, though, and have Lucas' truest desires spoken in a metaphysical permanence that he could always treasure. He wanted to savor this. For so long, in the depths of his despair, when he thought that he had fought for a life that didn't exist to anyone else, that he could never share and relish with anyone else, this was the hope that sustained him. To one day have someones grab and shake him by the collar and say, "Look at me! For I am worth seeing." The two remained in silence for what seemed like an eternity to each when Volkner finally extended his hand, and Lucas took it with a grin, helping Volkner stand.

"I accept your challenge, Lucas."

Volkner led Lucas to the gym, both walking leisurely, with the latter falling behind to a respectful distance. He enjoyed the pace, for he really didn't get a chance to admire all Sunyshore had to offer the first time he made his way through to the Lighthouse; he had been much too deep in thought. And he didn't mind the distance between them either. It wasn't as though he were being led like a child. A more proper comparison would be a prideful homeowner showing his abode to a good friend and first-time visitor, for they are equals, and the leading is just a consequence of circumstance, and of polite deference. After all, wasn't this Volkner's city? All the innovation, the tourism, and splendor it had come to know couldn't have been wrought without him. His gym was the crowning jewel, the apex of the unlimited creative possibility of the human will. It seemed completely fitting that Volkner would take point, with his spine perfectly erect and his hands gesturing with rightful possessiveness to his domain.

Occasionally Volkner would punctuate the quietude with a few quick comments about a certain building they happened to pass, and made sure to mention the solar panel walkways, which were his genius at work again. Lucas thought that they shone with more luster and beauty than the finest gems, while he himself glowed with admiration and glee over them. This was not lost on Volkner, who with subtle askance glances took in all of Lucas' excitement. He smiled to himself, and found that he was finding the young trainer more and more attractive. The age gap was of no consequence to him. He already regarded Lucas as his equal, and for Volkner love was a rational response to the virtues and beauty of another. If the boy were old enough to possess such characteristics and an understanding of life as it should be, which he did, and responded to his advances, he figured that Lucas was mature enough to decide for himself if it was something he wished to pursue. Volkner knew he was still too young to be in a serious relationship, and that he still had a bright future ahead of him. Nevertheless, he wanted the boy as his.

They reached the antechamber of the gym, and Volkner turned to Lucas and smiled softly, "I'll be waiting for you at the end, Lucas. I expect you to still have more than enough fight in you."

The brunette grinned and nodded, "Count on it Volkner."

He couldn't he but smirk and ruffle the boy's hair good-naturedly, who blushed and smiled even wider. He resisted the urge to press his slighter opponent against the wall and crush their lips together right there, instead, walking off with a wave. He is too fucking cute for his own good. His smirk grew into an outright feral grin, and he retreated to the inner depths of the gym to await Lucas' inevitable besting of the resident trainers and the traps. In all his days he had never actually wanted to be defeated. Yes, he had desired the opponent battle to his fullest, and if that meant victory for that opponent, great. It was an honest and mutually beneficial transaction as always. But now, he actively wished to lose at Lucas' his hands, so that he might prevail against the Elite Four and Cynthia to become the new Sinnoh Champion. The mere thought made his soul swell with selfish pleasure: to know that he could make Lucas better prepared to reach his dream, that the first truly earned Beacon Badge in some time went to the greatest trainer in the the region.

Of course, in no time at all, there Lucas was before Volkner, radiating such fierce confidence that the blonde haired gym leader thought that he was looking into the past, at himself from those years ago when he was fighting to make his future a reality. The older man stood, meeting the younger's gaze with cold calculation. Yes, he wanted to lose more than anything. But, that's not to say he would make it easy for Lucas, or himself. And as Lucas felt that frigidity penetrate him, he almost gasped. Seeing Volkner look at him that way...with such brutal willpower...it stirred something within him. He couldn't identify it. It made him feel...bare, before Volkner; like he saw right into his core, like he saw nothing but him. His hand quivered with anticipation as he grasped his first pokéball in his hand. Volkner lowered his head, mirroring Lucas' action, and taking his battle stance.

