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--Claire--

We had the day to ourselves, Mira and I. It was fun, being out in the woods, hopping along downed trees and over the rocks. We found a little stream, and she helped me brush my fur out, while we sat and talked about things, while the wind found its way through the grass and leaves in a soothing rhythmic rustling.

The truth was, I didn’t know he’d felt that way, until I saw it in his dreams. His memories, the ones he couldn’t edit with some version of who he was now. The ones he couldn’t chase away with clever excuses. I had no idea. All that time I’d been with him, he’d never let me know that, and it hurt. It hurt to know how little I still knew about him.

“It goes both ways, you know.” Mira had said, as we waded through the grass. “All the times you told me about your mother, how much did you tell him?” She paused, and slid a ribbon around my arm. “How much does he know about you before you met?”

“Almost none of it.” I conceded. It wasn’t that I didn’t love him, or didn’t trust him. There just weren’t any good words and I didn’t like trying to talk about it. I knew he’d worry and have questions that I didn’t have answers to.

“Fuck. You know I hate it when you cut right to the heart.” I added, giving her a playful shove as she moved in front of me. She just smirked at that, and took my hands in her ribbons. I couldn’t stay mad. She loved me, and I knew it.

“You read his thoughts, Claire. I read his heart. It’s a different thing. We know two very different people.” Again, she had a good point. What she had with him and what I had with him were very different things. She and I even were very different to each other than we were to him.

“What’s it like?” I never really thought about it before. “I mean… I could tell you all about his thoughts. Right down to their color, their taste.” It was true. When he was really wound up about something, it became flavors. I hated it when he was anxious. It tasted like strong soap blended with cheap sugar. There was a memory attached to it, of trying to clean up some awful mess he’d made as a child. It was fuzzy, and vague. That he’d made a mess, and that he was going to get in trouble. He might have forgotten the memory, but he remembered the taste.

“Ochre.” I said, as we took a seat opposite each other on a broad rock. “When he’s anticipating something. If it’s good, I see amber at the edges of my vision. When he’s anticipating something bad, umber.” I began to give her other examples, of the colors of his thoughts, of the times he'd described the colors in mine.

--Mira--

It was crazy to hear her talk about seeing colors and tasting things in his thoughts. I’d never had that kind of bond with him. I couldn’t even imagine it. The idea of it just made me dizzy and queasy. Thanks to all the training with Claire, I could read his mind, but it wasn’t anywhere near that deep. I could tell when he wanted certain things, if he wanted them strongly. I often brought him water, or a snack from his bag before he voiced the want. I often gave him the love and affection he felt a lonely longing for, on the longer days.

And sure, I knew how he wanted to make love. Right down to the way he wanted me to look up at him when I kissed and licked it. His heart almost trembled when I did. A little bit at a time, I learned a lot of things that made him feel that way.

But what she described was something very different. It was frightening in scale to me. Compared to that the things I felt seemed small, insignificant…

“I could tell you when he’s happy, or sad. I feel it... the sinking feeling when something has gone wrong. He gets lost in it if he’s left alone. It’s hard to explain.” I struggled, trying to find words to make sense of something that had been purely instinctive to me. “You see colors in his thoughts. I would say… his heartbeat is a song.”

It began to make more sense, even to me as I spoke. The words tumbled out of me before I could catch them, or put them in any kind of order. “When he’s calm and happy, it’s a lullaby. I could sleep to it, everything the whole world just… doesn’t matter. All there is is his heartbeat, steady and sure. When he’s angry, it beats like a war drum. Everything about him is fire, and fury. I’m afraid to look into his eyes when he’s like that. He’d never hurt me, but I’m afraid of remembering him like that. When he’s being touched as a lover, it’s an eager, nervous tremolo. He acts confident, but every time he has that same anticipation, that same anxiousness. I know he worries he won’t please us. He tries very hard. He pushes himself every time.”

Claire laughed at that, and nodded. “I see it in his thoughts sometimes. He doesn’t do a very good job trying to hide it. We all have to coax him in our own ways, don’t we?” She laughed at that. “The only thing we never have to convince him to do is keep going until he’s satisfied, too.”

“It isn’t… exactly music… it isn’t poetry. Sometimes his heartbeat is a sonnet, and sometimes it’s a symphony. I don’t … I don’t think I get the depth and detail that you do.” I ceded that much. It was blindingly obvious anyway. “I have to guess at a lot of it, and improvise around how he reacts. There’s a lot I don’t know.”

