Emerald Quill gives all credit to Cherry Blossom

Here it is…. a QuatrexDorothy lemon. Aha! Betcha you never thought I’d do one of those. Personally I like fics with Dorothy and Quatre. They’re interesting. Besides which I heard this song and I knew that I had to do a QWxDC lemon to it. You’ll see as soon as you look at the title. I tried to make it as racy as possible. Which means OOC for Quatre. Or maybe not. I think Quatre’s gotta be hell in bed if ya know what I mean. It’s always the quiet ones…

Disclaimer: I don’t own GW.

Warnings: This is a LEMON. Which means SEX. Lots and lots of SEX. If you don’t want to read about SEX then go away NOW.

PWP with HENTAINESS! OOCness and junk. Plus it’s Dorothy and Quatre. If you don’t like the pairing then what are you doing reading this fic, anyway?

Song by Pink

This is AU ‘cause the whole Marimeia thing never happened, kay?

Dorothy pushed a heavy section of her long platinum hair off her shoulder and sighed. It was hot, far too hot for mid-september. Hardly any breeze swept through the busy streets and the harsh glare of the sun reflecting off the chrome of the buildings hurt her eyes. Not to mention the fact that her new cotton dress was stifling her and tiny droplets of sweat were making it stick to the back of her legs in a wholly uncomfortable manner.

Dorothy stood on the street corner, waiting for the light to turn, trying not to look as though she was dying of heat exhaustion. Usually, at this time, Dorothy would be accompanying Miss Relena to a board meeting or a press conference or something. But because the day was so hot, and much more importantly, because it was the beginning of Heero Yuy’s vacation, Relena had decided to take the day off and…relax. Instead of being smart and going straight home where a nice air-conditioned apartment and tall glass of iced tea awaited her, Dorothy had decided to go shopping. Which was totally ridiculous because Dorothy hated shopping, with a passion. Especially in hot weather when it was crowded and noisy and all the creeps and morons were coming out. Twice already, Dorothy had been goosed and "accidentally" bumped into or brushed up against. That’s twice that she had to bruise her fists by punching some perv out. And Dorothy was sick of it.

"Hey sweet-thing, wanna take a ride with me?"

Dorothy sighed and rubbed her sore knuckles.

Dorothy’s eyes slowly traveled up the expensive looking polished chrome of a red Jaguar, to the imported leather seats and the tanned skin of the arm that draped lazily over the side of the car, to a familiar, smiling face.

"Hello Miss Dorothy."

It was him. That infuriating empath who had wormed his way under Dorothy’s skin in a way that she did not find pleasant at all.

That maddening little blond Arabian who had the gall to forgive her after she stabbed him so heartlessly, who had the nerve to call her kind after she’d worked so hard to keep up the bitchy bloodthirsty image, who managed to make her so utterly aware of her every thought and feeling with disturbing clarity, who had managed to invade her feelings even now after all these years.

‘Not so little now,’ Dorothy thought appreciatively. Quatre had certainly filled out more in the years he’d been away on Preventer business. His limbs were more muscular, not as skinny, and his face had lost some of its cherub-like roundness to give way to stronger, more chiseled features. His smile was the same though, and his aquamarine eyes still sparkled annoyingly. Dorothy hated his eyes. They always seemed to be looking straight into her soul, exploiting her weaknesses, finding out her secrets. Dorothy wanted her secrets to stay that way.

"Miss Dorothy?"

The annoying eyes turned inquisitive and Dorothy realized that she had not yet answered him.

"Hello Mr. Winner. What brings you here?"

Quatre smiled that sickeningly sweet, quasi-angelic smile that made her want to scream or throw something or at least smack it off his face. No one needed to look that innocent. It went against everything Dorothy stood for. Plus she hated to admit it, but it was making her knees kind of weak.

‘Must be the heat,’ Dorothy told herself. ‘Never go anywhere without a pocket fan.’

"I was just out for a ride. What are you doing here?"

"Shopping," was Dorothy’s terse reply.

"Really?" Quatre noticed the lack of parcels at Dorothy’s side and asked, "For what?"

