Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ All by myself ❯ All By Myself ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer: I don't own dragonball Z that's the privilege of Akira Toriyama. I'm just an obsessed fan with far too much time on her hands. Please don't sue. Pretty, pretty please with an ice cream, pink ribbons, and a cherry on top! Oh and the songs not mine either, life sucks *-_-*

Part one (written to the hidden track from Greenday's album Dookie)

I was alone,

"I'm afraid he's gone sweetie, why was there something you needed him for?"

Those words haunt my thoughts. That was the moment when, when all my hopes and dreams for the future fell apart. I cannot describe to you the emotional roller coaster I have been riding these last few months. I love my father more than I love myself, but at that moment I wanted to choke the very last breath out of his body. How could he! Why didn't he try and stop him? He knew! He knew and he let him leave anyway!

Still the memory of it makes my breath grow ragged, and the familiar sting in my eyes pine under its power, but nothing will come of it. My determination is just as strong as always, and I refuse to cry for him. My resolution is a good one, but deep down inside my heart has suffered a severe blow, and its only hope? One stuck up, unfeeling, dispassionate, pain in the ass… ugh… it's just so damn infuriating! Its times like this when I realize just what a sick sense of humour the aging green Namek has. I tell you this, if I didn't know Kami personally, as one of the kindest and most noble people on the planet, then I would probably be cursing him to hell, just the same as I am another alien.

I was all by myself,

Ever since I met son Goku on my naïve quest for seven spiritual dragonballs, have I been shaped into the beautifully courageous woman you all see now. How could I have grown up any differently? I have a loving family, a genius mind, and an insatiable energy to drive me on. Hell, the thought that I would ever need to be dependant on anyone or have my spirits lifted, would have made me laugh not so long ago. Even through all my struggles with Yamcha and his general womanising, have I still managed to hold my head up high.

So look at me now! Six months pregnant, and turned into the epitome of a bitter and twisted old woman. A complete hermit! Shunning visits from my friends, throwing myself into my work and trying to ignore the need that one man created inside of me. I feel a slight movement, reminding me even more of my present uncomfortable situation. My son, I know it's a boy, has started his evening workout on my internal organs. I smile half-heartedly. "Just like your daddy" I whisper under my breath, stroking the perfect bulge that has now really started to show. I caress the skin and he responds, spinning around in the amniotic fluid dragging an elbow under my belly, just to let me know that tonight he isn't going to let me off easy.

"Miss Briefs?" The sound of the high pitched, squeaky female voice throws me out of my abstraction.

"Yes?" I reply, the telltale tones of dejection hanging to the edge of my voice, and the shimmer of unshed tears rising in my eyes. I try to put on a happy façade. It is this plastic face of cheerfulness that I have learnt to protect myself with for the last four months, thirteen days, ten hours and (I look at my watch, a dry rasp of amusement escaping my lips) ten minutes, but tonight, even I know that I'm doing a miserable job of sustaining it.

"Is it ok if I leave now? It's getting late. Jason will be getting worried, and I would like to see the kids before they go to bed."

I chance a second glance at my watch, this time without any painful thoughts. The small hand is on the eight, "Oh Kami Sarah, I'm so sorry! I had no idea it was so late! Of course you can go, and hey don't worry about coming in tomorrow. You can have the day off with full pay, as a thank you for your help. I really don't know how I would have got the Saver account without you!"

"It was no problem Miss Briefs, and thank you. Ya know the girls are all going out on Friday to celebrate, they were kind of hoping that you would join us!"

"Maybe another time." I say, even though I know there probably won't be another time. You don't land accounts like that everyday. "The smell of cigarette smoke still turns my stomach." I lie, "but it was a nice offer." I force a smile out even though I would rather cry.

"Ok," she smiles sweetly at me, "If you really don't feel like it, but aren't you leaving now? It's getting pretty late."

"No," I reply a little too harshly. I just want to be left on my own and her voice is really starting to bug me, "I have a few things to finish up here, I'll see you Thursday ok?"

"Ok." She replies simply closing the door and leaving me to my own partially lit office. Maybe my tone was a little more uptight than I thought it had been. She looked a little hurt as she left. Whatever it was, it was only mildly distracting, as I ignore her departure and sink back into my plush leather chair, to stroll the reassuring plains of self-pity.

No one was looking,

I was thinking of you.

That one night! I never thought! The look in his eyes! Oh why does everything have to be so confusing? I really thought that I had gotten through to him. He actually opened up to me. Yes… the proud Saiyan no Ouji deigned to confide in me, things that I had never even dreamt about him telling me, and believe me, I dreamt about him a lot! He told me of his life before he fell into the hands of Frieza, about the palace, the pomp and display of his title. He made exact recitations of his father and mother, filling that ice-clad heart with a mixture of pride and sadness. Desperately did he try and hide the emotions that his reveries created, but I could read the slight softening in his scowl and the distraction in those piercing eyes, just as though the words had been shared.

