Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Fixation ❯ Chapter Eighteen ( Chapter 18 )

Disclaimer: I don't own or profit from DBZ.

Warning: Sex. Vegeta is going to at the pinnacle of his asshole self. There will be mention of some of the torture that Bulma went though while with Sincerely Yours.

A/N: I'm sorry it took so long to get this up, but fanfiction dot net wouldn't let me upload for a week and a half.

FIXATION

Chapter Eighteen

After snatching Bulma off the floor, and slamming the door, he passed through the common room and into the bedroom. He ignored the small shaking woman in his arms as he ripped away the heavy velvet curtain. The sky outside was painted orange and red, flickering across Bulma's pale face like battle fire. He opened the balcony doors, breathing in fresh air and flushing the sweet scent of death from his lungs. He cleared the banister in one leap, landing with cat's grace on the lawn three stories below. He strode into the gravity room, listening for the door to seal behind him.

It was sunset and Vegeta had already finished for the day, but he knew that Bulma would feel safest in his old bunk beneath the gravity chamber, especially now that the sanctuary of their rooms had been breached. He placed her on the narrow cot, watching as she curled up like a dying flower. Wordlessly he left her, ascending the industrial metal steps to train above.

Vegeta did not like how Bulma made him feel. Attraction was a reasonable biological response, but the instinct he felt to tend to her state of mind made him sick. The sense of responsibility he felt for her, the desire to make her secure. These things were falsehoods. He was not a reliable man. He was not someone you leaned on in times of crisis. Weakness, any sign of it, either in himself or other's brought out the killer in him. Bulma was weakness incarnate, and he was at a loss to understand why he hadn't put her out of her misery. She was wounded animal, hemorrhaging blood in shark infested waters. His restraint while in her presence could only be interpreted as compassion and that was the most insidious of weaknesses. It wore you down, drew you out, and lowered your defenses. Compassion got you stabbed in the back.

Yet there was a strength to Bulma that he couldn't define. She wasn't physically or even mentally strong, but she had a spirit he had never witnessed. A flame that refused to be stifled. Vegeta had spent a lifetime in the presence of the soulless. Creatures that drifted through life just waiting for the killing blow so they could find a tiny shred of peace. Even Vegeta in his own way was on life support. Only his need for vengeance kept his spirit alive. With that gone he was just as soulless.

Regardless of her fire, staying with Bulma was becoming less of an option. She needed him in a deep primal way that he couldn't fathom. She just didn't need him to protect her; she needed him to be near, to be a part of her life. Vegeta had never been needed before. It made him feel dirty. As if he was living a lie, and for all his sins, Vegeta had always been brutally honest, even when it earned him a beating.

There was one fundamental belief that Vegeta held dear. Need was weakness. The need for food, water, sleep. These things could be stripped from you and the result was a painful death. So it was clear that all needs, except those most necessary should be done away with. Brutally and without remorse. Bulma's need for him was not necessary and it should be eliminated.

The sun was breaking the horizon by the time Vegeta descended to the bowels of the ship. Bulma was curled up on the single wide bunk, her eyes creased tight with sleep. She looked like a small child who was trying to hide by keeping their eyes closed. He passed by her, stripping his clothing as he stepped into the tiny bathroom. He turned on the shower, frowning at the loud groan of the pipes. He stepped under the hot spray, barely feeling the massaging beads, as he leaned his forehead against the cool tile.

He stiffened when he heard Bulma's bare footsteps on the cement floor. She slipped in behind him, wrapping her arms around his wet chest. She laid her cheek between the hollow of his shoulder blades and with every breath she took he could feel her soft breasts brush either side of his spine. His cock became painfully hard at just the sensation of her around him.

“Get the fuck away from me,” he growled fiercely without bothering to shake her off.

Her body flutter around him, like the flight of tiny butterflies, before she grew rigid with stubbornness.

“Vegeta,” she started softly.

“I don't fucking care,” he cut her off. “I don't feel like playing nursemaid. I'm tired of having to be sensitive to your situation, so you had better run away before you get fucked.”

He felt her withdraw, and cold air swept across his naked back. Before he could shiver, she was back, pressing her warm, wet body even tighter to his. Her nails scrapped along his rigid belly, curling across his flesh in an invisible brand.

“I don't need you to be sensitive, Vegeta. I just need you.”

His hand fisted, flexing his muscles up his forearm to his thick bicep and along his back. She turned her face, and nibbled along the ridge of his shoulder blade, while her hand drifted down to wrap around his thick cock.

He twisted in her arms, pinning her up against the wall. Her long legs wound around his waist in instinct as he nestled in close to her heat. He perched one leg on the ledge, so he could balance her on his knee while capturing her hands above her head. She visibly tensed, her lush mouth becoming strained. He smiled at her discomfort, a predatory twisting of his lips designed to frighten her even more.

“What's the matter, Bulma? You don't like being held down?”

“You know I don't.” Her pulse fluttered wildly at her throat, but she made no move to struggle against him. Instead she hung passively in his grasp, trusting him in a way that only served to disgust him. The problem was he wasn't sure who he was more disgusted with, her or himself.

“You shouldn't trust me. And you sure as hell shouldn't need me. You need to make yourself strong. You must rely only on yourself.”

Her lips parted, and he couldn't help but to drop his gaze to her rapidly rising and falling chest. Her breasts were slicked with water, her nipples hard and rosy. She swallowed and cocked her head to the side, drawing his gaze back up to her eyes. They were dark with desire and understanding.

