Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Lab Monkey ❯ Save Me ( Chapter 22 )

Disclaimer: I don't in any way own DBZ, but I will pull out the claws and fangs in a fight for Vegeta.

 

Thanks to Barb for her beta skills.

 

Chapter Twenty-Two

Save me

 

“Vegeta!”

 

Bulma's shriek traveled down Vegeta's spine, wrapping cold, icy fingers around the base of his tail, and yanked hard on his sensitive nerves.

 

He blew through the doors to the room Bulma was being held, knocking aside two guards.

 

“Vegeta, help me!” The pure panic in her voice cut through his gut like a ki whip. Her pale fingers stuck up from a grate in the floor, frantically searching for any way out.

 

He bent down, thrusting his fingers into the holes to yank the lid free, throwing it against the far wall, unsurprised at the ease he was able to do so. Her strength was nominal compared to his.

 

Bulma shot up from the hole, beetles and maggots cascading down her naked body. She was screaming, her words unintelligible with fear. She was desperately clawing at Vegeta's pant leg, trying to pull herself out of the knee-deep, writhing pool of insects.

 

Vegeta grabbed her by the arms, hauling her up to stand beside him. She gripped the top of his breastplate with fingers frozen with terror. With her other hand she swiped at her hair, shaking the mass violently. The steel floor tinged as the armor-coated beetles hit the ground.

 

“Get `em off! Hurry! Get `em off!”

 

She was slurring she was so panicked, and automatically Vegeta began to brush the bugs from her body, silently thankful that they hadn't bitten her. A small mercy on Zarbon's part. The last man Vegeta had seen pulled out of the hole, nearly died from the infectious bites littering his body.

 

Bulma was looking down shaking her hair when she noticed that the fallen bugs were trying to climb back up her legs. She went from panic-stricken to instant melt down. She screamed at the top of her lungs while trying vainly to climb up Vegeta like he was a piece of furniture.

 

He took a shocked step backward, but she followed relentlessly. She came at him in a whirlwind of panic that left him with no other choice than to pick her up before she toppled them both. He cradled her naked body to his chest, uncomfortable embarrassment staining his cheeks a she sobbed brokenly against his neck. Her wet, hot tears burned his skin like acid they were so full of pain and suffering.

 

The guards he had knocked down had struggled to their feet, and were now framing the doorway, leering at them unabashedly.

 

“She would be a fine piece, if she wasn't so loud,” one guard said while tugging on his ringing ear.

 

“Are you kidding me? That's the best. The harder they cry the better they are,” The second guard grinned at his comrade as he spoke. Neither of them saw the bright balls of ki that tore through their chests dropping them dead on the ground.

 

Bulma was oblivious, too caught up in her personal torment to notice the guards' abrupt demise. Even while in Vegeta's arms she was trying to brush the insects off her skin. He grimaced down at her, tightening his arms around her squirming form. He shrugged his cape until it fell over his arm, draping Bulma in crimson to cover her naked, wiggling body.

 

He sped through the halls, ignoring the press of her naked body as his momentum increased. He became flashes of light, his grim features warning away lesser warrior from what he had claimed as his.

 

He burst into his quarters going directly to the bathroom without stopping.

 

“Fill bath. Shower on,” he commanded the automated services.

 

He tried to put Bulma on her feet, but she refused. Instead she wrapped her body around his, clinging to him as though he was the only form of reason in a storm of insanity. He pried at her fingers around his neck, but she was unyielding to the point that he was afraid of breaking her stiff fingers.

 

Finally he relented, and step into the shower with her in his arms. The warms spray hit them at full blast soaking their clothes to the skin. As soon as she felt the water, Bulma lifted her face, eager to let it stream over her. She lowered her feet, but she kept one fist wrapped around Vegeta's breastplate in a death grip. With the other hand she began to swipe at her hair, working her fingers through the strands.

 

To wash her hair completely she had to let go of Vegeta, but she was too frightened. Even if he were to go into the other room, she was sure that that the evil that crouched in her mind would leap upon her. She did not want to think of the things she had endured, broken twisted things, and the only way to starve them off was to be in Vegeta's presence. The torture at the hands of the green man and his friends had been horrible, but she could handle pain. The insects though, that had been a nightmare.

 

Vegeta wrapped his large hand around her small wrist, not pulling at her arm, but making his intention clear. She looked up at his face, and she knew that she must look horrible. She sniffed, rubbing her face with her free hand, cleaning it as thoroughly as she could.

 

“I'm not going anywhere, Bitchess.”

