Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Lab Monkey ❯ Love Me Darkly ( Chapter 29 )

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ…yet.

 

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Love Me Darkly

 

Bulma stared listlessly at the video screen, watching as King Cold's flagship receded in the distance. It was ugly, a blight on the spacescape, a scar in the universe. The shine of sharp steel was out of place in the velvety darkness, almost if it was punching through the fabric of space, tearing the cloth of time.

 

Next to her, Vegeta stood stonily, glaring at the ship that had been his prison. He hadn't looked at her once during their hasty exodus from the burning ship. It had been total chaos around them; soldiers racing through the halls, panicked shouting and pain-filled screaming echoing down the corridors. Gray smoke from electrical fires billowed in the air, searing her lungs, and making her red-rimmed eyes stream black tears. Vegeta ignored it all, striding down the hall towards their ship with single-minded intensity, pulling her along behind him like a useless afterthought.

 

Now he was motionless, his silence a miasma in the room, choking her with barely restrained anger. He bristled with hostility, fury bubbling just beneath the thin layer of his skin, bloating his entire body until it seemed like he would erupt. One misstep on her part would catapult him into a frenzy of rage directed solely at her. She suffered the knowledge with serene acceptance, unable to find the strength to fight. She felt drained, absolutely empty…soulless.

 

Vegeta slid his eyes to the side, glancing at Bulma through the veil of his thick lashes. His hands were fisted at his thighs, and he dared not move for fear that he would beat her to death. He analyzed how he felt about that, prodding it like a barely healed wound. What would it be like to crush the life from her frail body? He wondered if the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach was from the thought of killing her or the realization that it would be the last time he would feel her soft curves beneath him.

 

She shifted, just a fraction, nothing more, but he saw it, felt it under his skin. He reacted before he thought, reaching for her before he could stop himself.

 

A bright flash of light illuminated the control room, throwing long shadows behind them from the sharp thrust of their bodies. Bulma drew up her arm to protect her eyes, while Vegeta blinked in confusion. An obscene puppet show of malice burned into the wall behind them, memorializing their pain for a brief moment, before vanishing with the bright light.

 

A nova ring of blue and white light expanded in the darkness of space, reaching for territory to crush beneath its weight, before retracting abruptly like a dog on a chain, pulling edges of blackness in its wake. It receded to the center of the blast, collapsing in on its self. A pin prick of light sparkled for an instant before disappearing into nothing. In its place shards of debris littered the area, the only remaining evidence of King Cold's ship.

 

Proximity alarms erupted around the room, warning of an imminent collision. Bulma's shock shattered under the onslaught, goading her into action. She leapt to the console, accessing her short range scanners, the sensors telling her what her naked eyes could not see. She hissed as streams of data flowed across the screen, the muted green numbers seemingly blurring together.

 

“What?” Vegeta snarled expecting an instantaneous answer.

 

“We are about to get hit by a concussion wave from the explosion. In three, two…”

 

The force of the blast rocked the ship, knocking Bulma off her feet. Instinctively, Vegeta reached out, wrapping a strong arm around her waist and pulling her into his chest. He spread his legs, balancing himself easily on the deck. The wave ebbed, leaving them mostly undamaged. The ringing of the sirens faded, abandoning them to their stunned silence.

 

Vegeta had a fair idea of what had just happened. He had spent enough time on Earth to know what a nuclear bomb was and what kind of explosion it could produce. Belatedly, he remembered the silver case Bulma had been fiddling with, the one she had hid before murdering Zarbon.

 

His brain could barely register the last few minutes. He didn't know how to make sense of it all. The woman who he held in his arms, whose soft body was cradled against his hard one had always been the voice of morality in his head. He couldn't begin to remember his life before her soft dulcet tones, preaching a better way of life rang inside his mind, lighting the darkness of his thoughts. How is it that she came to this?

 

He had caused this.

