Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon (Chronicles or otherwise).

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Cassidy narrowed her eyes in speculation as her partner entered Headquarters. Butch had been quiet all morning, even though their missions had been completed on schedule, each of them a success. He had even seemed lack-luster during their recitation of the motto and generally, that never failed to bring a spark of fire to his eyes. She nibbled her lip, wondering whether or not it was her place to intervene. Sure, they were partners, and they worked together as a seamless team, but still…

"What's the matter, Biff?" She queried, purposely mispronouncing his name. It was a running joke between them. Their enemies never seemed to be able to recall his name correctly, though they had no trouble with her own. His palpable dislike of the mistakes often caused her to taunt him about it until his eyes snapped with temper and his voice was hoarse from correcting her. As casual as her question was, the undercurrent running through it was serious. She was actually worried about his behavior. He just hadn't been himself lately.

Instead of answering her, Butch exited the elevator they had boarded upon entering Rocket Headquarters, stalking over to the door to their personal suite of rooms. They weren't often here for much longer than a week, but as "A-Class" members of Team Rocket, they always had a room furnished and waiting for them when they arrived in the building for an extended stay. He punched in the code to open the door, his obvious frustration communicating itself to the keys as he jabbed at them viciously.

Cassidy remained silent until the door slid open then followed him into the room. He jerked his uniform jacket over his head with tense movements, revealing a toned upper body. His lightly bronzed skin made her mouth water, despite his angered expression as he tossed the top, with little care as to where it landed. She leaned back against the wall near the door, shoving it closed with her foot as she strove for an indolent expression. "So, what happened to you, Hutch?" Her voice was layered with a sarcastic edge. At that exact moment, Cassidy swore she saw his control simply snap. It had been hanging by a tenuous thread, finally severed by her mocking tones.

"My name is Butch!" He fairly roared as he marched over to her with all the finesse of a hunter stalking its prey. His normally husky voice was scraped raw with a complicated mixture of anger and pure frustration. His hands slammed into the wall on either side of her, caging her in with his body. She knew that she should have been afraid, but oddly, she wasn't. Somehow, she knew that no matter how angry, how out of control he became, he would never hurt her. She knew him. She trusted him.

Instead, she found herself drinking in his scent, letting it seep into her senses until she was fairly giddy with it. The heat of his body soaked into her pores, making her feel molten with the feel of it. It wasn't until she raised her passion-glazed eyes to his fevered, darkened ones that she realized that he had ceased to speak. Instead, his hooded gaze ran over her body, from her rapidly beating pulse, all too apparent in her flushed neck, to the quickened rise and fall of her chest as her breathing became increasingly more swift and finally, to the very tips of her toes, curling in muted anticipation.

He ducked his head and she shivered with want. Instead of the kiss she urgently craved, his heated breath touched the shell of her ear, making her tremble helplessly in desperation. "Say it, Cassidy." He deliberately lowered his head to the curve of her neck, flickering his tongue against her bare skin before setting his teeth firmly into the exposed flesh in a dizzying love-bite, causing her to release a moan of longing. Her hands ached to rise and pull his masterful lips against her own, but to her frustration, he seemed to anticipate her every reaction. His hands grasped her wrists, pinning them to the wall beside her head, keeping her trapped, a willing slave to his attentions.

"Say it…" He murmured, his voice low and rasping with excitement. His bare chest pressed lightly against her cloth-clad one, making her gasp with yearning. Her head tossed back and forth against the wall as he moved his attentions to her wrist, suckling the sensitive skin until she was sagging with compliance and desperate with need. She cried out, an incoherent mockery of her true intentions, and he chuckled with amusement as she fought to free her hands.

His head dipped, his perfect, sensual lips hovering mere inches from her own. She whimpered in unabated yearning, desperate for his possession. Without preamble, his lips took hers, savaging her mouth in a way that she never would have thought possible. Suddenly, his touch gentled, taming her far more efficiently than his brutal conquering had done. She purred her assent, fighting to free her hands, desperate to touch him and drive him into the same mindless frenzy that seemed to have overtaken her common sense. She wanted, no, craved him with a single minded intent that might have been frightening, had it been anyone but Butch.

Finally, he released her hands, needing his own in order to slip them beneath the hem of her uniform, seeking out her feverish skin and worshiping it with his reverent touch. She took instant advantage, anchoring herself in this maelstrom of feeling by digging her fingernails into the taunt flesh of his back. Her growled against her lips, sending a shock-wave of wanting straight to her core. The sound was primal and all the more exciting for its primitiveness. She scratched lightly and he arched against her touch like a wild cat, desperate for attention, but afraid to except the tender hand that rendered it.

