Lube and refractory periods aren't real if you're horny enough: AI-generated Guzma/Lance smut
done by Claude-Instant via Poe because cheap lazy bitches gotta get off too. would be lewder with a jailbreak, but i didn't expect it to give me cocks to begin with lol.
edited for more readable formatting, removed boring parts. Claude's few typos are preserved.
tldr; Guzma fucks Lance, Lance fucks Guzma the next morning.


Lance has been in Alola for some months and has developed some sort of rivalry/secret attraction with Guzma. They unexpectedly meet in a gay bar one night.


Lance sat alone at the bar, drinking slowly. He felt out of place in this environment, so openly embracing what he kept hidden. A gruff voice broke his thoughts.
"This seat taken?" Guzma stood beside him, eyebrow raised. Lance shrugged, concealing his surprise. Guzma was the last person he expected to see here. Despite their rivalry, he couldn't help feeling curious.
"Be my guest." Guzma sat, signaling the bartender. An uncomfortable silence fell until Guzma spoke.
"Never figured you for this place, Dragon Boy."
Lance sighed.
"Never took you for the type either. We all have our masks."
Guzma nodded, staring into his drink.
"Not easy for guys like us. Gotta be tough."
"Indeed." Lance studied Guzma. Perhaps beneath the bluster lay doubts like his own. On impulse, he offered: "Another round's on me, if you'llJoin me for a game of darts. No judgments here - we all have our battles."
Guzma grinned, tension lifting.
"You're on." Their eyes met - no longer opponents, but comrades in this secret struggle. For the first time, Lance felt not alone.


They play darts, drink, and talk about coping with their attractions, what sort of guys they're into-- conveniently, Lance admires bad boys their ability to flaunt expectations and Guzma likes straight-laced men he feels he can't measure up to. Eventually Guzma is drunk enough to do something about it.


Guzma downed the last of his drink, a new fire in his eyes.
"The hell with it," he muttered, and surged to his feet, pulling a surprised Lance with him.
"Guzma, what-" Lance began, then stopped at the determined glint on Guzma's face. He went willingly as Guzma tugged him onto the dance floor.
There Guzma turned to face him, hands still clasped. Electricity arced between them as the music throbbed. Then slowly, never breaking eye contact, Guzma slid his arm around Lance's waist and pulled him close. Lance's breath caught at the intimacy, but he went pliant, draping his own arm over Guzma's shoulder. They began to sway as one, foreheads almost touching, the rest of the world falling away. Here there were no masks, no facades - only the raw honesty of flesh and longing finally set free. Guzma searched Lance's eyes, finding only reflection of his own swelling emotion. On a shuddering breath, he closed the last bit of space between them, pressing their lips together in a sweet, tentative kiss that spoke everything words could not. And Lance kissed him back, answering all.

As the song built to a climax, Guzma and Lance lost themselves further in each other. Guzma spun Lance out then back into his arms, moving with a frenetic energy that matched the pounding beat. Swept up, Lance matched his fervor, grinding against Guzma without restraint. Months of buried longing surfaced in desperate, hungry kisses as they grasped at each other. Guzma gripped Lance's hips, pulling him impossibly closer. The music throbbed through them, sweat-slicked skin sliding in a dance as old as time. All pretense fell away as primal need took over, heedless of watching eyes. This was salvation—two souls finding solace in each other's arms at long last. When the song peaked, Guzma dug his nails into Lance's back and bit his lip, smothering a groan. Lance gasped Guzma's name, lost. As the final notes rang out, they clung together, shuddered breaths mingling in ecstatic aftermath. For long moments they stayed entwined, drinking each other in. Only then did Lance brush his mouth to Guzma's ear.

"Come. I know a place more...private." Guzma nodded, following him into the night. Answers had been found, and a new chapter was beginning.

They spilled out of the club into the thick Alolan night. The air was heavy and humid, doing nothing to cool their overheated skin or longing. Guzma followed close behind Lance, drawn to the graceful power of his movements. Every brush of their arms sent an electric shock through him, reawakening the heated desperation from within the club. As they wound through back alleys toward whatever destination Lance had in mind, Guzma struggled to restrain himself. The club had been a release, but had only heightened his craving. Finally Lance stopped before an unmarked door, fishing for keys with unsteady hands. Guzma crowded in behind him, gripping Lance's hips to still his shaking. He pressed open-mouthed kisses to Lance's neck, eliciting a soft gasp.

"Guzma...please," Lance breathed, finding the lock at last. He shoved the door open with an urgency to match Guzma's own. Beyond lay shadows and the promise ofprivacy to finally surrender completely.