 

She had just killed hundreds, obliterating them into nothingness. All that blood on her hands, just to save him. He wasn't fool enough to believe that she had gone through such extremes to rescue herself. If it had only been her life on the line, she would have knelt down, head held high while the knife slid across her neck. But because of her feelings for him, because of the way of life that he had shown her, she had done the unthinkable, the unbelievable. She had turned her back on the very core of her beliefs, and found the courage to save them both when they needed it the most.

 

He squeezed his eyes closed briefly, unable to think about what her actions meant. How they affected him, and the responsibility she now set squarely on his shoulders. Vegeta pushed away the sharp stab of guilt; instead ruthlessly centering his thoughts on the one thing he could fathom…her betrayal.

 

He had to know if she was defiled. If Zarbon had slipped his dick between the legs of his woman, and tasted the paradise that should only belong to him. He couldn't trust the slippery-sweet, honey-coated words that dripped from her mouth. There was only one way to know for sure.

 

He pried her away from his body, spinning her around to face him. Her eyes were dead, unfazed by his anger. Her lack of response fed his fury, igniting his errant passions. Relentlessly he reached out, clasping his hands around the collar of her sweater, rending it from her body in two pieces. A glint of crimson drew his eyes to her throat, bringing to mind the color of blood, and the many people he had killed over the years. The reminder of his history encircled her neck like the bonds inevitability…the bond of family.

 

He growled loudly in anger, unreasonably furious that she still wore his arm cuff, but loathed to snatch it from her. Bulma gasped, her eyes dancing with shock, certain that he had finally lost his regimented control. Vegeta's lips curled at the corners with a vindictive grin, dangerously pleased at her show of emotion.

 

Without waiting for her expected protests he reached for her fly, ripping the laces and roughly pulling her pants down her long legs. As he bent over, she steadied herself with a hand at his shoulder, her fingers curling with longing at the hard muscle she felt beneath.

 

Something deep inside, some almost forgotten remnant of herself, wanted to fight back, to screech her indignation at his treatment of her, but she contained herself, unable to quell the guilty voice echoing in her mind that told her that she deserved so much more in punishment. That she should die for the sins she had committed that night.

 

Vegeta ripped the rest of her clothes from her body, eyeing her callously in the dim light. Bulma shifted self-consciously, fighting the urge to cover herself. His scowl darkened, and wordlessly he grabbed her up by the thighs, spilling her back onto the control panel. She hissed in pain as the knobs and switches jabbed into her soft flesh of her buttocks and shoulders, but thoughts of discomfort quickly receded as Vegeta forced her legs open, stepping in-between her thighs.

 

Her blue eyes widened, flying up to collide with his ruthless gaze. There was no hint of passion on his cold face, only a sneer of anger on his lips. He leaned over her, and instinctively she raised her hands in defense, pressing her palms against the width of his chest. Her strength was nothing compared to his and he easily pushed passed her defenses, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

 

“No, please, Vegeta,” she begged, certain that he was going to rape her this time. That her pleas would go unheard, and that he would violate and kill her.

 

Vegeta inhaled deeply, expanding his shoulders over her, brushing his shirted chest against her naked one. She grabbed his hair, yanking as hard as she could, trying to lift his face so she could see into his eyes. He growled, and gripped the underside of her arms at her elbows, his fingers digging deeply into her flesh, and forced them beside her head. He shifted, drifting down so his nose skimmed her arm to the underside of her breast. He inhaled again, burying his face into the softness of her breast.

 

“What are you…” she protested, stilling her struggles. His actions didn't seem sexual, but that didn't stop the traitorous urges in her body. Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment, soaking up the warmth of his hands on her skin, the heaviness of his body covering hers. It felt so right to be in his arms again, even if it did mean her death.

 

He let go of her arms, sinking down to crouch on the floor before her. He tossed her long legs up onto his shoulders, his hands skimming her ribs to rest on her hips. She remained still, expectation pulling her belly as taut as a rubber band. Without an explanation or a glance, Vegeta leaned forward, burying his nose between her legs, inhaling deeply again.

