Disclaimer: I do not own pokemon. Drat!
Dedication: This story is for one of my dearest friends, Jermaine…he knows why.
Author's Note: For about as long as I've been lurking in the fanfiction world, I've heard mention of the Mewtwo and Sabrina pairing. However, never, not once in over half a decade of searching for a tangible example of it, have I ever come across a story where the super-clone and the scary Gym Leader get together. Oh sure, I've seen one or two places where the idea was toyed with…but no one ever seemed to seriously try to run with the idea, which seemed rather odd to me, given all the similarities the two have. So naturally, I wanted to write something for them. Plus, here's my excuse to do some light comedy! As the readers familiar with my work know, I excel in the heavy stuff…angst is my specialty. But humor…well, I can do funny, crazy little muses - but I've always considered comedy the most difficult genre to pull off. Some people are very good at this – I am not (unless I'm writing sarcastically and you're knowledgeable in otaku and pop-culture references…but no one wants to read that stuff, so let's not go there…).
This piece will hopefully make you smile, even though the two are both immensely out of character here. Please understand, I haven't watched the original season of Pokemon in quite some time, so I don't remember much about the raven-haired chick…and considering the circumstances under which this fic takes place, the feline's a little twisted too.
A lot of this, be warned, came out of my dreary musings about New Year's Eve…so it flowed for me, which I take as a good sign. In advance, I apologize for the, err…bits of fluff clinging to some moments in this story (looks sheepish). Lastly…well, sometimes, Mewtwo fans and writers take themselves way too seriously…this fic, really, is in total defiance of that.
Half-buried in dirty snow, with the wide windows on either side of its redwood door still strung up with Christmas lights, The Kitsune's Den was scarcely one of the more attractive of Saffron City's pubs, and certainly not the type of place that would seduce those who lusted for chaotic energy and were too young to possibly be "legal." To be honest and fair, the bar, stashed away in the shadowy niche of the metropolis, did have a wide selection of pleasurable poisons for its visitors to choose from: beer, brandy, run, gin, ale, wood alcohol, wine, liquor, spirits, moonshine, rye, bourbon, Scotch, sherry, champagne, whiskey, booze, lager, stout, porter, pilsner, malt, mead, vodka, tequila, aqua vitae, Tokay, claret, muscatel, sauterne, retsina, sake, firewater, and numerous other beverages in countless flavors, brands, and types, each of varied origins and ages, which could be combined in more ways that anyone could try in the entirety of their lives – even several illegal concoctions were mixed there, though you'd have to be liked by the rather gruff bartender to get a taste of those particular shots. However, this array of drinks was about the only perk The Kitsune's Den possessed. The only dull music that was offered came from the local radio station; the television usually displayed only a flurry of static; and as far as entertainment went, some old gambling games, worn and dusty, were all that could be provided. Worse, the shelves that might have been used for hanging up coats and gloves were precariously cluttered with souvenirs from passing trainers (who'd seemed to have little taste); the porous timber of the building smelled of acrid tobacco smoke in a potent way; and last, the pub had the strangest tendency of attracting rather shady and odd characters into its hold, many of whom couldn't be helped with any amount of professional intervention.
In general, the place was old-fashioned and best left forgotten.
It also happened to be a certain Gym Leader's favorite spot in the city.
Her long overcoat wrapped tightly around her to ward away the December chill, she entered The Kitsune's Den wordlessly, shivering at the abrupt change in temperature. The musty and bitter scent of the bar hit her nose in the next moment, while the emptiness of it struck her senses. Only the bartender was there, adjusting the tints on the old television screen until the images of the streets of Viridian City came into focus. The sounds of cheering and shouting filtered into the room, from the parades of floats and performers presiding down Main Street and the hundreds of humans and pokemon on either side of the packed way. Flashes of colored light from exploding fireworks shown over their faces, their excitement almost tangible even from this distance and across the digital pixels. That bubbly, loud giddiness was what Sabrina had come here to escape: her parents were holding a celebration of sorts at the Gym, and she knew her presence would only intervene with their visitors' fun. To them, she was a rather gloomy person, a lingering belief originating from her angst teen years. It was probably for the best that she'd left early – she despised parties anyhow, the clashing thoughts and emotions, the stranger with their false "gifts," the chips and candy that would only make her gag.
Like many outcasts, she hated the holiday season, the loneliness it aroused weighing on her heart heavily. And like many others of her ilk, over the years she had formulated ways to sooth that feeling of empty sorrow:
Wash it away with a drink, and then, with luck, fill it up with a random someone for the night.