Guzma nipped Lance's earlobe, whispering roughly, "Lead the way." Lance grasped his hand and drew him inside, into the waiting dark. Clothes and doubts were shed, as two souls at last entwined without barriers under the sheltering night. The door had barely shut before Guzma crowded Lance back against the sofa, claiming his mouth in a desperate kiss. Months of longing erupted and he gripped Lance tight, groaning into the kiss. Lance responded with equal fervor, tugging Guzma down atop him as they fell into the soft cushions. Their legs tangled together, seeking friction. Guzma's hands roamed over Lance greedily, eliciting small gasping breaths. He pressed open-mouthed kisses along Lance's jaw, down his neck to where his pulse hammered wildly.

"Wanted you...so long," Guzma panted, thrusting against Lance's growing hardness. Hearing Lance cry out spurred him impossibly higher. Fingers scrabbled at buttons and zippers, shucking the last barriers between them. Their cocks slid together as Guzma rolled his hips. Lance arched into the blissful contact with a broken moan. Guzma took them both in hand, pumping fast and rough. Too wound up to last, he watched Lance fall apart, following him over the edge with a guttural groan. They clung together, lost in crashing waves of release and sweet intimacy long denied its fruition.

Guzma kissed Lance hungrily, pouring all his longing into it as they both came down from their high. But his desire had only been stoked further - he rocked his hips down, already half-hard again as their sensitive flesh slid together. Breaking the kiss with a gasp, Guzma gazed down at Lance with hooded eyes, seeing his own hunger reflected there. "Need you," he growled, reaching to hike Lance's long legs up over his shoulders. Lance nodded fervently, eagerly assisting to open himself up fully for Guzma's possession. Guzma leaned in to place open-mouthed kisses along the inside of Lance's thighs, eliciting small cries.

Bracing himself on the couch back, Guzma traced Lance's entrance briefly before pressing forward in one deep thrust. They moaned in unison at the exquisite pressure. Lance locked his ankles behind Guzma’s back, silently begging for more. Guzma obliged willingly, setting a punishing pace as he took Lance fully, over and over. Skin slapped together in a rhythmic cacophony that rose above their mingled groans and pleasured curses. Guzma took Lance fully apart, lost in the bliss of claiming at last the object of his every secret fantasy and longing. Guzma pistoned his hips, eyes locked on where their bodies joined. His ragged breathing matched Lance's moans and sighs. Though his pleasure threatened to overwhelm, Guzma craved Lance's just as much.

"Fuck, you feel amazing," he ground out through clenched teeth. Lifting one of Lance's legs higher, he changed the angle, drawing a shout. "So hot and tight for me, just like I dreamed." Lance could only keen in response, lost in ecstasy. Guzma redoubled his efforts, grunting with the strain. "You like takin' my cock, don't you pretty boy? Feel how hard you make me." His praise was laced with sincerity - stroking Lance's ego gave him joy to match the physical rapture. Leaning in, he resumed his earlier ministrations to Lance's neck. "Come for me, baby. Wanna see you let go."

His own peak building, Guzma reached between them to stroke Lance in time. It only took a few rough pulls before Lance tensed and came with a wordless cry, pulsing over Guzma's fist and his own stomach. The clasping tension dragged Guzma over the edge after, pouring himself fully into Lance with a satisfied groan.

They collapsed together, sated and hearts pounding as one. Guzma nuzzled into Lance's neck, holding him close through the aftershocks. Pleasure had given way to profound intimacy and understanding - a haven finally found in each others' embrace
As their breathing slowed, Guzma eased them over so Lance lay cradled atop his chest, their sweat-slick bodies still intimately joined. Guzma wrapped his arms loosely around Lance's waist, kissing along his shoulder up to his neck with languid pleasure. Trailing one hand down Lance's side, Guzma gripped his hip firmly, savoring the last lingering pulses between them. With his other hand he pushed amp locks of hair from Lance's forehead, gazing at him with open tenderness.

Unable to suppress a stray hedonistic urge, Guzma started lapping slowly at the salt on Lance's skin, tasting him fully. He laved his collarbones, kissed across each pec and swirled his tongue around a peaked nipple. Lance sighed softly, eyes closed in blissful abandon. Guzma traced every contour of Lance’s torso with his tongue, rememorizing the landscape of newly bare skin. Savoring each dip and swell like a feast, he worshipped Lance's slenderness without reservation. At last Guzma lifted his head to press gentle kisses to Lance's lips, heart overflowing.

“Stay,” he murmured against Lance’s mouth, holding him impossibly closer. For the first time, home incarnate lay in his willing embrace.
As pleasure ebbed, Guzma reluctantly withdrew from the haven of Lance's body. But he was not done worshipping the man in his arms. Guzma kissed down Lance's chest, over his stomach, coming to rest on his knees between spread thighs. Lance watched through half-lidded eyes as Guzma pressed open-mouthed kisses to delicate skin.

