Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Fathoming Love ❯ Chapter 17 ( Chapter 17 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

“And things were never the same again.” He said thoughtfully, examining his nails nonchalantly.

“How so?” I asked curiously, intrigued by this new character Faraque. True to his word, Vegeta was most certainly attracted to strong willed women and this African look-alike seemed to be no different. As he described her, his voice held a certain tone that he hadn’t used before, one that seemed laced with a sort of awe, or maybe a respect or something. I suppose I don’t rightly know, so I’ll just continue.

“Things were different with Faraque there. More exciting perhaps. More challenging. Perhaps even more thoughtful than they were before. Ah, but I’m not making sense. Let me get to the point of the most concern. You see, before I had obviously been Zarbon’s companion, going here with him, learning this from him. You know what I mean so I have no reason to expound, but all of a sudden, the ties that bound us together were severed and I realized quite unexpectedly that I had no real need of him.

“True, I was still his friend in whatever sense of the word I knew, but there was a rafter between us that only grew within the space of time that I spent with Faraque.

“She taunted me. She intrigued me. Everything about her drew me in, making me obsessed, infatuated, enticed by even the simplest things. The way she ate her food, her face when she slept, the times when she would simply sit and braid her long black hair. I was sprung on her, as they say.

“And all this was like someone pushing a splinter deeper and deeper into Zarbon’s wounds. Every time I spoke of her to him, missed appointments or ignored him altogether, that same distant, detached look overwhelmed his face and as much as I felt a very distinct fear of it, I basically shrugged it off. Maybe if I had taken it more seriously, maybe if I hadn’t abandoned him so things would have been different. Maybe if I’d……..

“But lets not think about the “maybe”s. What do they matter now? I was too stupid to comprehend that Zarbon was truly in love with me and too blind to see that he was becoming dangerously jealous. How thankless I was to shrug him off like that. My father, my teacher, my everything. Sometimes you just have to kick yourself for mistakes you made so long ago even if its pointless in the long run.

“And so things were, my new crush becoming my servant, though I never made her do anything at all, something that thoroughly ticked my other slaves off. Like Zarbon had done for me, I lavished her with anything and everything she ever showed even the least amount of interest in. If she told me that the carpet was an ugly color, I would insist that she pick out something better. If she mentioned that she liked a certain food group, fuck anything else that I could digest, and it was hers.

“Clothes, cosmetics, jewelry, paintings, sculptures, mountains of books and transportation. It was hers if only she showed the tiniest bit of interest in it. In my spare time, I would talk to her, even if, in her damnable pride, she refused to say anything at all. I would tell her of my life, of my struggles, even of my hatred for Frieza, which many people didn’t know about.

“And through it all, through the over time purges it cost to sustain my expensive adornments, through the jeers and mockery of my shipmates, through all the sacrifice and desertion of Zarbon, Faraque wouldn’t give me the time of day. Maybe that only helped to sustain my infatuation, for you know we always want what we cant have. Or maybe in my failure to woo her, I’d simply caused another challenge for myself, one I wouldn’t be able to turn down.

“For months I gave everything I could to her, occasionally trying to tempt her into bed with me afterwards, as if my gifts came at a price. But she would sneer, cross her arms over her excessively large chest, lift her head in arrogance and reply quite shrewdly in her accented voice that no amount of money or riches would buy her heart. Of course, I would reply in my oh-so-clueless way, that I cared nothing for her heart and simply wanted to fuck her brains out the way I did with all my other servants. After taking quite a few blows in the face for that one, I learned to be a little more couth in her presence.

“After the first six months, as she had turned me down a countless number of times, like all young men, I began to get frustrated. No woman could turn me down! I was irresistible! I should just take her by force and get it all over with. That’s right, I should just make her do it and stop with the spoiling. But in all my heartless, prideful ways, I knew even as I thought the words, I’d never do it. Faraque was a treasure and the only way to open the chest was not to shake and beat it, but to find the key to unlock it.

“And eventually I did, though it wasn’t as I expected it to go. I had just finished purging my newest planet, my hair and clothes smelling like charred dirt, blood soaking my entire body, my feet absolutely killing me from our search and destroy mission, and I came in like the boogie man himself to scare the wits out of a solemn faced Faraque. She jumped into action, running towards me and checking my body for the wounds I seemed to have sustained, examining my face with both her hands on my cheeks and her eyes wide with worry.

“ “Its not mine.” I said in confusion, raising my eyebrow to look at her. “Faraque, I’m fine.”

“And then and only then did it actually hit me. By God! She actually gave a shit about my welfare!

“ “Whoa whoa WHOA!” I said, moving back to look at her, a sly, triumphant grin pasted on my mouth. “Don’t tell me the stone cold Faraque actually CARES whether I live or die!? Tell me it isn’t so cherie!”

“She just huffed, crossing her arms and regarding me like you would someone who had just wrecked your automobile.

