Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Pearls ❯ Chapter 1

Title - Pearls

Author - trowacko

Rating - NC17

Warnings - 6xR. This means incest. And. Well, that's it, really <.<;;

Disclaimers - I do not own Gundam Wing in any way, nor do I make a claim to. No profit, no harm done.

Dedication - for Killraven. Because she hates me and corrupts me and makes me love XD

 

 

Pearls. Her lips were like pearls, he had thought one day, watching her having tea with Mother oh, so long ago. She'd laughed when he said so later on, her voice amused and indulgent, the tone reserved only for him. Relena was a girl in the way other girls were - she wore pretty dresses, her hair tended to lovingly every day to be tied back with a pair of braids that were wrapped in a silky pink ribbon. He could deny this child nothing, had to indulge her whims with the patience of a protector and brother. Her lips were still as lovely the last time he saw his little sister slip into the secret passage and away from him forever.

 

At least it seemed like forever when she was gone.

 

"Milliardo? Are you alright?"

 

Zechs started at the sound of his other name. The fire was comfortable, yet too reminiscent of the last memory he had of Relena as a child.

 

"I'm fine," he finally replied, blinking tiredly at the fire that had captivated him into the past. For a moment, he wasn't sure

 

when

 

where he was until he saw his long legs splayed out in front of him. "I'm going to bed."

 

Living together hadn't been his idea by a long shot, but one he'd finally caved and agreed when she insisted they get to know each other again. He'd stay for a while, but he also knew it was in their best interests that his visit remained as brief as possible. Getting up, he stopped only when she walked in front of him with a prim smile on her lips. Her body was that of any other girl - shrouded, at that moment, in a long, modest nightgown with flower prints that hid the curves of her blossoming body. The collar, he noted, was a frilly pattern that would have driven him mad were he to have it pressed against his neck and chin while he slept. Perhaps it was a female rite of passage to learn how to tolerate such things when a guy would rather sleep in a pair of shorts or nothing at all.

 

"Are you sure?"

 

Her eyes were lidded with worry; concern for a man who'd gone through hell and came back mostly the same man. As little as months previous, he might have found the thought amusing. Instead, he felt warmth that unwarranted attention had been bestowed on him that he smiled reassuringly.

 

Baby sister.

 

"Sleep well, Relena. All is well."

 

He pulled her into a tight hug, kissing the top of her head. Their bodies betrayed his memories, and he closed his eyes against them. When he let go, she stood in the same spot, the worry only softened, not dissipated. After a few moments, she smiled the same smile he remembered from years past complete with closed eyes and hands clasped loosely at her chest. Except her lovely mouth was covered in a thin shine of pink lipstick that hindered the view

 

like an oyster hides its treasure

 

of her lips.

 

"Would you--"

 

He blinked when she stopped so abruptly to see that he was the reason. His thumb had crossed her bottom lip, smearing some of the color off and across her cheek where it rested, a guilty perpetrator.

 

"Sorry," he muttered, pulling his hand away. "The color... You were saying?"

 

She didn't answer right away, her expression curious. "I was going to ask if I could get you something. You... don't like the color?"

 

Zechs shook his head. "No, I don't need anything, and no, there's nothing wrong with the color. I was just remembering something. It's not important." Not waiting for an answer, he turned and walked away, his gait as heavy as his heart. He had to leave soon, there was no other way around it. Having her

 

having her

 

as close was difficult at best. She was in the wrong time, or he was, he couldn't decide which. And that was the one thing plaguing him about being in her home at all, he realized. There was no

 

claiming

 

reclaiming a past long dead. Only a man and a woman who barely knew each other, trying to be what they once were. Puppets or fools, either role would have fit them both quite well.

 

"I'll leave tomorrow," he whispered to himself as he shut the bedroom door. "Take nothing with me. Just go. Leave."

 

Saying it didn't make it any more comforting or real.

 

He shed his clothes on the way to the bed, not sure if he was exhausted or just lost in that membrane between remembering and trying to shun the present. He shoved the covers aside and crawled into bed, an arm over his eyes to keep even the dark out. At least the dark left him in peace when his mind did not.

 

"They're pretty, Relena."

 

"You're making fun of me," she'd accused, her wide eyes narrowing into suspicion even as they crossed as though she could see her own lips without a mirror.

 

"Would I ever lie to you, baby sister?"

 

Happiness. Indulgence. Innocence. Three of the deadliest sins.

 

"They're just like--"

 

"Shut up," he whispered, his voice a hiss that lessened nothing of what he saw.

 

like.

 

Theyr'e just like

 

Trained soldier or not, he failed to hear her enter the room. He didn't even notice when she stood next to the bed until he caught the difference in light from the candle she held. Jerking upright, he made a grab for the covers, stopped only when she put a cold hand on his chest and shoved him backwards. She didn't even seem to mind his nakedness as she perched next to him on the bed and set the candle on the night stand next to it.

 

"Pearls," she stated simply as she smiled at him, her lips free of the hideous color that had tainted them before.