 

Bulma mewled in the back of her throat, unable to help the heat that exploded inside her at his touch. Her body wept in welcome, exhilarated that he had finally returned to her. It instinctively knew that this man was the one who had given her the greatest pleasure of her life, and it responded intensely to his touch, expecting satisfaction to swiftly follow. It could not understand the reluctance of her mind or the trepidation in her heart.

 

Vegeta rose, dropping her legs so abruptly that she barely had time to regain her balance before she slid off the console. Her eyes snapped open, meeting his hooded, black gaze. She was confused, and she didn't dare move for fear that he would pounce on her. His lips were curled into a contemptuous sneer, but his eyes weren't nearly as cold as they had been only moments before.

 

“You are untouched,” he muttered in disgust.

 

Bulma felt her cheeks flame. The dull ache between her thighs reminded her that she was hardly untouched. She was a healthy woman, who was used to being touched by Vegeta in all sorts of ways, but she wasn't in a position to argue with him.

 

He glared down at her for a few more seconds before grabbing her up by the arm to drag her from the room and down the hall towards his quarters. He strode inside, dismissing the clutter of things she had stacked in the corner. He stopped so abruptly that she ran into him, squashing her nose into his back.

 

Briefly he dropped her arm to tear his ragged, sweat-stained shirt from his body, and threw it into the corner. He spun on his heel, taking advantage of her distraction wrought by his bare chest. The rush of attraction she had always felt for him flooded back, warming her cold skin. He hauled her into his body, trapping her arms awkwardly behind her back as he stared hard into her eyes, the tension in the room weighing heavily, streaming into her mouth and nose, making it hard for her to breathe.

 

“I should kill you.” Vegeta's guttural tones broke the silence, abrading her tender body.

 

Bulma tilted her chin back, her eyes veiled by her heavy lashes. What could she say in her defense? Even if she had betrayed him for his own safety he would never forgive her. His stubborn pride would never allow it.

 

When she didn't answer, Vegeta glared down at her, his attention drawn to her pale slender neck. He backed her towards the bed, falling with her as her knees buckled. His muscled thighs straddled her hips, her arms stilled pinned behind her by his big hands.

 

“You killed, Zarbon. You killed innocent soldiers.” His tone was fierce, his words intending to cause pain. Bulma's lips thinned and her chin lifted even higher.

 

“No soldier in the Cold army is innocent,” she replied, envisioning herself as a proud warrior woman, someone whom Vegeta would desire, or at least understand---pretending to be anyone but herself---anything else than a murderer.

 

“Even me?” Vegeta asked mockingly, his dark eyes glittering intensely.

 

“Especially you.” Bulma vainly tried to make her voice as hard and unyielding as him, but the stream of a single tear down her cheek betrayed her. No matter how much she tried she couldn't squash who she was. She was brilliant, beautiful, and weak. She couldn't harden herself like Vegeta. She couldn't accept violence as a way of life. She had betrayed more than Vegeta, she had betrayed herself.

 

Vegeta felt something crack open inside him. He was intimately familiar with the working of his little female's mind. She had condemned her entire world to ruin because she could not bring herself to murder one monster, but today she had killed hundreds. Even those could be swept aside by her conscious, but the manner in which she slew Zarbon, so intimate, so familiarly, could never be forgotten. It was a dreadful question that lie deep between them.

 

He inhaled, taking in the scents on her body, her sweat mingled with fear. Her turmoil intertwined with despair. Her pale skin glowed in the dim light, her blue curls so dark they were nearly black. She was so beautiful, his fallen angel, with skin as pure as the driven snow and hair as fresh and clean as rainwater. He had scented her in the control woman, every inch of her smooth skin, down to her velvety depths. All that he had found was her singular aroma, the intensely female scent unblemished by the odor of an offending male.

 

She was untouched, unsoiled…still his and his alone.

