NOIR Towards the Light Written by Alain Gravel http://www.geocities.com/rakna01/ Started on November 11th 2001 Final draft finished on ?????? Disclaimers: Noir and the characters of Yuumura Kirika and Mireille Bouquet are the property of Bee Train, Tsukimura Ryoei, Kikuchi Yoko, Mashita Koichi and Victor Entertainment. The events of this story occurs after episode 26. Therefore the usual spoiler warnings applies. This story is a lemon. Usual lemon warnings applies. For those who might possibly not be aware of it, the lemon label stands for a fanfic story where sex is involved. In other words, if you're underage, you should stop reading NOW. If you ignore this warning, then you must take full responsibility for it. This story is dedicated to [Censored] who dared/begged me to write it. Author's note : Initially, when I first wrote this story, I used "Mireiyu" instead of "Mireille" whenever Kirika was talking. These were all changed back to "Mireille" to avoid confusion and complaints from hardcore fans. I do believe, however, that reading it as "Mireiyu" can add to the flavor of Kirika's character. =============================================================== Mireille smiled in satisfaction as she stepped foot in her apartment. Setting her bag by the door, she looked around her small place. The workers she had hired had done a very good job. With a hand, she touched a wall that had once been cribbed with bullet holes. It looked as good as it used to, perhaps even better; the colors were fresher, more vivid. She hadn't realized how it had slightly faded over time. She walked toward the window, which had been left open to free the room of the odors of the new paint job. She looked out, toward the familiar sight of the lights illuminating Paris at night. As she looked at the stars, she let her mind wander, a reoccurring occurrence of late. It had only been two weeks since she had last looked out through this very window, yet it felt ages ago. So much had happened in so little time. The last months had been a blur, yet had also felt like a lifetime. Meeting Kirika. Their struggle against Soldats. The final conclusion. Despite numerous sleepless nights, she could still hardly believe that everything was over now. Yet, there was no denying it. Soldats had not made a single attempt to contact them, not a single move against them. There was a possibility that they were trying to catch them off guard, but Mireille doubted it. If it was the case, they would have acted sooner, while they were still wounded from the trials they had faced. No. Even if Soldats had become, over the ages, an Illuminati-like society, acting as puppeteers from the shadows, Mireille had the distinct impression that they still feared and respected what Noir represented. And while Kirika and herself and ultimately rejected Althena's ideals, they were still the two maidens who had ultimately faced all trials to become the True Noir. And whether they wanted it or not, this was how Soldats were seeing them. 'Noir.' 'A name of destiny that has been ordained in the past.' 'Two women who reign over death.' 'May the black hands over the newborns.' 'Please protect the peace.' These were words she wished to forget. Perhaps Kirika would also forget them, given time. As she looked toward the few stars that could be seen in the Parisian sky, she asked herself the question that had continuously being plaguing her mind. What now? "Mireille... the tea is ready." The blonde looked toward the shorter girl, who was carrying two tea cups, the only ones which had survived the war that had taken place in her home, and sat down at the previously unused table, thanking her companion as she took the cup in her hands. She could not help but smile at the happy and content expression on Kirika's face, such a contrast with the cold darkness she had been forced to fight against in the Garden. They had nearly killed each other. Her smile was short lived, however, as Kirika looked sadly toward an empty seat, the same spot where another girl had been sitting weeks ago, in similar circumstances. "Tea under the moonlight..." softly spoke Kirika, as she looked down toward her cup. Mireille remained silent, not knowing what to say or do. She was an expert when it came time to cause grief, taking away the life of someone who often had loved ones who would miss him, but never had she had to try to appease someone's pain. The fact that she was responsible for Kirika's pain made it even the more harder to do anything. Kirika had been forced to chose between her life and Chloe's. To tell Kirika that she had done the right thing, the only thing she could do... it would sound hypocrite of her. Silently, Mireille wished that she had been the one to kill Chloe. That might have been one less burden for the small girl. Those frail shoulders carried enough sin already. "The tea is good," was all Mireille finally said, her face, as impassible as ever, hiding