…Probably not the healthiest of things to turn to as a solution, but it was the only option she had. A serious relationship had proven impossible for her to obtain, seeing as how many of those that knew who and what she was feared her for it, driven away by her more serious attitude before she'd even had the chance to show them that she actually knew how to smile and laugh. It was a rather abysmal situation really, for while she accepted this treatment as an unavoidable fact (for she could never be "normal") she still craved what any other healthy, mature creature longed for: intimacy, physicality, the desire to not be utterly alone. She'd become used to rejection however, and had even grown comfortable with her lone-wolf role. Still, especially during this time of year, the not-so-self-imposed isolation bothered her…so she turned to temporary liaisons to sooth that discontent.
Not that even that was easy to obtain...! Too many people knew her face, and as tempting as it might be to get into bed with a celebrity, they were rather fearful of the possibility of having their brains, well, fried towards the completion of the deed. It was a completely ridiculous belief of course – the mind and soul had little to so with the heart and body. Her psychic energies would not touch any male she was with, nor would they ever find their minds invaded by hers…Christ, she did not want to know what they were thinking about as they pounded up into her! All she wanted was someone's touch, someone's warmth, for someone to be resting and breathing peacefully beside her after their antics were done…it was a primal wish, a silent need…and one that she very rarely was granted.
She cursed that, for it was scarcely from a lack of trying…god, she tried to be friendly and pleasant, and knew she wasn't a terrible-looking individual…but still, she seemed rather hexed when it came to relationship matters….
Shoving those dreary thoughts aside, Sabrina undid the buttons of her coat, hanging her winter-wear onto the seat of one of the stools before the bar, revealing the garb she wore. Her soft, mauve dress hugged her slender form lightly, the thin strips of fabric over her shoulders hidden by the misty, decorative, silk scarf over her shoulders, her legs being wrapped up dark tights. She took off her high heels, ebony with straps that were currently trying to strangle her poor, cold feet…Tyler, the owner of The Kitsune's Den, wouldn't care. She had been in his pub enough times that they'd formed a friendship of sorts…he listened on the rare occasions when she spoke of the matters concerning her.
"I'll have a glass of Madam Ninetales' cherry wine, if you have any left."
He nodded and drew out a nearly full bottle, pulling out the cork and pouring her a large glass, "Of course, 'Riny. I always keep some spare for the times you chose to wander in. Since it's New Year's Eve, it'll be on the house – try to enjoy yourself."
She smiled softly, "…That pet name will be the end of my carefully built reputation, Tyler…but thanks – I appreciate the gesture."
And so the first nearly hopeless case of the night began to sip her drink, allowing its sweet, sharp taste to console her….
Not an hour later, the second nearly hopeless case followed suit, drifting into the bar as well.
The clone of Mew had his own bitter dilemmas during this time of year, the least of which being the icy, harsh weather. Much like the Saffron City Gym Leader, he had come to the conclusion that December was a repulsive month, and that festivities had no place in the darkest and coldest days of the year. The only pleasure he took from the damnable season was the holiday decorations: the flicking lights; the iridescent glass bulbs; and the angels and doves that infested the pine trees in miniature, ceramic forms. He enjoyed the mint scent in the air, the glistening snow, and the beauty of the moon that hung for far more hours in the firmament than the blinding sun. Still, the feelings of love between happy families, friends, and mates bothered him as much as the incessant charity bells, tainting his enjoyment in the pretty sights…because those emotions made loneliness unavoidable when concerning someone like him….
For though he was well-inured to being alone, over the years, instinct and longing had eroded his stubborn verdict to deny himself any form of closeness to others. However, he could not bear the thought of romance, of binding one's self in unwavering faith to another…so he had become the type of guy most sappy females despised: a male searching for swift lays and absolutely no commitment, disappearing without a word before his partner awoke in the morning. He tried not to be impolite about the matter, but it was inevitable that he left someone with upset feelings - so he made a point to never spend the night with the same female twice, or even linger in the same town for very long. Once was enough for him, and one night stands were not a pursuit he entertained often.
But now, in his loneliness, company was a thing he sought after…so he looked for someone to be with, despite his inner loathing at the need.
To make matters even worse than that…Mewtwo was rather picky.