“For what it’s worth, I don’t get the beauty that you do.” It surprised me to hear Claire say so. “There’s always too much going on when he’s awake, and sometimes too little when he’s asleep. I have to pick through the chaos of all of his thoughts to find the threads that matter. If I’m not careful I hear everything. Every little nagging note at once. Too much, it's just noise.” She smirked at that, but I understood. “I wish there was a happy medium.”

“I think…” I struggled for a moment, trying to find the words. “Our happy medium is going to have to start with him, not us.” I said, after a moment. “He has to be a lot of things, doesn’t he? Maybe we should start by changing that.”

“Okay. I don’t always hate it when you cut right to the heart.” Claire said, with a giggle as we started on her bushy tail. “You make a good point. But honestly, how are we going to get him to take it easy for a while?”

“We could break his other leg?” I asked, with a teasing grin as Claire cackled at the quip.

“It might come to that.” She teased back, and sighed “I don’t know how to get him to slow down. All this time we’ve been together, and I’ve seen maybe four days where he just took a break. I mean, a real one. Where he wasn’t fussing over us, or worried about what to do next, or staring out a hospital window wanting to be back on the road.”

“You know... “ I paused, getting a paw up on her back to nuzzle against her shoulder. “As far as I’ve known him, he’s always been this way. All or nothing. He doesn’t do anything by half measure.”

“What’s your point?” She asked, turning to face me as I sat next to her. “I mean, he’s always been like that. If he’s going to do anything, he just throws himself into it. Whatever it costs him.”

“And we’ve all been the same, to match him.” I said, with a grin. “We push him as much as he pushes us. What we ought to be doing is push him in a different direction.”

Claire smiled as she caught on to my meaning. “Oh… you clever bitch. I love it…”

--Trainer--

I had begun to worry, as I prepared food for us, the sun was setting. Claire and Mira were still nowhere to be found. Tempest reassured me, more than once, but Cocoa seemed to share my concerns. It was, to say the least, unlike them to be away. And certainly unlike them to be away -all day-.

I realized as I tended the pot, that I might have been able to find her, our minds, our training and practice put to use. But I hesitated. I wanted to, but she asked to have time on her own. She’d gone with Mira, and I wanted to let her have what she needed. Which… as much as I couldn’t help it, seemed to not be her trainer worrying every waking moment that she couldn’t go an hour without someone protecting her.

So I waited, gnawing anxiety building as I served up a meal for three. Two and a half, really, I couldn’t do more than pick at my own food. Despite the day’s exertions, and how hungry I knew I was, I couldn’t even taste the food.

Another hour went by, the sky was brilliant, rich sapphire and cerulean, the first stars making their appearance as the sun dipped behind distant trees. The moon was full and already high in the beautiful clear sky. The pale light joining the fireflies stirring in the grasses. Pretty as a picture, except it was minus a couple important parts.

Tempest kept an eye towards the tree line, but beyond that didn’t make much show of the absence. Cocoa turned in early for the night. I couldn’t have slept if I wanted to.

I realized, after a while, that Tempest had fallen asleep, curled up near me. I almost resigned myself to doing the same when I felt a sensation like a cool breeze, Mira’s brush of consciousness against mine as she made her way through the grass, coming to me by the fireside.

“Claire will be along a little later, but she wanted me to... “ She paused, looking over at tempest. “... remember how adorable this moment is…” She trailed off, snaking a ribbon around my arm.

“You were waiting up for us. I’m sorry, it took longer than we thought. But…” She moved to sit in my lap, stealing a little kiss from my lips. “She wanted me to pass that along…” Her ribbons trailed down my chest. “But this is from me…” She whispered, taking a deeper, lingering kiss, her body pressed tight to mine, ribbon around my arm guiding my hand to her backside. “Before we set off tomorrow, you owe me one. You’ll see why in a bit.” She said, before nudging Tempest, hopping out of my lap. “Come on, sleepyhead. Let’s go tuck in for the night.

Tempest looked up, groggy, and all but shambled to the tent while I chuckled and bid them goodnight. Her response was more a growl than words, but not an unfriendly one, just… acknowledging I had said something.

Poor dear, she must have been exhausted.

It was not much longer, in truth. Claire’s touch against my mind was sweet, and musical, like the ringing of bells. She’d managed to come in behind me while I was distracted, and wrapped her arms around me. I smelled flowers, and realized as my hands found her, that she was impeccably clean. Her fur, as thick as it was, had been completely brushed out and washed. She was silky smooth from head to toe, and had woven a little crown of flowers for herself.