in her thoughts. Not another word was spoken of the entire night. - - - Mireille nearly let out a shout of joy as finally she managed to access the Noir e-mail account. A stray bullet had brought her previous computer to an early demise and it had taken her most of the morning to configure the new computer she had bought. While she was no novice with computers, in these modern days it was almost necessary if one wanted to do proper business and information gathering, setting everything up on her new equipment had still been a rather frustrating and complicated job, due to the level of security required by her activities. A hired killer that couldn't manage to remain anonymous rarely lived long. It was the reason why she had been so shocked by Kirika's initial contact with her. Up until that day, she had been certain that she had done an impeccable job at erasing all traces of her activities, at remaining a shadow in the darkness. But obviously, someone had known of her activities from day one. Soldats. How long had they been watching her from the shadows? Ever since they had chosen her as one of the candidates for Noir? The thought gave her the chills. Yet, in some twisted way, it seemed to make sense now, everything did. Her parents had been against Soldats' choice to make her a Tree. And so, Soldats had killed her parents. As an orphan, she fell under the care of her uncle... whom she knew now had been a member of Soldats like her parents. But unlike her parents, he had lacked the courage to defy Soldats. Was this the reason why he had taught her how to use a gun, how to kill for a living? Was this because it had been the only thing he had known himself, or because it had been the will of Soldats for her to become a Noir candidate, despite the wishes of her parents? She wondered, how much of her life had been the results of her own choices, her own doing, and how much had been Soldats'? Had she been, like Kirika, a puppet all along, without ever realizing it? She looked at the computer screen, at the various requests for Noir services. Corrupted politicians. The leader of a terrorist organization. A rapist doubled of a pedophile who had escaped justice. What could have been interesting assignments were now suddenly suspicious. How could she be certain that none of them were commandeered by Soldats? If she killed one of these men, how could she ever be sure that she wasn't doing Soldats' dirty work. How could she be sure this wasn't what she had done all of her life? Did she even want to go on killing for a living? She took no pleasure into killing. For her, it was simply something to do, and she did it as best she could. It was the only thing she knew, the only thing she had been taught, it was what she was the best at. It had became a banality for her, to the point where she rarely felt anything about seeing someone die in front of her. In some ways, she and Kirika had much in common. She could live without it. She gained no special trill from killing. She could put her gun away, never draw it again and have no regret, she was certain. She neither did need to do it for a living any longer. She had led a modest life, her only serious expenses being her transportation costs for jobs outside of the country and the acquisition of information. From the various assassination contracts she had carried out, she had saved enough of money in a Swiss bank account for her and Kirika to live a modest but comfortable life until they died of old age. With time, she had came to believe that she would die the same way she had lived. It was only a question of time before someone either better or luckier than her would seal her fate away with a bullet or a blade. In the recent weeks, there had been several close calls where her life had laid on the razor's edge. And now that she could look back... she didn't feel ready to accept death as she used to believe she was. She had managed to survive the recent ordeals and she was glad she was alive. Mireille's musing was cut short as she heard a soft "tadaima" as well as the sound of a door opening and closing. "Welcome home," answered Mireille, before frowning ever so slightly. Kirika was holding under an arm what looked like a sketch book and a bag. "Can I see that?" Kirika nodded and handed the sketch book to the blonde. Only the first page showed sign of work, a quick pencil sketch of what looked liked a river, with houses on the other side. It was crude, but it wasn't too bad for something amateurish. "You've decided to paint again?" asked Mireille as she handed the sketch book back to Kirika. "Maybe later. I want to learn to draw correctly first. You... you told me I should try to get a hobby, and it's the only thing I know... and I want to do this properly this time... and I don't want to forget any longer. It doesn't seem right." Mireille nodded. Indeed, when Kirika had asked her what to do now that they knew of her past, even a