To be entirely honest, he could be with whomever he desired – he could impress the idea unto any mind that it would be quite a good thing for an individual to lay him, or do whatever else he might wish. However, the thought of indirectly forcing someone to allow him in disgusted the clone…so he allowed his potential partners free will. And even then, it was simple enough for him to attract others – for despite how ugly some of his attributes could be, he seemed to have a type of charisma other beings found extremely appealing. Philosophical…brooding…even handsomeness to an extent when in the human form (which Mew had taught him how to obtain in earlier years). No, it was not at all uncommon to find himself being brought home by a sly female in the off chance that he was looking for companionship. But as stated before…Mewtwo was picky. He had preferences to those in their middle to late twenties, who were not so flighty and had the personality of champagne: bubbly and rarely thinking upon deeper matters than current pleasures. He liked those more of his own ilk, those seeking comfort and possessing as much inner beauty as outer sleekness. Equally important was their ability to hold a decent conversation, with the stamina to keep up with his shifts in topic and mood. Being with those types of creatures made for a far more intriguing and satisfying night, but it was sadly rare that he came across such a suitable partner. So as a result, when physical cravings of any sort struck him, he usually needed to settle for far less savory females to spend the twilight with.
Hoping he would find none of those types of women in the shabby bar, he entered The Kitsune's Den, intrigued by the lingering Christmas lights and the solemn feel of the place. The very molecules drifting within its hold seemed to convey a sense of loneliness, the feeling having accumulated over the years from the multitude of unique (and ultimately avoided) souls that had visited the pub and taken a drink of Man's eternal elixir, like silt on the shores of the Nile. He noted the few others who had entered just before him, who were occupying the tables as though they were the only home they knew. He avoided those people who so clearly wished to abolish companionship, letting them stew in their own sweat and self-pity…and clutching his cloak around him firmly to ward away the feelings of animosity that they emitted, he stepped over to the bar, his head held high. Those humans, drowning in their misery, did not interest him. Getting a drink to dull the defiant grief in his heart was all that mattered to him now: the atmosphere of excitement in the livelier parts of the city was far too much to bear with a smirk.
He sat down a seat from Sabrina's right, ignoring her presence without even realizing it. Lost in his own thoughts, he merely got the bartender's attention and gave him his order: "…White Russian, with a frozen strawberry - don't give me that look. I know you have some."
His physical voice was just as rich and deep as his telepathic one…but it had a rough edge to it as well, and usually managed to make others pay careful attention to his words. However, Tyler was not an easily-intimidated fellow, so the tone did not phase him, despite the sharpness of Mewtwo's eyes that accompanied the sound. He had been in his occupation for well over two decades…very little could frighten him anymore. However, this was evidently a creature to respect, so he nodded, getting the nameless one his drink….
"…Cream, vodka, ice, and a strawberry, as requested. Will that be all?"
Mewtwo brought the drink to himself, "…Quite."
Then, the disguised clone began to sip his White Russian, glancing up at the television screen as he did so. His amethyst eyes, the same dark shade of violet as his slightly mussy hair, flashed with aggravation…and wistfulness. What must it be like to be on such a pure and happy high as those cheering people? He doubted he would ever know himself…he had lost such childlike bliss long ago, and he knew well it was not something he could regain by merely longing for it….
A soft, feminine voice brought him out of his musings, scoffing at him slightly.
"A strawberry? What are you, a seven-year-old? Wuss."
Sabrina rarely took such an impolite tone in greeting another, but the alcohol had made her braver than usual, and had infused her with a little sass. Besides, she meant each word she had said, whether a tiny bit drunk or not – the vodka in his drink hardly made it less of a dessert. He might as well be sipping spiked, melted ice-cream.
For the first time the clone looked at the woman…she was peering at him from behind her own glass with keen, crimson eyes, her long, straight hair reaching to the middle of her back. What skin she shoved (and she showed a decent amount of it) was nearly as pale as his own was, but held a rosy hue that his lacked. More than the fitness of her form, the haircut she had was what bemused him enough to make him respond to her jib: the bangs were almost perfectly straight, her ears covered by extensions of them. There was absolutely no layering…just a clean chopping of the dark grey, almost green locks. And as simple and even repulsive of a style as it was, it somehow worked with the woman's facial features – it suited her, complementing her likely stern personality, and even giving her an appealing look which deviated from the norm. Defiantly sipping his implied childish drink, he growled:
"And what would you suggest, my mistress? Boysenberry?"
It was a rudely voiced remark itself, but Sabrina took no offense…instead, she needed to suppress an amused smile. She swiftly took the bottle before her and tipped a decent amount of wine into his glass, withdrawing it before he jerked in surprise, nearly spilling the now pink mixture, "…That ought to be a little more mature," she commented dryly, "Take a gulp – maybe it'll help you with your issue on taste."