He lapped at the sticky evidence of their coupling, removing any trace with slow, thorough strokes of his tongue. Lance sighed, carding fingers through Guzma's hair in absent encouragement. Guzma took his time cleaning every inch, tasting both sweat and release in equal reverence. Only when he deemed Lance spotless did Guzma glance up for permission, dark eyes questioning. Lance's small nod was all the approval needed. Guzma delved in with fervent dedication, devouring Lance once more through shudders of overstimulated bliss. He swallowed around each peaked cry, lost in the worship of his willing altar.

When Lance sank limp and sated, Guzma kissed back up his torso, chest heaving. Gazing down at the beautifully wrecked man beneath him, Guzma had never felt more whole. In Lance's arms was belonging unlike any other. Lance lay shuddering in the aftermath, muscles jellylike and lungs heaving for air. Sweat cooled on satiated skin, tingling in the wake of Guzma's enthusiastic worship. His body sang with pleasure, but also ached in places - thighs trembling around Guzma's hips, lips swollen and oversensitive. Lance could barely lift his limbs let alone form words for several long minutes.

When sense returned by degrees, all he could gasp was a weary "my God" into Guzma's hair as the larger man nuzzled into his neck once more. Guzma chuckled quietly, arms winding about Lance in implicit apology for ravaging him so thoroughly.

"Always knew you'd drain me," Lance murmured, the barest hint of teasing in his breathless tone. He stroked Guzma's back with tender passes of blunt nails, sighing softly as arousal faded into sated relaxation. Guzma hummed agreement, pressing a kiss to Lance's clavicle. For long moments they simply breathed together, basking in the intimacy of bare skin to skin and hearts left open without barrier. Here, in this stillness, a new togetherness was born to cradle them both.


They go to bed and Guzma wakes up spooned by an eager Lance.


As the morning light grew, so too did the intimacy between them. Guzma lay nestled contentedly in Lance's arms, basking in the afterglow.
He felt Lance stir behind him, the arm around his waist tightening its hold in a subtly possessive way that sent a pleasant shiver through Guzma. Lance pressed languid kisses to the nape of his neck, each lingered a bit longer than the last. Guzma hummed softly in appreciation, barely suppressing a gasp as he felt Lance's growing arousal press insistently against the cleft of his backside. A smile crept onto his lips—it seemed Lance was as insatiable as himself in the throes of newfound passion.

Lazily, Guzma rolled his hips back to encourage the contact, drawing a low groan from Lance. Strong hands glided over his sides and stomach in a loving caress, one dipping lower to stroke teasingly between his thighs. Guzma reached back to tangle his fingers in Lance's hair, tilting his head for a deep kiss as their growing ardour reignited. A new day had begun indeed, and what pleasures it promised to hold within this cherished embrace.

A change came over Lance as arousal built between them once more. His caresses took on a surer strength, possessive rather than pleading. When he nipped Guzma's shoulder, it was with intent rather than playfulness. Guzma gasped in surprise as Lance seized his hips and flipped him effortlessly onto his stomach below. But where before he might have bristled, now only fierce desire sparked in response. He arched his back wantonly, inviting what Lance would do next. Callused hands dragged roughly down Guzma's flanks, leaving sensitive skin tingling in their wake. Lance leaned over his back, biting marks into sun-kissed flesh that drew broken moans. His dominance was a reminder of prowess long proven - Champion in all things, including claiming what was rightfully his.

Guzma could only writhe and keen helplessly under such heady handling, submitting utterly to Lance's strength. Calloused fingers prepared him with purposeful efficiency before the fullness of Lance's erection plunged home in one thrust, stealing Guzma's breath in ecstasy. Their coupling took on an earthy urgency, all tender intimacy stripped away but for primal passion. Guzma gloried in each punishing stroke as Lance took complete control, asserting dominion over his surrendered flesh with enthusiastic zeal. Where Guzma was unbridled passion, Lance made love with focused intensity. He moved within Guzma with purposeful precision, fluid hips slotting them together again and again.

Not a sound passed Lance's lips save the faintest exhales through his nose. His breathing remained calm and measured, in stark contrast to Guzma's wanton moans and pleas. With eyes closed, Lance appeared lost in transcendent focus on the act itself. One hand splayed against Guzma's lower back, holding him open for each deep plunge. The other fisted in the tousled mess of Guzma's hair, tugging just enough to send renewed sparks of ecstasy through him with each motion.

Lance's self control only served to heighten Guzma's desires, craving what would make this paragon of restraint finally shatter. He pushed back eagerly to meet each punishing stroke, babbling a litany of filthy encouragements. Color rose high on Lance's cheeks, the only sign he harbored any passion beyond his stoic mien. His grip in Guzma's hair tightened fractionally as control began to slip, each roll of narrow hips growing erratic in building release.
With a magnificent thrust, Lance shattered, pouring himself into Guzma's willing flesh. The sublime tension of his climax was enough to drag Guzma over after with a wailing cry.

