Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction / Crossover With Non-anime Series Fan Fiction ❯ Remembrance ❯ Part II ( Chapter 2 )

IDisclaimer:  I do not own the rights to any of the DBZ characters contained within.  The Greek Myth of Helen of Troy is public domain, so yay.  I have made no money in the making of this story, well actually that's not true.  I was at work when I wrote part of it but I made no money off of this story, it just kept me occupied for long hours.  This story also contains scenes of sex and death.  Please be mature in reading this.

A Big thank you goes out to Mia Skywalker for beta'ing this.

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::Text here.:: = Character's direct thoughts
*Text here.* = thoughts that are not coming directly from the character themselves.
 
 

Remembrance

Part II

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The heavy oak door swung open soundlessly, admitting him into the dimly lit bedchamber.  He closed the door behind him carefully, mindful of the occupant lying on the bed.  Methodically, his eyes swept the room.  He noted the oil lamp burning on the round table, the dull reflection of the room in the polished mirror, the drapes billowing inward with the evening breeze.  With cat-like stealth he made his way over to the bed and to the woman sleeping there.

Greedily he drank in her slumbering form.  She was lying on her side facing him, one hand tucked neatly under her cheek, the other resting loosely on the bed.  She had thrown off the bedcovers sometime during her sleep and her nude body was clad only in stray wisps of her long hair.

Enchanted, he carefully sat down on the bed and stretched forward a hand and softly brushed away a stray lock of hair from her face.  She moaned softly in her sleep, shifting her head to allow him better access to her neck.  A small smirk quirked his lips, as he once again stroked her face and down her neck.

She hummed again and sleepily opened her eyes, to gaze at a man who was not her husband.  To her credit, she did not scream when she beheld his face.  She did sit up abruptly and clutch at the discarded covers.

"What are you doing here?" she breathed nervously.

He said nothing, but reached forward with his hand to her face again.  She flinched but did not recoil from his touch.  His eyes met hers and he watched her eyes widen as he once again lightly touched her cheek and neck with his fingers.

"You should not be here," she stated softly, her gaze held by his.

"No, I should not," he agreed in a low, deep voice.  His fingers moved softly over her face to trace the shell of her ear.

"Then, why are you here?" she asked breathlessly

He thought momentarily about her question before replying.  "I am drawn to you," he answered simply.

Her eyes narrowed slightly and a flash of anger darkened the unusual blue orbs.  "You are drawn to my beauty," she stated flatly.

He shook his head.  "Not entirely. Your beauty is a part of it, I will admit. A small part.  I am drawn to the fire that you try so desperately to hide.  I am drawn to the genius hidden behind the guilelessness you project.  I am drawn to the whole of you," he murmured softly.

She stared at him and he allowed a small smile to cross his lips.  He could tell that she was stunned by his words.  She pursed her lips in thought and he seized the opportunity.  Bending forward, he captured her lips.  She froze at his touch for a moment, but then began to melt into his embrace.  He deepened the kiss, using his tongue to brush past her soft lips.  She tasted of wine and honey, a heady combination.  She moaned against his mouth as he sought her tongue with his.

Pulling back, he stared down at her.  Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes closed.  Leaning forward, he placed feather-light kisses on her eyelids before moving to cover her beautiful face in delicate kisses.  He felt her breath catch in her throat.

"I will stop if you wish me to," he husked softly moving to kiss the juncture of her neck and shoulder, as his hands moved from her back to stroke her sides.

"Unnmmmm," she moaned shaking her head. 

He smiled triumphantly, moving to plant kisses on her throat and collarbones.  His fingers lightly tickled her ribs causing her to shift away slightly.  Noting her reaction, he changed to a delicate touch and moved his hands upward to caress the undersides of her breasts.

She gasped and arched her back to allow him easier access.  Not one to refuse so tempting an invitation, he moved his mouth lower to lick and kiss her breasts.  Taking care not to touch her nipples, he covered them with little butterfly kisses, while his hands migrated from the undersides of her breasts to explore her taut navel.

Her breathing was becoming deeper and he noticed that it was beginning to match his own.  Snaking his right hand lower to barely touch the top of her curls, he bent forward and captured her right nipple between his lips. 

She moaned softly in the back of her throat, arching her back.  With her motion, he slipped his fingers into the moist junction between her thighs, seeking and finding the little nub that was the center of her sex.  Stroking it gently, he played with the little jewel while he moved his mouth over to the left breast to torture her other nipple.

"Please . . ." she moaned reaching down to capture his head between her hands.

He knew what she was asking, sliding his hand up her body from her slit, he grasped her head lightly and moved up for another kiss.  This time she invaded his mouth with her tongue, moving her hands to caress his muscular back as he covered her with his body. 

Shaking her head, she pulled away from him. “Get rid of that," she ordered passionately, referring to the half-chiton he wore.

He grinned at her words, and hastened to oblige her.  Unbelting the garment, he drew the linen over his head and let it fall to the floor beside the bed.  "Better, my little love?" he asked softly.

Nodding, she reached up and began to trace his chest with her delicate fingers.  He gasped when her nails flicked his sensitive nipples.  He burned for her. He had been burning ever since the first moment he stepped into the room and beheld her sleeping form.  Pushing her back against the bed, he positioned his body over hers.  Raising his head, he looked into her eyes.

Mutely, she nodded.  He smiled and pushed into her warmth, slowly allowing her to become used to his width.  Her eyes darkened at the invasion and she raised her hips to meet his.

