Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Fixation ❯ Chapter Fourteen ( Chapter 14 )

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

Disclaimer:  I don’t own or profit from Dragon Ball Z.
Warning:  Offensive language and sexual situations.
Chapter Fourteen
Bulma followed Vegeta into the room they now shared by wordless agreement.  The closer she was to him the more secure she felt, so regardless of how much he fought, she ended up next to him in bed every night and curled around him every morning.  Their early morning make out sessions were growing steamier and she was awed at the sheer amount of control he exhibited while she explored his body at her leisure.  The control he allowed her over his body, lent her a sense of empowerment in her own day to day life.  Her nerves were steadier, her fears nearly abated.  She even conceded to allow servants into their quarters to clean and cook for them, whereas before she could barely breathe for fear someone would sneak in.  Of course, those servants were all female, by Vegeta’s demand.  Since Max’s mistake, no male was to set foot in his liar without his express permission.  Even the arrival of the morbid package hadn’t affected her the same as it would have weeks ago.  Her initial upset had been a setback, but it was also a doorway.  A portal into the past she would rather not remember, but survival instinct bade to her to do so anyways.  She needed to know her enemy if she wished to defeat him.

Vegeta’s argument that she needed to face her own demons was sound, but implausible to her.  She needed to remember the details so she could help the police to find the man who was killing innocent women.  She certainly was no match for the monster one on one.  She had no reason to be.  She had Vegeta to protect her.  That was the core concept of their uneasy alliance.  She stayed close, and he wiped anyone who was a threat from the face of the Earth.  This crusade he had suddenly taken up to show her how to defend herself was ludicrous.  He showed her how to make a fist, and she knotted her hand beneath his, examining the texture of his palm wrapped around her knuckles, not the technique of throwing a punch.  He showed her how to stand, swiveling her hips with his hands at her waist.  She planted her heels just so she could feel the warmth of his body behind her.  He attempted to train her, and she basked in his presence.  

The man who murdered her was a monster, and she was no match for him, no matter how many drop kicks Vegeta attempted to teach her.

As Vegeta ducked into her huge walked in closet, she tugged on the underlining of her bright pink sports bra, waiting impatiently.  He dragged out a white metal trunk decorated with gold symbols, the only thing that he had brought back with him from space.  She stood on her tiptoes trying to see over his hunched shoulders, catching a glimpse of some shiny blue material before he slammed the lid closed.

He turned towards her and she stepped back, trying awkwardly to wipe the curiosity from her face.  In his fist he held a pair of black satin elbow length gloves.  Bulma cocked an eyebrow in mock concern.  He ignored it and took her by the hand.

“These are training gloves,” he explained as he fitted one over her hand.  “They are given to young Saiyans who have trouble controlling their ki.”  He smoothed the elastic material from her wrist to elbow with one sweep of his palm.  She shuddered at the electric sensation of his touch.  “The conductive material of the glove draws a person’s ki from their body to these sensors fitted over your knuckles.”

Lined over her knuckles were black discs.  They looked like plastic, but when she flexed her hand they flexed with her.  She examined them closely while Vegeta drew on her other glove.

“When your hand is fisted, the ki is charged at your knuckles so when you strike your target they feel the full impact of your power.”

Bulma chuckled, and Vegeta paused.  She looked up from the gloves into his dark, expressionless eyes.  Instantly she felt contrite.


“It’s just--I have no ki,” she explained.
“Are you dead?”  Vegeta finished tugging on her glove and she winced at the harshness of his tone.

“What?”

“Are you dead?  You certainly act like it the way you’ve entombed yourself in these rooms.  Has that madman won?  Has he murdered you yet again?”

Bulma stared up at him aghast, her blue eyes rounded in shock.  Vegeta dropped her hand and roughly grabbed her by the shoulders to yank her closer.  He dipped his head so they were nose to nose, eye to eye.

“Everything has ki.  Plants, animals, hell even rocks.  Ki is life.  It courses through the universe.  It connects us to everything in life, and mourns for us in death.”

They stared at each other in silence, Bulma’s skin tingling where they touched.  She wanted to melt into him, to touch him, but he continued to refuse her, walking away each morning after a few exchanged kisses.  He wanted her.  She could see it past the coldness of his eyes to the smoldering heat underneath, and every day she wanted him more and more.  She wanted to taste more than just his kisses.  She wanted the safety and protection of his arms around her.  She wanted to be as close to him as humanly possible and maybe just a fraction more if she could somehow manage it.

