Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Lab Monkey ❯ Monkey Love ( Chapter 5 )

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ. I do however have sole dominion over my wicked fantasies.

Chapter Five

Monkey Love

Vegeta thoroughly examined his new home, checking for any weakness in the solid walls, floor and ceiling. It was far superior to the hole he had previously inhabited, but it was still a cage. It was larger, about seven hundred square feet and he had a separate bathroom that shielded him from prying eyes. No longer did he have to relieve himself while everyone watched. There was a bathing stall as well and once he came to the sinking realization that there was no escape from this dungeon, masquerading as a cozy apartment, he indulged himself in a long, soothing shower.

As he sat under the warm spray, he racked his brain, shifting through the foggy memories that skulked about in his mind. He thought he remembered attacking the woman. She had been beside him, poisoning him maybe? He had reached out, wrapping his hands around her throat and squeezed the life from her fragile body. Hadn't he? He shook his head. He couldn't see the memory clearly. The images of his mind blurred together and if asked he wouldn't be able to say if he had killed the woman or fucked her. Or either for that matter.

It was obvious from the pounding in his skull that she had drugged him. He had to applaud her ingenuity. He had been planning his escape to coincide with his move, but she had outsmarted him. She had incapacitated him and now he was well and truly trapped. He bereted himself for not foreseeing that particular tactic. Obviously, she would choose the path of least resistance and taking him out of the equation entirely was the best way to accomplish that. Vegeta was positive that he wouldn't be getting out of this cell anytime soon. She'd have made sure that there would be no reason to move him again in the immediate future.

Vegeta stepped out of the shower, drying his body with a fluffy towel that had been provided for him. He wiped the steam from the mirror, studying his reflection. After only a day away from the life draining force field he looked and felt much better. His skin was returning to a healthy glow and his eyes sparkled with renewed vigor.

She had fixed the anomaly from the previous force field, but much to his consternation, this new one was just as effective at repressing his ki. He couldn't burst through the invisible barrier, nor could he smash the walls of his cell. He braced his hands on either side of the sink, staring into the black drain, hopelessness and despair swirling inside of him. Was he fated to spend the rest of his life a prisoner to a pathetically weak race? A shudder ran down his spine as Frieza's mocking laughter echoed in his pounding head. Resentment festered and bubbled inside of him. The Prince of all Saiyans had been reduced to some female's science project and he had missed his chance to win his liberty because he was distracted by a certain witches' big, blue eyes.

With a dejected sigh he turned to face a built-in armoire and pulled open the doors to peer inside. On the shelves, neatly stacked and folded were several sets of blue and black uniforms. Vegeta cocked an eyebrow and took one out of the closet. No doubt, the woman had replicated his suits in the hopes that he would cease to wear his tattered one. He held it up, rubbing the material between his thumb and forefinger. It was yet another symbol of his enslavement. Even if he were to escape the woman, he was still within the clutches of his master. One way or another he would always be a slave to someone.

His hand fisted in the material and his chin dropped down to his chest. Would he ever be free to seek his own destiny? He had come for the dragon balls for just that purpose, but they had been snatched away from his grasp. Now his ability to chase after them on Namek had been stolen away from him as well. The more Vegeta thought on it, the more he was convinced that the only true liberty was death. In the second after his soul was ripped from his cold body and before he was pulled into the dark depths, he would have one moment of pure, unadulterated freedom.

I just want to be free.

With a shrug of disgust at his worthless, rambling thoughts he dropped the towel on the ground and stepped into the uniform. First things first. He had to escape the woman and then he could deal with Frieza.

He stepped out into the main room, automatically sweeping the lab with his dark eyes. She had yet to make an appearance this day and he wondered if he had hurt her or if it was just a dream. He glared at the scurrying scientist, knowing that he would find no answer with them. They were too afraid to speak to him and he would never directly ask them a question. They were too far beneath him to speak with.

His new accommodations boasted a king size bed and small table that was currently overflowing with food. His warden must have directed the feast to be set on the table while he was unconscious. Her way of abating his anger at her treachery, he was sure. He had no desire to eat any food provided by the woman, but he knew that hunger would compel him sooner or later. He turned away, catching sight of a large overstuffed chair that faced a wall. He looked at this curiously. Built into the wall was another cabinet and when he slid the door away he was greeted by a large black screen. He stared at it a few minutes, uncertain of what it was, before shrugging and walking away.

Now that his health was restored and he was in no danger of having his ki drained, he set about repairing the damage to his muscles. He dropped down onto the floor, relishing the feel of strength that flowed through him as he worked his body. In front of the stunned scientist's eyes he began his impossible regime of exercise and much to the other male's distaste Vegeta collected an audience of females that watched wide eyed as his muscles bulged while he performed an endless string of pushups.