lot of details were missing, the French woman had suggested that she should seek for some hobby to do, try to find out what else she could be good at, other than killing. "That's good." While it felt like a lifetime ago, it had only been a few months since Kirika's first attempt at painting. She had met a man with that hobby and had begun to see him every day to do the same. Mireille had felt wary of the growing friendship Kirika was developing and her fears had been founded when the man had been killed by a stray bullet, destined for Kirika. The small girl had not shown it, but she had been deeply affected by that loss, and the responsibility she held over it. The fact that the girl had decided to try this hobby again showed a positive sign that the girl was moving on with her life. This only straightened Mireille's resolve. "Kirika. I'll be dissolving Noir." The Asian girl dropped her book. "It's time to put an end to our partnership." Kirika turned to face Mireille, eyes wide, paling at those words. "Mireille... Why? Do you... do you want me to leave?" The girl was shaking, visibly overwhelmed with emotions she didn't quite know how to deal with. Understanding dawned on Mireille, who hugged the girl in an uncharacteristically display of emotions herself. "I'm sorry, I should have worded that better. I'm not asking you to leave. I just... I don't want to continue doing this, I don't want to kill again, not unless forced to. I think we should find our own paths, not follow the one that was chosen for us." At those words, the girl seemed to calm down. It felt strange to be holding her like this, against her chest. It felt warm. Part of Mireille's mind also noted that Kirika smelled nice, a faint peach fragrance. "You can live here as long as you want," added Mireille as she let go of the girl, without giving the idea much thought. It just seemed... right. Kirika gave her a shy smile, as she dried up wet eyes. As she had often noted before, the girl had a radiant and warm smile, one that was contagious. She hoped that from now on, it would appear more often on her face. "Gomen..." apologized Kirika, as Mireille headed toward the kitchen. "Why don't you prepare tea, while I prepare diner?" simply said Mireille, hiding a smile of her own. Kirika nodded and the kitchen became for a short time the center of activity in the apartment. - - - Kirika often had nightmares at night. It was a detail Mireille was sure the small girl mostly ignored herself. She only seemed to remember the most frightening ones, those which would wake her up, her body drenched in sweat. Mireille always feigned sleep and ignored the girl who'd leave the bed for a few minutes to take a shower. She never mentioned any of this to Kirika, and the girl never made any mentions of her nightly fright episodes. Perhaps Kirika hadn't found it worth mentioning, such extreme instance having only occurred an handful of times, or perhaps she didn't want to bother her roommates with her problems. Communication was neither girls' forte. It was somewhat inconvenient. Mireille would usually be woken up once or twice every week, usually when her sleep was lighter. The girl would twist in her sleep, mumble something in Japanese, then relax and sleep peacefully again. It would have been easy to be rid of this problem. While her tiny apartment was too small to house two rooms, she could have easily acquired a small futon that the girl could have set up in a corner to sleep on, instead of sharing her bed. But after the first night of sharing her bed with the small girl due to the lack of such commodity, Mireille had never taken the time to actually go buy one, and her mind had been too preoccupied with solving the problem of her new room and team mate to think of trivial matters such as sleeping arrangements. Before she knew it, it had became an habit, and while she wouldn't admit it out loud, the new presence into the previous lonely bed had brought her a strange sense of security and comfort at night, despite of the possibility that this presence could have been hostile. A hand hitting her stomach had woken her that night, and, by the trashing and the expression on Kirika's sleeping face, Mireille knew that this nightmare was a serious one. As she moved to the edge of the bed and away from Kirika, Mireille wondered if the Japanese girl was dreaming of Chloe again. She had spoken her name the last two times. Mireille couldn't help but feel a certain guild at the inner struggle the girl was facing, as well as a certain envy. It seemed to her at times that Kirika and Chloe had been able to bond in a way she and Kirika hadn't been able to achieve. The small girl surprised the blonde as suddenly her eyes snapped open and she let out rasped "Mireille", the name almost barely escaping her throat. This time, Mireille didn't feign sleep and looked at Kirika, to see the young girl staring at her hands, with a haunted look in her