I don't know if it was because of his forlorn state, or if I had known previous to his confidentialities that I cared, but I know that I did what I did for a reason. He had tried to keep his distance as he spoke, but out of my concern and his need, I ended up sandwiched in his arms. I do not pretend to say that he was overly emotional. No, that's a word that doesn't sit well when describing him. He wasn't crying, his body was still that iron sculpted tension, and his look still could have made grown men run away screaming for their mommies, but something had snapped deeper within him, that neither he or I had any knowledge of existing before that evening. His arms enclosed me with such need, such longing, and such a desire for release, that I couldn't help but return his earnestness. I lost myself under his touch. Lost all caution, all thoughts of the consequences. I just needed him more than anything on this planet, and I succumbed to his caress, knowing that I probably wouldn't get another chance to receive it.

From around my waist, his hands travelled teasingly gently down my sides, making me want to die for more, and burst out laughing, all in one excitement filled touch. A white-gloved hand found the hem of a simple black tank top and with one tug it was pulled expertly over my head. He straddled behind me, enclosing my thighs in his, as the white cotton fabric now teased over exposed flesh and lacy bra. One hand fell down to my stomach to pull me close and I could feel the other one at my neck, kneading my shoulders and gently allowing one of the ribbon straps to fall off the incline of my small biceps.

Surprisingly warm lips, covered where the fabric had once sat, and I shuddered as he laid the simple gestures of calculated affection along my neck. He is the most exacting man that I have ever known and his lovemaking on that night was no different. He went about it as a mathematical equation. Kiss, plus gentle touch, equals groan of inestimable pleasure. I still have to laugh about that, but the more I laugh the more I miss it, and… him.

Oh yeah did I mention,

I was all by myself,

All by myself,

Those premeditated touches of affection still send me into a thrill of ecstasy as I sit and remember their gentle caress. The Saiyan could have snapped my neck in a heartbeat if he had wanted to, and I wouldn't have been able to do a darn thing to prevent it, but his touch was so soft. The fear factor was still there, believe me, but it only added impetus to the moment and spurred me on. It created a personal plain of satisfaction when I realized that I had one of the strongest fighters in the known universe, wanting to pleasure me, and needing that pleasure from me. It made me wet just thinking about it, and I couldn't restrain the moan that had caught in my mouth, as in one swift moment he had moved both of his hands. One slipped over my clavicle and released one of my pert breasts from the confines of its lacy prison and the other had delved below the waistline of my favourite stretch jeans to play with the thin fabric of my panties.

Leaning back into his chest as he played with my clit through the flimsy material, I was given a very welcome present of my own as he let out a groan so low that it practically danced on the lowest ranges of human hearing. I threw my arms up behind me, over his shoulder and dug my nails into his back as his fingers managed to continue on the thrilling ballet under my jeans. The heat he created was unbelievable and I could feel that I was close to screaming out an orgasm as his thumb continued to flick over my nub. The rest of his hand pushed my underwear away from its target and played with the folds of my, by now, soaking entrance.

I couldn't control the feeling any more as two, still gloved, fingers pushed teasingly in and out of me. My juices must have literally flooded over his hand as I felt my vaginal walls contracting in a mind-boggling release. I held my breath, squeezing my eyes tightly, wanting to see every slight climactic judder through to its bittersweet end, but was roused by a feeling of weightlessness. We had lifted clear of the bedspread, and in my near unconscious euphoria I hadn't noticed that we had even moved. I lay along his rock hard form seated ever so comfortably on his thighs.

I remember gasping and almost falling off as he gently pulled his hand out from my warmth, catching my sensitive clit as he went, sending another pang of pleasure through my body. The air vibrated and blew my hair at the back as he chuckled into its aquamarine strands. "Stay still my little Chikyu girl," he growled into my ear in such a huskily sexy voice that it sent shivers down my spine, "Tonight I make the rules."

Saying as much he took hold of the material of my jeans and in an instant they were scraps of worthless material fluttering down onto his bedroom floor. I tried so hard to bitch at him for ruining them, but he simply spun me around in his arms silencing any words with his lips and violently exploring my mouth with his tongue.

All by myself,

"Bulma?" I try to block out the sound of my name being called and go back to reliving that night, but it sounds again "Bulma" and as soon as I get a glimpse of the memory in my minds eye, it is erased.

With a defeated shrug of the shoulders, and trying to sound as civil as possible I shout back, "In here dad!"

There is a short bustle added with the smell of cigar smoke, "Ah there you are my dear. It's ever so late to be here, come on inside with me, your mother has made you dinner."

