Note : ORACLE-CHAN! THIS ONE IS FOR YOU!
 

DISCLAIMER : I have nothing, nothing, nothiiiiiiiiiiiiing... If I don't have Zechs. Basically, GW is not mine, not at all, and I'm making no money of this   (It's more like I'm spending some...)
 

October 3rd, AC 198
 

"Gee... You're not even a lovely cat. Oh well, too bad." "

"Really? I allowed myself to think that people who challenged Gundams didn't care about such menial details."

"Who the hell are you??"

"Does it makes a difference? Aren't you more focused on acts?"

"Acts?"

"It pains me to see such a talent go to waste..."

"You... You pop out from nowhere, then you insult me!"

"Close that insolent little mouth of yours and listen, child. I'll be your friend, your father, your mother, your boss, your preacher, your ally, I'll train you, I'll make you suffer, I'll make a perfect lady out of you, a perfect weapon out of you. You'll need time to understand, you're going to hate me, but you'll become somebody. We're going to fight a war that never ends, regardless of how many preventers fight it."

"What the..."

"We're leaving, Miss Hao."

"W... Wait wait wait!! I didn't agree, You didn't mention anything about dough and I didn't understand a thing of what you said, actually!! Is it about me being your doberman or something?!" She squeaked, glaring at the departing figure of a man in his mid fifties, wearing an elegant black suit and a long black coat.

He turned slowly, a calm smile appearing on his handsome features, the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes betraying his inner hilarity. "Doberman? How cute... Doberman... Then be it, Miss Hao. Whatever the future brings us, you'll be the Doberman."

"I'm a cute girl!! I don't wanna be a doberman!!"

"Forget about your name, forget who you were. You know that nobody cares about it, anyway..."

Catherine smiled softly as she pushed the door precautiously and entered Trowa's trailer. God, she was amazed at how her baby brother had grown since the first time she had met him. And now, on top of that, a girlfriend.

Though he had always remained silent about how exactly he had met the delicate blonde girl, her heart soared every time she watched them together, cuddling, fussing, living. She definitively made him loose his usual calm, and in Catherine's opinion, it was just fine.

As soon as she heard Cathy leaving the small trailer, Midii squirmed in the warm and heavy embrace surrounding her and pushed Trowa's arm away, letting his hand fall back on his tummy, she sat up in her bed and reached for the nightstand, fumbling in its drawer, finding a clown nose, mint pastille and various items, until her hand grazed what she had so ingeniously hidden in it. After all, as far as she could remember, Trowa had never sort out what he stocked in this drawer, so it /was/ actually the best place to hide the box, a place where he never looked, despite her permanent fussing about the mess stored up in this evil nightstand.

She got up stealthily and tiptoed in the bathroom. She read the instructions twice, the paper clutched in a trembling hand, and proceeded. She stared anxiously at the color code for a few interminable seconds, and she read what she instinctively already knew. Never in her life had she been torn between such a joy and such a panic. She could already feel the various conflicting emotions creating a pressure in her chest, or maybe it was lower. It had to be somatic, she thought.

Before she knew what was happening, she was bringing up her dinner. Now to find a diplomatic way to explain it to her unibanged creampuff...

October 3rd, AC 199
 

Iria Winner folded nervously the short message she had found on her desk. Threats, again. She had wanted to believe it wasn't to be taken seriously, had wanted to spare her overbooked little brother the worry she now felt. He already had a hard time dealing with Colonies leaders in those 'peaceful' and changing times, but it had gone too far, and she was tired of fearing every footstep she heard behind herself. Tonight, she would show him the letters and tell him.
She grabbed her bag and a few dossiers hastily and hurried to the parking. Ever since the first letter, it had become the moment of her day she hated the most. Four obnoxious minutes, from the elevator to her car, in that deserted place. The mere smell of cars and gas reminded her of horrible scenes of bloody murders of innocent secretaries in big parkings. All that she needed, basically.
She breathed unconsciously a long sigh of relief as she reached her car. In a few minutes, she would be quietly sipping a tea in her living room. So lost in her appealling prospects, she failed to notice the shadow and the trembling hand approching her back.