"A little lace teddy," Dorothy snapped, hoping that that would get rid of him. She waited for him to blush and mumble something before driving away. Instead, Quatre only raised his eyebrows and gave her a wide grin. Frightening.

"In-ter-esting…" he drawled out, letting his eyes look her over appreciatively.

Dorothy became nervous under his stare. Why wasn’t he getting all flustered and driving away? The Quatre that Dorothy knew would have been long gone by now. Why wasn’t he blushing? He should at least be blushing. Hell, she was blushing! Maybe it was unnoticeable under his tan?

"If you don’t mind, Mr. Winner," Dorothy said, trying to keep a hold of her composure. "I have things to do."

"Want a ride?"

Dorothy blinked. Was he actually asking her if she wanted a ride? She knew he was dense but honestly! They hated each other! Or at least, Dorothy hated him…didn’t she?

"I don’t think so, Mr. Winner. We’re probably not going in the same direction."

"Suit yourself, but I’d just like to tell you…this car has top-of-line air conditioning—"

Dorothy was inside and slamming the door shut before he had a chance to finish the sentence.

"Drive."

"Yes ma’am. Anyplace in particular?"

"I’ve got a condo up by the beach. You can drop me off there," Dorothy said.

"Alright," Quatre replied. And then he gunned the engine and pulled out on to the street easily, whipping through the traffic like it was nothing, the breeze making his golden locks whip widely around his face. Dorothy, surprised at the speed, pressed back into the leather seats, watching Winner with a kind of wary respect. And attraction.

An uneasy feeling settled in Dorothy’s stomach and she bit her lip, hard.

"So…" Dorothy searched for something to say that wouldn’t make her sound like a total idiot. "Nice car."

"Yeah," Quatre replied. "It was a gift. The Maguanac’s like to go overboard."

"You’re still hanging around with your little band of followers?"

Quatre laughed. It was a nice laugh. Deep and rich. It almost made Dorothy want to smile. Almost.

"I can’t get away from them. Rashid still treats me like I’m a little boy. I had to beg him to let me take the Jag out on my own with out a personal escort or at least a bodyguard. His overprotectiveness is unbearable sometimes. The war is over. There’s no longer any danger in my going off alone."

Dorothy turned her head to gaze out the window. The war… She had avoided that subject on purpose. Guilt over how she had acted and the fact that she felt useless now that it was over, persuaded her to find different topics to talk about.

"Still miss the war Dorothy? Don’t worry. You still have a place in life. You just need to find it."

Startled, Dorothy looked back to find a pair of sympathetic blue-green eyes gazing straight into her pale blue ones.

It was unsettling. Not to mention damn irritating. How dare he look into her soul like that! Dorothy decided that she was mad at him and she refused to talk for the rest of the trip. Quatre didn’t seem to mind. He just turned the radio up and drove on.

The heat of the sun and the gentle rocking movement of the car lulled Dorothy into an almost hypnotic state. When they finally stopped Quatre had to call her name before she would move.

"Are you okay?" Quatre looked so concerned that Dorothy almost laughed out loud.

‘Some things never change,’ she mused.

"I’m fine. Thanks for the ride. Would you…er…like to come in for a drink?"

‘WHAT?!’ Dorothy’s mind shrieked at her. ‘What the hell are you doing? You want him the LEAVE, remember? Why are you inviting him IN? Stupidstupidsupid…’

"Sure. I’d love a drink."

Dorothy forced herself to smile and led the way to the front door of her condo. She fumbled with her keys for a few embarrassing minutes but finally managed to slip them into the lock and open the door. Her little mini-house was spacious, due to the outrageous amount of money that Miss Relena insisted on paying her. Polished hardwood floors gave way to soft cream-coloured walls and a soft plush couch that was exactly the same blue as Dorothy’s eyes. The fact that the couch was the only piece of furniture present in the living room gave the place a vast effect. It also presented a problem. The only place to sit was on the couch. And if Quatre was already sitting on the couch then Dorothy would have to sit…

"Make yourself at home," Dorothy said. "I’ll go get you that drink. Iced tea okay?"

