August 2002
Archive(s):The Sabintha Archives: http://gundamwing.fanworkrecs.com/Sabintha/index.htm
Warnings: PWP, lemon, 5x6x5, spoilers for eps. 35 and EW
Disclaimers: I don't own the characters from Gundam Wing; Bandai, Sunrise and Sotsu do. Maureen and Kay Zozma own the Sabintha concept; they just let me play in their universe. This is a work of non-profit fanfiction.
With a lifetime of training, Dorothy Catalonia suppressed a wicked grin. Ever compliant to her will, her face assumed an expression of polite regret. "I do apologize, Wind. I did not mean to waste your time, but my wrist..." She raised the bandaged joint, confident that Sally's contribution to this little deception would stand the inspection.
"Ah, well, it can't be helped," Zechs said, a smile on his lips and disappointment in his eyes.
Dorothy smiled back, careful not to let her anticipation show. Zechs was not a stupid man, and if he suspected she had scuttled their fencing session deliberately, he would not rest until he had ferreted out her true reasons.
"Perhaps we can arrange to spar when my wrist is stronger...?" She had calculated the timing as best she could; now she just had to stall Zechs until the other actor in this little play appeared.
"Of course. Just let me know when would be convenient for you."
Drat it, where was the irritating man? The only Preventers left in HQ were on duty; the exercise room was deserted. Dorothy had done her research - he always came here when the gym was empty to work off the frustrations of the week.
Except, apparently, this week.
Zechs retrieved his sword case, and Dorothy searched her mind for another delaying gambit. "Which weapons did you bring with you?"
He hesitated, then lowered the case to a bench and opened it, revealing three blades cushioned within. He touched the first. "I received this sword in my final year at the OZ academy."
Dorothy leaned forward and traced the engraved plate on the scabbard. "Champion All-Around Fencer! I am impressed."
Zechs waved the compliment away. "Treize let me challenge him every time he was stationed nearby, and taught..."
It was rather late on a Friday night. The promptness with which Zechs had accepted her invitation, and his willingness to stay and talk, spoke volumes about his lack of a social life outside his job.
"...is the sword that went with the formal Specials uniform. It's a serviceable blade, but neither agile nor particularly well-balanced..."
After the wars, Zechs had thrown himself into his work, but the Preventers were mostly composed of former Alliance officers, OZ troops, and colonial police, none of whom had any love for the unpredictable former leader of White Fang. With his regular partner, Noin, out on a long mission, he was effectively isolated, and increasingly lonely.
"...and Treize gave me this beauty. He had it made for me - long enough for my arm yet exquisitely balanced and very light..."
Dorothy had worked with him long enough aboard Libra to notice the subtle difference in his posture and countenance, and had immediately begun speculating how she could manipulate a more satisfactory situation. She had narrowed down the possibilities until she thought she had the perfect candidate.
They had much in common - both of them were proud, skilled warriors who were used to following their own path, even when it put them on the wrong side of public opinion. They would either kill each other or get along very well; instant hate, or...
Frankly, she was hoping for the 'or,' especially since she had gone to the trouble of concealing two video cameras in the room.
Zechs was sliding the last blade back into its scabbard when a cool, quiet voice behind them said, "A pretty blade, but too weak for a real battle."
Dorothy forced her delighted smile away, and then turned, an expression of innocent surprise on her face. "Why, Chang Wufei, what would you know of swordplay?"
Wufei had been slightly annoyed to hear voices in the normally empty gym as he approached, but he refused to let it bother him. He decided he would work through his routine as he normally did, ignoring any spectators as mere distractions.
That resolve lasted until he recognized the trim form of Zechs Merquise, and realized that the tall blond was holding a fighting blade in his hands. Drawn by the lure of a real weapon - not some whippy, pliable duelling foil, nor a heavy, dull-edged ceremonial piece - he padded on silent feet to where he could evaluate the steel for himself without being seen.
His opinion left his lips before he had consciously decided to speak it. "A pretty blade, but too weak for a real battle."
Of course, Agent Crystal questioned his knowledge. "Why, Chang Wufei, what would you know of swordplay?"
