Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Another Lifetime ❯ To Ease Her Pain ( Chapter 3 )

Another Lifetime

By

Queen Saiyajin

 

Rated NC-17. Warning. This chapter has explicit `lemon'. If you prefer not to read sexual content, please skip this chapter.

Chapter Three

Easing Her Pain

 

 

 

Vegeta shut the door to his room, trying to close his senses to the pain of the woman across the hall. She was his woman and yet she wasn't. At times he could separate the two, worlds and times apart, and yet at others they blurred together as one. Everything about this Bulma reminded him of the woman he had spent his life with. Her voice, her eyes, her spirit. Her hair. Her scent. Her ki, so delicately fluttering on the fringes of his consciousness even now. He had never bonded with Bulma truly until after they were married, so he knew that this Bulma and his younger self had never shared that intimacy. Yet her soul still called out to his, her thoughts found their way into his mind, and he was drawn to her not simply for her beauty but for the emotional bond that pulled at him as if she were…his Bulma.

 

He cursed himself for having gone into her bedroom in such a…vulnerable state. He'd truly been looking for something to wear. Or was he fooling himself? He'd wanted to be close to her, just as his bond with his woman always called him to her side. Was it simply the separation from his wife that was doing this to him? Or was it possible that somehow, across time, she was the same woman he loved so completely?

 

He hadn't wanted to want her like that. Yet as she'd stared at him, and his own body had betrayed him, her effect on him was no secret. Then she had touched him, tiny fingers leaving heat in their wake, knowing just where his erogenous zones were, caressing him just as she had thousands upon thousands of times…

 

Even now, his erection ached with his need for her. He lay down in the bed, closing his eyes and seeing her again, feeling her hands on him even as he fondled his arousal, touching where she had touched, where her lips had taken him in…

 

His body arched upward towards the image he pretended was her, while the very real scent of her arousal seemed to fill his nostrils, the soft pants of her excitement making him quicken his pace, the beat of her heart pounding in rhythm to his thrusts, the heat of her desire setting him on fire until finally he cried out in the bliss of a release that he would swear they had shared. Breathing deeply he lay back, spent, the physical frustration alleviated, but the mental torment still very real. Just as real as the sound of her short breaths and the flutter of her ki that he had thought just a fantasy…

 

He focused his hearing on the soft buzzing noise barely audible above her soft rapid panting, his preternatural senses catching the scent of her arousal as he felt the tiny spikes in her ki. Her thoughts wafted into his mind, images of him making love to her so vivid that he felt his arousal growing anew. But there were dark thoughts, too, of loneliness and desperation, of rejection and loss, of happiness that would never be hers…

 

What had he done to her? He had wanted her. She hadn't been wrong in thinking that. He had wanted more than anything for her to work her magic on his body, to heal the wounds of the most painful period of his life. He had let her think that it was all right, and then had pushed her away. Thinking back, it was a kind of rejection that his younger self had probably inflicted upon her more times than she could remember.

 

She didn't deserve this. In his time, she had been secure in his love. But in this world forsaken by the gods, commitment and comfort were things he had never given her.

 

He couldn't make love to her. He still could not reconcile his devotion to one as a betrayal to the other. But maybe there was a way he could give her the pleasure and peace of mind that she had been denied.

 

 

 

 

 

 

She'd shut the door behind him and stood there for a long moment, fighting the urge to go after him. No. She had already made a fool out of herself. She was mortified beyond belief. Had she been so desperate to have him that she had totally misread the signals he had given her?

 

He had, after all, come into her room. Stark naked at that. How did he think she would react upon seeing him like that? For two years she had longed for the touch of his body, the scent of his skin, the taste of his lips. How could she not want him?

 

She still remembered the passion of his kiss, the gentleness of his voice when she'd first awoken to find him here. He was her Vegeta, and yet different. Unafraid to show his feelings. Unperturbed by his emotions. Comfortable in the role of father to their son. Everything the man she loved had been…and more. Even knowing what he planned, she had still held a glimmer of hope that he could be hers.

 

The way he had reacted to her had been unmistakable. He'd trembled at her touch, been aroused by her nearness, and responded to her caresses. When he'd turned around, she'd thought that he wanted her to continue. But there had been more than just his physical reaction. She had…felt…his mind flowing into hers, in a way that had happened more than once in the past. As if their union was something more than just a physical connection, as if there were some kind of bond between their souls.