eyes, which gave the French woman shivers. "Kirika?" asked Mireille, not really sure if she should. At the sound of her voice, a pair of eyes blinked, then a disoriented Kirika looked around her, her gaze finally fixing itself on Mireille's face. Her body began to shake, her lips tremble, and her eyes becoming moist before Mireille found herself hugged by an uncommonly emotive Kirika. "Mireille!" For a moment, the blonde froze, not knowing what to do the with the girl openly weeping against her bosom. Awkwardly, she caressed her head, while uneasily hugging her back. "It's... it's alright Kirika..." "I thought I had killed you!" This left Mireille stunned for a moment, as the girl began to cry some more. "Now, now... it's alright... I'm here, see?" Mireille found it easier now to deal with the girl, the embrace not seeming quite as uncomfortable, her hair feeling soft under her fingers, her body, hot and warm against hers. Mireille's words and touch seemed to calm down the young girl, as soon she was no longer crying and simply let herself being held. "Mireille... I'm sorry..." spoke Kirika, her voice almost only a whisper. "It's alright... everyone has nightmares." Kirika moved away from Mireille and looked at her straight in the eyes. "It wasn't a nightmare... not really... I... that time... I could have killed you. I almost did! The dream... it was so real... I could feel your blood on my face and hands... I could smell it... So close... I was so close to doing it for real! I'm sorry!" The girl burst out crying again, and again found herself in Mireille's uncertain arms. "It's alright... you didn't do it, so this was just a dream, nothing more... I'm here, I'm alright..." said Mireille, as held Kirika, before pulling her away and looking at her with a smile. "You don't have to worry... I'm here..." "Mireille......." Kirika then did something that took Mireille completely off guard. She kissed her. - - - With a sigh, Mireille lowered her weapon. Out of two entire clips of ammo, only three bullets had found their mark, the rest had created a number of holes in the old concrete sewer wall, around her target. It had been years since her shooting had been this bad; it was clear that her mind wasn't on this and that her hopes of clearing her mind had been in vain. She put her weapon into her purse and left for the darkened street of Paris. She wandered aimlessly for a while, until the sign of a bar caught her attention. She entered without giving it a second thought. She ignored the cat calls of a bunch of drunken men and took a seat. An elder man came to take her order and soon returned with a bottle of wine. It was a rather cheap brand, and was mildly offensive to her exercised tastes, but she gave it no mind, as she let the red liquid flow down her throat. She filled her glass again, and stared at the liquid in the glass for a moment, before bringing it to her lips again. Maybe she was overreacting. After all, it had just been an innocent kiss, right? She shook her head sadly, before taking another sip of wine. In itself, the kiss could have been innocent. It had been, after all, nothing more than a brief touching of their lips. Nothing to really dwell about. But the following warm hug and the words Kirika had spoken... "I love you, Mireille," she whispered to herself, the words echoing in her mind, in Kirika's Japanese accented French. Still... maybe she was reading too much into those words. Love didn't necessarily involve romance. Kirika could have said these words, the way one talks to her best friend, her sister, or her mother. Yet... Love meant attachment. It meant a degree of involvement. It was something Mireille had long ago decided to ban from her life. Attachment meant pain. Pain for herself if she lost someone she held dear, or pain for the one who would lose her. It was a lesson Kirika had herself learned the hard way. And yet... she was still reaching out to her, despite her warnings. "Love..." "Hey, I'll give you some love if you want it babe!" Mireille mindlessly looked up at the drunken man who was standing close to her leering at her breasts. With an ease born from experience, the man found cold death pressed against his genitals before he even realized it. "Get lost, I'm trying to think here." The man looked at the gun pressed against his most tender possessions and then at the cold eyes locked on him... and ran. The others customers shrugged, none having noticed the weapon which had been back in its hiding place as fast as it had been pulled out. No, the problem wasn't Kirika... It was herself. She wasn't scared of Kirika loving her... she was scared of returning the feeling. This was why she had run away, leaving a confused and crying Kirika behind. For years she had avoided personal feelings. Do open herself to others again... So many things could happen... she didn't want to be hurt again. But it wasn't her choice, was it? She let out a sad laugh... The