Dorothy Catalonia unsettled him. She always seemed to have a mocking twist to her words, and at least three devious reasons for doing or saying any one thing. Wufei could not decide if it were a good thing that she had joined the Preventers or not. Her presence made him uncomfortable, but her absence would make him positively anxious, knowing that she would be slyly stirring up gods-only-knew what trouble. At least here she was using her admittedly excellent manipulative skills to help preserve the peace.
But in any case, he did not want to get into an argument with her, so he merely glanced at her disdainfully and pulled his curved sabre out of his bag. He held it up at chest level, silently inviting comment.
He was on his guard against disparaging remarks from Dorothy, but he was unprepared for the reaction from Zechs. The ice blue eyes warmed and a rare smile lit the man's face as he leaned close and studied the edge with a throaty hum of wordless appreciation.
"A warrior's blade," he commented softly, and Wufei felt his breath hitch unaccountably at the sound of that husky voice. "The flare would make it strong enough to resist a direct attack, but would it be too heavy to use easily, I wonder?" He looked straight into Wufei's eyes.
Wufei had to swallow before he could trust his voice to reply. "A sword is only as good as the one who wields it, of course. But agility has never been a problem for me."
"Nor for the Lightning Count," Dorothy said softly somewhere off to his right. Wufei ignored her, not so much as glancing in her direction, his eyes still locked with those of his former enemy.
He remembered well the last time they had fought. Zechs had been trying to convince him that they should work together, but he had still been grieving for the loss of his colony, and unwilling to trust anyone. He wondered how the course of history would have been changed if he had taken the tall blond up on his offer. They would have made a formidable team...
With a slight tilt of his head, and a raised eyebrow, he silently invited the taller man to test their mettle, and their metal, against each other.
With a rather predatory smile, Zechs drew his sword with the singing rasp that only hard steel makes. He bowed slightly, his left arm sweeping out in a graceful gesture to indicate that Chinese man should go first.
Wufei felt a feral smile curling his own lips. He paced into the hand to hand combat area, enjoying the resilient feel of the sprung flooring beneath his bare feet. The surface was matted, so he should have no trouble with traction.
He barely noted Dorothy's departure, except that it was one less distraction. Zechs, bouncing slightly to test his own footing, didn't even reply to her casual "I'll be seeing you!" as she left the gym.
Wufei slowly began to circle, watching as Zechs mirrored his movements, both of them looking for weaknesses. The taller man was light on his feet. His grip was firm, but not tight, and the ease with which he brought his long sword's tip around indicated just how well-balanced his blade was.
Zechs was dressed for fighting, Wufei noted with approval. Both his white pants and red t-shirt were fairly tight, to avoid being caught on his opponent's blade. The clothing clung to a well-muscled, easy-moving body which made it obvious that this fight would not be won by wearing down either the blond's strength or endurance.
Wufei let his eyes linger on the lean legs of the man facing him. He would have to beware of Zechs' thrusts; the man had a longer stride, a longer reach and a longer sword.
Wufei sprang forward suddenly, but Zechs was ready for him. Their blades met, rang together, and parted. They stepped back in synchronization, then leapt forward and engaged again.
A quick flurry of strokes told Wufei much. He had hoped to be able to take advantage of his sabre's relatively heaviness by using its full weight in a series of edge-on attacks. However, Zechs was obviously used to compensating for his blade's lightness with his own considerable skill, turning each attack to let the swords slide harmlessly along each other.
They sprang apart at almost the same instant, breath still coming easily, if slightly faster.
Wufei smiled. With no dire consequences hanging on the outcome of this bout, he was free to enjoy the challenge this man presented. He slid his left arm out of his white overtunic, then shifted his weapon to that hand and let the garment slip down his right arm. He flung the bundle back towards his bag without looking, and wrapped both hands around his sword's hilt.
Wufei felt his blood sing in his veins. It had been too long since he had stretched his abilities to their utmost. He settled himself in to fight with a wicked grin of anticipation.
Zechs pulled deep, even breaths into his lungs and tried to quell his excitement.
Wufei had paused to remove his outer tunic, revealing a form-fitting blue tank top and an impressive set of muscles, so Zechs took a moment to pull his hair back into a rough ponytail. He could still remember Treize chiding him for leaving it loose when he fought the other students at Lake Victoria base, and how he had laughingly replied that when he found an adversary who pushed him to his limits, he would remove the handicap and bind it back.