"I'm not hungry dad, but if you want to lock up, then I'll leave."

"Now, now sweetie you have got to eat, if not for yourself, then at least for the baby. Pining for him in this manner isn't going to bring him back any faster."

For a moment I allow myself to become a little excited, but I control it enough to say, "What makes you think he is coming back?" I manage to ask it without betraying emotion, but it is difficult.

"My child what are you talking about, of course he will be back, do you think he would abandon his son?"

My little ray of hope dies, and I simply snort a laugh at his words and walk out of the door. I see my father lock the doors behind me as I stand out on the frosted lawn, shivering into my sweatshirt. He turns the last key and looks over to me. I try and smile back. He seems satisfied that whatever depression had overcome me was now sated and so turns to walk into the domed family buildings of the Capsule Corporation compound. I on the other hand decide to leave my parents to their food and twist away to follow the fir flanked gravel pathway and towards the now empty training room, with similarly tenantless capsule house behind.

I went to your house,

But no one was there,

The front door opens with a hiss as my fingers override the privacy commands. I walk into the living area and am almost overpowered, in my present emotional state, by the smell. I am only human and do not possess the overly stimulated senses of his race, but still I can trace the clean mix of blood and sweat that instantly remind me of his closeness. I fall down onto the arm of the couch, and promptly stand back up again when I remember. His shirt! I can't sit down there. These evening saunters into his apartment are a secret and I wish them to stay that way. I would be so embarrassed, if for some reason he did come back, and found that I had been snivelling like a baka in his rooms. Just like him, I still have my pride.

The "badman" shirt still remains untouched from the day that he threw it down there, and so it shall stay. I get bored of my present surroundings. There are no happy memories in this portion of the house. All I can think of is the pain of our final argument, and it cuts like ice through my heart. He was so cold and unconcerned. So hurtful and so ignorant of its damage all at the same time, that I wanted to wring his neck. Again the tears want to fall, but I stop them and move on.

I drag my pregnant frame from the living room and up to the spiral stairs. By some miracle I reach the top step, trying to catch my breath, and not feel as unfit as I know I am. The bounce and energy of the earlier months of my pregnancy have gone, leaving nothing but lethargy to be my current friend. A feeling makes me look up, but it's turns out to be nothing but a draft from the curved windows, and blows across the desolate room making my hair billow. Maybe it's a foreteller of. I stop any niggling train of thought, reminding myself that hope is a dangerous thing, and move quietly into the room.

I went in your room,

I was all by myself,

As I walk in, a thick swathe of recollections overcome me, and again I am transported to that one night.

"Have you ever had sex on the ceiling?" asked a voice of gravel, those normally dark eyes alight with mischievousness.

I tell the truth by a shake of my head "Yamcha and I tried to have sex whilst flying once, but it didn't work out." Even now I have to laugh at the recollection of the 'incident' at Kamesenin's barbeque. I can still see Yamcha's look of total astonishment as the strawberry flavoured sheath fell to the ground and landed on the old turtle hermits, perverted head.

"Well then," he breathed longingly into my neck, "Let me show you how it is supposed to be done." In the blink of an eye he had torn away the spandex of his shorts in wrestler-style, and I found myself pinned to the plaster. Each of my wrists became fastened to the ceiling by gloved hands, as my legs were trapped with strong calf muscles. It was at that moment that I was glad my father had got his way and budgeted aertexing out of the capsuled house design project.

He licked at my neck hungrily, lowering his caresses until his lips reached a hardened nipple. I shivered under his touch, and at first let out a hiss as he nibbled at its peak a little too forcefully. It only took a few seconds for the pain to ebb away, and replace the nips with the desired sensation. He tweaked and rolled it in his mouth sending hot needles of desire through the flesh. I tried to move in reaction to it, but he held me forcefully to the ceiling, never forgetting my precarious predicament.

I can still just about see the dent in the plaster were his hands held forcibly onto mine, as he shifted positions underneath me, using a knee to open my thighs. I remember seeing a flash of white, and cursing at the sight of my panties, still firmly wrapped around my waist. I needn't have worried though. Vegeta knew what he was doing. Really I should have known that he was the kind of man to have planned ahead, and as my worry grew I felt his tip brushing my entrance. My underwear was still bunched at the side from his play earlier and he was now teasing me with his hardness. Skimming it over my sensitive clit, before mischievously letting it push into my entrance and then pulling away.

I felt like screaming at him, and I think I did, as he continued the teasing. I wanted him inside of me so much that every sense was burning in anticipation. Newton's laws of physics were pushing me down on him, but still he was in complete control.

I couldn't take it any more, the warmth radiating from him was so inviting that the next time he came up to meet my entrance I took the lead and pushed down on him. For the first, and last time, I took him unawares, and he let down his defences gasping my name as my womanhood slid down him. His eyes looked at me with such need and desire, as I continued my slow enticing ride down his length, and I felt as though I was going to lose control under their penetrating gaze.

