Maidens

By Ceefax

James came slowly back to his senses, such as they were. He drew in a deep breath of dust, and coughed it out again in a series of gut-wrenching spasms. He wiped the tears from his eyes, and finally looked around. He was in a small, dark, dusty, sealed room. The only light came from two burnt-down lamps against either wall. A body lay on the floor.

He screamed and tried to hide behind the wall.

After several minutes, the dust had re-settled and nothing had moved. He slowly uncurled, and pushed his hair out of his eyes to peer cautiously at the body. It was Brock. He crawled over to him and shook him by the shoulder.

"Darling?" A big cheesy grin spread across Brock's face. "I'm coming for you, sweetheart." He gently clasped James' hand in his own. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen..."

James snatched his hand back, and slapped Brock in the face. "You idiot! It's me, she's not here."

"Huh?" He shot upright. "Then where is she?"

"How do you expect _me_ to know?" James pouted, and slumped back against the wall.

Brock slumped opposite. "She was _lovely_," he sighed.

"She was _perfect_," James agreed, his dark green eyes misting over.

"Why isn't she here?" Brock moaned.

"Why am I stuck here with _you_?" they chorused together, then shot each other evil looks.

James looked away in a sulk. He suddenly shuddered as a chill finger of air crept up his spine. He tugged the edges of his shirt together and folded his arms across his chest, but the damp chill of the stone beneath his body prevented him from feeling any real warmth. "Aren't you cold?" he finally snapped.

"Of _course_ I'm cold, it's _freezing_ in here," Brock snapped back.

James got to his feet and paced back and forth, beginning to feel a little better.

"So how are we going to get out of here?" Brock asked, in a more conciliatory tone.

"Ex_cuse_ me? Why am I supposed to be able to get us out? You're supposed to be the one with the ideas."

"You're the 'bad guy' - getting out of locked rooms is more your area of expertise." He gave him a mocking smile. "Unless Jesse's really the brains of your operation. And could you stay still? It's claustrophobic enough in here without you taking up all the space."

"Fine." James tossed his head back petulantly and folded to the floor where he stood, which was right next to Brock.

"That's a little close, isn't it?"

"You can't talk, you called me darling."

"I didn't know it was you!"

"Oh, of _course_ not." James sighed deeply, and rested his head back against the wall. "She would never go for you anyway."

"Why not?" Brock gasped indignantly.

James gave a short burst of laughter. "Isn't it obvious? If you were a devastatingly beautiful woman, who would you rather be with? A handsome, charming rogue..."

"Whose devilish schemes have a success rate of precisely zero..."

"_Or_ a glorified baby-sitter who spends all his time with a couple of children?"

"Given the choice, I'd rather have the baby-sitter than the one who needs baby-sitting. Also, I'd rather have someone who has some sense of responsibility than someone whose only purpose in life is to steal pokémon."

"But you have appalling taste. And _much_ lower standards. She needs something... something more..."

"Something you can give her?"

James turned to him, flicking his hair back from his face and treating him to a brilliant smile. "Of _course_. Team Rocket can do _anything_."

Brock fell over laughing. James turned away in disgust and sulked again.

After several minutes of silence, the quiet was broken by a soft moan from James. "I need fooooood..."

Brock sighed, sympathy penetrating his irritated exterior. "Here," he said, holding out his picnic basket. "Have a doughnut."

James' face lit up and he dived for Brock's basket. Brock couldn't help smiling a little as James rammed sweet bread and jam down his face as fast as possible. "Don't eat them all," he protested as James showed no signs of slowing down, "I want some too."

James reluctantly surrendered the basket. "Thank you," he said, sheepishly. "They were really nice."

Brock gave him a smug look. "I _do_ cook well, don't I?"

"You made them?!"

"Uh huh."

"The only home-cooked meals I ever get are Jesse's sandwiches, and they're always dry. Half the time they've got cat fur all over them too," James told him dejectedly.

Brock winced in sympathy, and James shivered again. "Are you still cold? I'm feeling much better."

"It's just this cold floor," James replied, licking sugar from his fingers. "I expect it'll warm up in the morning."

"You really think we'll be stuck here all night?" Brock asked, sounding worried.

"Unless someone wakes up and realises we're missing."

"Mmm, good point."

James yawned delicately. "I need my beauty sleep. It's difficult to look this good with our lifestyle, you know."

"And if that's the way you usually eat doughnuts..."

James laughed. "When I can get them." He leaned gently against Brock's shoulder, "which isn't often." He yawned again, his eyes closing.