“I'm sorry, Vegeta. I shouldn't have broken down like I did. It's just a minor setback. I'm better now. Stronger. I promise I can be stronger.”

Vegeta's mouth tightened. Keeping her wrists pinned he drew one hand down her arm, sliding with sensual slowness over her water-slicked skin. He cupped his palm over her breast, watching her face carefully as he twisted her nipple. She flinched, and fear fluttered across her porcelain features.

“Strong, huh? How strong do you think you are? Strong enough to fuck? Only this time I'll hold you down, keep you pinned helpless beneath me. How does that sound, Bulma? Are you strong enough yet not to be in control? To be used like he used you?”

Bulma's eyes narrowed, and a fury like he had never seen before hardened her features.

“You have no idea what he did to me, Vegeta,” she spat. With the suddenness of a springing lioness she sunk her teeth into his lower lip. He reared back, but she held on, her thighs tight around his waist. He crashed into the wall, the shower spigot jabbing him painfully in the back. Her hands free she tunneled her fingers into his hair, wrapping the wet thick strands around her fists.

He grabbed her by the hair, yanking her back by her scalp, but he quickly released her, when he felt her hands slide towards his face, her thumbs poised to dig out his eyes. He captured her wrists and thrust her back with more force than he needed. She ripped free, drawing blood with her sharp teeth. She hit the far wall, sliding to the bottom of the tub with a groan. She looked up at him, her blue eyes dark with hate.

“I might not be strong,” she gasped, “but I'll fight until the bloody end. I'll never be a victim again. Do you hear me, asshole?”

He stood over her, his legs spread for balance. He was wiping the blood from his lip when he saw her draw back her foot. He leapt forward before she could kick him in the crotch, reaching down to grab her by the calf and wrist. He hauled her up, spinning around so she was shoved face first into the cold tile. She struggled against him, but he held her prisoner with the length of his body.

“No more,” he ground out. His breath feathered hot by her ear, and his cock thrust hungrily between her thighs. “No more unless you want it,” he whispered.

She stilled her struggles, her breath misting the tile. Anger coiled her body, making her blood boil. Beneath that was the awareness of Vegeta's naked skin pressed along the expanse of her back and buttocks. She felt the bone hard length of him wedged between her thighs, the crown nudging her entrance. That awareness turned the hot anger in her blood into liquid fire.

“Say that I'm strong. That I'm a fighter.”

Vegeta snorted in her ear, and trailed his fingers along her side, brushing the outside of her breast, down her ribs, until they fitted into the hollow of her hipbone.

“You're nothing more than a human.”

Her hands fisted on the tile, and she pushed away with all her might. She barely moved an inch off the wall, and his cock furrowed deeper.

“I'm strong, admit it. I'm not broken!” The desperation in her voice, made him tighten his fingers on her hip. He dipped his face, until his mouth brushed the ridge of her neck and shoulder.

“You're still broken.” Her body grew more rigid with anger, become less and less welcoming to him. He closed his eyes. The instinct to crush the need for him out of her was so strong he could feel it in the pulse behind his eyelids. She needed this vindication from him, and it made him sick. It made him sick, because a part of him that never existed before meeting her wanted to give it. He wanted to make her whole, even if that meant nurturing her need for him.

“But you are getting stronger every day,” he whispered to her, his eyes still closed.

Her body went lax beneath his as all the anger inside her seeped out and down the drain with the water. They stayed like that for some time, her soft and plaint beneath him, while he rested his head against the crook of her neck.

She inhaled and it seemed to fill them both.

“I don't need you to be sensitive, Vegeta. But I do need you. I trust you to be in control. I trust you not to hurt me.” She thrust back into as she spoke, urging him closer.

He gathered her wet hair in his fist, turning her face to the side so he could see her profile. The hand on her hip, slid to the inside of her thigh, so he could open her up further.

“You won't be able to fight me like this.” He nudged the crown of his cock into her narrow channel. He felt her muscles flutter against his intrusion.

“I know.”

She unknotted her hands, and spread her fingers against the tile. She widened her stance, cocking her hips back towards him. It was all the invitation he needed. He surged into her, burying himself to the hilt before withdrawing to plow into her again. She moaned into the wall, lifting herself up on her tiptoes so he could bury himself deeper inside her. His fingers played with her swollen clit, inciting more soft cries from her.

She felt so good, and Vegeta thought for a moment he was on the verge of dying. There was a sense of urgency that strummed in his veins, tightening the skin across his body. This was need in the flesh. He needed to be inside her, fucking her, drowning in her. He needed to hear her cry out, to feel her tightened around him. This was a need that couldn't be purged, and for once he didn't give a flying fuck. All that mattered was coming inside her.

Light starburst behind his closed eyelids, and he heard her cries of release twine with his hoarse growls. She shivered around him, sucking him in deeper with his release. He felt the wall shudder beneath his hand and a small part of his mind warned him to ease up before he broke something other than the tile with his monumental strength.

Slowly awareness gathered around him. He was still deep inside Bulma as they panted as one. The water from the facet had grown icy, and she shivered slightly beneath him. He pulled away, nearly buckling to his knees at the sensation of sliding away from her warmth. He drew her away from the wall, picking her up bridal style, and taking her to the single wide bed where they curled up together to sleep.