It looked like he had found his match at last. Chang Wufei was strong, and skilled, and very, very fast. Zechs had been almost complacently used to having a distinct advantage of speed over every opponent. But Wufei had been a gundam pilot, and his reflexes were as honed and as sharp as Zechs' own.
Now, for the first time since he had sparred with Treize, Zechs found himself wanting to eliminate all distractions in order to concentrate on a fight. If they had been wearing fencing masks he would have discarded his as an annoyance - after years of wearing his concealing helm, Zechs hated wearing any kind of headgear.
He lifted his sword back into en garde position, and stepped forward once more, matching Wufei's stance opposite. There was no war, no ZERO whispering into his brain, no shifting allegiances to consider, just the steel, and his opponent.
As they prowled around each other, Zechs took a moment to simply appreciate his adversary's technique. Wufei's body flowed through each position with fluid grace, making even his strongest attacks look natural and effortless. He moved as if his sabre were truly a part of him.
Zechs could see very little in the way of weaknesses that he could exploit. He would just have to emphasize his own strengths - his longer reach, and his slight edge of experience.
Zechs felt the corners of his mouth curling up in appreciation - at last he had an opponent against whom he could move all out.
He lunged suddenly, slashing, and they began their dance of steel anew.
Dorothy rushed to her office, and flicked on her video monitor. With a few keystrokes, she was patched into her two cameras, displaying the different views on a split screen.
The gym rang with the clash of flashing steel, but despite the fast and furious exchanges, Dorothy could see no animosity on the faces of the two adversaries. Instead, Wufei's eyes were almost glowing with energy, and Zechs was actually smiling.
She shook her head, watching their footwork, their lunges and retreats, their perfectly-matched parries and ripostes. They were fighting at a level beyond anything she had ever achieved, where the outside world ceases to exist. She could never stop thinking - stop analysing, stop remembering that beyond the bout there would be consequences - long enough to throw the entirety of herself into a fight. It was both her loss and her salvation.
The pang of envy she felt faded as she let herself become absorbed in the intoxicating sight - the twist of sinew and the bunch of muscle, the way their bodies moved in tandem, the slight sheen of sweat that made their clothes cling that much more closely...
Fanning herself, she typed in the command for the camera hidden in the end of the vaulting horse to zoom in for a closer view.
Wufei leapt backwards, just barely avoiding the backhanded slash that would have opened his belly. Without body armour or protective padding, any miscalculation could have fatal consequences.
Wufei grinned. He had never felt so alive.
Zechs was panting slightly, a matching grin on his handsome face and the joy of battle in his eyes.
Then the taller man launched a series of attacks that Wufei was barely able to counter, forcing him to retreat. That long, stabbing blade was everywhere, sliding through his defences, eluding his own sword to come ever closer to his torso.
Gods! Zechs was *fast*, attacks in different styles of fencing blending into each other with no hesitation... but Wufei knew techniques from a different school. The thought wasn't even complete before a desperate plan for his next move came full-blown into his mind.
Instead of avoiding the next deadly thrust and retreating, as he had been doing, he gripped his sabre with both hands and beat the stabbing point aside. At the same time, he crouched slightly and leapt, flipping up and over Zechs' extended arm and blade.
He twisted as he came down, grabbing his opponent's long ponytail and tugging forcefully. His right foot came around as Zechs just barely managed to avoid sprawling on his elegant behind, swept over the blond's arm, and pressed down on his sword hand, trapping the long blade against the floor. At the same time he braced his other knee against Zechs' upper back, pulling back on the handful of silky hair and forcing the taller man to expose his neck over Wufei's left thigh. His sabre sliced through the air and just kissed the long throat.
Elation came sweeping through him. He had done it! He stood there panting, his blood running hot beneath his skin, revelling in his triumph.
Then he looked down at Zechs, noting the trim waist flaring to muscular shoulders, the flushed cheeks and dilated pupils, the way his defeated opponent's breath hissed from between parted lips, and his exultation took on a more primal focus.
Zechs slowly relaxed his grip, releasing the hilt of his sword. What a bout!! He hadn't anticipated Chang's last bold move at all. Defeat was no disappointment when the match itself was so exciting.