moment she had left Paris to rescue Kirika from Soldats, the choice had no longer been hers. She had been denying the evidence so far, but... the truth was... she had grown attached to Kirika. The recent events had only been the proverbial slap in the face she needed to finally admit it. Status quo had been comfortable so far... but now, things had changed, for better or worse. "Kirika... why can't anything be simple with you?" the tone of her voice somewhat soft. It had been so long since she had last opened herself to another... could she do it now? The risks were no longer the same, now that their killing days were behind them. Did she want to open herself? The bottle of wine was still half full. She had some time to think about it. - - - Innocent. It was strange that a girl who could kill in an heartbeat could look so innocent in her sleep. She had curled her small body in a ball, hugging Mireille's pillow. Mireille's heart reached for the girl at the sight, feeling guilty to have made the girl suffer this way. Unsteadily, her body a bit numb with the alcohol, she walked toward the bed. The apparently ever alert senses of the Asian girl seemed to realize that and her eyes snapped open, looking at the potential treat. The dangerous look of those eyes became one of relief as she realized who had just approached the bed. "Mireille! I'm sorry..." "Don't worry," said Mireille as she hugged the girl. "It's alright... I'm not upset at you..." And Mireille kissed Kirika. Kirika's eyes opened wide in surprise as she felt the blonde's warm lips against hers. Part of her mind noted the heavy scent and taste of alcohol, but those thought were forgotten almost the moment they came. When the contact of their lips broke, tears were running down Kirika's cheeks. "I thought you hated me..." Mireille shook her head. She hadn't been sure. But she knew it now. She loved Kirika. Not just as a friend... but something more. Despite the alchool, her mind was racing, as emotions surged within her. The rational part of herself idly wondered if those who had been Noir before them had shared the same fate, the same kind of bond. "I don't hate you. I was just confused." And the French woman kissed the younger girl again. The initial surprise having faded, Kirika welcomed the kiss. She felt as if she was melting, as Mireille embraced her and made them lie down on the bed, her lips parting. Hesitantly, still unsure of herself, Mireille touched Kirika's small tongue with her own and soon the both of them were performing a slow dance, as old as time. She marveled as she tentatively explored the other girl's mouth. She tasted sweet, just as she had expected. As if they had a mind of their own, her hands roamed over the Japanese girl, caressing her small body gently, hesitantly. In a moment of pure clarity, or maybe just because the alcohol was making her feel more daring, Mireille knew that she had to see and touch every curves, every inch of skin of the girl lying aside her. Slowly, the French girl began to peal off the sleeveless shirt from the Asian girl. "Mireille? What are you doing?" The blonde prevented further questioning with a kiss. Kirika didn't protest as Mireille pulled down on her sleeping shorts and panties. Mireille almost wept as finally Kirika laid before her, exposed in her naked glory. Her skin was perfect, aside from the scars that could be seen on her body, testaments of all the trials the girl had to endure. Mireille licked her lips, at the sight of the chocolate brown nipples, topped by small erect nipples. Kirika's breasts were small, but fit her lithe, firm body nicely, a body capable of performing acrobat like feats the French girl know she would never be capable of. "If you want me to stop, tell me," said Mireille as she removed her shirt, then the rest of her clothes, her large breasts giggling slightly as her body moved. Kirika could only nod, as she found herself too shocked to respond, her eyes fixated on the half a inch long erect nipples, then on the patch of recently trimmed blond hair that soon appeared. Mireille moved over Kirika, then leaned down, kissing the girl again. The feeling of their naked skin against each other felt marvelous, the friction of her nipples against Kirika's soft skin sending shivers along her whole being. She broke the kiss and looked down at Kirika, sliding her hands along the contour of Kirika's face, worshiping her beauty. Soon, Mireille's hands became bolder and Kirika gasped, in surprise and pleasure, as parts of her body she had never even touched herself aside for cleaning herself were gently caressed. "Mireilleuuuu..." moaned Kirika, new feelings and sensations slowly building deep inside her. Hesitantly, her hands reached for Mireille's back, making the older girl sigh at the contact. Soon, the tentative touches were firmer, moving in rythm with those Mireille. Gradually, their motions speed up, their breathing quickened. Mireille