 

It was all bullshit. The delusions of a desperately lonely romantic mind. Vegeta had made love to her one moment and scorned her the next, more times than she could count. This new manifestation of Vegeta was no different. And his rejection left her feeling no less degraded. If he truly loved his Bulma, and she believed he did, then it was something between them that she was never meant to know.

 

Looking back now, she was humiliated that she had come on to him. He didn't want her. And if she knew Vegeta, he was smirking at what a pathetic emotional woman she was.

 

Then why did her body still ache for him? Why did the mere thought of him give her that tingly warmth between her legs? Why couldn't she get him out of her head? Even now, she imagined him in his room, jerking off rather than waste his time with her.

 

In complete frustration she discarded her clothes, looking at her naked form in the mirror. He had wanted her once. Night after night he had taken her, sometimes so roughly that she wondered where all that anger had come from. Other times, he had cherished her slowly, gently, holding her long after they had finished. He'd never said he loved her, and yet in those times she knew he did. Yes, she knew…

 

He's toying with me now, she thought angrily. He put his dick in my face, and then pulled away as if I were some kind of a whore coming on to him! The bastard!

 

Yet still, she wanted him.

 

She reached into her nightstand, taking out the device she had once picked up in a store as a joke. A flesh-toned vibrator with a textured tip. It was the thing she had used to release her frustrations, both sexual and emotional, since Vegeta had been dead. Now, she lay down naked, the cool night air a contrast to the heat emanating from her body. She closed her eyes, seeing him again, running her fingers across her breast to find that the cool air and her desire had made her nipples rigid. She remembered how much Vegeta had loved her breasts, how he would lie fondling them and suckling at them long after their passion was spent, as if he was fascinated by them. Now, she imagined him touching her, kissing her deeply as he gently parted her thighs. With her right hand she ran the soft rubbery head of the vibrator down her stomach, turning the switch as she came to the heat between her legs. The gentle motion feathered lightly against her clit, intensifying the burning that had been there since she'd first seen him standing naked in her room. She moved it lower, pretending it was him as the slick juices of her desire welcomed it into her innermost self.

 

She could see Vegeta in her mind. He was touching himself, fondling himself…and imagining it was her! She pushed the vibrator deeper and deeper, knowing it didn't quite fill her as her prince had, but it sufficed. Her body rose up to meet it, and she pushed herself against it, pretending it was him…

 

She was so close when suddenly the door opened to let in a shaft of light. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized it was him! Did he want to humiliate her even more? Was he getting off on her despair? In the light she saw his eyes, and saw him swallow hard as he watched her. He was enjoying this, the perverted son of a bitch! Well, let him have a show! Let him see what he was missing! The thrill of having him watch sent her over the brink, and she exploded in the most intense orgasm that she had ever given herself.

 

She was panting now as she came down from the climax, sweat breaking out on her body and chilling her even more. Still he stood there, immobile, just watching. Did he possibly think she hadn't seen him? “Did you enjoy that?' she breathed bitterly. “ What's the matter, didn't you think you'd humiliated me enough already?”

 

He stepped towards her, closing the door. He was wearing the black workout pants he had taken from the room, but his erection strained painfully against the fabric. “I didn't mean to embarrass you,” he began.

 

“Yeah, right,” she replied, not bothering to cover her body. She looked damned good, and she was going to let him see what he had rejected yet again. “Go ahead, Vegeta. Call me a pathetic, desperate woman. I know that's what you're thinking.” She had meant to betray only anger, but the tears that were welling in her eyes had found their way into her voice.

 

He looked so sad, almost wounded. Is that really what you expect of me? Is that how I treated you before?

 

“I thought…you changed,” she said softly, in despair. “I thought…you loved me. I thought you wanted me…”

 

He sat at the edge of the bed then, looking down at her. She suddenly felt her nakedness and pulled a sheet over herself. “I do love you, Bulma,” he admitted tenderly. “And I do want you. But as long as the woman I married is waiting for me…”

 

She didn't have the strength to argue again that she was that woman. That they were one and the same. Something in his tone abated her anger, and for a moment of selflessness she understood why he had rejected her. “Then why…are you here?” she whispered.

 

“For you,” he said simply. “Because you…are Bulma. And I want to make you feel good.”

 

She was trembling with emotion as he brought his lips to hers, kissing her tenderly. His tongue explored her mouth as his hands pulled down the thin sheet that had momentarily covered her. His mouth moved to her breasts, suckling at them each in turn until she felt the warm flush between her legs. He separated from her to look into her eyes, with the adoring smile that she had so seldom seen on his face. Then he put his hand over hers and took the vibrator from her, inspecting it critically with a frown on his face.