"Iced tea would be wonderful," Quatre replied as he sat down on one end of the couch and looked around. Dorothy scurried off into the kitchen, hoping that she hadn’t left anything embarrassing lying about. Not that Winner would ever say anything. He was too much of a gentleman. But still…

Dorothy put together a pitcher of iced tea, with extra ice just because it was so damn hot, and made her way back into the living room where a certain blond Arab was waiting.

They drank in total silence. Dorothy stood, because she sure as hell wasn’t sitting next to him on the couch, which was kind of a strange reaction considering that she had just spent the past ten minutes sitting next to him in his car. But that was in a car. Now he was in her condo. And they were alone. And Dorothy wanted him out so she could stop having sick fantasies about ripping his clothes off…

‘Whoa, whoa, whoa! You did not just think what I think you thought. I mean, sure he’s attractive and everything but you certainly don’t want him that way. There’s just no way you can be sucked in so easily by a pair of sparkly blue eyes. You’re much smarter than that, aren’t you?’

"Dorothy?"

Ugh! He was calling her name again. And like that, all cute and concerned-like. Why couldn’t he just leave her alone? Why did he have to be so damn caring?

"Do~rothy…"

"What?!" she snapped, irritated.

"Are you scared of me?"

Her mouth dropped open.

"W-What?"

His smile was sweet, a toothache, a heartache, a fucking nuisance.

"I asked you," he said slowly, as if she were a not-too-bright child. "If you were scared of me."

"I’m sorry Mr. Winner, but I have things to do and it might be best if you left now."

"Are you sure that’s what you want Dorothy?"

The words were soft, almost whispered. Dorothy had to strain to hear them. She wished she hadn’t.

"I…yes I’m sure that’s what I want!"

The blue-green of Quatre’s eyes darkened with something Dorothy couldn’t quite name and he angled his head towards her, leaning down towards her ever so slightly. Dorothy felt her breath catch in her throat and her heartbeat suddenly pounded in her ears. Dammit, what had happened to all her poise and calm? He was evaporating it all with a single glance.

"Dorothy," he whispered, his breath a warm puff of air on her cheek. "Wouldn’t…you rather I stayed?"

She couldn’t move. She was hypnotized by the swirling depths of his eyes, rendered helpless by that piercing stare. He was so close. His peach-hued lips were almost on top of hers. She had to do something quick. She had to stop this! She had to…

"Dorothy…"

"I—"

Her protest was cut off by the pressure of his mouth. His lips were soft but firm and they tasted like iced tea and raspberries. All thought immediately flew out of Dorothy’s head as she felt his tongue flicker out to lightly lick her bottom lip…and then her top lip…and then his teeth bit down gently on her bottom lip. Surprised by the sensation, Dorothy opened her mouth and he took the opportunity to push his tongue inside to taste, to play. It was heaven. It was torture. It was infuriating and arousing, oh so arousing. She could hardly breathe and her pulse had escalated so wildly, she was sure he could feel the pounding through her clothes. She had never been kissed this way before. She had never felt this much before. His hands were reaching up to run through her hair, to rub her back and hips, to press her closer, and Dorothy found her hands reaching to do the same. After a few heated moments, Quatre’s lips left her own and she was left gasping and shaken. He watched her red and kiss-swollen lips and smiled.

"Still want me to leave?"

"Q-Quatre…"

"What, no ‘Mr. Winner’?" he teased, running a finger down the length of her spine and licking his lips when she shivered instinctively under his touch.

"You…you…"

He leaned closer again, waiting until his lips were barely brushing hers before whispering, "I want to see the little lace teddy you bought, Dorothy."

She moaned at the statement and he kissed her then, capturing the sound in his mouth, feeding on her pliant, cherry-sweet lips.

His hands were everywhere, pulling at the straps of her sundress, tangling in the long strands of her hair, caressing the curve of her buttocks and the softness of her thighs. Dorothy, unsatisfied with his amount of control, decided to turn the tables a bit. She kissed him back savagely, thrusting her tongue against his, tearing at his clothes with her fingernails. She had to detach from his willing mouth before she could pull off his shirt. In the precious few seconds away from his lips she whispered, "It’s been a long time since we’ve dueled, Winner".