“That was beautiful, Vegeta.”

He dropped her like she was rabid, turning away to face the closet.  She shifted forward, placing her hand over the smooth skin of his naked back.  She was shocked and pleased at the sight of the black satin against his bronze color.  She wanted to draw her hand all the way down the line of his spine to the waistband of his training shorts.  She wanted him to turn around and hold her again.

“No, really.  That was very poetic.”

He cocked his head so he could glance at her from over his shoulder, his disgust barely veiled under his dark lashes.

“The point, woman, is that you have ki.  And you can use it against your enemy.”

Bulma dropped her hand, frustrated.  She spun away, skimming over the plush carpet with bare feet and plopping down on the huge king sized bed they shared.

“I don’t know why you keep insisting on this Vegeta.  I’m not a fighter.  I could never defeat him.”

Vegeta stalked over to her.  He leaned down, placing his hands on the bed on either side of her hips.  Instinctively she leaned back on her elbows, her eyes caught in his hypnotic gaze.

“The level of skill each of you have doesn’t matter, because this won’t be a fair fight.”

“Clearly, something that monster has already proven the first time he killed me.”

“He will never lay a hand on you again.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I will be there.”  His words were a growl, and the usually banked fire in his eyes flamed to life.

Her pink lips parted as she stared up at him.  “Vegeta,” she whispered.  She shifted her weight to one elbow so she could place a delicate hand on his shoulder.  His dropped his eyes for a fraction of a second, and when they shifted back to hers, the fire was gone, replaced with the coldness of death.

He snatched her wrist and pulled her off the bed so she was standing in front of him.  Roughly he positioned her into a fighting stance.

“Hit me,” he demanded harshly.

“What? No.” She balked, wide-eyed.

“Hit me.”

“No!  This is ridiculous, Vegeta,” she shouted.  She flung up her hands and tried to move away but he restrained her.  “This is not going to help me.  What is it that you want?  Do you want me to beat him to death with my bare hands?  What kind of monster do you think I am?”

“Hit me and find out, Bulma,” he shouted right back, making her flinch.  “Hit me, you lazy, worthless bitch or lie down and die where you stand.  Maybe he was right to murder you.  You don’t deserve to live.”

“Fuck you, you fucking prick!”

Bulma balled up her fist like he had taught her and struck him square in the chest.  Something close to electricity arced down her arm, making the tiny hair on her body stand on end.  She felt it shoot from her knuckles and sizzle on contact with Vegeta.  She paused, but Vegeta was relentless.

“Hit me again,” he shouted into her face, shoving her back with one hand.  She staggered, her blue eyes wild.  She swung again, harder this time.  The electricity danced down her arm with the force of the blow.  Her entire body felt like a live wire.  She could hear the harsh panting of her breath in her ears, and her vision contracted until all she saw was the target in front of her.  She kept swinging as hard as she could.  Vegeta moved with her, giving her the room she needed to connect with him without coming up too short and damaging her wrists.

Before she knew it they were in the living room.  Sweat was pouring off her, and she could feel the tips of her hair, stick to her back with every move.  Vegeta was standing at the arm of the couch, and Bulma was squared off with him.  She paused, panting hard.  She drew back her hand, and in her fist she could feel the ki fighting to be released.  She stared at the man in front of her, but she didn’t see Vegeta.   She saw a demon.  All the anger in her murdered soul roared to life in a wordless scream of rage.

“This will save you,” Vegeta breathed.

The meaty thunk of her fist on his naked chest echoed in the room.  To protect her from injury he feinted backwards, tumbling over the arm of the couch.  Prone on his back he stared up at her.  She stared back, her chest heaving under her tight bra.

“I am not dead, Vegeta.”  She crouched down, her eyes slanted like a predatory animal’s.  Slowly she crawled over him, until she was seated on his lap, her hands planted on his shoulders to keep him down.  “I want to feel alive again.  Can you help with that?”  She leaned in close, her lips hovering over his.  “Can you help me to feel?”  She slanted her mouth over his, her tongue boldly darting inside to taste him.

He groaned and wrapped his arms around her shoulders to pull her in, but she shook him off, biting his lower lip sharply.  He yelped and reared up, rolling them off the couch onto the floor next to the heavy coffee table.  Bulma landed on the plush carpeting, with Vegeta looming over her.  Her eyes narrowed even more, her upper lip stretching over white teeth in a snarl.  She struggled beneath him.  Vegeta growled and had to fight down his natural instinct to subdue and dominate her.  Instead he drew back, and with one hand he flipped the hardwood coffee table across the room, clearing a space for them on the floor.  With a sneer of protest he rolled them over, lifting her over him.  

