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-
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