He looked up from his position on the floor, past the flat belly and slowly heaving chest to the handsome face above him. The same wild exhilaration he felt coursing through his body was reflected in that dark exotic gaze.
Then he saw those watchful eyes become more heated, saw a faint flush steal across the other's cheekbones.
He was suddenly and thoroughly aware of his suggestive posture, his body spread submissively before this magnificent warrior. His skin prickled and he felt heat rush to his groin. Roused by the invigorating fight, his adrenaline-charged passions were now demanding a different sort of release.
Without breaking eye contact, Zechs let his head roll slightly to one side, sliding his cheek intimately against his captor's groin. "I submit," he said softly.
He felt Chang's sex surge in response, and smiled. Perhaps he had found his match in more ways than one.
Carefully, for the sharp sabre had not moved a millimetre, he rubbed his jaw against the growing bulge. "What will you demand of me as a forfeit?" he asked, rather pleased at how quickly anticipation chased away the shock in Wufei's expression.
The sabre drifted away from his neck and the tension on his hair eased, until he could turn his head further. He mouthed at the thick column of flesh through the loose pants, running his lips and teeth up and down until Wufei was trembling and completely hard.
Zechs slid his free hand up Wufei's leg, caressing the strong thigh and the enticing curve of his bottom, then sliding around his waist to undo the fastenings of his pants. The loose material slithered down (with a little encouragement to clear the proudly jutting cock) and pooled on the floor around Chang's bare feet.
Wufei stepped out of his pants, tossing the clothing to one side with a flick of his foot. The motion freed Zechs' pinned sword hand, and he took advantage of his new mobility to run both palms up the lovely well-muscled legs in front of him. He was just leaning forward to sample the tempting erection when a tug on his hair stopped him.
Surprised and more than a little disappointed, he glanced up questioningly.
Wufei's eyes were dark and half-lidded. "I want..." he said hoarsely. He paused, the tip of his tongue wetting his lips in an unconscious and wholly erotic gesture. "I want to see you."
Wufei could barely believe this was happening. Zechs Merquise was kneeling in front of him, wrapping large hands around his hips, leaning forward open-mouthed...
Gods, he must be insane to interrupt, to risk stopping this fantasy come to life, but he wasn't likely to get another chance like this and he wanted to see that gorgeous body. He tugged on the thick tail of hair still wrapped in his hand, halting that tempting mouth just shy of its destination.
"I want..." he managed to get out, before the hot wash of breath over his aching shaft nearly shattered his remaining self-control. He licked his lips and forced himself to continue. "I want to see you," he said through gritted teeth. "All of you."
Zechs' surprised expression melted into flattered comprehension.
Wufei almost cursed himself as the strong hands fell away from his hips, but he soon forgot his objections when they began the fascinating task of peeling the fitted white pants from Zechs' long, lean legs. Underwear, socks and boots followed, and the red t-shirt was stripped away right after, leaving the kneeling blond bare for Wufei's inspection.
'Long' was the best word to describe Zechs Merquise - long white-blond hair, long trim torso, long fingers, long limbs, long - sweet gods! - erection rising flushed and firm from his lap.
Wufei felt momentarily dizzy with the rush of desire that washed over him. He wanted this beautifully dangerous man, wanted him very badly.
Zech's hand closed gently over his, making him realize he was still holding his sword. He snorted softly at himself - such distraction would be deadly were his adversary any less honourable. He relinquished the blade without hesitation, knowing his opponent - his companion - would not mistreat it.
As Zechs laid the sabre safely to one side, Wufei took the opportunity to strip off his own shirt. It was only fair that they wear the same amount of clothing, after all. He dropped the sweat-damp fabric to the floor as a wet tongue stroked the underside of his erection from base to tip, and then circled around the head.
Warm hands grasped his hips, steadying him as his knees gave slightly. Gods!! Zechs had barely started and he was already on the verge of an orgasm. He would have to show more control than that!
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Control...
Zechs smiled to himself at the wild-eyed look on Chang's face. He had just tasted the man, and he looked ready to climax. Oh, this was going to be fun...