Suspiciously, Mewtwo sniffed at the mix, wrinkling his nose in a grimace, and downed the beverage as one might bitter medicine. The expression on his face swiftly shifted from puzzlement to utter disgust, and bowing his head, he began to gag, beating the thick glass on the counter in front of them. He looked as though he wished to spit, his face shaded with a faint tinge of green.
When he finally managed to croak out a response, he rasped, "Cherries? You must be trying to poison me…of all of nature's corrupt creations, cherries are the most vile, nauseating, sickly things-!"
Sabrina began to laugh at his reaction, her chuckling a clear, heartening sound which made him cease his rant. From his slightly hunched pose, he gazed up at her, watching how her face lit up with her amusement. Though she had persuaded him to force what he thought of as a toxic substance down his throat, he would admit: she was appealing in her own way, and in more manners than in just her spirit. Indeed…while not the most "well-endowed", per-say, her form was quite pretty. He smiled grimly to himself, thinking of where his thoughts and their conversation could lead. Vaguely, he wondered if that was what she might be here looking for – her outfit seemed indicative of that. Shaking his head minutely to himself, he straightened, and with a sigh asked the bartender for another shot.
Growing as cautiously intrigued with her new drinking partner as he was with her, Sabrina grinned at Tyler and told him she would pay the newcomer's tab. After all, one needed an ample amount of money when teaching someone how to drink, and the poor guy would likely be paying sufficiently later for his tutoring, a headache and a queasy stomach being the least of his worries. She was not aware, of course, that Mewtwo had a far higher tolerance to alcohol than most other creatures – he could consume up to around a gallon of the harder stuff without consequence. Still, he appreciated the gesture she made all the same.
After finishing his refill, Mewtwo spoke again, "Why wine, woman?" he asked, "It is New Year's Eve – isn't champagne more appropriate?"
"Champagne, stranger, is for those celebrating in all the festivities. Tonight merits the beverage of melancholy in my case, for I am mourning them!"
Poeticism…he wondered if she was getting a little tipsy, "And why is that, if I may ask?"
She snorted, "Probably for much as the same reason as why you're here…I'm usually 'on the outside, looking in,' during this time of year, as the shirks say. Considering that I let pokemon team do what they want during the holidays, there's only so much comfort I can take from them – so for that most part, I'm alone, which can be quite depressing if I think about the matter too much."
Yet Mewtwo's mind had caught on a singular bit of information…and for the first time in the chat, Mewtwo's eyes narrowed in a suspicious, almost angry glare, "…You are a trainer?"
She did not notice his expression, instead finally realizing that he had utterly no clue as to whom she was…and she found she liked that very much, for it meant that she could merely continue to be herself, with no preconceived judgments to deal with on his part. "Yes…it's my occupation, but I don't go around snatching up pokemon from the wild. I have my permanent team…we take care of each other, and battle when we're challenged. Currently they are off enjoying themselves in Lavender Town, visiting some old friends…they will return in a few days."
Sensing that she at least treated her "slaves" with compassion and respect, Mewtwo relaxed for the most part. She could not possibly know what he truly was, so there was no way any unpleasant confrontation could arise between them. He kept his aura well hidden though, just in case, not knowing that she was doing the exact same thing. Essentially, it meant that they couldn't sense each other's powers – and as a result, both of their identities were kept safe and confidential. So without worries, they merely continued to enjoy their drinks, privately musing on one another. As his eyes had traveled over her, Sabrina's gaze lingered on his tussled hair, his strong, elegant features, and his vampire-white skin. The moth-grey cloak he wore concealed almost everything of his lithe body, but she was certain he was healthy enough underneath it if his face was any indication. Amused by her ponderings, she said, "And what about you, stranger? What do you do?"
He watched the clock on the bottom left corner of the television screen…five minutes to go until midnight and the birth of the new year, "…I travel for the most part, taking whatever odd jobs I can find to support myself. I do everything and nothing, but am content enough with that. Truly, the only thing I continuously commit to is profiling others. There are many interesting and varied people within the human race, and I enjoy studying them, if that does not sound too…'creepy.'"
The Gym Leader only shrugged, "Anthropology and psychology are fine sciences…and you don't strike me as a sicko. I'm usually right about a person's character…my gift, I suppose." One of many, actually….
"Good to know." Now he was smiling, just a little.
For a moment, Sabrina contemplated the way the curling of his mouth changed his features, and with a slightly sly look, she murmured, "Tell me, I'm curious: but what have you concluded about me?"