Brock slipped his arm around his shoulders, glad of the warmth, even though he had claimed he wasn't feeling the cold. James smiled without opening his eyes, and wrapped his arms around Brock's waist. "You're warm..."

"O...kay..." said Brock, feeling a little uncomfortable at this latest turn of events. He looked down at the apparently sleeping figure beside him, his huge soft eyes closed, his lips slightly parted, his light purple hair falling gently forward to cover his delicately featured face.

"Stop staring at me," James complained, then snuggled closer. "I'm still cold," he added defensively.

"I wasn't staring."

"Yes, you were. But I don't mind, really." A sly smile crept around the edge of his mouth. His eyes slowly opened, and he met Brock's gaze. "Although I _am_ getting the urge to stare back."

Brock smiled back despite himself, but the expression disappeared from his face as James slipped a cool hand up under his shirt, "James! What are you doing?!"

"Your skin is so soft. Almost as soft as mine." He laid a gentle kiss on Brock's throat.

"James..."

"What's wrong?" He nibbled at the lobe of Brock's ear. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No, I... I don't know..."

James climbed onto Brock's lap, straddling his thighs. Brock tried to look as nonchalant as possible, as if he had charming villains sitting on his lap every day. "This is nice..." James whispered into his ear.

"Uh, yes... I..."

"Brock, are you all right? You look terrified."

Brock attempted a casual laugh. "I'm fine. I'm _great_! I'm really... great..."

"Because I've got something to tell you."

"Oh."

James gave a theatrical glance left and right, but they were still alone in the shrine. He put his hands on Brock's shoulders and looked him in the eyes. "Promise you won't laugh."

"Of course I won't laugh."

"Promise," James demanded, pouting prettily.

"I promise."

James leaned in and whispered, "I've never actually done this before."

Brock tried as hard as he could, but the smirk surfaced anyway.

James' lower lip began to tremble. He gazed at Brock with wide, wet eyes. Then he burst noisily into tears.

"James," Brock felt his own eyes pricking with tears of remorse, "I'm sorry, I really am. It's just that you were acting so... I don't know, so casual about it."

"You promised!" James wailed, covering his face with his hands.

"I'm sorry," Brock was sobbing too.

They flung their arms around each other, and used their shoulders as handkerchiefs.

"I didn't mean to," Brock finally sniffed. "I'm sorry..."

"That's okay," James conceded, wiping his nose on Brock's sleeve.

"It's... you know... my first time too."

James beamed, his tears forgotten. "Really?" He squeezed Brock as hard as he could. "Oh, that's so _perfect_! This'll be so special..." He pressed his parted lips to Brock's, who responded a little hesitantly. Then James flicked the tip of his warm, wet tongue against Brock's. Brock gasped with unexpected pleasure and tentatively touched James' hair. The fine purple strands were surprisingly soft, and he lifted both hands to push his fingers through the silky, shining hair. He felt James smile.

They both leaned in to press their lips more firmly together. Brock thrust his tongue forcefully forward to lick the velvety lining of James' mouth, tasting the last traces of doughnut, and making James arch his back and cling to Brock's shoulders, dropping his jaw as far as he could to allow him full access. In return James unfastened and pulled off Brock's body-warmer, and spread it on the floor. It was followed quickly by James' shirt, leaving him in creamy-white trousers and a tight black top. James tugged mutely at Brock's collar, urging him to move with him onto the improvised blankets. They rolled over, ending up with Brock on his back, covered by a giggling James, who pulled his top off over his head, rolled it up and gently tucked it under Brock's head. Then he flopped down flat again, causing a faint 'oof' of pain from beneath him.

He lay half-curled, his head on Brock's chest, listening to his heart. One hand rested limply on his shoulder, while the other carefully unfastened Brock's dark brown trousers. He pulled away the soft pliant fabric and reached slowly and cautiously inside, a hint of doubt appearing on his face for the first time. Beside them the first lamp burnt down and died, making the shadows grow and silently envelop them.

Brock reached out and grabbed James' wrist. "What's wrong?" James asked fearfully.

"Nothing," he replied. "Just... don't let's rush this."

James just looked a little confused.

Brock pushed gently at his shoulders until he got off him. He pushed James down to sit on the floor. He unfastened James' black leather boots and pulled them off, throwing them heedlessly behind him. He then slowly peeled off each sock, running his fingers along the instep and lightly tickling each individual toe. James giggled wildly and tried to pull his feet away. Once Brock had finished with the socks, he held out both hands and pulled James to his feet. As he straightened up, Brock's trousers fell to his ankles, which sent James into fresh fits of laughter. Brock gave him a hurt, disapproving look, secretly thinking how pretty James looked when he smiled.