 

The emotion that rocked him was unfamiliar, something that he was unable to name. The urge to possess her, to cover her with his body and reclaim her was nearly overpowering. Being separated from her for those few long weeks had been torture. To be made to think that she was betraying him with his enemy was pure hell. But to think that she conspired with his master to humiliate him had nearly destroyed him. The need to pin her down and show her that he was a man, her man, was maddening. He wanted to spread her wide, shove his cock as deep into her as it would go and suckle blood from her soft breasts while she cried out beneath him. Cried his name in breathless desire, urged him on with soft mews of urgency, and screamed to the very heavens that she chose him.

 

The urge was maddening, because he didn't want it. He wanted to run from her as quickly as his supped up, adrenaline-spiked body was capable. He wanted to leave her behind, and forget that she ever existed. To erase that last few months of his life and begin again. He wanted to leave her, but he couldn't. He could more easily tear the skin from his body than abandon her. His destiny as the Ascended could be easier obtained.

 

His entire life he had known what to do. Even as a boy when he had been taken by Frieza his duty was clear. He was always to comport himself as a Prince of the Saiyans---strong, prideful, and unbroken. But for the first time in his life he was confused. And none of what he knew answered the question of why. Why did she exist? Why did she haunt him? Why did she cleave to him so completely?

 

Why had she killed his enemy?

 

“Why?” Vegeta's dark eyes lifted, locking with her wide blue gaze. The question had so many answers, so many paths. Why had she deserted him? Why had she led him to believe that she whored her body to another man?

 

“What else should I've done?” she cried suddenly full of fury. “How else should have I saved you?” Her words broke apart in her throat, drowning her with their weight.

 

Vegeta stared down at her, unable to fathom the meaning behind her actions. Bulma ignored his piercing gaze, lost to her own hellish oblivion. He thought of her earlier words, and understanding struck him hard. She had sacrificed everything that she was in order to save the one person that she truly loved. The one person who could never give her what she needed, who was incapable of such an emotion. Wasn't he?

 

“There is still one who is innocent.”

 

Bulma shook her head furiously, unable to stop the flow of tears that streamed down her face. Her misery was tangible, reaching across the span of their distant hearts and infecting him on a deep, visceral level.

 

“My soul is gone now. Washed way by blood,” she wailed, sobs choking her voice.

 

Vegeta didn't know why he sought to consol her. The state of her soul was of no concern to him, only her body. Even her strength of mind should be of no consequence, but the need to ensure her well being in all three aspects drove him. No matter how hard he tried to turn away from her, he always came back.

 

“No one, no God, no man, would condemn you for what you have done. Absolution will be yours.” He replied gruffly. Reassurance sounded bitter on his tongue, tasted like gravel in his mouth.

 

“No, I don't deserve absolution,” she whispered sadly. Bulma refused to meet his gaze, closing her eyes and turning her face away, arching her head back.

 

“Oh? Is that why you turn away, exposing your throat to me?” Vegeta lifted a battle-hardened hand, wrapping it around her neck.

 

“Is that why you are begging me to kill you with every imperious lift of your chin?”

 

Bulma's startled gaze flew to his. Her sapphire eyes glittered with tears, edged with thick dark teal lashes.

 

“I…” Bulma attempted to speak, but Vegeta cut her off.

 

“You killed those men to save your world, your family…” His words trailed away before he could finish, but Bulma could read his unspoken thoughts. She had killed those soldiers to save him.

 

“Those are the most noble of reasons to kill.”

 

The both knew that he was thinking about his world, his family, and how he lost it all. How he would have given anything to have been able to kill his enemies to save them.

 

“You can't rate nobility on this level. Its just one step below depravity.”

 

Vegeta abruptly pulled away to kneel between her knees, hauling her up into his lap. He ignored the hard slap of their skin as they collided, edging them back onto the bed. She curled her arms around his back, holding on as tightly as possible so she couldn't be pried away. She pressed her ear to his chest, listening to the strong beat of his heart. The warmth of his skin, the rhythm of his heart told her the one thing that she always knew. Vegeta was just a man, with all the beauty and faults of a mere mortal, no matter how monstrous he seemed.

 

“You're pathetic!” Bulma stiffened in his arms like she had been struck, the barest hint of anger rousing itself deep inside her heart at his harsh words. Vegeta felt her anger and it urged him on.

