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"Like the Cat who Caught the Canary"Written By: Dentelle_noir Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing AC or the
characters. GW belongs to Bandai, Sotsu and associated parties. This
is a work of fiction and written for fun, not profit Rating: NC 17 Warnings: AU, Neko-fic, Fluff! Kitties. Kitty
NC-17 action but not graphicly detailed, because I'm not that perverted Pairings: 3x4 Summary: Trowa the Tom-cat meets an alluring,
beautiful white cat. But Quatre’s an uptown cat, and Trowa’s
just an ordinary Alley cat... Can sparks ever fly? "Like the Cat who Caught the Canary" Something smelled...good. Like warm milk, but...sweeter. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he was determined to find out. He slinked through a hole in a fence, around a trash can, and up to a huge mansion-house. The smell was coming from a first story window, in what looked like a music room. The window was open, so Trowa invited himself on in, loving how his dark-brown and reddish stripes helped him to blend against the dark wallpaper. The smell was coming from the middle of the music room, where there was a kitty bowl made of china filled with warm milk. Trowa got there a moment later, lapping the milk up, and groaning in pleasure at the taste. The other smell had been honey, and it was melted into the milk for such a decadent combination, Trowa was lost in heaven. “Who are you? That’s Lady Dorothy’s milk!” A little white cat said, coming out from behind the couch cushions, “She’s going to be mad! She’s going to think I did it!” Trowa felt a little badly, staying there to lick his paw clean...then smiled a little, “Why don’t you have some then? She’s going to think you did it anyway...come on, pretty little thing. Come have some.” Trowa said, moving a bit out of the way, his tail slowly curling as he watched the little white cat slowly get closer....his body delicate and svelte, graceful and....sexy. Trowa felt his tail start to flick faster, taking a moment to look over the white cat. “I’m Trowa.” He introduced himself. “I’m Quatre. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mister Trowa,” he said with impeccable manners. The little white cat delicately leaned into the sweetened milk, and took one tiny taste, his little pink tongue barely making a ripple on the white surface. Trowa felt his tail flicking even faster now, his whole body responding to the movements of such a beautiful cat... An angry hiss came from the door as a larger white Persian came stalking in, “Lady” on her collar and strangely pointed whiskers twitching angrily as she barreled right for the white cat who was drinking HER milk! Trowa moved to intercept, hissing loud and deep, as only a tom cat could, scaring the Persian so badly, she ran out the door again. But she came back with a maid...who was holding a broom! Quatre looked distressed, “The window!” he yelled at Trowa, running to intercept the broom and give the Tom a minute to escape. Trowa bolted for it, sparing one look at the pretty white cat...then winked as he sprung out the window, promising to be back again. ~*~ It was rather yucky outside, and Trowa’s fur felt heavy on him from the dampness in the air. He, naturally, had a place to stay out of the rain, but it was still miserable outside. He found his way to the mansion house, to see if his little kitty was prancing on the window sill for him again, as Quatre had taken to doing. Just to TEASE him, Trowa knew! He’s sit up there, and slowly clean himself, knowing Trowa was watching, or he’d just walk across the third-story sill, winking down at Trowa when he caught him watching. Trowa showed up and waited.... and waited...and waited. No Quatre? He meowed hard, waiting for Quatre to respond. He saw a little white head pop up from the first-story window. But it wasn’t Quatre. It was Lady Dorothy, and she was smirking, “You’re little slut isn’t here, Tom-cat. Leave!” She hissed, then turned her tail up at him and stalked back. Quatre was gone? She’d done something to him, he KNEW IT! “Quaaatre!” he mrowed harder, dashing out from his usual spot in the topiary, and began to look around the house, calling more, looking into the backyard and around the upraised cellar door. It was near the cellar that he heard little shakes. And he could smell Quatre easily, and smell his fear, too. “Quatre?” He meowed, peering between the cellar door and some old milk-crates. There he was, shivering, soaked, crying a little, but trying to stay quiet. He didn’t want Trowa to see him this way! “G-Go away, T-Trowa... I’m WET, and COLD.... Dorothy locked me out!” He gave up playing brave when he saw Trowa’s face poking into his hiding spot. Trowa slowly pushed his way into the narrow spot, having trouble because he was quite a bit larger then Quatre.... He got half way and couldn’t make it any further without getting stuck, so he stayed there, kept at bay by the door and crates, “Quatre! Come out. Talk to me... I’ll keep you warm?” Trowa tried to coax the pretty little white cat out and into his arms. Quatre pouted, looking absolutely pathetic with his pretty white fur SOAKED and dirty, little tracks of tears down his cheeks, and his tail tucked around himself as he lay curled in a pathetic ball. “I look ugly. You won’t want me once you see me!” he whimpered. Trowa frowned, and reached out a paw for Quatre, stroking his tail (which was all he could reach!), and purring softly to calm him, “Come on out, Quatre. The rain stopped. I know a place in the bush that will keep us dry....Please?” Quatre started to slowly unwind his tail, turning a little in the confided space. It took Trowa a few tries, and some rather embarrassing PULLS, but he