body was no longer looming over Kirika's but rather the both of them were laying side by side, limbs interlaced. Caresses were now urgent strokes, sweet slow kisses were now desperate. Their bodies, now covered with a sheen of sweat, were moving against one another, breast against breast, crouch against thight. They moaned and groaned in passion, the there mutual feelings growing strong and desperate. Kirika climaxed first in a silent scream, for the first time in the short life she had lived since the day she had woken up, unaware of who she was. Feeling Kirika's body tense in her arms and seeing the expression of sheer ecstasy on her face was enough to trigger Mireille's own pleasure. Both girls found themselves panting in exhaustion, as their bodies slowly cooled down from their peak. They kissed one last time, an almost shy kiss compared to those they had shared moments ago, and hugged each other. Neither of them vocally expressed the emotion she was feeling. It was something neither was used to do, and words didn't seem necessary; the look in their eyes spoke loudly enough. They continued to hold each other, the feeling of the other's embrace warm and comforting, and fell asleep that way. - - - Mireille woke up to the unfamiliar feeling of a feminine body pressed into her back and a warm, regular breathing against her next. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling, quite the opposite in fact, but it was unsettling. She hadn't planned any of what had happened. Kirika had seemed so vulnerable, so attractive in her innocence. To kiss her, to return her affection had only been a spur of the moment decision. What had followed... it had happened so fast. She knew she could probably try to delude herself that it had only been the alcohol's doing, but she knew it was a lie. There had been a need within her, one that had been suppressed for so long and had now ceased the opportunity to come fort. The need to care for someone, to be cared by someone, to feel another body and feel another's touch. The need to lose herself in a moment of sheer ecstasy. It was truly impossible to go back to how things had been now. Part of her mourned that loss. Another part felt relieved. And another felt scared. So many unknowns, so many uncertainties, so many ways to be hurt again. Gently, Mireille moved away the arm that was enlacing her, trying to get out of bed without waking Kirika up. The poor girl deserved her rest. She knew she should try to rest herself, but her thought were spinning too much in her head to find sleep again and she needed to do something to keep herself from thinking too much. "Don't." Mireille paused her movement, surprised that Kirika was awake. "If you leave, then this moment will end." Mireille remained silent, her answer being to put Kirika's arm where it had originally been and covering her small hand with hers. Kirika pressed her body a bit more firmly against Mireille, snuggling against her. They stayed like that for a long time enjoying the other's presence. "It doesn't have to be an ending... if you don't want to," finally said Mireille. "Mireille?" Mireille turned around, her nose inches from Kirika's, looking straight into her red- brown eyes. She raised a hand, to softly caress Mireille's cheek, who closed her eyes at the touch, a content expression on her face. "It doesn't have to be an ending... it could be a beginning..." Mireille tilted her head forward, kissing softly Kirika's lips, who let out a soft sigh as their lips parted. "It might have happened too fast... but I have no regrets about last night. So you have any?" "No... Mireille... I... I..." A few tears gathered in Kirika's eyes. With a finger, Mireille shushed her. "I know." Gently, she caressed the smaller girl's hair. "That time when I didn't carry through with my promise... I think I've known ever since that time. I couldn't kill you... because I loved you. It just took me this long to admit it to myself..." "Mireille!" Kirika hugged her, weaping against her breast. "Kirika..." With a finger, Mireille tilted Kirika's face up and kissed her again, this time more deeply. Kirika eagerly welcomed the kiss. Kirika's soft and warm lips parted to welcome Mireille's warmer tongue, the first step of a newly discovered dance. When their lips parted, Kirika's arms had somehow found their way around Mireille's neck, while the blonde enlaced her small waist. Mireille let out a gasp as Kirika took the initiative for the first time and lips brushed across one of her nipples, followed by a tongue, then teeth. Mireille's breasts had always been sensitive, enough to be able to reach orgasm by only playing with them, and she soon found herself moaning at Kirika's awkward attempts to please her, her enthusiasm compensating for her experience. Mireille could only burry her hands in Kirika's hair and press her face harder into her breast as the girl seem to learn from her gasps of