She didn't have the time to scream. She rolled her eyes and gasped quietly as a young man, probably in his twenties, wearing an inelegant brown suit and a matching tie pressed his left hand against her chest, a shimmering blade in the right one.

"I have a political message for ya Winner bitch!" The man hissed, letting the blade leave a red trail against her neck and the fragile pulse beating under her skin.

Iria's eyes widened, and the murderer-to-be thought it to be an expression of the sheer terror he inspired her. She was actually staring with a mix of hope and increasing worry at the perfectly silent and predatory figure detaching itself slowly from the ceiling, before landing softly behind him. It went actually too fast for the scared young woman to understand; she caught a glimpse of a small black leather covered hand, grabbing efficiently the man's tie, and watched, stunned, as the slim and dark figure flipped him easily, making him hit the concrete, and held him by his tie, starting a slow strangulation.

"What was the message already? Sorry I interrupted, I just hate ties..." A soft voice mused, as the grip seemed to tighten painfully for Iria's assailant.

She began to worry about his future when his face turned a deep shade of purple, but it didn't seem to impress the newcomer. "I want a name, and I want it now, because I'm not sure if you'll suffocate first, or if one of your vertebras will let you down." Her rescuer smiled.

Iria stared at the strange newcomer with a sort of wary respect. It was a woman, or more exactly a girl, about Quatre's age, maybe a bit younger, she assessed, observing the slim figure. She couldn't help but notice that she was entirely clad in black, from tight black leather pants, to a long black coat with an elegant cut, almost brushing past her ankles.

"I'm telling you, you have no manners... You could have hurt the lady!" The stranger chirped, still strangling her prey. "Are you alright, Madam?" She went on, turning to Iria.

This gave her a good look at her features for the first time: a quite childish face, in her opinion, with probably curly hair, done in four tight plaits covering her head, much like one of those little Bavarian girls you saw in books, Iria mused. "I'm... I guess I'm fine."

"Okay. Just wait until I'm done with him then!" She replied gleefully.

Iria peeked at the two, the man seemingly dying either from terror or from lack of air. "Ahem... Sorry to interrupt, I was just wondering... Uh... Are you going to kill him?" Iria ventured.

The girl loosen momentarily her grip to face Iria, once again, "I don't know, I'm quite tempted..."

The man's eyes widened at this statement and he managed to whimper, "Yes... Are you going to kill me?" He asked, obviously trying to move his executioner to pity.

"Actually..." The young girl began, "Actually I'm going to let you go."

There was a startled silence in the cold parking, none of them understanding the point in this, until she spoke again, releasing her grip on the man's tie and dusting his jacket. "I guess that at that point, your accomplices have noticed that you aren't back, they're probably already gone to announce the mission's failure... Plus the fact that you'll come back alive. Phew. If I were your boss, I would think something like 'eh, that guy betrayed me!'..." She said happily.

The man broke in a sweat as he realized what he had gotten himself into, and his eyes seemed to search hers desperatly for an answer, anything.

"So... Your only hope left is that you spit it out, and I take care of your unruly little friends." She finished.

He stared at her for a few tense seconds, and burst out laughing. Iria was puzzled to say the least, but his starnge behavior didn't seem to vex the girl at all. She just stood patiently, waiting for him to finish.

"Hehehehhe... Oh my gawd... You sure are a special one!! Hehe... You're going to ring, enter and bump them off, just like that... Hehehe... All of them... Boom..." The man choked, crying tears of hilarity.

"Precisely, Now c'mon, be helpful, Mike." She whispered.

The man stopped immediately laughing at her sentence and glared at her, fear renewed in his eyes. "How the fuck do you know my-"

"That wasn't very hard... I assume the ones waiting in the car were Vinny and Ed?" She added, still smiling.

"What the... Who are you?! You're not a cop!" He bawled, backing off. That job was half-baked, now that was sure, and that kid... She was just... Scary.

"Oh... Relax, you should be grateful I give you a chance." She replied gently.