Mewtwo admitted it to himself…she was of his horrendously narrow "type." Confirming her suspicions that she'd become a specimen of his pondering, he told her his conclusions, "Subject 665, the Woman Who Loves Cherries, and incidentally is a trainer of pocket monsters. Evidently a member of the dying breed of deep thinkers, she is condemned to be misunderstood and lonely as a result. To sooth her private sorrow, she goes to someplace quiet to ponder on matters, for while she is appealing enough in personality and soul, something odd about her, more than her mannerisms, has seemed to have set her apart: a thing which she loves and hates in equal measures. And while I am not entirely certain upon this next point, the garb she wears seems to indicate a desire to find someone to be with this rather accursed night of renewal, which in reality changes absolutely nothing."
"…Was that near the mark?" he inquired, noting the way she was staring.
"…You forgot the bit about how she teases her targets, but yes…that was quite accurate," she stated. Like hell she was going to tell him what a freak she really was, or of the bitter cruelty of her past, inflicted by others and herself. She was different now, better….
Only later would she comprehend that, perhaps better than any other creature in the world, he could understand the pain of her damnable existence….
Presently, she contented herself by watching the swift countdown to the new year. All at once, everyone else in the room, though they were few, seemed to come together, joining in the chant that was being recited from all around the region. The Crystal Sphere of Viridian was falling, the finale of fireworks being shot off and turning the sky into a garden of pyrotechnical flowers and stars, the anticipation of the people and pokemon gathering and reaching its zenith as the seconds ticked down in 10…8…6,5,4,3,2,1!
"HAPPY NEW YEAR!" The chorus rang throughout the room, and along every street.
And Sabrina turned to the stranger, leaned over, and kissed his mouth fully, holding nothing back…and very suddenly, Mewtwo found himself liking the taste of cherries, which somehow became delicious when combined with the natural taste of her lips and tongue. In that lingering moment, he held her against him, the hollers around them and the popping noises of firecrackers from outside a distant babble as he cradled the Gym Leader's mouth to his…and as they pulled away, they smirked at each other in a satisfied, pleased sort of smile – the kiss had been as enjoyable as they had hoped.
The next thing either knew, they had paid for their drinks and were walking out into the winter night together, drifting down the streets of Saffron. Out there they stayed, gazing about at the lights and parties that shown through the building windows…they passed the Silph Company, the Electric Railroad Station, the Fighting Dojo, among a few spots, wandering for a couple hours until the city began to quiet itself, the dead hours of the morning approaching. Neither felt tired, and while they did not speak, hold hands, or even glance at one another a shameless amount of times, the few others who saw them knew them not to be family or friends. From the way they walked together, it was clear in a subtle manner that they were something more, something transient, and were waiting until the moments were at their most fruitful to express that truth.
Eventually, Sabrina brought him to her home…he evidently didn't have one of his own, and she preferred to wake up in her own bed when the opportunity presented itself. Mewtwo had no complaints over this, though he did stare at the building in some surprise as she unlocked the doors of the Gym and gestured for him to follow her. Only now was he beginning to realize whom he accompanied, and as Sabrina was used to, the concept began to bother him. Not because he didn't find the irony of it downright hilarious, but for a different reason entirely, a worry rather – it was inevitable that someone like her would sense something amiss about him if she truly paid attention. If she somehow discovered the truth, what would she do precisely? Take him into servitude? It seemed a rather perverse idea, since her current actions seemed to indicate that she was planning to bring him to bed. And while the servant-and-mistress type of role-playing would be new to him, and likely slightly amusing when concerning her, the concept seemed rather unsavory, considering who his last master had been…and he truly did not wished to be owned again, not even in foreplay. Yet even with his doubts, he followed her inside…if worse came to worse, he could always erase her memories of him from her mind, though it seemed a great shame: he found himself growing rather fond of her….
Sabrina, oblivious to the dilemma stirring in his brain, led him through the Gym's dark, vacant hallways, deserted by its trainers. The visitors and students had all returned to their housings, leaving confetti and other party debris in their wake, which she and the clone waded through as one might dry leaves. Her parents, she sensed, were asleep in their quarters, which were blessedly far from hers. Good. She preferred it that way…she wanted to be alone and undisturbed with the male she'd dragged home with her, like a cat toying with another feline. Once they reached the bottom of the stairs that led to her rooms, she turned around and kissed him fleetly on the mouth, pulling back with a smile…she knew something of the previous blissful atmosphere they'd shared before had faded, but she had expected that, and so refused to pay it any mind. The stranger was here, and he was genuinely grinning back at her, even if looking slightly reserved. He knew what was coming now…the gleam in her crimson gaze, the expression she wore…both things were more than clear in conveying her intentions. Her tone too was changed, slightly husky as she told him to go on ahead...she would be following behind him soon enough.