 

His voice was warmer than the water they stood in. It wrapped around her, soothing all of her aches and pains. The name he used should have infuriated her, and at one time it had, but now it had been turned into an affection. His name for her, his brand. It reassured her as much as his presence did. Now that she was certain that he wouldn't leave, she felt safe enough to release him.

 

Vegeta tore his clothes from his body, seeing no reason for them to get wetter than they were. He opened the shower door to heap them on the bathroom floor it a sopping wet pile. He closed the door, turning back to her.

 

Bulma ignored him for the moment, soaking in his aura of protection while she roughly cleaned her skin with soap. She grabbed the bottle of shampoo, but Vegeta took it from her hand before she could use it. Gently he turned her around so she faced the wall, silently wincing when he saw the burns on her body. It was obvious they had used a ki lash on her body, but she seemed unconcerned with the inevitable pain. All she wanted was for the bugs to be gone.

 

He poured a huge glob of the shampoo in the center of his hand, and then put the bottle down. He smeared it around in his hands, while staring at her pale, delicately curved back. She was shorter than him, coming to his chin, but her legs were long and shapely. Her hips curved into narrow waist, and he followed her spine to her wet, aqua hair that flowed over her shoulders the wet ends clinging to her back.

 

Slowly he soaped the ends of her hair, working his way up to her head. He furrowed his fingers through her thick hair, rubbing against her scalp. She moaned in appreciation, leaning back against his hands in a silent insistence for more. He massaged her head, watching as the trails of soap slid down her back, and over the crest of her ass.

 

She stepped back, pressing her back flat with his chest. Her eyes were closed, her head tilted so she could rub her soapy curls on his chest. Vegeta braced himself against the shower wall, nearly purring at the sensation of her body against his.

 

He felt so good against her, his nearness banishing all the horrors of the world. While they had tortured her she had only thought of Vegeta, her soul lifting from her body to seek him. She had worried that he was being beaten or tortured in the room next to her, once again made to kneel before his lizard master. After spending so much time with him in space, she had finally glimpsed inside of him. As he took her from world to world introducing her to the evils of the universe, to his life, she finally understood.

 

He was a man struggling to survive.

 

His life had been cruelly designed by an unforgiving fate, but he refused to give in and die. Everyday he fought, eliminating the threats that he could while dodging those he could not. He coped with his servitude to an evil master the only way that he could, through destruction.

 

She should be afraid of him, terrified of his very shadow, but she was not. She was no fool to believe that he continued to save her out of the goodness of his heart. He wanted something from her, something that could only be given and not taken.

 

He thought that if he could own her that he would receive what he was looking for. If he cut her off from all that she loved that she would drown in his scintillating aura. That she would be drawn in by the undulating, writhing power that surrounded him.

 

But he was wrong. His strength was not what drew her. It was his weakness. He sought to own her, to consume her, and she willingly gave her life to him. She accepted his possession, gave in to his hunger, not because she was weak or easily swayed, but because she saw a need within him, a weakness.

 

He sought her, because he desperately wanted one thing. He didn't know it, or see it himself. He searched the universe looking for what couldn't be named---finally finding it in her.

 

All he wanted was someone to love him. To never be alone, to have the brush of compassion and mercy in his soul. If voiced he would deny it venomously, not even aware of his own need, but she could see it, deep down, where now one dared to look. She saw and she responded to it.

 

Life with Vegeta was filled with terrible things. Purges, slavery, hunger, torture and pain, she had seen it all, and now she knew. She had asked why he was such a monster and now she knew her answer. Being a monster was the only way to survive in a universe filled with even more terrifying demons.

 

Bulma reached around, anchoring her hands on his hips while bending her knees. Her hair trailed down behind her leaving a path of suds on Vegeta's chest. It felt so good to be there with him, having the hot water pound down on them. She was alive and she wanted to celebrate. She had come through another trauma, and had grown because of it. She was that much closer to him, that much closer to understanding him, and all she wanted now was to feel him inside of her, warm and alive, grinding and thrusting.

 

Vegeta nearly choked when she bent her knees even further, her mass of soapy hair enveloping his hard erection. He had done a lot of things in his lifetime, most of them nasty, but this was different, something more tantalizing, exhilarating, sweeter even. But all he knew was that it definitely felt good.

 

He tangled his fingers into her hair, leaning his head back until it knocked against the cool shower wall. He closed his eyes, willing all thoughts to leave his mind so that only pleasure remained. When she turned her head and her mouth brushed against him he bucked, his tan throat bobbing as he swallowed hard.

 

He couldn't understand this woman before him. She had suffered harshly while in his presence. She had seen the horrors of the universe, but she continued to throw herself at him, accepting him with a smile and glance.