 

“Isn't this a little small?” he commented dryly.

 

She blushed from embarrassment. “They didn't have Saiyan size,” she replied.

 

“Oh well. I will have to compensate somehow.” He moved towards the bottom of the bed, facing her, with one hand separating her legs until she was completely exposed to him. For a long moment he paused, a lustful gleam in his eyes as he took in her innermost secrets. “Close your eyes,” he told her seductively.

 

She obeyed, and he began the selfless acts that were meant for her pleasure alone. First his fingers were dipping in her juices, one, then two, preparing her for what was to come. Another finger joined in the play, rubbing against her sensitive nub until she felt she would burst. But Vegeta was not going to let her come so quickly. As if sensing an imminent release, he withdrew his fingers, and she moaned, begging him not to stop.

 

The sound of the vibrator filled her ears, and now it was time for the second assault. The device feathered expertly against her clit, then began its descent into her depths. But as Vegeta slid the artificial member into her, she felt the warmth of his fingers, two, maybe three, compensating, as he had said, for its size. With the other hand under her rear, he lifted her up to a better angle, as his fingers and the pathetically small device pressed deeper than she had ever ventured herself. With the strength of his hand he lifted her up in sharp rhythmic motions as she strove against the substitute for his manhood. It felt so good she wished it could go on forever. He seemed to catch that thought, because every time she came near a climax he would shift his position to make it last longer. Finally, when the thrill seemed too much to bear, he quickened the pace, as another finger found her nub and began to rub it vigorously. She could feel herself riding up the crest of her final wave of pleasure, and she was moaning in ecstasy as he seemed to find every erogenous zone in her body. Not every one, he seemed to whisper. The hand under her suddenly separated her cheeks as a single finger delved painfully but sensuously into a part no one had ever touched. The effect was instantaneous. The entire lower half of her body exploded at once in an orgasm unlike any she had ever experienced, even with him.

 

Her voice was raw and she realized that she'd screamed out his name more than once. For a long while he seemed not to move, enjoying the violent pulsing of her core. It seemed to go on forever. Finally, he withdrew his fingers and the device she knew now would never satisfy her again. Through hooded eyes she looked down at him, only to see that he had bent down between her thighs, and in a moment he was lapping at her juices. The pure thrill of that, the gentle sucking motion, the sensation of his tongue exploring her, renewed her desire. Within moments he had lifted her legs over his shoulders as he tasted every fold of her womanhood. Bulma lay there in ecstasy, motionless, enjoying the selfless act he had never performed before. Then, as the urge to strive against him took over, she pushed up against his face, wishing that his fingers would join in. Her wish was granted as three fingers slid into her , and his tongue moved up to twirl against the source of her pleasure. In a frightening but terribly sexy move, he nipped lightly at her clit with his teeth. She erupted at once, her sex pulsating viciously around his hand, prompting him to reach for that magical spot that sent her into another wave of pleasure.

 

Exhausted, she lay back in her bliss, Vegeta resting in the warm place he had loved so thoroughly. After a while he kissed his way up her stomach, suckling at her breasts as he caressed her flesh. Finally, he found her lips, kissing her lightly. Then he gathered her in his arms, holding her close.

 

His erection was rock hard, and she reached to caress him, wanting to repay his beautiful lovemaking. But he took her hand away, kissing it, determined to stay his course. “This was just for you,” he whispered, and she cuddled contentedly against him, falling asleep.

 

 

 

 

Vegeta lay awake for a long time, watching her sleep so peacefully against him. His own arousal begged for release, but he willed it away. He didn't want to move from this spot. He didn't want to leave her.

 

He caught his own thought and it filled him with guilt. What had he done? What would Bulma say if she knew? He had fooled himself into thinking that if he did not allow himself to take pleasure in her, then it wasn't cheating. But he had taken immense pleasure simply in making her feel so good.

 

It was the first time in over thirty years that he had touched another woman. Saiyans were completely monogamous, and his devotion to Bulma had been without question from the time he'd first made her his. Even before he had bonded with her, and confessed his love, he had known that he would never want another woman. And he hadn't. Until now.

 

I am Bulma! she had told him. Every fiber of his being told him that she was. He had never known two beings to have the same ki signature, but the woman in his arms and the woman in his heart were identical. More than his body reacted to her. The same bond that connected him to his woman flowed between him and the woman beside him. She didn't even realize it herself, but her thoughts and feelings flowed into him as if he had…

 

…known her for thirty years.