Before he could answer her lips attacked his again and her fingers now wandered lazily across his bare chest, feeling the toned muscle and hot flesh. He groaned at her butterfly touch and slipped his fingers beneath the straps of her sundress, pulling them down on her arms, seeking the heat of her flesh as well.

Dorothy lifted her hips and allowed Quatre to pull her sundress down and off, leaving her sitting on the couch in only a white lace bra and matching bikini briefs. Tossing her dress in a heap on the ground, Quatre drew her back towards him and gently pushed her down underneath him on the couch. Then he proceeded to trail hot, hungry kisses along her collarbone, sucking and nipping at the hollow of her neck until she writhed beneath him, crying out in wordless passion.

He moved down to her bare stomach, drawing wet curlicues on her skin with his tongue. She shivered as the breeze drifting through the open window cooled the damp places on her flesh. He left her stomach and returned to her lips, kissing her deeply until she lost control and grabbed onto his, drawing him down to lay on top of her, feeling the hardness of his now apparent arousal against her thigh…and they almost fell off the couch when he overbalanced. Steadying himself with a strong grip on the couch, Quatre sat up shakily.

"Maybe we should continue this someplace less dangerous."

His voice was husky and breathless. His chest heaved in and out and Dorothy found herself unable to tear her eyes away from his smooth skin. She allowed him to pull her upright and lead her into the bedroom. She didn’t protest when he turned off the lights and sat her down on the bed. She relaxed on the cool linen sheets and watched while he striped off his pants and tossed them in a corner of the room. His boxers were blue-green, the same shade as his eyes, and they looked to be the purest shimmering silk. Dorothy couldn’t wait to get them off him. She waited in breathless anticipation as he paused at the window where a perfect view of the ocean was clearly visible, waves crashing against the shoreline in a soothing melody, before deciding to leave it open. No one could see them from that angle anyway. They were practically on a cliff.

He returned to the bed, laying down beside her and lightly running his hands over her body. He paused at her bra and undid the clasps deftly, pressing hot kisses in the valley between her breasts before pulling the bit of lace off. The creaminess of her pale flesh enticed him and he bent to taste the tiny rosebud nipples one at a time, sucking and nibbling with all the playfulness of a child. Dorothy died from the sensory overdose. As it was she couldn’t help herself from whispering his name over and over, digging her nails into the skin of his back, marking tiny red crescent moons into his flesh.

"Dorothy," he groaned. "You are beautiful, so beautiful. I want you so much I can’t stand it…Oh!"

Dorothy didn’t know if he meant all the things he was saying. And she didn’t really care. All she was concerned about was the hot, urgent member pressing against the firmness of her thigh and the sweet honey-cloyed lips that were insistent upon her skin. She didn’t care that this was her enemy, a hated enemy who infuriated her beyond capacity. She didn’t care that it was immoral and improper to invite the heir to the vast Winner empire to her bed like this. She didn’t care that it was rather insulting the way he seduced her so thoroughly and how the hell did he know how to do that with his tongue anyway? She wanted him, God she wanted him. And to hell with the consequences. She had needed this release for far too long now.

He hooked his fingers into the waist of her briefs and pulled down, exposing her nakedness to his kiss. His face nuzzled against her soft curls before he bent to taste the honey at her entrance. He licked her folds slowly, making her shudder beneath him in pleasure. Then he flickered his tongue inside of her, working at the hard nub of her clit faster and faster until she stiffened and her folds dripped with wetness. He lapped the clear fluid up, cleaning her thoroughly while she came back to earth and caught her breath.

‘I’ve got to get control back somehow,’ she thought, displeased with his smug expression at being able to make her cum.

"My turn," she demanded as she flipped him so that she was the one on top.