She settled on his chest as if she was always meant to be there.  She sat back like a queen on her dais, gazing down at him.  His skin was a mess of red splotches where her ki had burned him, and in a moment of pity she leaned forward to swipe a long path with her tongue across the salty expanse of his chest, stopping to nip at his hardened nipple.  He raised his hands to plunge into her hair, but she reared out of reach.  Lightning fast her fist darted out, striking him in the chest, jolting Vegeta beneath her.

Vegeta’s eyes widened in shock before narrowing in anger.  Bulma expression melted into a look of contriteness, but something dark sparkled behind her blue eyes.  With delicate grace she leaned forward to lather his abused flesh with open mouth kisses, her eyes still locked with his even as her hair fell down around her face.  Vegeta watched her, his hands carefully fisted at his sides.  Slowly she worked her way down, tenderly tending to his wounds with her lips and tongue, until she reached the line were his rigid abs disappeared beneath the hem of his shorts.
 
Her blue eyes turned feral again, as she tugged them down his hips.  With hands still encased in satin she ran her palms up his thighs to his hard, jutting flesh.  She wrapped her small hand around his cock, sliding up and down.  As the engorged crown emerged from her fist, she leaned over and flicked it with the tip of her tongue.  Vegeta groaned and bucked against her in demand.  Perturbed, Bulma squeezed her hand around him, and grazed her teeth over the reddened tip.  He stilled, his dark eyes watching her carefully.

Satisfied he was chastised, Bulma allowed her hand to loosen and fall lower.  She slid the tip of him past her lips into her mouth where she rolled him around with her tongue.  She played with him there, like a cat with a velvet mouse, until sweat shone on Vegeta’s skin and agony creased his brow.  She crawled up his body, watching his eyes as she shed her sports bra, shorts and panties.

Her breasts brushed over his chest, her ivory paleness contrasting sharply with the reddened bronze of his skin.  He felt hot and tight, so completely unyielding to her softness, yet he laid prone beneath her, restrained only by her desire for him to be so, and his sheer force of will.  Once her entire body was blanketed over his, she hovered her lips over his.

“Will you save me, Vegeta?”

She stared into his eyes, searching for a response, only seeing fire and damnation.  He didn’t reply, and she sighed against his mouth, before sinking into him for a kiss.  His cock jumped between her thighs, seeking her wetness.  She shifted forward, so his tip was pressed against her opening.  She rocked back, taking him inside her, while their mouths were still locked together.
She felt his hand slid along the curve of her ass, his fingers tracing the underside of her cheek.  She stopped rocking, lifting her mouth from his to look him in the eye.

“If you can’t find the words to answer me, then you’ll have to suffer for it, Prince Vegeta.”

She sat back, once again a queen on her dais.  He was lodged firmly inside her, a prisoner to her whims.  She closed her eyes, and threw back her head.  She rode him hard, feeling nothing but the pleasure she wrought from him.  In him she drowned all her fear and insecurity, until all that was left was the overwhelming anger.

She felt Vegeta jolt beneath her.  Heard his pained, pleasured cries.  She allowed his hands on her thighs, as he kept her atop of him during her wild ride.  She felt her knuckles impact on his chest over and over.  Revealed in the dance of electricity over her skin.  Felt it skitter over her belly, around her breasts to the tips of her nipples.

She fucked him.  She beat him.  She drowned in him.  She overcame him.

“Harder,” he growled, and she slammed her fist down as she came over his cock.

She exploded into a ball of blue electricity and coalesced into a white cloud.  The cloud was clean and free and unencumbered with anger.  Bulma felt saved, as she collapsed onto Vegeta’s panting chest, and when he wrapped his arms around her she didn’t struggle.  She sank deeper into him.

She was limp and sated as he rolled her over, his body half covering hers.  She was cradled in his arms, as he rocked gently inside her, keeping her in a lulled state of contentment.  Lazily she opened her eyes to stare into Vegeta’s.  She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer until she was completely beneath him.  He pressed his lips against hers in a gentle closed mouth kiss, before withdrawing a fraction.

“I can and I will save you, Bulma,” he whispered against her lips so quietly it could have been the wind.

She smiled and swallowed the words with a kiss.
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