got himself out of that area, and then dashed to a spot under the bush, waiting for Quatre to follow. A few moments later, Quatre came out, trying to act as dignified as possible while looking a pathetic mess, and he slid gracefully under the bush, and padded over to Trowa, who was lying on the dirt easily, licking his paw. He waited for Quatre to sit down (which he did with the utmost decorum) before Trowa started working to clean the mud from Quatre’s fur, making Quatre purr in pleasure. Before they knew it, Trowa was snuggling against Quatre’s back, licking his ear... then biting him. Quatre mrowed in protest to the pain, but his body, his instincts, suddenly kicked his senses up a notch, making his dainty meow come out hard and raw, while a shiver of pleasure ran down his spine and through his tail, making him lift it for Trowa without thinking, clawing the dirt as a wave of raw want tingled through his body. Quatre was exactly sure what was going on...He’d been inside for most of his life, and Dorothy certainly never did anything like this to him. He wasn’t sure what it was, exactly, but he knew he wanted it from Trowa. Trowa, though, was an experienced Tom cat, and he knew what Quatre’s surrender meant. He moved, rubbing his scent all over Quatre’s neck and back as he moved behind him, biting Quatre’s neck this time, watching as Quatre reacted the same way, jerking a little and presenting himself to Trowa, his tail pushed up and over his back, leaving him exposed for Trowa. Trowa didn’t need another invitation, and he pressed into Quatre, knowing it was hurting him a little, but soon it would be all better. Quatre thrashed a little under Trowa from the pain, but his whole body moved into the intrusion, begging for more. Quatre closed his eyes, meowing a little, then relaxing when Trowa was finally in, and he was nuzzling Quatre’s back so affectionately, so lovingly. Quatre began to relax, feeling Trowa all around him and inside him. Then they both started moving, and Quatre couldn’t help the deep mrow of pleasure, pure lust overcoming him just from the delicious scent coming off of Trowa. Here there was no Dorothy, and no maid with a broom, and Trowa finally claimed his little white kitten as his own, the two of them scaring off any other animals around them, shaking the bushes all night long. The sun began to rise, drying the rain and then wetness from the air. But that wasn’t what woke them. It was a frantic call from inside, and out in the yard an elderly woman’s voice started calling hoarsely, “QUATRE! Where’s Quatre!” Quatre woke, and immediately he was moving, looking to Trowa apologetically, “It’s my human!” Quatre said, looking to Trowa, “She shouldn’t be out of bed!” A moment later, a younger woman with wheat-blonde hair and two little braids walked out, trying to pull the old woman back into the house. Around the young woman’s leg crawled Dorothy, watching the old woman’s feeble attempt at walking with not a care. Quatre was watching his human with concern, wanting to run out to her, but torn between helping his owner, and staying with his lover. Trowa glared at Dorothy, and made the decision for Quatre. He started out from the bushes, making sure to make noise. The old woman looked over, “Oh! Oh! Is my Quatre there?! Quatre!” She called, her voice cracking a little from emotion. But her face fell when she saw Trowa instead. Trowa looked pointedly back to the bush, and Quatre slowly came out, looking down at the dirt with a touch of shame, but he moved quickly to Trowa’s side, nuzzling Trowa’s neck softly. He chose Trowa. He loved his human, yes....but not as much as he loved Trowa! She had to see that! Quatre couldn’t leave Trowa, not matter how much Quatre knew the old woman needed him. The old woman looked between the two, seeing her beautiful Quatre all dirty! And a large Tom cat next to her little baby. “How disgusting!” The young woman shrieked, and Dorothy preened next to her owner. The old woman, though, started to smile, “Oh, my little Quatre got himself a boyfriend, Hmm? You’d better take him inside, Quatre, and introduce him to the family propperly! I won’t have you running off again to see him!” She said to Quatre, walking over to them and petting Quatre’s head softly, then reached out to Trowa. Trowa backed away a little, unsure of humans...but Quatre had been alright...Quatre was encouraging him with little purrs of pleasure, so Trowa flinched just a little as the old woman stroked the top of his head, then she began to pet that spot on his cheek that made Trowa start to purr happily. “Relena!” The old woman ordered the younger one, and she ran over, Dorothy staying at the door and glaring as her human had to bend to the will of some old woman! “Relena! Help me get our guest inside, and let’s make him look presentable!” the old woman said, then she turned to Quatre, “I can’t have my delicate little Quatre romping around with such a dirty thing! Let’s clean him up, and give him a place to stay. And get him some of that warm milk and honey, too! A nice little treat, such a handsome kitty!” the older woman cooed, and pet Trowa again, but he was slowly getting used to it... And Quatre looked so incredibly proud at the turn of events that Trowa couldn’t really complain. The house was warm, and the cushions were soft. Trowa wanted to leave a few times, but it was always Quatre that kept him there... kept him content with the red leather collar around his neck that proclaimed him “Tom-Trowa”. And he could be content with the collar, because now he could have a house. A human. Quatre. And once a week in the music room, there was a large bowl of cream and honey with his name on it.
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