Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Dark Desire ❯ Why have a good boy when you can have a bad man? ( Chapter 2 )

Disclaimer: Same ole same ole, don't own it.

Chapter Two

Why have a good boy, when you can have a bad man.

My eyes dart around the shadow-laden room looking for an intruder. I am almost certain that I had felt someone's hands on me but there is no movement in the room except for the sheer curtains floating in the breeze.

More often of late I have been having these dreams. They are always dark and vague, of a man standing above me watching as I sleep. I know it is him, that murderer I have allowed into my home in a moment of weakness. In my dreams, he always stands over me with that smirk of superiority etched on his perfect lips as I writhe in pleasure beneath him. When I wake I always feel so dirty, but intensely satisfied.

When I had first spied him through the crystal ball I had felt such fear and worry for my friends, but as he threw back his head to laugh in pure amusement at my lover's demise I felt a twinge. A deep, dark, dirty twinge that I never told anyone about.

Later on Namek, when he demanded the Dragon Ball from me, I thought I was going to pee my pants I was so afraid. His guttural voice sent shivers down my spine, but not the fear driven kind. For an awkward, frightful moment, I wanted him to throw me to the ground and fuck me and screw everyone and everything else.

I don't know what possessed me to invite him to live with me that day. It just popped out, followed by that, "you're cute" comment. I just about melted into the ground with mortification. Everyone thinks I am nuts letting him live here, heck, I think I'm nuts, but I can't bear to send him away.

I fear him too much to approach him, but when he isn't looking I watch him. He always struts around in his dark blue training suits, or worse black bike shorts with no shirt. Whenever I see his sweat covered chest I have to resist the urge to reach out and lick the saltiness from him. When he catches me looking at him, his eyes will burn into me as if they were piercing my soul. It always looks like he is angry at me, for some imagined sin that I committed against him, but I have done nothing. I brought him into my home, given him all that he desires and yet he still glares at me. Sometimes I can feel the rage build inside of me, but I suppress it. It would not be wise to confront a killer.

Morning comes and I roll out of bed for my ritual shower and primping session. Today I am going to see my boyfriend, but I don't feel my usual giddiness at the prospect. I always feel sullen and worn out the next day after my intense dreams.

I used to love him so much, my bad boy from the desert. Lately, since he was brought back to life he seems different. With the impending doom of the androids hanging over our heads, he seems eager to experience life to the fullest and he wants nothing better than to drag me along for the ride. He is more caring and attentive than he ever has been in the past, almost like he is making up for his past mistakes.

I should be happy to be the center of his world, but sometimes when I look at him, my gut twists. Next to my very oldest friend, he is the strongest man in the world and I relish that. My boyfriend is a Z fighter; he is the brawn to my brain. And now…

I glance down the corridor that leads to His rooms. And now, he isn't the most powerful and neither is he as bad as he used to be. He is so loving and caring...so nice. Why have a good boy, when you can have a bad man? I gasp at the thought. What is wrong with me! He is the perfect boyfriend and I know it. I should stop moping around and get moving. I turn away from the temptation that is only a few feet from my bedroom door and leave the house to meet my boyfriend.

My lover and I decide to call it quits earlier than expected, but it is just so darn hot out! It's one of those sultry days that no matter what you do you just can't get dry. Every inch of my skin is coated with perspiration and I feel like I am trying to breathe under water. I pad up the stairs to my room and throw my hair up into a quick bun on top of my head, trying to get the damp mass off my neck. A few teal strands escape its bindings and straggle limply down my back. I root around my closet for a bit, coming up with a breezy linen dress. After a few moments of consideration, I take of my panties and bra and just toss on the dress, which soon sticks to my body like a second skin. It is just too hot for anything else.

I enter the kitchen looking for some iced tea when I encounter my mother coming out of the laundry room. Seeing me she quickly enlists my help in doing some chores, namely, taking some fresh towels to His bathroom.

Confident that he is still out training I trudge up the stairs to his wing and down the corridor to his bathroom. As I approach, the door opens and steam billows out into the hall, quickly followed by a very wet male with only a towel wrapped around his waist.

I stop dead in my tracks and stare. His hair hangs down his shoulders in thick strands while droplets of water stream down his chiseled chest. Arousal hits me like a Mac truck. I lick my lips and I have the sudden urge to lap up those wayward drops. I follow their path with my eyes as they roll down his washboard stomach and disappear into the fold of the white towel, which was draped around a very aroused Saiyan.