“ “Why, my God in Heaven its true!” I said dramatically, placing the back of my hand to my head, stumbling backwards.

“And though she’d replied nothing, simply staring at me like I’d certainly gone mad, something had most certainly changed that day and as I’ve said simply too many times, things were never the same again.

“I suppose it’s hard to describe if you didn’t know her. She had her usual routine of making herself scarce around me, eating a municipal amount of food, which she knew ALWAYS managed to piss me off, as I specially ordered every meal we ate. She had her certain ways of regarding me, usually as if she was a superior and SHE was the one allowing me to stay in my own quarters, like I ought to be happy just for her cold and awkward company.

“But things weren’t that way anymore. She would join me for meals, rather than take her own into her special little corner. She would listen intently to my stories of the day, edited as they were for her own sanity, and she would even comment occasionally on the things that had happened, on her own opinions and her thoughts. This only managed to stimulate my interest more, as every real man knows that a woman’s looks only go so far and a stimulating mind is virtually invaluable.

“To make an impossibly boring story short, we became a sort of distant friend, happy within our little, unspoken arrangement and quite content with the sort of agreement we’d come to. That while we would never voice it, we’d come to respect each other. And that’s important. While I had been her master and slave driver, she had been an object to me. Times changed and within that time, I became a sort of companion for her and though she’d never tell you, she began to look forward to our chats as much as I. And rather than see her as a goal, as a belonging, Faraque was my consort, my friend and more importantly, I adored her as a woman. I respected her as a woman.

“And so you can imagine that the day I came in to find her, laying on my bed in tears she so badly tried to hide, my concern was at its peak point and I all but ran to her side. Checking for wounds was my first priority, and as I found no blood or traces of bruises, she laughed at me.

“ “You wont find any.” She said in her thickly accented voice, wiping her tears with her palm. “Like you always say, I’m fine.”

“But she wasn’t fine. Faraque NEVER cried. She never really showed any emotion at all besides anger and so this change was quite unsettling, and rather than stay quiet as my more logical half informed, I gambled with fate and touched her hair, soothing it away from her eyes.

“ “I don’t believe you.” I said softly, compassionately, as I so rarely did. “Faraque, tell me what’s wrong with you.”

“She ignored me.

“ “Faraque, enough of this nonsense. You know as well as I do that I wont let up until you confess so you might as well just save us both the time and trouble and tell me what’s the matter with you.”

“She ignored me.
“ “Alright,” I sighed, laying boldly down a safe distant from her. The covers moved with my weight and I suddenly felt drowsy, tired from the day’s exhaustive affairs.

“To my surprise, I felt the bed shift as she came nearer to me, her little, dark fingers on my arm as she actually cuddled next to me, her braids coming down softly on my shoulder. I didn’t dare move, imagining that I might scare her off, and to my shock, I was actually quite uncertain what to do at all, as I had always imagined this experience to have been of my own control, rather than her request.

“ “I’m lonely.” She whispered, sadness hard on her voice as she tried to make it clear. “I miss my people, my family. My everything. It is hard here. Being alone like dis’. When you go, I know I hate you. But I don’t want you to go because I fear you wont come back. And den’ I think that I don’t know what would happen to me if you did not come back. I get scared.”

“ “Faraque,” I said softly, turning a little to face her. “Faraque you never have to worry about that. Don’t fear that possibility and do not fear me. Have I not taken care of you up until now? My death itself would not condemn you to a life of poverty, I’ve seen to it.” I boldly cupped her cheek, moving slightly closer, seeing the tiny pores of her face, the large, flat nose that I adored and the shocking, gaudy green eyes that always captivated me. “And as far as the loneliness goes, you know you always have an alternative to that.”

“She boldly moved in to kiss me, her fatty, full lips upon mine and I could scarcely believe it as we began to touch each other the way that I’d only expected in my filthiest dreams. She rolled over on top of me, her face wet with tears, my hands coming down onto one of her tails, cupping her butt cheeks and lifting her harder against me until we were all but having sex with our clothes on.

“In those moments, I was more fascinated by her than I’d ever been with anyone. I was more horny and more determined than ever to make her scream, my rock hard erection evidence enough. Curiously she touched it through my pants, her hands rough and lacking the characteristic gentleness that most women possess when exploring a man. Her boldness excited me, and she held nothing back as she began to rub her hand up and down the bulge of my shaft, my eyes rolling back as we kissed again and again, just like a dream.

“And like a dream, it was over suddenly and I opened my eyes to see tears streaming down her face and her eyes filled with the same hate I’d seen so many times, I’d barely recognized her without it.

“ “No.” She said, shaking her head. “No, I cant do this.”

“She crawled off of me, walking unsteadily towards the window revealing a million tiny stars in the distance, her arms wrapped around herself.