"Cass..." Her name emerged as more of a groan than an declaration and she was too busy attempting to scale his body to do more than moan in response. He hitched her legs around his waist and pressed her back hard against the wall, supporting her weight completely and allowing her to feel the full extent of his arousal as he fit into the niche of her thighs as if he had been made for her alone. "Say it, Cass." The plea was made on a growl of intent arousal as she raked her nails over his back, undoubtably leaving red marks in their wake. Inexplicably, the idea of marking him, branding him as hers, did little to sate her wanting of him. Instead, the idea appealed to the innately feminine part of her and only made her want to seal her possession in the most intimate way possible.

"Come on, Cass..." Butch's voice was becoming hoarser, more gruff with each passing moment, each touch of her hands. It was obvious he wanted something from her, but she was far too intent on the play of his hands, so close to her aching breasts, yet so far away, to pull herself from the haze of arousal and discern what, exactly, it was. He taunted her, moving so close, then denying her the pleasure until she wanted to scream with frustration. She moaned, helpless in his thrall and arched against him, desperate for even the slightest bit of friction. She was so close, so marvelously close that even a single touch of his hands against her achingly tight nipples would send her over the edge. He growled, soft and low against her neck, nipping at the taunt cord as his hips moved in a teasing rhythm that only intensified her state of exquisite frustration.

"Butch!" His name was torn from her lips, a plea for mercy. Instantly, he froze, breathing heatedly against her neck. Slowly, so slowly she might have convinced herself that it wasn't happening (save for the fact that her body was so intensely attuned to his that she would have registered even the most minuscule change in their positions), he withdrew from her. She cried out at the loss as cold air rushed between their heated flesh, cooling the area between them in a wash, hurtling them back to reality more effectively than a slap would have. He released her, forcing her to rely on the stability of her own feet, and the wall at her back, to prevent herself from falling to the carpeted floor. She reached for him, a final, desperate attempt to coerce him back into the activity they had been so close to culminating only moments ago. However, he stepped back, evading her reach, the single motion hurting more than if he had physically punched her.

Her body was still on fire for him, desperate for his touch, and if his state of frustrated arousal was any indication, he was feeling the same affects of their heated coupling. "Why did you stop?" The soft query was torn from her throat in a tone rough from the mixture of pain and pleasure her body was being subjected to. She flinched, her eyes closing in mortification at the question. She sounded pathetic, like she was begging for his attentions. The thought alone, of being brought to her knees by a mere man, was barely enough to pull her into a fully-upright position and to convince her to begin her desperate attempt to fix her ruffled appearance.

His breath harsh, he cut her a glance that was equal parts frustrated desire and desperate resolve. "I was only trying to convince you to..." He shook his head, brushing impatient fingers through his hair, the same hair that had been slipping through her fingers like silken water only minutes ago. "... to say my name."

Cassidy stared at him, struck dumb by shock. He had only wanted her to say his name? Hadn't he felt anything during their embrace? Had it all been a ruse? Simply a sham to convince her to do exactly as he wished? Suddenly struck by an intense urge to cry, she attempted to collect herself, blinking rapidly to prevent the sudden moisture gathering behind her eyes from falling. "Oh." She responded dumbly. She only wished that the revelation had killed the sudden craving she had abruptly developed. Instead, perversely, her body still desired him with an intensity that had the ability to steal the breath from her body.

"Right." She said, still numbed by disbelief. A harsh laugh bubbled in her throat and escaped in the form of a rough cackle. "Of course, how dumb of me." Though she could hear herself saying the words, it was almost as though she was standing outside her body, watching the emotional train-wreck-in-progress from a safe distance, where the recoil could do no more damage to her already wounded heart. "Excuse me, then."

With that last remark, she opened the door to the massive bathroom and barricaded herself inside, closing the door with a soft click and locking it in the same motion. She set about preparing herself a bath, feeling as though she were watching a facsimile of herself, not as if she was the one preforming the actions. As the water ran down the drain unencumbered, the last of her arousal faded, leaving her only with an inexplicable feeling of loss. She shed her clothing and sank into the porcelain tub, sitting beneath the spray emanating from the facet head, rather than placing the plug into the tub and allowing the water to collect. A knock sounded on the door and her head slowly raised from it's position on her knees, turning towards the door with a heart-wrenching look. There was only one person it could be, and, needless to say, she hardly wished to see him.

"Cassidy," Butch's voice, still gruff from their passion, floated through the door to her ears. "We need to talk about this."

"No." She said back, so softly he couldn't possibly hear it over the running water. "We don't."

O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.

MM7 says:

Angsty, I know. I'm a terrible person. Still, if enough people let me know that they would like a continuation, I may be persuaded to add a second chapter. Reconciliation may end up being the theme of that particular chapter, so all that would rather see a happy ending, let me know!

Anyway, this chapter has sat, uncompleted, in my saved items for quite some time, but I finally finished it, though it turned out rather badly... Ah well, not everything in life is fair- this is simply a prime example of that unfortunate adage. Anyway, remember to let me know if you'd rather have a happy ending. Angst was never my thing, anyway.