The day wore on and still Bulma did not appear in the lab. He thought for sure she would have checked up on how he was fairing in his new cell. It was in her nature to preen at her accomplishments. Eventually, the scientists left, leaving Vegeta alone once again. He trained throughout the night, never once slowing his punishing pace. It was better to fall into exhaustion then to surrender to the perilous abyss of sleep, the one place that Vegeta had no control of his mind's wanderings.

The next morning he walked into the bathroom and stopped dead. There was no towel on the floor and a fresh one was on the rack in its place. He knew that he hadn't cleaned the mess up himself and no one could have entered the cell without him knowing it. He quickly examined the walls again, looking for a hidden door, but there was nothing but smooth metal.

He scowled fiercely and promised himself that he would stay alert and wait for any opportunity. If someone got in, then there had to be a way out. He allowed a small glimmer of hope to take root in his mind. Perhaps the woman wasn't as infallible as she would like to think. He washed up, completing his business before striding out into the main room only to be brought up short again. Yesterday's meal had been removed from the table and breakfast was waiting for him. He quickly looked around, again finding no explanation for this new development.

He walked over to the table and looked down at the feast set out before him. He was a little hesitant to eat food given to him by the witch, but a growling in his stomach reminded him that he had little choice in the matter. With a fatalistic shrug he sat down at the table and began to stow away mounds of food in his bottomless stomach, his tail wagging happily behind him. He had been worried when he lost his appetite, but it was back stronger than ever. Once he was done, he started his exercises again, silently waiting for the woman.

Bulma entered the lab later that afternoon. She weaved her way through the desks, stopping here and there to reassure her employees that she was healthy. As soon as she had entered, Vegeta ceased his workout, watching the woman with the intensity of a predator. He looked closely for any injuries, but she seemed to be unhurt. She was dressed in a dark blue business suit with her lab jacket draped over her like usual. In fact, the only thing that seemed to be out of place was the white silk scarf that was wound around her neck, the ends tucked into her blazer.

Vegeta's eyes narrowed when he saw this. The hazy memory that swirled in his mind sharpened and his fingers flexed menacingly. Had he held the woman's life in his grasp? Had she been pinned under him? Had he failed to kill her like he longed to?

As she neared he noticed that she didn't look directly at him, stopping several paces away from the field. She glanced around his room, making sure everything was in place. She fidgeted nervously under his hard gaze for a moment, before regaining her normally cool composure.

"So do you like your new home?" Bulma's voice was raspy, her usually dulcet tones, deeper and huskier. Vegeta cocked his head subtly to the side, his black eyes scanning her once again, before latching on the silk scarf. That scrap of material disturbed him, making him unreasonably angry, as though it had insulted him somehow.

"It will do until I get out." He responded neutrally, watching as the corner of her lips quirked in response. Her red lips drew him. There was something important that he should remember. Something about her mouth, the sweet curve of her ruby lips. Vegeta shook his head, noting that she still wasn't looking at him. Instead, she was staring at the floor just to his left.

"I don't think that will be anytime soon, Vegeta." Her long fingers, tugged at her scarf, rearranging it more comfortably on her neck, before trailing around to play with the small hairs of her nape. Vegeta felt resentment boil inside of him inexplicably at her actions. Why was she wearing that ridicules piece of clothing? He hated it. It disgusted him, but why?

"Take it off." His velvet voice feathered over her, caressing her with heated octaves. Her eyes darted up, locking with his in surprise. The moment their eyes met, the oxygen in the room ceased to exist and she had to fight for breath. He stood before her, bare to the waist, his muscles glistening in the soft glow of the overhead light. She could see the sheen of sweat coating him, polishing him like a bronze statue. A god of chaos, posing just for her.

"What?" Her injured voice was barely a whisper. Memories began to flood Vegeta. He saw her beneath him, shaking with fear, tears streaming down into her teal hair that fanned around her. He held her down but the neck, her fragile life held brutally in his battle scarred hands. If he had her, how had she escaped?

"Take off the scarf." He had to see the proof. He had to see what she was hiding from him. What she was hiding from the world.

Bulma was drowning in the black intensity of his gaze. The world beyond them ceased to exist and all she could do was stare at the man who was her own personal demon. He was a shadow in her soul. Why did she respond to him at moments like these? Why did she feel the urge to obey him? What was wrong with her? She was a strong, independent woman. Why was she drawn to this wicked man? He was nothing but bad for her. Sinful, like chocolate, arousing in his perversity, animalistic, raw and untamed. He cast a black magic spell that twisted her to his will.

A temptation of the flesh.