"I was ready to take on the Elite Four myself, you know. Before you arrived. There was nothing left for me here, it seemed. Out of boredom and foolishness I would have abandoned my post, my pride. Facing you, I once again feel the thrill of being the Sunyshore Gym Leader! I want to unleash all I have against you, and I want you to fight me with every fibre of your being!"

Volkner cradled his exhausted Luxray in his arms, cooing soft words of assurance and satisfaction; his final pokémon had fallen. His most cherished companion gave his master a devoted nuzzle, before being returned to his pokéball. This might have brought a smile to Lucas' face, for it was a moving sight. However, the boy's eyes were closed, and his head thrown back. His arms rested at his sides, limp, yet graceful. He looked spent, as though he could finally know peace, and the uncoiling of his muscles reflected that. At the same time, though, he looked tightly wound, consumed with an intense emotion. With soft lips parted, he muttered almost inaudibly, "It's done...I can challenge...the Pokémon League..." He felt tears brim at the edges of his lashes, so exultant was his joy. But he knew that his dream was still not yet fulfilled, though such attainment was nigh. So he took in a deep inhalation, and released his breath, returning from the high of victory. It was only when he opened his eyes did he know that Volkner had approached him, inches from his face. He blushed deeply and fumbled with his words,

"V-Volkner! W-What are you doing so...close..?" He felt a tender hand caress his cheek.

"You have no idea how beautiful you looked just then, do you?" Volkner's eyes were filled with admiration.

Blushing deeper still, if possible, Lucas managed to say, "B-Beautiful...?" He averted his eyes, "No one's ever called me that...I'm not—" A long, elegant finger was brought to his lips.

"But you are, my Lucas."

He couldn't explain it, perhaps he didn't want to. Perhaps he wanted to finally have a moment of pure subjugation and pleasure; but whatever the cause, Lucas suddenly found himself pressed tightly against Volkner of his own volition, his arms snaked around the lower of the taller man's waist, with his fingers clawing into the jacket. Their lips were all but connected, allowing just enough space for some tremulous words to fill, "V-Volkner, I.."

But they were silenced with a hungry, and demanding kiss. Lucas moaned softly against Volkner's supple lips, his entire small body arching with pleasure, craving more contact with that of his partner. His legs were hoisted up and hooked about the blonde, as his neck was grasped hotly, to issue more pressure between their lips. The older nipped at smaller, lovely ones, eliciting a gasp and mew of contentment from the boy, and seized the opportunity to thrust his tongue into the other's mouth. The soft strips of muscle tangled, tasted, and twirled about each other in a frenzy of worship. With one hand slipped up under Lucas' shirt, and the other keeping him securely against him, Volkner allowed them to break the kiss for air, and both panted heatedly. He nuzzled Lucas' cheek, his lips softly caressing the impossibly smooth skin and leaving a faint trail of saliva.

"Better than anything I've tasted.."

Lucas was too flushed from the passion of the kiss to blush any more. He could feel their erections flush against one another, building even more heat between them and placed gentle kisses down Volkner's neck. This caused the man to sigh contently, pressing Lucas even closer to his body,

"So nice.." He cupped the boy's face and brought their lips together once more, but in a softer, more loving meeting than the needful one that proceeded it. "Until you're ready...this will be all we share, yeah?"

Lucas nodded with a tender smile, pecking Volkner's cheek, "Yeah." He was set down, and they embraced each other in a tight hug, neither seeming to want to relinquish hold of the other. "After I become Champion...I'll be all yours, Volkner..."

"...heh, I think you have it the wrong way around, kid."

A/N: So that is the end of the first installment. I only have another one planned, but I could maybe see writing a multi-chapter fic for them sometime in the future. This pairing needs more fics n lovin.

As you can see, I incorporated some elements of the game (Platinum, by the way is the template), but I really wanted to give my own twist to them. Yeah, I skipped the pkmn battles. Cuz well, they're boring to write and this story isn't about them anyway. ...might have seemed rushed, perhaps. But I don't see Volkner as the patient type, and Lucas was busy being consumed by pubescent urges. So I had things move a little fast, I guess. Considering Lucas' objectives, though, neither would fritter away time.

Anyway~ Thanx soo much for reading! As always, R&R if you feel so inclined. —Mal