My face flames and my eyes shoot back up to his face. His onyx eyes are boring into me and he looks distinctly unhappy that I am there. I bite my lip and my hands fist in the towels that I am holding. I take a step back, fear washing through me. Before I can flee I feel of rush of air as he appears in front of me with incredible speed.

I drop the towels, raising my hands to ward him off but he grasps my small wrists in his large fist, swinging me up against the wall. He lifts my hands above my head, jerking me up so I am on the tips of my toes, causing my back to arch forward to relieve the pressure on my shoulder blades. My breasts brush up against his chest, dampening the thin material of my dress. His eyes glare down into mine and I can see fire raging in their depths. My voice shrivels up and dies in the back of my throat and I can't speak, I can barely even breathe.

I have never been this close to him before and I can feel the heat radiating off him in hot, burning waves. Even though I am terrified, I am also aroused. Such a treacherous body, I think to myself. He leans in close so his breath feathers across my lips and smiles a slow sensuous smile that I hadn't even known he was capable off.

"Sayians are superior to humans in all things. For instance, we have an advanced sense of smell. Do you know what that means?" He questions.

Still unable to draw the breath to speak, I merely shake my head that I do not.

"It means I can smell your fear Onna, but not only that, I can smell your arousal." The amusement in his face is clear as he smirks down at my now vibrantly red features. My obvious fear and embarrassment still can not stop the almost instantaneous moisture I feel at the apex of my thighs at those whispered words. Still unable to speak I can only make choking sounds in the back of my throat.

He slips his free hand between our bodies laying it on my stomach and I about jump a mile high at the contact. I can feel the heat of his palm burning through the thin linen shift that I wear, branding my flesh with his touch. His hand slowly creeps downwards to eventually cup me through the fabric. I am finally able to speak and I push a single word out through my numb lips.

"No." I whisper desperately.

"No?" He replies, as he curves his eyebrow.

He removes his hand and I feel its loss intently. He smirks down at me as if he knows exactly what I feel. He places that offending hand on my bare knee instead, gripping me so tightly that he dimples my flesh. He slides his hand up my already sweat-slicked leg and under my skirt. It comes to rest on the top of my thigh, stretching out his thumb so it brushes my nether lips.

Suddenly, my paralyses lifts and I try to clamp my legs closed, but he sees my intent and insinuates his right knee between my thighs. His thumb slips past my lips to tease the bud of my flower ever so lightly. The rush of heat that follows the action is embarrassing. When I had sex in the past I had never felt sensations this intensely, most times I would need lubrication to ease my lover's way. However, now my thighs become even wetter with the combination of my juices and perspiration.

Suddenly an almost electrical like spark kisses my very center and spasms through my entire body. My nipples become impossibly hard and my bud swells with demanding need. After the wave ebbs I shoot a startled glance at my captor.

"That was some of my ki that I shared with you." He bares his teeth in an animalistic grin. "Would you like me to do it again?"

If he does it again I know for sure that I will fall over the edge of reason. It is unlike anything I had ever experienced before. Hell yes, I want him to do it again. I can barely nod my ascent to him.

He smirks in his most condescending manner. He leans down and traces my upper lip with the tip of his tongue. Not entering my mouth just teasing me with his taste.

"Then ask me too." He breathes.

I gulp. It is one thing to be able to nod, but it is quite another to give voice to my dark desire. To verbally proclaim that I like what he does to me and that I want him to do it again. To have this man's hands that has been coated with the blood of millions of innocents touch me. His lips that were curled into a snarl as he decimated worlds, caress mine. To have eyes that have seen untold horrors, only to look upon me.

My core is throbbing with need and with the subtlest of movements he flicks his thumb against it once more. I jolt at the sensation and before I can stop myself the words fall from my lips.

"Please, do it again." I gasp.

And he does. I throw back my head and howl, actually howl for the first time in my life. The sensations rocket through me with such force I think I will be ripped apart. In the back of my mind a wayward thought echoes. So this is what dying feels like. I ride the waves of my climax and each time it seems that it will ebb he flicks his thumb and another one will come crashing down on me. The gut-wrenching climax lasts for nearly five impossible minutes.

When it is over, my body feels boneless and my legs can no longer support me. I hang like a rag doll by his fist that is still clenching my hands above my head. Tremors shake my limp body uncontrollably and I whimper in the back of my raw throat. He lets my hands go and I slump to my knees before him in the hall.

He walks away from me without a word, leaving me a pitiful mass on the floor, tears streaming down my face at my weakness. The only sound to be heard is the soft click of his door closing.