Grasping the silky material of his boxers, she yanked them down and revealed his eager member, standing at attention. She cupped him in her small hands and rubbed up and down slowly. He threw his head back and moaned, arching towards her hand. Pleased at his reaction, Dorothy ran her fingers lightly down the shaft and touched the tip where a bead of pre-cum sparkled enticingly. Curious, she brought the finger to her mouth and suckled it. He tasted salty, and not altogether unpleasent. She lowered her head and enclosed her lips around him, taking him into her mouth slowly, inch by torturous inch until he was fully consumed by her. She started an erratic rhythm, just enough to make him scream, not enough to make him cum. He thrust into her mouth, mindlessly calling her name over the grating roar of the sea. She knew she had him right on the precipice…and then she pulled away completely, leaving him writhing on the sheets. He glared at her and she licked her lips and smiled sweetly, letting him know that she was being intentionally cruel.

"So that’s the way you want to play it? Come here then Dorothy and I’ll give you what you want," Quatre uttered roughly, reaching a hand up to pull her down underneath him. She let him take her and watched excitedly while he positioned himself between her legs. He paused for a moment, letting her wait, wanting her to beg. She refused to. He plunged down and entered her with one, hard stroke, his turgid member filling her completely, pulsing in her wet, tight space. He didn’t move. Wanting friction, Dorothy grasped his buttocks and pushed up and down on them. Quatre would have none of it. He caught her hands in his own and brought them up behind her head, restraining her. She bucked furiously against him, hoping to ease the throbbing sensation within her, but his body was too heavy on her, pressing her down, and his hands were confining her. She couldn’t move! One look in his smoldering aqua eyes told her that this was his punishment for her little powerplay earlier on. Oh yes, she would pay for playing games with him…

Dorothy moaned and gasped under him, her mind a frenzied blur, colours spinning wildly out of control. She felt it all, the pull, the possession, his granite prowess deep within her, the rock on which the waves of sensual heat exploded and broke, exploded, exploded…

She was sobbing now. It was too much, too much. She needed release and she needed it now.

"Quatre…Quatre, please…"

"Tell me."

"I…Quatre…"

"You have to tell me, Dorothy."

She broke. "I need you…please Quatre. Please!"

Tears of frustration ran down her face and she sniffled pathetically. He took pity on her and began a series of rhythmic thrusts. She groaned and arched against him, seeking…asking…wanting…

He bent his head down to capture her mouth once more, biting at her tender lower lip to make her open to him. It was heaven. Everything seeped downward to a radiant edge of pleasure, so keen she almost screamed with it. His tongue and mouth echoed the thrusting movements of his body, the push, the long erotic pull, the heat, the wash of golden feeling through her veins, the intimate world he made for her with his mouth and his carnal possession, the slow, thick, blossoming clouds of pleasure.

He moved gently over her moans of satisfaction, into the ripeness of her as he slid into a driving release that racked both of their bodies with ferocious shudders.

The feeling eddied downward, radiating outward. He pulled her tightly against him and lavished her lips with kisses until she calmed and drifted into a sated sleep.

Dorothy awoke some hours later, a bit sore but certainly satisfied, her body practically hummed with slaked want. She stretched lazily and turned to confront the object of her satisfaction…and sat up abruptly. He was gone, only an envelope placed neatly on the pillow beside her. She felt a red haze of anger take hold of her before reason kicked in.

Dorothy gave her head a shake and picked up the envelope, tearing it open eagerly.

"Miss Dorothy,

I enjoyed our little duel thoroughly but I mourn the fact that I didn’t get to see your new lace teddy that you seemed so fond of. Perhaps I shall come by sometime tomorrow to take a peek at it?

Sincerely,

Quatre Rebarba Winner"

Dorothy stared at the note in shock.

‘Why that little bastard! How dare he! I’ll make him pay for that.’

Dorothy smiled and recalled that she had seen a rather interesting looking store while she was out shopping today. Perhaps she would visit it before Quatre arrived. After all, she was Dorothy Catalonia. And she was damned if she would let him get the upper hand next time.

"Mmm..next time. Just you wait, Winner. I’m going to have you screaming for mercy. No one makes a fool out of me."

And with that thought, Dorothy pulled the sheets up around her and went out to make some coffee.

Owari