Then for a couple of minutes, there was nothing. I think that we were both just content to be together, and caught in a rare moment of bliss.

Almost unconsciously I contracted the muscles of my vagina around him, brining us out of our mutual silence, causing Vegeta to close his eyes and for me to repeat the sensation, glorying in the feel of him being inside of me. At the reoccurrence of me tightening around him, he let out a very audible hiss, and reaffirming his grip on my arms started to slide slowly in and out of me.

You and me had,

Such wonderful times,

His pace was slow and guarded to start with, but as the tension between us broke, being overpowered by our lust, his thrusts became stronger and deeper. I tried to calm my breathing as I felt him moving inside of me, but the control didn't last long, as my fingers grasped at air in exasperation at having nothing to cling onto. His grip tightened around my wrists as he continued to pound into me, pushing me up into the ceiling. The coolness of the plaster on my backside made the sensations all the more enjoyable, and it wasn't long before a familiarly erotic sensation built inside of me. This time I know for a fact that I screamed out, repeating his name over and over as his shaft slipped easily in and out of me. The heat between my thighs grew ten fold as he entered me so intensely, and earnestly. I listened to the raggedness of his breath as his head buried itself into my neck, trying so hard not to let those useless emotions, that he continually denied having, overcome him.

His evident desire propelled me on and I met his strokes with my own. His head jerked out from it safe haven, and his mouth opened, letting a primal growl reverberate around his chest cavity, sending it's thrilling vibrations along ever fibre of his body, including that which was inside of me. It was so erotic that it sent me over the edge, and I bucked my hips haphazardly against his, as the delicious feelings flooded over me.

The spasms of my orgasm shot through my entire body leaving me capable of nothing but gasping in utter delight. I could feel the sweat pouring off of my body in the heat, and excitement, falling onto his bronzed chest and mixing with his own. The contractions of my womanhood must have been too much for him to hold back through and I felt his body tense under mine as his growl turned into an animalistic howl. His pace quickened, thrusting mercilessly into me over and over, and I could feel his manhood growing and straining inside of me as he finally let that self-control disappear, spilling his seed in powerful streams into the back of my vagina.

I could feel the tremors coursing through his body as he pushed me protectively into the ceiling. He was still inside of me and let out the occasional chocked cry as he moved in mini strokes, trying to cling onto the sensations of his climax for as long as possible. I could still feel the after affects of my own mingled in with his shudders and I accompanied him in the grunts of pleasure.

There we stayed together for longer than I dared to hope for. I didn't want to let him go. I knew that as soon as I left his arms then that would be it. He would never open up to me that way again, and I knew that it was just a lust thing. Now we had satisfied those desires, that neither of us had any choice but to give into, then it would end. Even I was a little ashamed of what I had done, allowing my passions to blind me. I didn't even want to think what Vegeta was feeling, with all of that pride, but I could take an educated guess.

Letting go of my wrists my one-night-stand prince seemed to be content to levitate with me laying totally dependant on top of him, but the look in his eyes very quickly turned, from emotionally satisfied into the usual dark and uncaring coldness that I was used to. It was at that moment that I understood him completely. He had let his defences down, and he most certainly wasn't going to let it happen again. I knew it was coming, but it didn't diminish the hurt at all as he said in tones of total composure, "Breathe a word of this night to anyone and I will kill you, do you understand?"

He lowered us to the ground and stood upright. His eyes burning into mine. Dejectedly I nodded my agreement, trying to control the tears I could feel welling up at the bottom of my eyes. By some sort of miracle I managed to stop the majority, but one disobedient droplet skimmed defiantly down my cheek. His harshness was lost momentarily as he leant closer and wiped it away. The bead glistened in the half-light on the end of his finger, and losing any small emotion that he had let slip, rubbed it disgustedly between his thumb and forefinger, curling his lip. "Damned creatures and their soft emotions." He sneered, before throwing the remnants of my clothes at me and ordering me to leave.

When I'm all by myself,

All by myself.

My flashback ends a couple of paragraphs too late, and the pain of his words and actions, crash down on me with the same import as when they were freshly said. I crumple to the floor holding onto my swollen stomach, and finally let the tears that I refused to shed for him pour down my checks in torrent after torrent of emotional release. Bringing my knees as far into my chest as I can furl them, I lay giving into the turmoil I have suppressed for so long. I lose track of time, and feel a tiredness hit that I can't ignore. My eyes are sore with the tears, as the lids close, and the last thing to flow through my head is, "I'm sorry I couldn't keep my promise Vegeta, please come back, we need you."

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AN - I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Chapter two is all from Vegeta's POV