"No." Her hand clutched her throat reflexively. He would have killed her. He still might kill her if he ever got free from his cage. Evil was just that, evil.

He moved closer, his sleek muscles rippling hypnotically. Her heart raced and her lungs labored as they stood inches apart. The invisible shield separated them, keeping her safe from him. From herself.

"Do it." His voice wove its way around her, urging her to give in to her desires. The need to see her bare neck was building inside of him like an obsession. It had become the doorway to his hazy memories, the path that he refused to see on his own.

Bulma's mouth hardened into a bitter line, her eyes freezing with scorn. If he wanted to see the damage that he had done, so be it. Let him see that she had survived his attack. Let him see that he had failed, she was still here and she wasn't leaving anytime soon. He was still at her mercy. Her prisoner. She had the power, not him.

She unwrapped her neck, baring her hideous bruises to his unwavering gaze. The sight of the obscene marks on her neck had shocked her this morning when she had peered in the mirror. Yesterday, true to her promise she had slept the entire day away, catching up on much needed rest. The trauma on her neck had two days to darken and bloom into the mottled mass that was now ringing her throat like a choker of black rosettes.

As her wounds were reveled to Vegeta he showed no visible reaction on his impassive face. An observant person may have noticed how his tail tightened around his waist in response, but his eyes gave nothing away. Inside of Vegeta, emotions warred for supremacy.

He was enraged. He had been so close. All he had to do was twist his wrist to the side, snapping her neck and his tormentor would have finally been dead. The only creature on this piece of shit mud ball that was smart enough to keep him trapped. With her out of the way, he could easily escape. Unless of course, her death solicited rage among her employees and they murdered him in his sleep as punishment. But still, he would have had the satisfaction of having her dead.

Wouldn't he?

His eyes flicked up to her lips, the path to his darken memories illuminating with every passing second. He had lifted her off the ground. He had held her in his arms, his tail wrapping around her slender waist. His lips had descended towards hers.

His wide eyes shot up to lock with hers once again. Instead of killing her, he had tried to kiss her. The second emotion, battling with his anger roared inside of him.

Desire.

As much as he wanted to see her dead, another part of him raged against it. Before he saw her lying broken on the floor he wanted to taste her. He wanted her wrapped around him, under him, whimpering in submission. He wanted to own her before he rid himself of her. He wanted to punish her for her sins. He wanted to tear apart the image of goodness that she presented to the world and taint her with his wickedness. He wanted her to scream before she gasped her last.

Bulma watched the hateful, glittering lust that sparkled in Vegeta's eyes. She wrapped her small hand around her neck, shielding her bruises from him, protecting herself. White hot fury seethed in her chest. Who was he to look at her with such possessiveness? He was hers, not the other way around. She owned his monkey ass and he had better get used to it. Her upper lip curled back into a sneer, her icy eyes narrowing in challenge to his unspoken dominance.

Vegeta saw the defiance flashing in her eyes and he growled deeply, his chest rumbling in response. His tail curled longing behind him, aching to wind itself around her again, to feel her fragile body in his grasp.

They stood there, locked in a silent battle for an eternity. Neither hearing the swish of the lab doors or the chattering of voices, but both heard the high pitched squeal that erupted behind them. Bulma whirled around, hastily wrapping the scarf around her neck while Vegeta glared over her shoulder, his stomach sinking at the sight. In the center of the room stood a blond-haired woman dressed in a profusion of pink frills and bows, while expertly balancing a plate of cookies in one hand and a jug of milk in the other. Vegeta noted with some concern that many of Bulma's employees slouched down and tried unsuccessfully to escape before being sighted by the harpy.

"Now. Now. Don't run off. I brought enough home-made cookies and milk for all of Bulma's little friends." The woman chirped and those who had scurried for the exit, turned dejectedly to face her. They accepted their fate gracelessly, but they couldn't help but to eye the platter hungrily.

"Umm Mama, I thought I told you not to come to my work and disturb me."

"Mama? No wonder you are a walking disaster. You were whelped by the two most idiotic beings on this world." Vegeta snorted in distaste.

Bulma whirled on Vegeta, anger shooting from her eyes. "My father is not an idiot." She hissed vehemently. Vegeta cocked an eye at her and Bulma's face flushed red when she realized that she excluded her mother in her heated defense. Mrs. Briefs squeaked happily, placing the platter and milk down on a nearby desk and darted towards her daughter, much to the scientist's relief. Once she had moved out of range they fell on the food like ravenous dogs. Mrs. Briefs was many things, an excellent cook being one of them.