Mewtwo obeyed, not caring that the order came from a human…it fitted perfectly with his own plans, after all.
He found her resting room without an issue - her aura clung to every fiber of it, almost aglow with magenta around each of the items within: the wide, queen-sized bed; the nightstand; the closed doors of the closet; the few pictures upon the walls; the candles and books upon the shelves. Most prominently affected was a dusty, red ball which sat in one corner of the room, though what that old toy symbolized to the female he could not begin to guess. There were a few other, random articles upon the desk near the window, whose blinds were securely drawn shut. Even so, shafts of synthetic light leaked through the cracks unto the fabrics of the bed, and in the amber illumination he sat, waiting for the woman who loved cherries to join him there.
She was bundled in a thin robe when she at last arrived, and carried a candlestick-lighter in her hands…touching the flame-tipped, ebony rod to the wicks of them, she lit the candles upon the shelves, the scent of them soon flooding the room. Mint, spruce, pine…she wondered aloud whether he minded. He only shook his head, savoring the aroma and the way the warm, flickering light cast itself across her skin and hair. She seemed incredibly soft and smooth in the dull glow, and as he watched her move, she appeared to quiver. From what? Excitement? Anticipation? Or was she merely cold in that thin garment? No matter…soon enough that chill would be replaced by the sweetest form of heat. And almost as if she was some form of late Christmas present, Sabrina slowly unwrapped herself, hanging the covering upon her bedpost. Taking in the sight of her, Mewtwo felt a wash of pleasure flood him, pooling in the more sensitive parts of his self…she was lovely…. Before he could make the motion to reach out and draw her to him, she stepped forward, melting the distance between them, kissing his mouth again…before smiling at the taste of him, drawing away slightly, her hands at the folds of his cloak, "Your turn... You've seen me…now be fair and return the favor."
With her, he undid the ties of his outer cloak, pulling that away to reveal yet another…and as that fell away, revealing plain and simple undergarments, Sabrina cocked an eyebrow in mock dismay, "More…? You…you are not a monk, are you? Because honestly, I would rather hate to turn a saint into a sinner, stranger."
Amusement…his eyes gleamed of it, "If I were one, I have not kept my vows in the least…. Do not worry…this is the last of it…."
Indeed, with a few more tugs and motions, the cocoon of robes slipped away, revealing the scantly-clad body underneath…only a baggy pair of pants remained, and within another moment, those too were lost. For a few seconds afterwards, Sabrina leaned back to examine the whole of him, taking in his exposed form much as he had hers. Naturally, her eyes lingered in certain areas, and slowly, her smirk only grew more shrewd…yes, she decided, she was pleased with the male she had dragged home with her. Now to simply enjoy the remained of the night with him….
Mewtwo acted before she could, his arms seizing her about the waist and dragging her into the bed with him. With no true concerns weighing on their minds, they laughed as they kissed, touched, explored, their acts drifting sluggishly into a deeper form of joy and warmth in their shared exuberance, their caresses and brushing together slowing and growing more infused with need as time flowed onwards. Their forms, so long deprived of physicality, was quick to respond to the feeling of a creature of the opposite gender pressed to them…and within a few more moments they'd passed the point of playful, lingering separation. The clone drew her closer, opening her up and sliding himself into her, feeling her jerk in his hold and gasp in response. Everything faded then except their motions, their quiet bliss…and as they moved in tandem, their breaths catching with each twist and dig, something altogether more subtle and unfamiliar to them both began to creep into the connection. Much like their current actions, the new, strange occurrence was involuntary…and they silently identified it for what it was, even as they attempted to focus entirely on the simple melding of their bodies and the sensations the liaison aroused: their emotions and thoughts were mingling. The protective mental barriers within their minds were dissolving when exposed to one another, canceled out, even drawn together to an extent, as if magnetized. The idea that their complete beings were weaving together was, for a second, something both found disquieting and disturbing…but there was nothing either could do to stop it from continuing to strengthen - they were too intensely close now. So they didn't try…instead, they let themselves synchronize, physically and, for lack of a better description, spiritually…a decision which was not without it consequences.
For they could no longer hide anything from each other like this…such is why psychical bonds are so difficult to sunder.
In one sharp instant of terror, Mewtwo felt her comprehension of what he truly was come into being…he felt her picking over his soul unconsciously, studying him in a way he had previous studied her…he did not know how she might react to the information she gleaned, and that uncertainty deepened the uncommon fear forming inside him. But Sabrina did not push him out and away from her in revulsion as he might have expected…she could not after having found something terribly precious in him, a kindred type of heart…and as one always does when encountering creatures like him or her in soul, the female embraced tighter, accepting him for such a thing. For in a way one may come to love a total stranger…she cared for him.