 

“Bawling about the state of your soul. Wallowing in self-pity. Whining about things that can't be changed. It's done. You made your choice, now you need to live with it and move on. Stop acting like some self-sacrificing martyr, and grow up! You will forget all this, and put it behind you.”

 

“I can't just put it behind me,” Bulma replied aghast. She was angry. Immensely so. How dare he belittle her. Her sacrifices, her sins. She had given everything she had to save him. The least he could do was be thankful.

 

“I'm telling you. No, I'm demanding it. Get over it,” he spat at her, his eyes burning with rage, his body arched over hers dominantly.

 

She wasn't quite sure what happened. One moment she was staring at him in wide-eyed shock and the next she was screaming in pure rage. She bucked beneath him, a growling scream bubbling up from her throat punctuated with a few of the foulest words she could think of. Her arm, slick with sweat slipped from his fingers, and with strength borrowed from her fury, she cocked him across the face with as much force as she could muster.

 

The crack of the blow echoed in the room, shattering her rage, and allowed even more intense animosity to seep into the room. Briefly she thought about the last time she slapped him, and his warning that it would never happen again. She clamped her mouth shut, her lower lip quivering slightly before she pulled it taut into a grimace of anger. She would not be weak in front of him; she would not bow down to his bastard arrogance, because he muttered a few hurtful words.

 

“Do you feel better now? Did you get it off your chest?” Vegeta rumbled down at her, his eyes dark and unreadable.

 

“Yes,” Bulma hissed spitefully, belatedly realizing that she did feel better. Like a puss-filled wound that had been lanced. He captured her arm again, pinning her effortlessly beneath his body. He towered above her, shielding her from everything except for his tightly muscled body, and burning black eyes.

 

“Good. Now hold onto that anger. The next time you feel like there is nothing inside of you, then remember, beneath all the emptiness, there is always hate. There is always fury. When nothing else can sustain you that will keep you going.”

 

Bulma's wide, blue eyes, blinked. Just for a second, she was caught off guard. Of all the things he could have chosen to say to her that was the last thing she expected. Why would he go through the trouble of making her feel alive again? Why would he show her the path that led her out of the darkness of her remorse and into the light of existence?

 

“You have other things to worry about besides the demise of some worthless weaklings.”

 

“What?” she asked, suddenly afraid. She didn't want to worry or think about what was waiting for her on the next day. She wanted only to exist in this place, in this one moment, where there was only her and Vegeta, to the exclusion of all else.

 

“Me.” Vegeta's dark voice cascaded over her skin, confirming her thoughts, drowning out everything but him. He lowered his body until his heat enveloped her and his skin whispered over hers. He released her arms, bracing one hand on the bed by her face while his other freed his throbbing erection from his pants.

 

She braced her palms on his shoulders, her nails digging deep into his bronze skin. She knew there was no hope of pushing him away, or of dissuading him if he decided to hurt her. All she could do was hope that he would find some shred of mercy in his heart for her.

 

“So, you are going to kill me then?” She asked breathlessly, afraid, but calm.

 

He slid her arms up over her head, staring down at her round face framed by a cloud of blue hair. He honestly couldn't say what he was going to do with her. She was a plague, something he should cut out of his life with a sharp knife, but even if he was to kill her, he didn't know if she would ever be completely gone. She had become a part of his life. Something that always was there.

 

“I'm going to punish you.”

 

Vegeta's voice was remorseless, empty, and deadly. Fear prickled her skin, and her belly flip-flopped. His eyes held no warmth or mercy, only anger and a deep, dark, visceral desire that simultaneously heated her skin, and dried out her mouth.

 

He sealed his lips over hers, swallowing her cries as he plunged deep inside her with remorse. He wrapped his arms around her waist, his fingers digging into the cleft of her ass, spreading her wider for him, molding her for his own use. She was certain that what Vegeta had in store for her would be brutal, dirty and darkly pleasurable. He was going to use her, and she was going to beg for it.

 

All night long.