"You'll never manage to do the big cleaning up with those guys... If you lemme go, then I'll just try my luck!" He squeaked, attempting to hide behind a car, under Iria's bewildered eyes.

"Do as you please, but I'll repeat it, your boss is never going to believe that you're still alive and that you didn't talk." She stated quietly, following him slowly.

"And why is that? Stay away, you bitch!!" He shrieked, his voice wavering under the cold and patient stare.

"Because I'm the Doberman." She smiled.

Iria watched the scene, petrified. They had moved, and now, she couldn't quite hear the conversation. She felt a chill run down her spine as the man knelt down and babbled incoherently. It seemed he had given valuable information, though, since the strange girl turn to walk away, or more exactly to walk toward her.

"Fine. Here's our program. Now that I got my address, I'm going to take care of this little thing that's bothering you, then I'll drive you home, and if you're nice, I'll buy you something to eat, 'kay?" The girl said, guiding Iria to a black sedan. "Have a seat." She added, opening the door like a comic gentleman.

Quatre paced back and forth in the huge living room of his family's estate, glancing from time to time at the clock adorning the fireplace, then at his watch, then at the window, before pacing with renewed vigor. She wasn't here. She was never late. He paced again, until he heard distinctly the sound of a motor in the alley. He flew more than he ran to the silent car that had stopped in front of the main gate and almost thanked Allah out loud when he made out Iria's form in the passenger's seat. She stepped out shakily, a bag of cookies in a hand and her purse in the other, looking ready to faint.

"Oh Quatre... I can't believe it." She gasped, obviously in a daze.

"Neither can I!! I can't believe that dork made me pay a takeaway fee!!" A young voice squeaked, from the driver's seat.

Rasheed's tall figure approached and stopped a few meters away, observing silently, waiting for some explanations.

"Q... Quatre... I had never seen so much blood in my life... they..." She murmured, her hands trembling.

"You wanted to be at peace? You'll be now!!" The other voice replied.

Quatre held Iria tightly, whispering comforting words in her ears, as his anger and worry grew, and leaned towards the car's door, only to find that the black vehicle was already driving away. He reacted immediatly and gestured to Rasheed to lock the doors.

That voice...

Midii gazed at her favorite clown fondly. He was palying with the lions, petting them gently, he looked like a child. He, after all deserved this rest; The last mission Heero had dragged him to had almost been a disaster, and she had thought she would faint when Heero had quietly announced on the phone that 'the car had exploded, but that the data was safe, and ah, Duo and Trowa were alive too, goodnight.'

She feared his job more than ever, now, because she was certain that they weren't alone anymore. She caressed her belly absently and walked to her man, ready to strike.

"Trowa..."

"......."

"Tro~wa..."

"Unh... Sorry, I was distracted." He finally replied, still tugging playfully a furry ear.

"I can see that. You such a wonderful relationships with them... I can only imagine how sweet you would be with kids." She sighed dreamily.

"No."

Midii froze. "But... Why?"

"It took me so long to find my way..." He sighed, "How can I jeopardize one's entire life? Who am I to decide what's best for a child?"

"You're a good person, I know it. And when the day comes, you'll be doing just fine." She smiled warmly.

He stretched out and grinned, "Thanks but no thanks. No diapers for me anytime soon."

"And why is that??" Midii pouted.

Trowa smirked, "Don't tell me you want be a mother..."

"I'm not. I'm telling you that I am a mother."

There was an astounding silence, during which the lions stared at the couple in puzzlement, an their beloved clown fell on the floor with an audible 'thud'.

"Oh... Oh my god. Trowa... Trowaaaaa I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be so direct, I... Trowa! Wake up! Please!!"

Catherine approached, alerted by Midii's sequeaks of anguish, and stared in her turn. "Uh... He doesn't seem wounded... Is he...?" She stuttered.

"Trowa passed out." Came Midii's embarassed reply.

"Passed out???"

"I was trying to find the best way..." Midii whispered.

"...?"

"The best way to tell him." She sobbed.