Brock pulled his top off and dropped it onto the pile of clothes that served them as a mattress. His trousers soon joined the pile, but as he went to remove his boots, James took his hands and smiled. He lowered himself to his knees and slowly unlaced Brock's boots, taking as much time over each knot as he possibly could. By the time Brock's feet were as bare as James', he was hard and ready. He could feel an embarrassed blush spreading over his face, and he stared at the floor, not wanting to meet James' eyes.

He heard the rustle of cloth falling to the floor, and glanced up automatically. James was clad in only cream silk boxers and an enthusiastic smile, which was partly hidden behind the single red rose clutched in his right hand. Brock's mouth fell open, and he felt even more ashamed of his own travel-worn underwear, which was currently all he had to protect himself from the chilled air of the shrine. Although his face was still burning, he shivered violently.

James paced slowly forwards, his smile growing wider as he approached the darker-skinned youth. He closed his leaf-green eyes as he inhaled the scent of his rose. Opening his eyes to slits, he held it out. Brock blushed an even deeper shade of red and took the rose awkwardly, not sure what to do with it. He dropped it once James took advantage of his confusion, leaned in, hooked his fingers into the waistband of his underwear, and yanked it down.

He yelped with shock and doubled over. James was giggling again. Brock lunged forwards and grabbed a handful of the smooth, clean silk that covered his hip. James tried to twist away, and Brock was left with a handful of silk, while James was left lying on the floor looking dishevelled and slightly annoyed. Brock grabbed his hand and dragged him across the floor to the pile of clothes, James complaining all the way.

Before he had a chance to regain his feet, Brock threw himself down beside him, hugging him tightly to his chest. "I can't breathe," James wheezed, and Brock released his hold. Instead he kept one arm snaked around James' stomach, while the other hand gently ruffled his hair until his vision was totally obscured by a curtain of lilac.

"Better?" Brock asked.

"No."

"I think you look cute."

James swept his hair back with an imperious movement. "I always look cute. It's just who I am."

"Cuter," Brock added, as he reached curiously between James' legs and felt the coarser, darker hair that grew there. James shrank back slightly, looking scared, so Brock gently stroked his back instead. He seemed to like this, and it wasn't long before he was making his own unsure investigations.

Brock felt like fainting the first time James' hand gingerly took hold of his slim, semi-erect sex. The touch was fabulously exciting, but at the same time maddeningly light. He slowly covered James' hand with his own and applied a little more pressure. "Like this..." he breathed.

"I know," James replied softly, "but I'm afraid I'm going to hurt you..."

"You won't hurt me," Brock assured him in a rough whisper. He released James' hand and sat up, pulling himself gently away. James followed the movement, a questioning look on his face. Brock arranged then so they were sitting perched on top of the clothes pile, face to face. "Here," he said, reaching for his basket and pulling it up closer to fish out a small container full of butter. He scooped out a few fingerfulls and rubbed the melting grease over his palms and fingers. He rubbed them over James' hands, spreading shiny slickness over the elegant, tanned fingers. He ran his hand along the sharp defining line on his flat belly where his tan ended. James ran his fingers down Brock's face, then dabbed a droplet of melted butter onto the very tip of his nose. Brock scowled and wiped it away. James took the hint and kissed away the last remnants of butter on his face, taking his time to savour the feel of the soft, cinnamon-brown skin beneath his tingling, sensitive lips.

When James had finished with his face, Brock took his hand and gently replaced it on his erection before he reached out and took James' penis within his own hands. They looked into each others eyes, warm dark brown unashamedly examining smooth living green. They carefully explored each other, discovering what was similar and finding new ways of bringing pleasure.

James planted his feet on either side of Brock's hips and shuffled closer, kissing him quickly, lightly, barely giving him time to respond before pulling away again. "This is really good," he whispered between kisses, panting for breath.

"Yeah," Brock replied briefly. "Down a little... yeah..."

James rolled his head back, his eyes half closed and unseeing. This was so much more intense than anything he had ever experienced before. Self discovery was very difficult when your constant companion was as overbearing and intimidating as Jesse. Not that he didn't hear her at night - he just couldn't bear the thought of her hearing him. Now, at last, he had not only privacy but someone to share bliss with. As coherent thought left his mind, a face began to form in his mind's eye...