 

Her hand warmed slowly with the heat of his flesh, but it was still a stark contrast to what he'd felt up till then. Guiltily, he glanced down to see it had a more adverse reaction and moved for the covers again. Only to be stopped when she wouldn't let up her hold.

 

"Relena--"

 

"What you said before. I remembered," she said, still indifferent to his naked body. "You used to tell me my lips were like pearls. That's why I never wore makeup no matter how much Mother insisted. Because then you wouldn't be able to see them."

 

She leaned against him, the fabric of her nightgown rasping against his bare chest. Her lips parted ever so slightly while she kissed him, a pressure of satiny lips against his. Zechs held her loosely, his hands barely clutching at her lithe body. When he felt his tongue venture out to lick her upper lip, he tried pulling back. It was impossible to stop when her head followed, her mouth opening wider, offering, tempting.

 

"Relena," he tried again, his voice ending in a moan when a cool hand clutched his erection loosely.

 

Do you remember?

 

"I saw you once," she whispered against his lips, easing her body over his to rest her hands against his chest. He felt his cock slip under her nightgown to touch the bare flesh of her ass. "In the bathroom. It was like pearls, too; I remember that."

 

"What?--"

 

Relena didn't bother with an answer. She pulled away from him, sliding down his body, the loose gown bunching up around her waist until she finally yanked it over her head and off the bed.

 

Her body was like that of other girls, her hips slim, her waist narrow, her breasts at the precipice between childhood and womanhood. Past and present before him like an accusation. He felt weak before it, helpless to end what couldn't be ended by his very presence. He didn't want to watch, and didn't dare move when he saw her lick her lips, the dull sheen on them suddenly glistening. And then they wrapped around his shaft, her eyes intent on him as she suckled it - dared him to deny her now with her hands and lips holding him prisoner.

 

"What is it?"

 

Shocked, Milliardo glanced up guiltily to find his baby sister standing at the door, more curious as to what was in his hands than to pay attention to his nakedness.

 

"Nothing!"

 

Unable to move, he did nothing while she entered the room, a hand out to touch the milky substance. It was slippery against her fingers and she tasted it without thought, her face pinched in the barest of displeasure.

 

"Where did it come from?"

 

Milliardo never lied. Their joined gaze lowered to his spent flesh, each with a set of questions that had no answers. Then.

 

"Re-- Re--" Hot gasps of breath left him, his body writhing, except for his hips. He turned his head toward the pillow, unable to do so enough to bury himself in its soft embrace. Even the headboard was out of reach of his seeking hands. A woman tasted him, her lips and naked body tempting him in ways he didn't want to be tempted, and even that didn't matter. Blood rushed through his veins, quickened with each stab of nerves provoked by full lips and soft tongue. His hands fell on her head, wanting to push it away only to bury themselves in the soft strands, maneuvering her up and down. Arching his back only made the agony worse, and he didn't want to do it,

 

didn't want to see

 

didn't want to finish, not like that. Gripping handfuls of hair tight enough to break strands, he forced her head lower, shoving himself deeper into

 

redemption

 

her mouth that he felt her gag against him. The pressure built to a painful peak he'd never felt before and he couldn't hold back anymore. Her teeth pricked at him, scraping flesh too sensitive to keep its prize. Zechs curled his legs and pulled Relena up with him, his seed spilling from him in hot pulses that he could almost taste. He held her in place as her throat worked, her teeth biting into him as she fought to swallow. Collapsing against the bed, he finally let his death grip go, his head turned as far away from her as he could while his aching heart slowed its wild pounding. There was no past

 

no future

 

no present. Only a man and a woman who barely knew each other pretending to be something they were not.

 

"Milliardo."

 

The tone a lyric to a ballad, lulling, wanton.

 

Milliardo's dead.

 

"Zechs?"

 

An accusation, a barb, the sound a dead man's name.

 

Died.

 

Relena crawled up, easing her body next to his, her parted legs capturing his hand easily. The essence he'd spilled into her mouth streaked across his cheek as she kissed it.

 

"Brother."

 

Opening his eyes, his head moved slowly, his eyes dull. Even with just the candlelight, it was impossible not to see the white smeared across her lips, giving them a luminescent shine much like he remembered of her. Their combined colors, his milky, hers satiny, smiled back at him.

 

"You'll be here tomorrow, won't you, brother?" she asked, her eyes closing as she snuggled closer.

 

Zechs felt his fingers slide deeper between her thighs, finally moving as though they'd always been there, slipping into her body. She moaned, her brow furrowed the same way it did after he'd comforted her from some nightmare, holding her before she slept. Only the

 

woman

 

girl next to him languidly humped her hips against his hand, breath hissing as moisture built around his fingers.

 

"You'll stay with me, won't you?" she whispered, her mouth against his shoulder.

 

no

 

"Yes."

 

She bit against his shoulder with a soft whimper, a hand curling around his chest in contentment as she came.

 

Brother never lied.

 

 

 

*just because it comes from the mind of a wacko, doesn't necessarily mean it's insane*