"Aaaww... Noooo... Don't tell me it's over!" Catherine said in a quivering voice.

"No... He just... I guess he wondered if his bangs were hereditary." She sniffed.

"Uh? What? Are they, anyway?? I mean, hereditary??" Catherine squeaked in complete bewilderment.

"We'll know in a few months..." Midii sighed.

"No."

"Yes."

"Noooooo."

"Yes."

"And Trowa... Knows...?"

"He passed out."

Iria stared back and forth between the two wild animals eyeing ech other warily. "So You two... Kind of know each other?" She dared, trying to ease the tension in the room.

"How could you?!!" Quatre suddenly shrieked.

"Could what? Save your sister's life?? Erase those guys who were paid to get you two's heads??" Shaolin replied disdainfully.

"How. Could. You. Let my sister witness such a carnage!!" He retorted, still shaken by Iria's story. According to his shaken sibling, the men hadn't even had the time to shoot, some had died with their weapons still in their holsters. And he didn't remember when or where that whole hand-grenade incident fit in the macabre scenario, after she had broken a neck with her bare hands, maybe.

"This is my job! And I do it well!" She bawled, still standing securely at the other end of the room.

"Your job?? Why are you back, anyway?!" He spat, anger overflowing him. Anger over what had happened, anger over himself, over his confused emotions.

"I help people!! You bugged me about the right path and doing legal things, well you should be glad, I only help GOOD people!!" She retorted, ready to cross the safe distance and hit him. He was so damn annoying!

"Help... people?" Quatre's voice faltered noticeably, as he tried to sort out the information. It was true she had saved Iria, actually, but her means seemed to be the same as ever. Could it be that she, at least had now a cause, a good cause?

"I don't choose. I'm given missions, and I would rather have avoided this one... Sorry about what she saw. It's the job, she'll have to forget." She said more softly.

"Missions... Who do you work for, Shao?" He asked, less and less angry and more and more concerned.

"Forgive me... No boss, no name. You know the rules."

"But..." Iria began, leaning against Quatre for support, "You said you were... A Doberman." She whispered.

Quatre cocked a surprised eyebrow, and Shaolin squirmed in embarassment. "Ah... Yeah... That's how they call me, because they think I'm... I'm evil or something..." She said almost shyly.

"Charming." Rasheed commented. "Maybe we all need some rest, now. Don't we, Master Quatre?"

Quatre snapped out of his rêverie, trying, as usual, to digest the amount of news which came with that girl. he gestured to the vast house and said quietly, "Be my guest."

"Oh no..." She smiled, backing off, "The first time, you tried to steal me the cover, the second time, I ended up 'married' with you, I'm not sharing any accomodation with you anymore." She explained, shaking her head.

"By the way," She went on, "Where's is Dorothy? I still have her cat." She mused.

"She... She really needed to find herself again." Iria murmured, avoiding Quatre's pained eyes.

Shaolin merely huffed at the embarassed silence. "I see... Back in a few years to try and nuke us all once again, that's it?"

"Shao!!" Quatre scolded.

"Yeah... Whatever... I've had enough of you. I'll take the couch." She yawned, "Hurry up! Outoutout! The livin' room is mine." She added, wondering how she would move that big bad maguanac, though.

Quatre jumped offf his bed as he heard a slight creak, only to find that Miss Hao, as he used to call her, still knew the way to his room.

"Are you still into those hideous pjs?" The tired and sarcastic feminine voice whispered.

"Why?" He yawned, motionning to her to sit near him.

"They really traumatized me." She smiled.

"Sorry." He sighed.

"No. For once, I'll apologize. I just wanted to tell you... That I did my best, but I had to keep her with me until I was done with them. She was safer. I'm sorry she got involved, I guess that's just life." She murmured.

"I was shocked at first, but being a preventer, I can understand your attitude as a professional." He replied gently.