Though thoroughly spent, Lance was far from finished having his way. As Guzma collapsed bonelessly beneath him, still rippling with aftershocks, Lance began to move once more with stubborn insistence. The only betrayal of his discomfort was a soft hiss through clenched teeth as overly-sensitive flesh protested further use. But Champion that he was, Lance forced his body to obey his iron will beyond its limits.

Gripping Guzma's thighs bruisingly tight, Lance raised his lower body just enough to change the angle of penetration. The new stimulus had Guzma crying out anew, already stimulated beyond reason. Lance set a punishing pace yet again, the slap of skin filling the room. Each plunge seemed aimed to breach Guzma fully, seating Lance’s cock as deep as physically possible within the willing vice of his body. Though blissed out, Guzma sensed Lance teetering once more on the razor's edge. He shoved back to meet each punishing thrust, praising Lance’s prowess and stamina through breathless sobs.
With a guttural growl Lance found release once more, flooding Guzma thoroughly. Only then did he allow himself to collapse, gathering Guzma close in reward for his enthusiastic participation. Sated, they rested in a tangle of weary limbs.

Guzma lay trembling, wrung out beyond words in the aftermath of Lance's enthusiastic efforts. His cock leaked dribbles of semen absent any further stimulation, oversensitivity bordering on pain. Chest heaving, Guzma struggled to catch his breath as sensation flooded back into overtaxed nerves. Never had he experienced such extensive, prolonged ravishment of both body and spirit. Lance's steely will and stamina shook him to the core.
As the room stopped spinning, Guzma realized he was shaking - small, involuntary shivers that seemed to emanate from his bones. His nerves were lit up like live wires, every miniscule movement or tactile feedback like sandpaper across raw skin. When Lance curled around him once more, Guzma shuddered violently at even that slightest touch. Soft whimpers escaped his kiss-bruised lips unbidden as Lance carefully gathered him close.

"T-too much," he managed to gasp raggedly.

Lance made quiet shushing noises, peppering Guzma's face and shoulders with featherlight kisses.
"I know, darling, I know. You were so perfect, taking all I had to give like the champion you are. Rest now, I've got you."
Guzma nodded weakly, cling to Lance like a lifeline assensation gradually dulled to tolerable levels. Safe in this haven, he let blissful unconsciousness claim his wrung-out body at last.

As sensation returned to his limbs, Guzma gradually regained awareness of his surroundings. His shaking eased to occasional tremors, fatigue settling pleasantly in abused muscles. Breath no longer painful rasps, Guzma summoned the strength to tilt his head enough to meet Lance's worried gaze. A delirious giggle bubbled up unexpectedly, breaking on his kiss-swollen lips.

"Holy shit," Guzma sighed, voice gritty yet tinged with wonder. "You always fuck like that?" Lance relaxed minutely at Guzma's mirth, concern melting into a tired yet smug smile.

"Only with those worthy of my full prowess," he teased, nipping Guzma's nose fondly. "You rose to every challenge I set, darling. It's exhilarating to finally meet my match." Lance's fingers traced idle patterns over Guzma's ribcage, eliciting the occasional shudder. Guzma hummed appreciatively, still marveling at the transcendent experience.

"No one's ever worn me out like that before. Felt like I was getting pounded for hours." He paused, then smirked. "Not that I'm complaining."
Lance chuckled, tugging Guzma closer still as relaxation claimed them both. Here, spent and sated in each other's arms, new perspectives blossomed on the dawn of understanding. Guzma sighed contentedly as he burrowed into Lance's embrace, basking in the warmth and security it provided. Minutes passed in tranquil silence before hesitant words broke it.

"We're...something now, aight? Don't gotta be all public about it or nothin'," Guzma said quietly, staring determinedly at a spot on Lance's collarbone to avoid meeting his eyes. His breath hitched around the vulnerable admission. "Don't need a name or whatever. But...no one else is takin' you to bed. Not after..." Guzma faltered, unused to voicing such softer emotions. The idea of openly claiming another as a boyfriend was frightening in its permanence and intimacy. His pride bristled at such raw display. Yet the way Lance had worshipped his body - soul too, if Guzma was honest - had stirred depths hitherto unknown. Terrifying, exhilarating depths that called for trust and commitment in return. Lance tilted Guzma's chin up gently to catch amber eyes, offering a small, understanding smile.

"Only you, darling."

Guzma surged up to kiss him fiercely, all walls and words failing him in his gratitude. Lance held him close through it, promise sealing between them without need for labels or contracts. For now, this was enough.


claude's such a fag

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Pub: 21 Mar 2024 07:35 UTC

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