pleasure. "Kirika! Don't... don't stop... Aaaaah!" Kirika had no intention to. Mireille had given her so much, done so much for her... She was determined to give back to her partner the same pleasures and feelings Mireille had given her. Relentlessly, she continued to work on Mireille's breasts. Her hands slid down to the blonde's chest, gently squeezing her breasts, only pausing to move her mouth to the other mound of flesh which had been neglected so far. Mireille closed her eyes, her pleasure-fogged mind urging Kirika to continue, to do this forever, until something snapped. It was a subtle bit of electricity that had built up to brimming, then spread outwards, downwards, from the pleasure-center of her mind, down to her womb. She moaned, as the feeling washed over her, again and again... intense, powerful, unstoppable. Her back arched as she orgasmed, her hands clenching and unclenching, her mouth opening in a low moan, time going still. Reality resumed itself a moment later and Mireille opened her eyes to see Kirika's warm, shy smile. She returned that smile, which turned more mischievous, before returning the pleasure. She forced Kirika to lie on her back and positioned herself over her. A soft gasp escaped Kirika mouth, when Mireille's hands moved across her small breasts. She arched her chest forward, Mireille mimicked her previous actions. Her eyes, closed in pleasure, snapped opened as Mireille lips left the small bud of hardness of her breast to slowly move down her body. "Mireille, what are you...? Aaaah! Mireilleuuu!" Kirika gasped in pleasure as one of Mireille's hands probed the soft wetness between her legs. Kirika instinctively parted her legs, offering Mireille greater access to her sex. Mireille never had a female lover before, but her personal experience was enough to bring Kirika close to the edge with her fingers, by the time she had kissed her way down the Japanese girl's body. Kirika's eyes snapped open as she felt Mireille's warm breath over her sex. Any attempt to question the blonde's actions were cut by harsh moans, as she felt Mireille's tongue part her lower lips. Kirika began to squirm, her breath coming faster, as Mireille closed her lips on her love bud. Kirika almost choked on her breath as Mireille began to push a finger inside her. Mireille's heart was equally racing, Kirika's reactions exciting her to no end. The Asian girl was tight, wet and warm. Only after a few moments, Kirika's body stiffened in climax, choking Mireille's name. As ecstasy rippled through Kirika's body, Mireille slid her wet finger inside herself, the mixture of her arousal and Kirika's making it easy to push it in, and feverishly worked herself to a second orgasm. Her stiffened body crashed aside Kirika's, both of them feeling the other ragged breath on their face. Once their breathing calmed down, their eyes locked, and tired but warm smiles lit their faces. "Thanks you..." whispered Kirika. No other words was exchanged for long minutes, as they simply laid side to side, a hand at times tenderly caressing the other. "Kirika..." finally spoke Mireille, "we'll have to keep our relation to ourselves. Outside this apartment, we can't show any signs that we are lovers." Kirika gave Mireille a puzzled look. "Why, Mireille? Is it because I'm a woman?" The blonde shook her head. "No. I don't mind that. I don't really care what others think and I don't feel uncomfortable with the feelings I have for you, other that I'm not used to feel this way. I'm more worried about someone using this against us." "You mean Soldats." Mireille nodded. "We're assuming that they'll be leaving us alone for now on, but we can't be sure of that. They have their internal conflicts. Some of they might try to rally Noir to their causes, and they may try to use one of us to blackmail the other if they become aware of our relationship." Kirika nodded in understanding. "Do you think two can sit in the bathtub?" asked Mireille, a mischievous smile on her lips. Kirika smiled back and gave her a little nod. As they got out of bed, the morning sun warming their naked bodies, Mireille looked out the window. She no longer needed to seek out light in this dark world. Not while Kirika was at her side, a beacon to guide her toward their own private happiness. FIN Author's notes: After watching Noir, a friend and I discussed it for a while. One element that was brought on was the fact that this series, with it's almost exclusive female cast, had yuri potential. The fact that hints could be found in it depending on the way things were interpreted reinforced the idea. In our discussions, my friend challenged me several times to actually write a Noir lemon. After one of our conversations, I actually has a sudden flash of inspiration and this story is the result. No matter how the readers will take this story, positively or negatively, it was still a nice change of pace from Evangelion fanfiction. Regards, Alain