I murmured an appreciative little noise as my fingertips ran over the smooth, soft strands, sliding to her thick, bushy tail as she circled me. Even it, as difficult as that must have been, was flawless. She gave it a little shake, more her hips than her tail itself, but leaned in to kiss me. Her tongue teased my lips, parted them, just like that, danced with mine, lingered, soft and sweet.

“You know… you got me thinking… about all the things I really want. All the things I really want to do.” She giggled, leaning in to nip at my neck. “You were right, before. That I shouldn’t be like my mother.”

“I don’t really want that, either. She was always prim and proper. Everything had to be just so. I’m not her. I just want to be good for you. Whatever that means to us.” She paused, and leaned in to kiss my neck again.

“So I wanted… to show myself that. To really do it. This is the kind of thing she’d do. The kind of woman she is.” She paused, and took a step back, running her hands through her own fur.

“It’s fun… but maybe in small doses. It’s too much work, and I couldn’t imagine doing it with that much more fur. It was hard enough taking care of my tail today…” She trailed off, stepping in close again. “Let alone the rest of me.”

“And you’re going to ruin it. Ruin me.” She said at last. “You want me to be your mate?” She asked, her gaze locked to mine. “I want you to be mine. So show me my place. Show me what kind of woman you really want, and I’ll be your perfect girl.” She smiled, turning away a little, lifting her tail up with her hand. "Tonight is all about you... show me what kind of girl you want me to be."

As if she had to ask. My hands took her hips, pulling her tight against me, she squeaked, and giggled as I gripped her fluffy ass, my teeth slipping through her fur to graze against her neck. Her giggling turned to a soft, breathy moan, as her hands slid through my hair, holding me close to her.

She shifted as my hands slid between her thighs, from behind. Rocked her hips back and forth to grind against my probing fingers, until I slipped one in. Hot, slick, wet. Her thoughts and mine mingled on the pleasure she felt, on the warmth and the pressure. I didn’t need to say a word, she knew what I wanted, and got up in my lap, as I leaned back, her body more or less laying atop me as I buried my fingers in her. She began to rock and bounce, fucking herself with my probing digits. Her sweet, breathy moans filling my ear as she took her pleasure.

I stopped just as she was really getting wound up, leaving her whining and looking up at me with pleading eyes. But I was not to be swayed, my fingers trailing a ribbon of her slick lubricant between them, to drape it across her willing tongue. Watching her put it to good use, licking me clean and nibbling on my fingers as she fumbled with my pants.

I stopped her, after she pulled me free of the confines of my pants, my hand on her cheek, thumb pushed into her mouth. “No you don’t. We’re doing this my way.” I said, pushing her down into the dirt by the fire. She moaned into my hand, and nodded. Her thoughts tinged with anticipation, hunger, delight, and for just a moment as I pushed into her, pain and absolute need.

She didn’t have a chance to prepare me the way she normally did, with her eager little mouth worshipping every inch of me until there wasn’t any real friction at all... This time, I parted her walls and pinned her to the ground, making her gasp and buck at the sudden roughness of it as my hands slipped through her fur to play with her perky little nipples.

All of our fun must have had an effect on her, they capped beautiful little swells now. They hadn't, when she first evolved. They were so sensitive, but a delight to play with, and a source of tremendous pleasure for us both.

Her hands found mine, squeezing over them, making me grip her tighter. Her breathy moans deepening as I pinched and rolled her nipples between my fingertips. I could feel it through her, the mix of pleasure and pain as I drove myself hard against her cervix. The sting of the pinch at her nipples, and the grit of the ground beneath her back.

I could feel how small she felt in that moment, and I took a kiss from her, pulling out to hold myself over her, forcing her to accept it until she was breathless. She all but howled as I pushed back in, her climax leaving her mind an empty fog, as the sensation of my rutting against her took away everything else.

--Claire--

He knew all my little secrets… he created half of them. Pleasures I didn’t even know I wanted. This, too, was Mira’s idea, and once again, she had it right. This was what I wanted. Not some prim and proper nonsense. Not to be treated like a princess. Not to be like mom. I really wanted to be his. We'd done this dance before, but... after everything else, I just wanted to remind him. To remind myself, too.

I was lost in the pleasure when I felt him pull out, being pulled away. I didn’t know what was happening at first, but he cussed and I heard the scraping of his shoes against the ground, his hard landing, and a laugh.