They lay flat on the bed, in the dark for almost an hour, completely silent, lost in their thoughts. She turned to stare at him, in the penumbra. He had closed his eyes, but he wasn't sleeping, she knew it. She tried to block thoughts about how handsome he had become, because she was determined to believe that she had never found him cute or anything else before. Never. But her eyes kept lingering on the half-adult half-boyish features, the silky platinum locks and gosh he had filled out a bit.
She gazed at him with unreadable eyes, and made up her mind. The best way to put an end to this pathetic fixation was to consummate it once and for all, and she would be relieved.

She straddled him, as she had done so many times before, for other purposes, though, and stared at him hard. he cracked an eyes open and chuckled.

"Please, don't tell me you're going to extort a check from me again!"

"No." She smiled.

"What then?"

"I want you."

The last words were breathed as she bent down and pressed her hungry lips to his bewildered ones, warming them progressively. She smirked inwardly when she felt him respond to the kiss and instinctively pull her closer. He broke it, though, and she freed him, letting him sit on the edge of the bed, winded.

"I..."

"I won't take no as an answer." She gasped, attacking his mouth again, while he tried to move, torn between his will to remain decent and his rising desire. He couldn't believe she was finally admitting that she needed him.

"I... We can't... Not like that... It's..." He tried to whisper, his voice husky and quivering, distracted by her lips, her body, her hands unbuttoning his shirt and his own heart, pounding in his ears.

"Oh Quatre... I understand you respect women, I appreciate your principles and you being a patient gentleman and all, but..."

His eyes widened and he could only emit a startled gasp of arousal when he felt a feverish hand fumble below his waist and loosen his belt.

"... I really need to have sex tonight." She whimpered, while working on his shirt's last recalcitrant buttons.

He heard a helpless button pop soundly and his shirt was hastily pushed down, before he had the time to voice his dilemma, pooling around his waist and wrists. A tiny voice in the back of his mind tried desperatly to shriek that they had been through a lot of stress and that this way of relieving the day's pressure was a bad one, a very very bad one, and that they would undoubtedly wake up even more confused than before.

But no wise little voice can resist to a seventeen years old Amazon pinning you down a bed with highly erotic intent. Throwing caution (and good manners) to the wind, he grabbed her by the shoulders and rolled over, regaining a semblance of control, before capturing her mouth in a hot and quite uninhibited kiss, lingering on her lips, nibbling, licking, tasting.

"Way to respect me..." She chuckled, letting him cuddle her, calming down a little as she was now assured that she would get what she wanted.

"You wouldn't have been a virgin bride anyway." He murmured huskily as he slid a gentle and explorative hand under her wrap top, while the other worked on removing it.

"That was a cheap shot." She hissed, pulling roughly at his belt.

"Sorry. Maybe you want me to be more consensual?" He gasped out, feeling her thigh rub insistently between his legs.

"Yes... Be unremarkable for me, Mr Winner." She giggled, feeling his rapidly growing weakness.

"Fine... Shao, I want you."

"How original..." She half-moaned.

"And I lo-"

She immediatly put a tender finger to his lips, silencing him with embarassed turquoise eyes that tried to remain mischievous. "Not THAT unremarkable..."

Sensing that it would be easier if he didn't talk, she proceeded to keep him busy, tossing the remnants of his shirt in a corner of the room and pushing efficiently his pants down with her feet. She smiled in smug satisfaction when she heard him moan in her ear, as she fondled his calves and ankles with her feet. Her top and pants soon joined his clothes on the rug, with the help of two very motivated hands, and she purred in delight when she felt him fumble with the clasp of her bra.

He kissed her to oblivion, almost giving her cat-like bath.The feel of her pliant body against his, her hands exploring gently his back, kneading his neck, his scalp, her fingers playing with the pale strands of hair and tracing every hollow on his spine, every single scar marring the pale and smooth skin; it all made him feel dizzy with desire. He fought to remain calm at the feeling of that knee moving between his legs, Allah, she didn't know what that rubbing was doing to him.

Or maybe she did.

