Sorry for the cross-posting. This isn't part of my
PWP series, it's a standalone with a plot (gasp!).
Scent of a Woman
(1/1) (6x9)
by Haemi
Pairings: 6x9
Rating: NC-17 for sex
Warnings: Attempt at plot! ::gasp:: Actually, more
like an angst pie with a dash of lemon.
Spoilers: In terms of continuity and canon, this
story takes Episode Zero material as timeline background.
Thus, this has oblique references to Zechs’ past and
motivations, as seen later in Episode 9. Last line
is a direct reference to line in Episode 4.
DISCLAIMER: Gundam Wing and Endless Waltz belong to
big, rich studios (Sunrise, TV Asahi, Bandai and
Sotsu Agency). At any rate, Zechs and Noin aren’t mine
and I’m just borrowing them for a field trip through my
salacious imagination. No profits, so no lawsuits
plz.
AUTHOR’S NOTES: This was supposed to be the next
installment in my PWP arc, but it stubbornly
developed a plot. Gr… At any rate, it’s still not for the
kiddies! Oh, and part three of Object Fetishes will
be coming soon!
----AC 194----
Sometimes, he thought as he delved his tongue deeper
into the writhing woman’s heated depths, Noin’s
scent could make him almost forget the other.
"Zechs," Noin groaned. She arched her back, stomach
muscles tight and lean, pressing her hips up, closer
up into Zech’s caressing lips. “Yes,” she gasped as
he darted his tongue over her tight bud of desire.
“God, yes Zechs,” she keened as he slid his finger
deep inside her and slowly, gently rubbed just
exactly that spot that soon had her limbs stiffening, her
buttocks tautening, and her inner walls rippling in
ecstasy.
Noin panted shallowly, body languid as she bathed in
the afterglow. She reached for Zechs as he leaned
over her, kissing him in a deep dance of tongues
that soon had her desire renewing. She slid her hands up
into his hair, rubbing her fingers on his heated
scalp, and traced the edges of the silver mask.
Abruptly, her hands clutched at cold, chilling air
as Zechs suddenly reared back, and said, “I’m sorry.
This won’t happen again.” He turned around, and
left. As the door of the instructors’ lounge hissed shut,
the only noise was a deep sad sigh as Noin sat up,
collected her strewn clothes off the floor, and
brushed the tears off her face. He still doesn’t
let me accept him completely, she thought. Because
during all that time, Zechs had not removed his mask.
-----Three hours ago-----
It was late at night when Noin was in the
instructor’s
lounge, looking over student papers on flight
mechanics. The vid console next to the table ringed
and Noin took the call.
“Noin here,” she stated tersely.
“You look preoccupied, Noin,” came a familiar voice.
“Zechs!” Noin exclaimed, smiling at the masked
figure. “No, I’m just grading some papers. Oh, I heard
about your promotion. Two ranks—you certainly do move as
quick as lightning, Count Zechs,” she teased.
Zechs smiled a little and said easily, “It’s easier
being a soldier than training them.” Noin grinned
at the implied compliment, and then perked up when he
continued, “I’m going to be at the base for a couple
of days to talk to the commandant.”
“Oh? When are you coming?” Noin queried, excited to
see her elusive best friend.
“Tonight,” was the answer. “I’m en route. I’ll see
you in three hours, Noin.” With that, Zechs cut
transmission on Noin’s astonished face. After a few
seconds, Noin chuckled, “He’s going to have the
students in an uproar of hero worship.” Shaking her
head, she sobered as she walked to the lounge window
and murmured, “It’s been three months and two days,
Zechs.”
It was nearly midnight when Noin looked up at a
small
sound to see Zechs’ outline in the lounge doorway.
“Noin, have you moved at all since I called?” Zechs
asked, humor running through his words. Noin stood
up, stretched a little and said sheepishly, “My neck
apparently doesn’t think so. What are you doing
standing there? Come on in.”
Zechs strode in, a half-smile on his face, but
suddenly stopped and stared at the sight of old
books lining the shelves in the room. He vaguely heard
himself say, “I didn’t know the Victoria Base
instructors rated such a collection of valuable
antiques.”
“Well, you know Commander Treize, Zechs. He
insisted that our place of gathering be `elegant’”, Noin
laughed. Her amusement faded away as she noticed
the grim set of his mouth. “Zechs,” she whispered,
touching his shoulder in concern. Her eyes widened
when she saw him jerk away. “What is it?” she
asked. “Is it about your past—Milliardo?”
Zechs could only stare at her through his mask,
wondering how Noin had always seemed to intuit his
unsaid words. He watched as she turned to lock the
door and then traced her steps back to him. “If you
want to talk, we won’t be interrupted,” she offered
gently.
Convulsively closing his eyes, Zechs inhaled deeply,
the scent of old books evoking poignant memories of
the sumptuous library where he and his father played
chess before bedtime. He could hear the echoes of
his innocent, joyous laughter and his father’s indulgent
chuckle, and felt the regret, the anger, the grief,
the hatred, the confusion, and the determination all
swell up and roar through his veins in a jumble of
wild emotions that rode the knife edge of sanity.
The only thing that anchored him, that led him back to
the present was the scent of the woman in front of
him—his classmate, his comrade, his friend—that almost
masked the other.
Like a drowning man, he hauled her close, drinking
in the only scent that could chase his ghosts away back
into the distant past. Desperate to feel Noin,
and only Noin, Zechs tore at her uniform front, exposing
her long white neck. Growling in frustration, he
roughly pulled her jumpsuit and panties down and her
gray utilitarian bra up and over her head. He fell
upon her pale breasts, nuzzling and nipping with
need and hunger, gliding his tongue around her nipples in
lazy circles before finally taking first one bud,
then the next in his mouth.
Noin’s cries faded against the rushing blood in
Zechs’ ears as he continued his trail down her body. A
kiss for the hollow under her breast, a lick down the
center of her lean abs, a swirl to investigate the
fascinating depths of her navel, Noin’s scent
growing stronger and stronger as he grew closer and closer
to her core.
And finally, in the dance of tongue and flesh, the
taste of sweet salt, and the aroma of Noin’s climax,
Zechs for one brief, incandescent second forgot
everything, every feeling and every thought, except,
::Noin, Noin, Noin.::
Zechs slowly returned to reality in the midst of a
deep, soul-baring kiss that spoke of desire and of
love. He froze, however, when he felt fingers
caress the edges of his silver mask, reminding him all in
an unwelcome rush of his ghosts, his past, his anger.
He withdrew abruptly, suddenly, overcome with fear and
shame—both for his failure to fulfill his Peacecraft
heritage in order to gain revenge and also for his
unaccountable need and weakness for this woman, a
need that threatened the single-minded determination
necessary for his path of vengeance. “I’m sorry,”
he said harshly. “This won’t happen again.”
With that, he unlocked the door and strode away, his
nostrils filled with the scent of nostalgia,
failure, and retribution.
----AC 195----
One year and 22 days later, Noin once again saw his
masked face on a screen. This time, she spoke
first. “It’s been a long time, Zechs,” she said. ::Perhaps
this time::, she mused, ::he’ll be able to let me
accept him—all of him.::
-Owari-