 

He had expected her to run to him when she saw what the universe was really like. To hide in his arms, and give herself to him fully, allow herself to be possessed by him. And she did, but he was not bored with her or annoyed at having a wilting flower at his arm. She had given herself to him, but she did not cower, she did not hide her eyes. She looked at him squarely, unafraid, and bold.

 

She called for him to save her, but she didn't do it because she thought he was the most powerful monster, who would chew and spit out the bones of her enemies. She called to him because she expected him to save her, as if it was her right. Not because she owned him, or that he was so besotted with her that he lost his self, but because she looked at him as a man---an honorable man who was meant to save her. And yet she was a scientist and he a warrior of strong will, neither of them believing in something as intangible as destiny. Something so laughable.

 

He took her into the heart of darkness, and in return she gave him light. Here they stood at the very brink of destruction, on the ship that could very well be their tomb, and she stood beside him fearlessly, daring any to challenge him. She had been tortured by his enemies, but she did not scorn him. She did not lay the blame of her pain at his feet; instead she chose to lather him with adoration.

 

He had sought to own her, to posses her and make her his, but he had made a fatal mistake as he pursued her. He had been confident that he could woo her and leave her, never looking back, but at that moment he realized something profound.

 

He did not own her, they owned each other.

 

He gripped her shoulders, pulling her to her feet. His mouth crashed down on hers fiercely, taking out all his frustration out on her. She kissed him back, meeting him head-on, swallowing his confusion.

 

He lifted her up until her long legs wrapped around his waist. He pinned her against the shower wall, his lips latching on to the side of her throat. He drove into her without remorse, pouring everything that he was into her. She sank around him, taking him in with ease, moaning her pleasure in the back of her throat.

 

“You are mine!” he claimed, pushing the thoughts of her possession over him away. He could not be owned, years of fighting his servitude had taught him that. He refused to believe that this small slip of a girl had more power of him than his most dreaded enemy. He would not believe that she was anything more than a piece of property.

 

She gasped her agreement, straining her body against his, loving every hard thrust. She sank her fingernails into his shoulders, riding the waves of her pleasure. The spasms of her muscles drove him over the edge, and he joined her as the ecstasy washed over them.

 

He kept her pinned, his body firmly wedged in hers, as he panted against his neck. All of his wayward thoughts were shoved away into the dark recesses of his mind. His thoughts could not be cluttered by useless emotions at such a dangerous time. It wouldn't be long before King Cold figured out that the man who defeated Frieza in battle was from Earth. The same planet that he had been held prisoner on, the same one he had failed to conquer almost two years ago. It was a very dangerous time for them both, and he needed all his wits about him to keep them safe.

 

He pulled back to look down at Bulma. Her eyes were half-shuttered, a blissful smile around her lips. He refused to think what it would mean to him if she was killed. Just the thought of her being tortured had been ice water in his veins. He could not be distracted when there was so much at stake.

 

He dropped her legs to the floor, but her arms remained tangled around his neck. He raised his hands to pull her away, ignoring the soft press of her body against his.

 

“Take a bath with me?”

 

Her big blue eyes were now staring up at him, whispers of passion still dancing in their depths. It was on his lips to say no, but the ache inside of him smothered it. He wanted her again and again, but more than that, he wanted her in his arms.

 

He lifted her up, cradling her body against his chest. She smiled, snuggling her nose into the hollow of his throat. The water that he had ordered before entering the shower had filled the tub, steam clouding the air.

 

He nudged her, and she looked up from his shoulder. He smiled wickedly down at her, his eyes dancing with mischief. She returned his smile, more than happy to enter into his game of seduction for pleasure.

 

An hour later, most of the water was pooled on the bathroom floor, while the two lovers lazed inside the half empty tub. Bulma lay on Vegeta's chest, her ear against his heart. She loved the strong, tattoo of his heartbeat. Whenever she felt that he was made of untouchable stone, the strong beat of his heart reassured her that he was indeed alive.

 

Vegeta's fingers were tangled in her long, blue hair that waved down her back in a wet mass. He sighed, his chest expanding and her body lifting out of the water, before settling back down again.

 

“I don't know why I keep saving you,” he muttered discontentedly.

 

Bulma thought for a moment, before lifting her head to look him in the eye.

 

“Because if you don't, there will be no one there to save you when you need it.”

 

Vegeta scowled down at her. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her that he didn't need saving. He was a strong warrior, the Saiyan prince, and he needed no one, but her words struck a chord inside him that he couldn't explain. He held his tongue, biting back the boast, and then the moment was lost.

 

She lowered her head, her ear against his chest, listening to the strong beat of his heart.