Brock was close, and he felt so far removed from reality that he didn't realise anything was wrong when the face of the person before him changed...

James gasped deeply. His climax was building and it was almost too much for him to bear. He may have tried to stop this terrifyingly delicious situation were it not for the person who was smiling gently at him, reassuring him. Dusk-grey eyes peered out of a perfect, almost colourless, face...

...framed by long dark hair, Brock saw. High cheekbones, tiny chin, softly curving lips...

...she was simply the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and it was the sight of her that finally pushed James over the edge, followed a few seconds later by Brock.

In silence they moved away, barely aware of each other's presence, trying to cling to their visions. James opened his eyes as sounds of yelling came from outside, interrupting his thoughts. The second lamp had burnt out, but the room was lit by a pale glow emanating from the figure standing at the back of the room, dressed in a light grey flowing gown. Alerted by James' choked gasp, Brock also opened his eyes and rose slowly to his feet, a look of pure astonishment plastered across his face.

The glow brightened and a breeze began to circle the interior of the shrine, stirring up the dust. In an oblivious trance, both walked forward, holding their arms out to the beautiful vision.

In the depths of James' abused mind, a hint of familiarity began forcing its way through the layers of deception. He stopped, his lips moving of their own accord, mouthing the words as they were spoken, muffled by the surrounding walls. Finally, he forced himself to speak.

"To extend our reach to the stars above..."

The force halted and Brock blinked, shook his head slightly, then froze again as he was effortlessly recaptured.

"Jesse?" came a puzzled voice.

"James," he choked out, fighting the waves of acceptance and love that were emanating from the beautiful maiden before him.

"Team Rocket blast off at the speed of light," the voice continued.

James opened his mouth and got as far as, "Surrender now or prepare -" when he was lifted and thrown through the air with an exhilarating blast of happiness. "- To fiiiiight...!" he finished as he was flung through the doors to land at the feet of his long-suffered partner. His mildly concussed mind registered the thud of Brock hitting the dirt next to him.

"He looks terrible," Jesse remarked, staring in horror at her team-mate.

"Worse than usual," Meowth agreed.

Brock sat up and was hugged by the youngest (and dumbest) member of his team. James, feeling as if he could also use some comfort, hugged the nearest thing to hand.

"What do you think you're _doing_?!" Jesse screamed, flailing her leg madly to dislodge him. Furious at the embarrassment he had caused her in front of their arch-enemies, she grabbed him by the throat and tried to throttle him, whilst thumping his head against the ground. She then hastily backed off, realising that bouncing up and down on top of her naked partner probably wasn't making a good impression either.

Meanwhile Misty had produced a spare pair of trousers and Brock had slipped hastily into them, ignoring the curious looks from his friends. However, they all froze as an old woman sprang up from nowhere and grinned scarily at them. She was short, plump, and clothed in a magenta coloured dress. Staring intensely at the dazed forms of Brock and James, she declared, "I know what's wrong with them... They've seen the ghost of the maiden!"

James gasped with relief. She was real... "IloveherIloveherIloveherIloveher..." he babbled.

Brock chimed in, "MetooMetooMetooMetoo..."

"They're possessed!" Ash gasped. "Pikachu, go!"

"Pika... CHU!"

The tiny yellow mouse Pokemon built up to a thundershock in an impressive display of sparks and mini-lightning bolts. Seconds later both Brock and James were sent screaming into the air, propelled by several hundred volts of electricity. They landed heavily in clouds of dust.

Eventually Brock recovered enough to sit up. "Who am I?" Before anyone could answer him, he continued, "I am Brock." He nodded his head. "Mmm."

James also struggled upright. "I'm James, from Team Rocket," he managed, then, with a moan of confusion, exhaustion and pain, collapsed back into Brock's arms.

THE END (Episode continues normally from this point)

* * *

Epilogue:

One night later, with the entire business was behind them, they were setting up camp and Brock was trying to light the fire. Ash took the opportunity to sidle up to Misty. "Pretty weird day yesterday, huh? What do you think happened to them in that shrine?"

Misty blushed and gave an embarrassed little laugh, "Never mind Ash. It's... it's probably none of our business."

* * *

And meanwhile...

"I said, PISS OFF!"

"Aww, c'mon! You can tell your old pal Meowth!"

James aimed a kick at the infuriating feline. "Nothing happened, all right? Now leave me alone or I'll buy you a pok?ball."

"You'd never make me stay in it."

"Try me."

"Just a few little meaningless details... C'mon, you know Jesse's gonna beat it out of you anyway..."

THE END (I promise)