And that went far beyond Mewtwo's expectations of her…his response being to suddenly find himself unable to get enough of the being who had clearly been treated as much of an outcast and monster as he had been. In a soft pokemon's kiss he licked at her slick skin, burying his nose in her damp hair, dragging his finger down her taunt muscles…he savored the sweet contact he had with her in pressing himself closer still to her, his senses focusing on each tiny and delightful aspect of her self. Her scent filled his nostrils, warm in his lungs…without a thought he ingrained into his memory the sounds she made as he drove himself deep into her…noted each sharp prick of her nails and teeth where they nipped into his flesh as she bucked slightly in response to his actions. He felt her arc into him once, shuddering…heard her faintly whisper not to hold back….
He refused to do so…she had given him all of her self, and in kind, he returned that gift. Pleasure, exhilaration, desire, all entangling inside them like their limbs, the blood pumping from their pounding hearts a hot rush in their veins, until neither could stand it any longer. Zenith came, white and high as the moon in full light, carrying in itself perfect bliss…Mewtwo heaved himself into her once more, the liquid heat of him surging into her core…and finally, their movements ceased, leaving them both shivering, before sinking grimy and gratefully into the sheets of the bed. They lingered like that for a moment, neither wishing to part so swiftly…but both bodies were exhausted, protesting the continued connection…so Mewtwo left her firm hold, rolling away, catching his breath with her at her side…her panting was quieting, but it was a sure sign, if nothing else was considered, that their joining had been good….
Eventually, he came to stand before her window, looking out into the icy night outside, his frame silhouetted in the glow of the city lights. Unlike the bitter cold out there, this room was cozy and moist, a place that lacked emptiness. After awhile, Sabrina spoke to him, having curled up on her side to gaze at him, "Your true form…what do you look like when you're in it?"
The undertone of the statement was clear – she wanted to see. Mewtwo hesitated, but what did it matter now to continue hiding? She knew the truth, so after a second of reluctance, he changed, his form aglow in pale azure as his features shifted from those of a human into those of a feline. If was Sabrina saw then, a humanoid cat with a demonic edge, bothered her, she did not display her discomfort. She merely beckoned him to her, and perplexed as to what she was thinking, Mewtwo came to her side. Within another moment, he understood. The other psychic drew him down, stroking his face gently, noting the differences in his body with some curiosity…yet there was no disgust in her eyes. She did not seem disturbed with the fact that she'd let him into her body, a pokemon in verity…she proved that concept when she closed the distance between them again, tasting his mouth. Mewtwo stiffened…he was not used to any creature caressing his true mouth with hers….
Sabrina noticed his tension, and asked quietly, "Haven't you ever mated in your real body before…?"
"…Once or twice, with other pokemon…but not enough to feel comfortable with it."
Softly, she sighed, and then took his paws in her hands, "Well, that's not right. We should try to remedy that since the choice is available to us, shouldn't we?"
The clone's eyes widened at the thought…but soon enough he found himself lost again in her touch, her kiss, the familiar burn of want heating his form. The liaison they made this time was undeniably different…it was by far more personal somehow, by far more real to them both. The zeal and desperation of the previous connection had faded, replaced by a steadier and drawn out beat and pulse. As well, there was a deep ache to it, a void that needed to be filled…and which, with a certain amount of slow, soft passion, they provided the abstract essence of fulfillment to one another, turning the hole they held inside into a nearly brimming, bursting space…though what it held exactly neither could specify. Was it a bane of some kind, of loneliness? Was it tenderness? Affection? Fondness? They could not put a name to it…but even without the ecstatic energy, both agreed: this second joining was far better and more precious than the first, even without its grace and smoothness. This…this was theirs - and as temporary and fleeting as it might be, it felt wondrous. Mewtwo expressed that aptly enough as he murmured out her name, engulfed in the sensations of it…and Sabrina savored how he spoke it, making it a delicate and warm word, the happiness the murmur created sharpening in the realization that he knew precisely who and what she was and did not mind. Instead of turning aside, he stayed near her, making the empty place inside her heart disappear, if only for a short period of time…and that meant more than she could possibly express to him through tears or words….
Then, slowly, they finished, hot and weary, and touching his face softly, Sabrina murmured, "Well stranger…I'm all worn out. Would you keep me company while I sleep?"