She whimpered softly when he freed himself from her hands and began to trace a torturous path down her body, starting from her chin, caressing the small of her throat, tickling the sensitive skin. She felt his fingers trace her collarbone, while his lips found her small breasts. He gazed at her fondly, his hands massaging the soft mounds tenderly, as his lips suckled a fragile nipple with agonizing slowness, like a newborn. She cried out when he reached its twin and nibbled at the the puckered flesh, and sighed in relief when she felt him leave her breasts to kiss her hips, giving a last stroke with his thumbs to the red and painfully hardened buds, still glistening with his saliva.

Quatre grinned like a Cheshire cat as he watched her reactions; She looked so helpless. He relieved her of her white lace panties with a rapid gesture and smiled at the hazy turquoise eyes and the gasp that followed. He let his fingers trail on her belly, teasing, tickling, before grazing his goal, reveling in the sight of the bare, hot and damp petals. This was a sweet revenge, and he intended to make the best of it.

Shaolin tried to restrain herself from moaning out loud as she felt him slid his arms under her thighs, lock her legs comfortably around his shoulders and press his lips gently to her. She squirmed helplessly as the pleasure radiating in her body overwhelmed her. Sometimes it wasn't enough, sometimes it was so good she couldn't bear it. She arched her back, her red curls matted to her forehead and neck by the sweat and the tears she hadn't felt coming. Her body jerked, her hands balling in small fists and gripping the sheets, seemingly of their own volition, as the flicking of his tongue became a torture. She shut her eyes tight, oblivious to his secret smile, and the pressure suddenly stopped, leaving only white hot pleasure.

He waited until her orgasm faded, leaving her panting softly, a delicate shine of sweat covering her body. He smiled knowingly and took her hand, guiding it to rest between her legs. His smile turned to a boyish grin as he witnessed her slight embarassement and her surprise at the unusual amount of clear wetness she could feel staining her inner thighs.

She felt a twinge of uneasiness, almost fear, and there was that ache in her chest. She didn't feel herself. Something was wrong.

He was intoxicated by her scent filling the air, her sudden shyness, her gorgeous body. Sensing no resistance, Quatre moved gently to cover her body with his, settling between her slightly parted legs, rubbing himself against her wetness to relieve some of the burning tension he had deliberately let build in himself.

Shaolin let him position himself, struggling to sort out her thoughts. He was so close, she could feel his platinum bangs tickling her nose. So close, so tender, so intimate. And the words, the embarassing confession she had stopped. So close... Suddenly it hit her like a slap in her face. He was almost inside her, and the things he did, the things he whispered in her ear. She felt a surge of shame and panic fill her and she pushed him away awkwardly, freeing herself from his embrace, his penetration.

Damn. Having sex was okay...

But she sure as hell wasn't making love with him!!

Quatre stared in complete shock as she kicked him and crawled over him, fleeing from his bed as fast as the tangled sheets would allow her.

Rasheed sighed in utter contentment as he finished the sixth chapter : The obnoxious count Chocula had been defeated and Stella and Marshall were getting married. Good. He had finally overcome the shock of seeing his ever so gentlemanly Master Quatre dashing to his bedroom, carrying a young Lady in a compromising situation, and the important amount of little apple fritters he had eaten had somehow eased all his worries. Basically, Rasheed was high on sugar and reading a Harlequin.

He laid the book slowly on his lap and stared, though, when he caught the aforesaid young lady running down the stairs, hapazardly wrapped in the sheets -and only the sheets, it seemed-, looking like she was escaping Master Quatre's ministrations. His eyes widened a bit more when he witnessed a blond young man he knew very well racing after her in his boxers, in a state of obvious arousal.

Why not? Rasheed thought, swallowing idly an umpteenth apple fritter.

He went on, beginning to read the chapter concerning Stella and Marshall's wedding night, but he unfortunatly choked on his fritter, when he was, once again interrupted by noises in the hall. This time, he was greated by the sight of a very decided Master Quatre, who had recovered his indecisive ownership, and was now carrying it back in the room, flung over his shoulder, caveman style.
 
 
 
 

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The rest soon!

The Moleman - You don't have to review. Since it's a lemon, we know people read it anyway! ^_______^