He left Wufei's eager cock alone for a moment - no need to end this encounter prematurely - and let his eyes roam over the young man's naked body instead. Wufei was fit, muscular, and well-proportioned, a lovely study in gold and black, but what Zechs found most arousing was the way he was biting his lower lip as he struggled to calm himself.
"Magnificent," he breathed.
Wufei looked down at him, dark eyes wide and breath coming unevenly. Zechs smiled wickedly, and sloooooowly slipped his mouth down around the man's erection. Wufei groaned, his head tipping back and his hips tilting forward.
Zechs stifled a grin and relaxed his throat, taking the firm shaft in as deeply as he could. When his lips finally wrapped around the base of Wufei's cock, he began to swallow, his tongue rubbing against the sensitive underside, his throat muscles rhythmically squeezing the throbbing tip. A ragged gasp and fingers digging desperately into his shoulders signalled Wufei's intense appreciation for the manoeuver.
Well pleased with the reaction, Zechs swallowed again and again, sure that Wufei was close to release. He could feel the Chinese man trembling, hear him moaning, but the stubborn pilot refused to give in.
Zechs finally had to ease back to gasp for air. Very well then, he smirked, swirling his tongue around the swollen flesh in his mouth. He would just have to come up with a new plan...
Dorothy squirmed in her seat as Zechs revealed his prowess in the oral arts. Wufei was obviously fighting to maintain control, while the taller man was just as obviously determined to make him lose it.
After his initial eye-opening technique, Zechs settled into a languid rhythm. He pulled almost all the way off Wufei's lovely cock, sucking, until the Chinese man's hips eased forward a fraction. Then he pressed forward, taking the entire length in, until Wufei couldn't endure the exquisite sensation and backed off a bit.
Dorothy smiled as she realized Zechs' intention. Wufei was slowly being lured into participating, his hips even now settling into a smooth motion. Carefully, Zechs increased the pace, the slight upward curl at the corners of his lips the only indication of his ulterior motive.
Dorothy left one camera close up on the action, focussing the other on Wufei's face and then panning down his body. His entire body - from closed eyes and mouth slack with pleasure, through tight abdomen pulling his torso into a curl, tense forearms and strong hands gripping Zechs' shoulders, trembling legs, and feet widespread on either side of Zechs' thighs, to the toes digging into the matted floor - was the very essence of passion just barely contained.
Zechs' upper body swayed back and forth, his hands on Wufei's hips encouraging an increasing force and tempo. Gradually, Zechs reduced his movements, leaving Wufei to continue the rhythm on his own.
Wufei's eyes snapped open as he suddenly appeared to realize what had happened. He stared down, seemingly mesmerised by the sight of his erection moving steadily between Zechs' lips.
Dorothy held her breath. Surely he wouldn't stop now?
Then, with a low groan of surrender, Wufei slid his hands into Zechs' hair, strong fingers curving around the back of his skull and holding his head firmly in place. Deliberately, he thrust himself deeply into that waiting mouth, all restraint gone.
"Ohhh, yessss!" Dorothy laughed and clapped her hands with delight.
With an ecstatic cry, Wufei snapped his hips forward, burying his cock down Zechs' throat. His breath hissed out from between clenched teeth as he began to shudder, clutching the blond's head closer as he instinctively tried to plant his seed as deeply as possible.
Even through the sensory overload of his orgasm he could feel Zechs' mouth working around him, that devilish tongue rubbing and swirling until it seemed that he would surely die of the pleasure.
His climax finally eased its grip on his body, and his knees buckled. Zechs took his weight easily, strong arms wrapped around his thighs, warm hands kneading his ass as the taller man leisurely sucked the last traces of seed from him.
He felt slightly ashamed at how long he had held Zechs immobilized, effectively forcing him to swallow every drop, but to his grateful relief the blond seemed undisturbed by his treatment. In fact, he seemed quite satisfied with the encounter.
Well, not completely satisfied, if that impressive erection were anything to go by. Wufei smirked. It would be... unjust... to leave him in such a state.
He took a pace back, pulling out gently and noting with amusement and gratification that the blond man seemed reluctant to release him. His knelt on wobbly legs, trying not to collapse entirely. He reached forward, setting his hands on those broad shoulders, and shoved hard.