For more so than her, he was exhausted…he was content to remain beside her in rest. So as she drew away, turning her back to him and drifting off, he stayed close, his fur lightly gracing her bare skin. As he followed her into the darkness of dreaming, he wondered at how he could feel her next to him even though he was not conscious…it was a conundrum, but as she stirred, he brought her into his hold regardless, determined to keep her warm and soothed. They slept deeply, fully, throughout the remainder of the sunless hours, breathing in the scent of each other, taking comfort in the feeling of the other sharing the space of the bed with them….
Sabrina awoke to hearing the shuffling of fabric and the light of true dawn glowing from her window. As she blinked her groggy eyes, Mewtwo came into focus, still a feline in body and in the final stages of getting himself dressed in his outmost cloak to face the frozen, morning air. For a second, she felt a shade of remorse over the idea of him leaving – but she had known that they couldn't last beyond the night. They couldn't if they were honest about the morality of the matter, but she still regretted that he would be going so soon. With a sigh, the sound alerting him to the fact that she was awake, she said, "Going without a goodbye? That seems a little cruel, stranger."
With soft eyes, he contemplated her, "I did not wish to disturb you…you seemed content to continue dreaming, woman. Besides, I left a note on your desk."
Clutching her sheets firmly around herself, she sat up, "That's a rather pitiful excuse…for your information, we females prefer that you at least try waking us up as a gesture of appreciation, rather than simply vanishing. A note isn't much better – what would you say, anyhow? 'Thank you for having me, let's do it again sometime'?"
Amusement…, "I will be certain to keep that in mind for future reference," he stated, his eyes gleaming, "However, I must be departing now – the daylight is hardly a friend of mine."
"Are you certain there's nothing I can get you before you go?"
She was stalling, trying to prolong his departure…and seeing the casual, innocent remark for what it was, the clone smiled a bit, somewhat sadly, "If there was time, I would ask you for some tea with milk…I'm certain you have some. But I need to be going now."
And spying the shadow of sorrow behind her eyes, Mewtwo went to her and cradled his mouth to hers, imagining what it might be like to have tea with her, sipping the hot, sweet liquid in her bed, and talking about anything and nothing at all. It was a pleasant, happy musing, and almost bittersweet due to how he couldn't continue to linger in this place. He was not human, nor she of his kind…and they were not made for a life of connection and companionship – they lived better on their own….
With that reality securely in mind, he teleported away, leaving Sabrina alone in the bedroom and with her memories intact. Falling back into the blankets with a sigh, the Gym Leader breathed in the now heavy air…it still smelled of him. The bedding about her, her skin, her hair…all still held his sweet and musky scent. With a start, her eyes shot back open as she realized that she didn't even know his name. Cursing, she saw that her Haunter had appeared in the room with her, having returned from his trip, and was now hanging in the air above her desk, peering at the clone's note with a sly, delighted grin. Flushing faintly, Sabrina telekinetically drew the paper to her, snatching it from the air viciously, glaring at the ghost in mock anger. Unfolding the note, she read the scrawl of fanciful, loopy script, which conveyed shortly: 'If you wish, meet me at The Kitsune's Den next New Year's Eve in the same hour as we met last night. I will be waiting. – Mewtwo.'
She reread the message several times before folding it again and stashing it away in one of the locked drawers of her desk with a swift teleportation. To herself she murmured the odd name quietly, playing with how the syllables of it danced from her tongue and formed in her mouth. Then, with a reserved, almost secretive grin, she whispered, "It's a date then," and rose from her messy bed, wrapping her cool robe around her form. Soon enough, her parents would be awake and making breakfast, her pokemon would have all returned home to partake in the delectables, and the trainers would be arriving in the Gym….
Suddenly, the birth of a new year did not seem so lacking in promise after all….
Miles away, on the foothills that clustered around Saffron City, a wanderer contemplated the sight of the dawn with thoughtful, amethyst eyes. Within the center of the metropolis was a special female he was willing to break his unspoken principles for and return to…she was too much of a unique rarity to simply spend a single night with and then pass by forever after. Yes, she was worth being beside again…so in a year, he would be waiting for her in that unremarkable pub where they had met, in the scruffy place which somehow seemed to grant all those who drifted into its hold whatever they most longed for….
With a pleased smirk on his face, Mewtwo vanished from the sunlit spot, and still had the taste of cherry wine within his mouth as he went….
Author's Note: That…was fun. I'm so going to write this pairing again…probably with a more serious tone and with the two actually in character, but this was too amusing not to try out again sometime. Besides…it was extremely reminiscent of the "good old days" for me….
Anyhow, please review, if you would be so kind. See ya'!