“ “Why?” I asked her, coming up behind her and touching her shoulders softly. “Why do you hate me so much Faraque? I want to know. Why do you hate me so completely that you cannot even for one moment allow yourself to feel anything other than that?”

“ “But don’t you see fool?” She sobbed into her hand. “Don’t you see it? Are you so blind as you are stupid? I don’t hate you!” She cried for a moment leaving me speechless. “I should hate you but I don’t! I cannot! I want to but……. You make it so hard for me. I hate how I feel bout’ you, but not you as you.”

“And just like that, it was done. I grabbed her around the waist, hauling her to the bed and stripping off her clothes.

“ “If you don’t want this,” I said as I lay naked between her bare thighs, cupping the back of her head as I spoke, “than stop me.”

“But she never stopped me. She never asked me to nor made any commotion about it after that. We had sex over and over again that night and for the two years afterwards. I think you must have noticed how edited this story is. I think you must hate that I don’t really go into much specifics and instead rush through it.
“Tazial, I want you to know something. Know that it’s not out of an overlooking or a sort of down playing that I edit this tale. Its not to say that Faraque didn’t mean that much to me. She did. She does to this day. By God, if only I were one of the lucky people that only loves once. But I’m not. And the reason I make this short is simply this.

“I want to cherish those few memories of Faraque. Or maybe, I want to cherish the man I was when I was with her, for I truly never was that man again. I want to think back with my own memories as simply that. I can’t love her with words and instead, I think I’ll love her with the memories I keep to myself. Maybe its selfishness, but you don’t need to know what she meant to me. You don’t need to feel the sadness and regret that I suffer to this very day when I think back to the course that ran its way through our relationship.

“Faraque became my sanity. I think that’s the perfect word for her. I was never in love with Faraque as I was never in love with Zarbon. But love is an amazing thing. A rather promiscuous thing, whoring itself around to different people as it wishes. I loved Faraque in that I loved myself when I was with her. We could talk about anything. We could have sex in any position I wanted and yet she taught me that sex could be so much more than what I had experienced up until then.

“We could be doing it in the most horrific, painful, dirty little positions and yet it was beautiful in that it was done with respect. Faraque taught me how to kiss a woman and how to make love to her. That’s perhaps the most important thing she taught, and I know how awful that sounds. But she taught me to respect and to attach myself. She was also my undoing in those aspects as time progressed, but I’ll get to that soon enough.

“Let me recall just one more memory, as to commit it to a recording tape, as I don’t know how much longer I’ll remain here. Let me just relive this moment once more out loud, as I lived it then. As I walked into the kitchen of my ridiculously lavish quarters, seeing her wipe the sweat from her brow as she slaved over the stove, making me a fine, foreign meal from her country. I know what this meant to her. I think I’ll always appreciate it.

“God knows it was terrible meal, but then that didn’t matter. She shared a part of herself with me when she put that horrific slab of God-knows-what in front of me, telling me all about its history, where it came from, what spices and herbs she used to season it. I should have listened better but I was caught in the idea of it all. That she shared a part of her past with me. A part of her beautiful memory. A part of her happiness that she’d never know again.

“I touched her arm to silence her, pulling her gracefully down onto my lap and planting a sincere kiss on her mouth. I couldn’t put the feelings into words, just gazing into her eyes and trying so hard to explain what I meant. In a young man’s mind, this was more than I’d ever felt. Infatuation ran its course through my hormonal veins and I was stuck with the impression that I’d never experience this with anyone else. That this was it. That I could NEVER possibly know this feeling again with anyone beside Faraque.

“I love you.” I whispered, my breathing throwing strays hairs out of her face as I held her to me.

“For a second I thought I saw those same tears that had brought me to her in the first place, those same glistening objects that made my heart strings yank almost painfully. But then it was gone and she just smiled, standing up and placing her gloved hands on her hips, spatula included.

“ “Prince Vegeta.” She said scornfully. “You don’ go tellin’ everyone you love them and don’ go thinkin’ that you have to.”

“Seeing that I felt stupid, she placed her hand reassuringly on my shoulder before moving back to the stove.

“ “I can wait.” She smiled nonchalantly, stirring her pot of stew. “My love is patient.”

“Suddenly, her voice turned serious and she stopped her movements, pausing to look at me.

“ “But when you do feel love, if not with me, with someone else, you don’ wait to tell them, you hear?” She said in an authoritive voice. “You tell them as soon as you can and with as much as you can. Because love don’ wait for you to love it back if you take it for granted. Love……” she said in whisper. “Love is everythin’.”

“And I never forgot that she said that. To this day, I remember every word, hearing it in my head even as I tell you. I remembered it just as clearly years later when cowardice and pride nearly cost me Bulma. But that’s not for now is it? That tale lays ahead of us and for now, I’ll simply proceed to the undoing of the short lived happiness that was mine and Faraque’s.

“But who would have thought that my first love was to be the death of my second?”