It was damn near impossible to switch gears, he’d left me legless already, but I scrambled to get to his side as quickly as I could. There, I saw our enemy, sizing up the broad muscular form of a nidoking, leering down at me.

“This… this is what you got all prettied up for?” He asked, as master took to his feet, fastening his pants. “This little wretch? His seed won’t take… why waste your time? Besides…” He paused, with a grin. “Don’t you want to feel a real man inside you? That puny prick couldn’t possibly satisfy. Let me show you a good time, just the two of us.”

I was livid. Indignant. How long had he been watching me? Watching us?I moved to attack, but master stopped me, his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t work yourself up. I’m your mate, it’s my job, right?” He asked, stepping between us.

He didn’t say a word, just closed the distance, didn’t even raise his hands. The nidoking laughed, and swung at him, a raking blow that master ducked out of the way of, following the trailing arm to land a solid punch against the nidoking’s leathery plate, spinning below another raking blow to drive an elbow hard against the underside of the nidoking's chin. He staggered, but laughed.

“Oh, you have a little fight in you after all? Good. It’ll help work up an appetite before I take my woman.”

Tempest had come out of the tent, to see what the noise was about, and shouted for the others, but master called back to them to hold off.

I didn’t want to. It was my fight too. All of ours. He was my mate, our mate.

But he moved gracefully, a palm striking the underside of the nidoking’s arm, forcing the shot high, while he swept low, kicking hard against the nido’s knee and shoving him back. The tail swung wide, and he jumped over it, it seemed like he had the upper hand.

And it changed in an instant.

As he landed, he had no time to block the strike from above, it was a master stroke, snapping his head back and dropping him to the dirt with a heavy thud. The nidoking went to follow up with a stomp, but he managed to roll out of the way, striking with a heel that only left him vulnerable to the kick he took to the ribs. Tempest closed the distance to cover him, but she wouldn't get the chance to intervene.

I’d had enough. Damn it, I’d had enough!

As my mate lay coughing in the dirt, the nidoking squared off with Tempest. All I saw was red. This bastard ruined my night. Ruined my plans! I screamed in frustration and all but ripped the branch out of my tail. It sparked to life blue-white at first before the amber glow filled my vision.

I never felt that kind of power before. It was needle-fine, against his head, his mind and mine brushed contact for a moment, and I felt his antagonistic gloating turn to fear. Branch in hand, my eyes fixated on the flame, I called Tempest to help master to the tent, my voice no longer quite my own, and told her to take care of him. This was mine. This son of a bitch was all mine.

Her look said everything that needed said, she might have been more afraid of me than the nidoking was. Not for long. I could see it. Staring into the fire, I could see everything. My mate was hurt, but he’d be okay. The nidoking was going to try and run. But the fire he’d face would keep him where I wanted.

The flames seemed to sprout before I could even recall creating it. The grass took to my efforts without the slightest hesitation, and he turned to face me, once more. Panic, anger, bewilderment. It was nothing. He was nothing. I looked down at him and smiled.

I smiled, because I knew as my thoughts reached out to his, he realized he’d made a very grave error. Somewhere between my mind, my fury and my body, my wand found purpose. Destroying him. The fire charred the landscape, burning out the grassy tinder so quickly it didn’t even have a chance to spread.

What was left of him… would disappear in the woods, that very night. He wouldn’t be bothering anyone else, least of all, me. Ever again.

It was a hell of a light show I put on, I realized, as I went back into the tent. Mira’s consciousness against mine felt so small, so frail as she followed behind me. She looked at me with a sense of awe as I surveyed the scene. Despite it all, it was a moment of humor between us. She had to crane her neck in order to look up at me now. I felt really tall.

Master had come to his senses and was holding a towel against his bleeding scalp. I could tell by his sense of chagrin that he was more embarrassed than hurt, but his head was pounding. His headache quickly became mine, which made his worse, which… made me try really hard to shut off our connection. Something I had never before in my life truly done to him.

It was something I had never needed to do, never wanted to do and as the throbbing in my head grew, something I realized I couldn’t do! I panicked, and I felt his agony, felt him gasp and wince, and that just made it worse! He shrieked, clutching his head and I didn’t know how to stop the excruciating pain we both felt!

“Pokeball! Pokeball! Hurry!” I choked out, past the grating, echoing pain. Cocoa scrambled for his bag, but it was Tempest who got there first. The last thing I saw, the last thing I was aware of for some time, was him writhing on the ground, eyes transfixed to mine in a vacant empty stare as he screamed.