Caught by surprise, Zechs went over backwards. He caught himself quickly, his hands braced on the floor behind him.
He blinked. Wufei leaned over and put his fists down on either side of Zechs' waist, then prowled forward on hands and knees until their open mouths met.
Wufei was kissing him... deeply... and he... was... really... good at it...
He let himself be pressed back and down, until he was reclining on his elbows. Wufei pulled away his mouth for a moment, then redirected his attention to Zechs' throat.
Zechs groaned and let his head fall back. The juncture between his neck and shoulders had always been a responsive erogenous zone for him, and Wufei was finding every sensitive nerve ending and licking and sucking it to throbbing life.
Then a pair of wickedly talented hands began caressing his torso - smoothing muscle, tweaking nipples, running teasingly over sensitized skin - while that hot wet mouth worked magic at his throat.
Through the haze of pleasure and lust, Zechs could feel Wufei sliding lower, planting kisses down his chest, and he spread his legs invitingly. The Chinese man settled obligingly between them, those roving hands now stroking Zechs' inner thighs.
Zechs moaned and writhed, raising his hips. He was achingly hard and long overdue for release. He wanted that sensuous mouth sucking on his erection, wanted it desperately.
Instead, he heard a soft chuckle, felt the waft of a cooling breath blown over the oozing head of his cock, and then shocking heat and wetness enveloped his balls.
He cried out, squirming with the intense sensations as Wufei gently suckled first one, and then the other. The alternating heat and relative chill as each testicle was attended to and then exposed to the air was excruciatingly arousing.
Zechs could feel his balls drawing up, preparing to spill their seed. With a delicate but firm touch, Wufei drew them back down again, simultaneously preventing his orgasm and stimulating him further.
"Aahhhhhhh! Gods!! ... What..." Zechs couldn't even finish the question, but Wufei seemed to understand.
The Chinese man's lips turned up into a tiny smirk. "Now what is that phrase Maxwell uses? Ah, yes. 'What's the magic word?'"
Zechs stared. He was expected to beg? Wufei's tongue flicked over his balls again, and Zechs jumped. "F-fuck you, Ch-chang!" he managed to grit out.
The smirk grew. "Yes," Wufei agreed, "but only after you've defeated my sabre."
Zechs' eyes widened at the delicious mental image that formed at that teasing admission. Wufei took advantage of his momentary distraction and bent between his legs again.
Zechs groaned and lay flat, his hands fisting in his own hair as Wufei's tongue began to explore even lower. The sensations escalated, driving him insane with need and desire without being quite stimulating enough to drive him over the edge.
He held out as long as he could, until he just couldn't take it any more, and didn't care what he had to do to get his golden-skinned lover to finish him. "Aaahhhhh!! Yesss! P-please!!! Please, damnit! Wu-FEEEEEEIII!!"
He came explosively, his last word trailing off into a wordless wail, as Wufei's mouth swooped down on his erection, sucking hard, while two fingers pressed deeply between his spread cheeks.
Dorothy leaned back in her chair, heavy-eyed and breathing deeply, waiting for her pulse to slow. Watching Wufei fight against his own arousal and lose had been exciting enough, but to see Zechs writhing in total abandon until he discarded his pride was an amazing sight.
Dorothy smiled. She was running an informal one-up-womanship contest with Sabintha Winner, and this recording was sure to put her in the lead.
She sighed and stretched, noting that Zechs was finally beginning to stir. She would have to remove those cameras as soon as the two Preventers left the gym. Leaving the devices in place would be sure to eventually draw the attention of one or more agents, and she did not want to have to explain her purpose.
On the screen, Zechs clasped Wufei's offered forearm and was pulled effortlessly to his feet. The tall blond didn't let go right away, and Wufei tilted his head inquiringly, a faint smile on his face. The moment stretched.
"Tomorrow night, same time?" Wufei finally asked.
Zechs' lips twitched. "Fuck you, Chang," he said, promising.
Wufei's smile widened a fraction. "Perhaps..." He turned and began to gather his clothing. "Or perhaps not..."
Dorothy smiled. There was no help for it. She would just have to run the risk of discovery and leave those cameras in place for another day.
(:./wingnut/swordplay)