 

She was Bulma, and yet she was not. The torment of that paradox was consuming him. For as much as he desired to return to the woman he loved, he was beginning to dread leaving this woman, this family, behind. She had hit the nail on the head when she had pointed out the obvious—if he saw that little boy as his son, then how could he help but see her as his mate?

 

That was why he had come back to her tonight. He couldn't let her think that he didn't care. And he couldn't bear the thought of how horribly he had treated her in this time. A part of him had given her this night to atone for the sins of his younger self, to let her know without a doubt that he loved her, that he had always loved her…

 

She stirred in his arms and looked up at him, smiling brightly through sleepy eyes. “Thank you,” she murmured.

 

“What are you thanking me for, woman?” he asked, just a little unnerved to think that perhaps she had read all his thoughts.

 

“For making me feel soooo good,” she replied, snuggling back against his chest. She paused. “It's been so long. And I've missed you so much.”

 

He kissed her hair, tightening his arms around her. He didn't know what to say to that.

 

“Even if you go,” she continued in barely a whisper. “I'll never forget this night. How you made me feel so loved…”

 

“I have always loved you,” he sighed, again cursing the insensitivity of his youth. “Even if I did not know how to show it.”

 

“I know,” she said. She meant it. And he couldn't help but wonder at how she had always known him, better than he'd known himself. If only he had lived long enough for her to enjoy the man she had changed him into…

 

For a long while they lay there, until she looked up at him again. “Vegeta, what…changed you? They way you are with me, and with Trunks…you're still the man I loved, but you're different somehow.”

 

“Do you really want to know what changed me?” he asked seriously.

 

She nodded, and he said, “Then wait. I'll be right back.”

 

 

 

 

 

Bulma couldn't imagine what he had gone to get, and for a moment began to regret that she had said anything to break the idyllic moment that they'd been sharing. She knew that when tomorrow came, things would not be like this. She could feel his guilt as surely as she could feel his love, and she knew that what had happened tonight would not so easily be repeated. But she had meant what she said. She would cherish every moment with him. Even if he left, he would have given her something she had never hoped to have—absolute proof of his love. It would make it so much easier to go on.

 

She was glad when he slipped back under the covers with her, taking out a small device similar to the holo-projector Bulma had sent her research and messages on. It fit in the palm of his hand, no bigger than a credit card. But with the press of a button it opened into a wallet-sized mechanism. “You gave this to me for my last birthday,” he explained.

 

She looked at him. “I thought you didn't celebrate birthdays.”

 

“You made me start,” he grumbled. “You said you didn't want to feel like the only one getting older.” He switched it on, and a tiny hologram appeared. It was a picture of Vegeta and his Bulma with a purple-haired boy that had to be Trunks. As she would expect, Vegeta didn't look happy to be in the picture, but Bulma and Trunks were both hanging on him affectionately. “This was Trunks' ninth birthday,” he told her. He handed her the device. “Here. Press this button to see the other images.”

 

She lied back against him looking at the memories of his past, a future that she and Vegeta had been denied. There were images of Trunks, as he grew older. Then, a little blue-haired girl that looked like Bulma had as a child. “Is this…Bra?” she asked in amazement. “Ooooh, she's gorgeous!”

 

“Yes,” he said quietly, and with a glance she saw that his eyes had misted over. The next shot was Bra in a polka-dot dress, her arms around Vegeta's neck. There were more family pictures as the years progressed, the most recent a shot of Vegeta as he looked now with a Bulma that must be in her sixties, though she still looked great. Bra was a teenager with long blue hair, wearing a red minidress that Vegeta told her he did not approve of. Trunks was there too, a young man in his late twenties, as handsome and muscular as his father, but with Papa's lavender hair and her blue eyes. “That was our last family picture—before the plague.” The distress on his face was too much. She reached up to caress his cheek. “Now you know why I changed. You…and our kids. You gave me something to live for. Something to be proud of.”

 

Her eyes filled with tears as the family he'd only spoken of became much more real. “I'm sorry,” she told him, though she wasn't quite sure why. For his pain. For his loss. For being selfish enough to want to keep him here when he clearly loved his Bulma too much to simply abandon her. “I'll find a cure,” she promised him. “And you'll take it back to her.”

 

She couldn't read the look in his eyes. The sadness was there for his family…but she couldn't help but think that part of it was for her and Trunks, too. He kissed her then, slowly and tenderly, still unwilling to let her go. For that, for those few more hours she would be in his embrace, she was grateful.