"Oh is this the nice young man you have been spending so much time with? He's so handsome." She gave her daughter conspiring nudge, unleashing a sparkling smile of welcome at Vegeta. He was momentarily dumbstruck. He didn't know what to do. Perhaps she didn't know that he was the most wanted killer in the universe. He returned her smile with his own predatory snarl, flashing his fangs in a menacing manner that was sure to turn her blood cold. Instead he was greeted with an empty-headed giggle as Mrs. Briefs pretended to swoon on Bulma's arm.

"Oh he's so rugged. And those muscles! There just so big!" Her blue eyes roved down his hard body, finally stopping at the apex of his thighs. "I wonder if he's big, everywhere." Bulma choked and stood frozen in shock as her mother moved forward towards the dangerous man. Vegeta had met many races in his life, but he had never seen anything quite like the woman's mother. As she started to move near him, he took a step back. Some may have called it fear, but he would have referred to it as self preservation. The female was obviously off her rocker. His observation was proven correct when she walked smack into the force field, rebounding off and blinking owlishly at the invisible wall.

He scoffed scornfully and Bulma quickly gathered her mother, dragging her back to the center of the room and thankfully away from him. She stopped at her desk, pulling out a small black device, pointing it towards him. Vegeta growled in warning and tried to power up, thinking she meant to harm him in some way, but she ignored his movements concentrating on the cabinet behind him instead. The doors slid open, reveling the black screen that blinked to life, startling him momentarily.

"…the Japanese Macaque is the only primate to live in the northern most regions of Japan." A distant voice from the television echoed in the tension filled room.

"Here, watch some TV, Vegeta and be a good boy." She tossed the remote back down on her desk, turning back to her mother with a thunderous scowl.

"Mom, stay away from him. He's dangerous." Bulma snapped.

"Oh, but he looks like such a nice, upstanding, boy. I can see why you haven't come to dinner the last couple of weeks. I bet he just wears you out." Mrs. Briefs giggled horrendously and several people shivered. Bulma's face darkened from crimson to purple at her mother's words and she darted a narrowed glare at the man in question. He was lounging against the doorframe, looking every inch the bedroom Casanova her mother was making him out to be. Stamina was probably his middle name.

"…the troop is lead by a dominate, alpha male, who is strong enough to defend the unit."

Bulma rolled her eyes and returned her attention to her mother. "It's not like that mom. He's a prisoner here. He's a very bad man."

Mrs. Briefs looked at her daughter, her vacant expression fading away. "Bad men often make the best lovers and if you can tame them they make the most loyal of husbands."

Bulma blinked at her mother. She couldn't have been more stunned if her mother started rattling off the periodic table to her. The thought of her being married to Vegeta was absurd. It was inconceivable. Ludicrous. An absolute impossibility.

"You know mom, I think about other things besides getting married. If I wanted a husband I would have wed Yamcha ages ago. I'm just not ready to settle down yet and don't get any ideas about Vegeta either. An ogre would make a better son-in-law than him." She rolled her eyes, turning away from her mother in disgust and began rooting around in her drawer for some aspirin.

"…the female of the species is notoriously promiscuous. She may choose to mate with several different males in the same season then proceed to ignore those males for years to come." Vegeta turned slightly to watch the brown monkeys scamper around on the big screen, while eying the two females who continued to argue.

"Oh honey, you know you aren't going to be young forever. Someday the fruit is going to fall off the vine, if you know what I mean." Twittered, Bulma's mother.

"No, I'm not sure that I do." Bulma muttered.

"Marriage is nothing to run away from. After you're married, you can still enjoy a healthy sex life. Just look and me and your father. We still get wet and wild at least four nights a week." Mrs. Briefs fluffed her hair, while checking her lipstick in the small compact she had produced out of seemingly thin air. Bulma stared at her in shock, while Vegeta's lip curled in disgust. The last thing he wanted to imagine was this woman and that lavender haired freak getting it on.

"That's vile. Take your offensive talk elsewhere, you half-witted females." Vegeta sneered vindictively.

Apparently, Bulma felt the same way, because she slapped her head to her forehead and began to groan. "Mom." She wailed. "Why don't you go visit dad or something?"

"Now, now, don't get so melodramatic dear. The only reason you and the young man fight so much is because you have some pent up frustration. I say you take some time to release it."

"…during mating season the male primate will become increasing aggressive while in the female's proximity."

Bulma snatched her mother up by the arm and marched her out the door. "Now honey, all I'm saying is you need to have a nice, hard…" Vegeta didn't hear the rest of the bubble-headed woman's words as the door shut behind the two females. He let out a sigh of relief and turned back to the perplexing program on the television.

"…the females nurture the infants while the males stay close guard the females and protect the young offspring."

Vegeta shook his head and turned away from the family displayed on the television, choosing instead to continue his training.