Slowly he began moving inside her, deep thrusts that touched her very core.  She gasped and wrapped her long legs around him, drawing him closer.  He groaned and moved his head to ravage her neck with little bites and kisses as he moved with her in a dance as old as time.  He could sense her nearing climax; her breath was coming in short little pants and her hands began clawing his back.

He felt her walls contract around his length, spurring him onward.  Suddenly, she arched her back against him and cried out as she came around him.  The sudden pulsing movement of her vaginal muscles pushed him over the edge as he too came in ecstasy.  Slowing his thrusts, he gently led her back from her climax.  Raising his head, he turned to capture her lips as he pushed in for one final thrust.  She moaned as his actions set off another series of orgasms.

Catching their breaths, the lovers looked at each other in wonderment.  Rolling off of her, he reached up with one hand and began smoothing away her sweat soaked hair, as he gazed into her deep blue eyes.  "Never, in all my years, have I beheld one as magnificent as you, Helen," he breathed softly.  "I think that the Goddess Aphrodite has blessed us."

"Hmmm," she moaned low in her throat as she turned to kiss the palm of his hand.

A sudden thought struck him; he could not live without her.  The very thought of getting up and leaving her to the man who did not value all of her wounded him to the heart.  He needed her, and to get her he would have to risk all.  "Helen?"

"Hmm?" she responded drowsily.

"Come away with me," he voiced softly.

Her eyes snapped to his in shock.  "What did you say?" she queried nervously.

"Come back to Troy with me, be my wife."

"But I already have a husband," she pointed out sadly.

"Pah!  A puffed up fool who neglects you and spends all of his time focused on other goals. He is not worthy of you!" Paris snorted.

"But if I go with you, all of Greece will go to war with you to get me back," she said in a low voice.  "It is part of a pact, all of my former suitors agreed that if I were to pick one of them that the others would support the victor.  I picked Meneleaus, he seemed the best of the group, and the others swore that if anyone abducted me that they would aid my new husband.”

“I do not care,” he stated heatedly.  “I need you, Helen.  My soul is intertwined with yours.  I do not fear war with Greece, especially since I doubt that they would be able to breech Troy's defenses.  What I do fear is living one more day without you.”

She looked at him in wonderment.  “How can you feel this way?  You've just met me.”

“I do not know.  All I know is that from the first moment I saw you sitting next to your husband, I was struck by your beauty.  Then as I saw how you deftly guided him in to the correct decisions for his people, both your intelligence and your skill in diplomacy intrigued me.  I also appreciated your devotion to your husband's people,” he answered softly.  “I want you.  I want you to be as devoted to me and to my people.”

She blinked at his words, turning her head away in embarrassment.  “I was always the prize to be won for Meneleaus.  I was his trophy that he could show off to the world,” she murmured in a low tone.  The Spartan queen shook her head violently, tears streaming down her cheeks.  “Well, I am truly sick of it!" she cried heatedly.

He drew her into his arms, stroking her back while trying to soothe her. "Then will you come with me?" he asked intently.

She regarded him seriously, tears still streaming down his face. “Why?  Why do you want me?”

He stroked her face gently as he formed his reply.  “It is hard for me to put into words.  I am a warrior not a poet, words do not come easily to me.  But the simplest explanation is the most true.  I need you.  You fill me, complete me.  I am empty without you.”  He pulled her to him, bringing her face next to his.  “Will you come with me?” he questioned once more.

She blinked a few times and burrowed further into his arms.  “Yes,” was all she replied.

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Vegeta woke up at his usual early hour, 5:00 am.  He shook his head to clear them of the cobwebs and stretched to loosen the sleepy muscles.  This action revealed an embarrassing fact; sometime during the night he had ejaculated on his sheets.

Curling up his lip, he gingerly extracted himself from his bed and removed the soiled sheets, tossing them negligently on the floor.  Grabbing a towel, he stalked out of the door and down the hall to the bathroom, neglecting to put on any clothes.

He didn't make it halfway down the hall before he heard the annoying woman's voice from behind him.  “Just where do you think you're going, buster?” she asked derisively.

“None of your business, woman,” he replied coldly, attempting to brush her off.  He really wanted a shower, he could feel the dried semen sticking to his thigh and he did not need to get into another verbal altercation with the woman.

“You could at least put something on.  It's not polite,” she snapped in an annoyed tone.

Vegeta snorted. “Do not look if it bothers you.”  He turned around slowly allowing her a good view of his chiseled body.  She was standing on the landing of the stairs behind him, one hand holding a coffee mug the other clutching the rail.  He felt her eyes roam across his skin.  “Humph, I see gawking is another of your bad habits.”

A red flush stained her cheeks but she stood her ground. “Dammit Vegeta!  I don't need this from you!  The least you could do is put on some fucking clothes!” she yelled, stamping her foot angrily.

He gave her quick look of appraisal.  Her bright blue eyes were flashing and her cheeks were flushed in her rage.  Her robe had opened slightly allowing him to see the tops of her breasts.  He forced himself not to react to her display and instead composed his features into a careful scowl.  “I am the Prince of All Saiyajins, woman.  I do not conform to the whim of some screeching harpy.”

“Oooooohhh . . . Why you beast!” she screeched, hurling her coffee mug at him.

He swatted it away with one hand, breaking the mug and splashing himself with the hot liquid.  The scent assailed his nostrils and he wrinkled his nose.  “You have just proved my point, woman.”

She just glared daggers at him, apparently unable to form a coherent sentence.

He laughed and stalked down the hall to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Kami, he enjoyed baiting her.  He loved seeing her eyes spark with anger.  She reminded him of someone.  Someone he couldn't quite remember.

Someone he longed to meet again.

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