Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Lab Monkey ❯ Dream A Little Dream ( Chapter 36 )

Warning: Not too explicit scene of self-gratification. Many props to LisaB for being such a great beta. Thank-you.

 

Chapter Thirty-Six

Dream A Little Dream

 

 

A swirling blue and white jewel lay nestled in a bed of black velvet. It sparkled with all the hopes and dreams of her people, spanning generations, eschewing borders. It basked in the golden sunlight, gleaming with promise and welcome. It was the most beautiful, precious gem that she had ever seen, and it was his gift to her, untouched by the hand of evil. Earth. Her home.

 

Bulma clapped her hands wildly, barely containing the urge to jump up and down like a child at the sight. She glowed with pleasure, the relief of being home briefly wiping away the sadness that had darkened her eyes during the trip home. Vegeta felt something brittle crack inside him, the ice around his heart melted for the barest second. He had never seen someone look so happy, so utterly elated, that their whole soul lit up.

 

She whirled to face him, her smile as bright as the summer sun, her eyes sparkling like pools of crystal water. She launched herself at him, barely giving him time to brace himself for the impact of her lithe body. She snaked her arms around his neck and wrapped her legs around his waist, crowing with unabashed delight at her homecoming. Instinctively he cupped her bottom, balancing her weight in his arms, while fighting the desire to smile back at her. She was so happy it nearly broke his heart.

 

“Home, Vegeta. Finally we're home.” She hopped down, skirting around him to race out the door towards her quarters.

 

Vegeta watched her go, knowing that she would spend the next half hour sorting through her limited wardrobe to find the perfect outfit to disembark in. As soon as she exited, the room seemed to darken, becoming dismal and vacant. His eyes were hooded in shadows as he turned to look down at the planet.

 

He wondered if she had meant to insinuate that it was their home, and not just hers. As if he could share in her homecoming, be welcomed by her family, actually feel some form of affection for the planet on which he had only known defeat and imprisonment. Why would he ever refer to such a place as his home? Because it was where she belonged? Because it was her home?

 

Vegeta glared at the offending sphere, shimmering so beautifully in its silken robes of mist and sunlight. The sight of it should sicken him, incite fury in the pit of his stomach So why, he wondered, did he feel such a strange ache in the center of his chest, a burning that formed in his heart and wrapped its way around his ribs and into his lungs? A sense of longing, sadness, and the barest glimmer of need.

 

Vegeta jerked into consciousness, drenched in sweat. Pale sheets bunched in his lap as he sat up in bed, his bare chest glistening with a fine sheen of perspiration. He fought to control his heavy breathing, ignoring the barely perceivable tremors coursing through his body.

 

A familiar, but monotone voice was advising him that he needed to plot a descent course, and he snapped out an order to hold orbit. After several weeks of non-stop travel, he had finally arrived at the beginning. The place where it had started. Her home.

 

His journey had been wrought with dreams, memories of his time with Bulma. They tortured him until he forced himself to go days on end without rest to escape them. During his waking hours he trained, performing endless sequences of kata while burying his memories deep into his subconscious. Only when he could no longer stand on his own two feet, would he fall into his bed, far across the ship from the burned rubble of the one that they had shared.

 

He swept back the sheets, and stood with a barely suppressed moan. His last bout of training had lasted days, and his well-developed muscles protested their overuse. He felt a tightness in his groin and he looked down at his heavy, morning erection. He had stripped down to nothing, before collapsing into bed, too exhausted to even pull on a clean pair of sleeping shorts.

 

As a warrior, he had long since trained his body to disregard its natural needs, but as he traveled towards Earth and the woman who resided there, he found himself hard with undisciplined lust several times a day. As he grew closer to his destination, his predicament only worsened.

 

He most commonly dreamed of their endless nights of love-making. They haunted and aroused him.

 

Vegeta's brow furrowed as he marched across the room to the shower. Fucking. What they had done was fucking, not love-making. “Love-making” was Bulma's pansy-ass word, not his. He would do well to remember that, especially since he would be seeing her today, after months of separation. Perhaps he would fuck her first, and then kill her.

 

He turned on the shower, stepping into the stall before the water could warm. He shuddered as the icy spray pelted him, but his erection remained stiff and aching. The water heated to a tolerable level, and he allowed it to cascade over his body, rinsing away the dried sweat.

 

He couldn't help but to notice how his resolve to kill Bulma had weakened during his journey. It was almost as if the closer he drew to her, the calmer his spirit became. She was like a drug that he couldn't get enough of---a healing balm to his soul that he craved. The longer he was away from her, the more he physically hurt until he became a rabid, injured beast ready to maul anyone who approached him.

 

Instinctively, he reached out his psyche, looking for a familiar thread. He nearly recoiled when a bright, blue spark flared to life in his consciousness.

 

Bulma.

 

Bulma was alive, and she was near enough to him that he could sense her, feel her essence. He felt her waver and pulse as her spark weakened. The energy was as familiar to him as his own, and he could tell that she wasn't at full health. She wasn't glowing as brightly as she usually did, she wasn't sparkling like the jewel she was.

 

He clasped onto the spark and wrapped his mind around it, feeding it his strength. Gradually, it brightened, vibrating in his mind, until it was nearly purring.

 

Vegeta braced his forearm against the cold, wet tile, dropping his forehead down to rest on his thick wrist. The water beat down on him, and he could feel it slide off his shoulders and along his ribs. It was warm and soothing, wrapping him in a blissful cocoon of steam and silky wetness. Languidly, he wrapped the fingers of his free hand around his cock, trying to ease the throbbing that had flared to life the moment he connected with Bulma.

 

He slid his palm over his water-slicked erection, trembling as he imagined Bulma kneeling in front of him, trailing her small, white fingers from base to tip. She had loved to look at him, caressing him tenderly before wrapping her red lips around his swollen flesh.

 

The warmth of her essence slipped inside him, nestling in his chest, and spreading down through his limbs. He pumped his hand faster, his palm twisting over the leaking tip, before stroking back down to the root. He could feel her inside him, retaking her rightful place in the hollow left by his absent soul.

 

He tried to push her away, to untwine her from his mind, but she was already a part of him. He banished the image of her at his feet, but the memory of it stayed with him as he felt his orgasm build in the lower muscles of his belly. He didn't want this. He didn't need it. He hadn't come back to reconnect to Bulma. He had come to destroy her like she had destroyed him.

 

Electricity sizzled across his synapses, and the embedded images of his lover flashed to the forefront of his mind. Her head thrown back, her silky blue hair cascading across his bed as her face became drawn with pleasure. A groan wrenched its way up from his chest, echoing around the tiled bathroom as he came in a rush of ecstasy and barely satisfied need.

 

He panted into the crook of his arm, listening to the harsh rasping breaths, and the pelting water that accompanied them. Absently he watched as ropey threads of semen were washed down the drain along with his self-respect.

 

Acidic anger rose up in his belly, and he felt his face grow taut with a snarl. Forcefully, he thrust the spark of energy that had invaded his mind away, severing the ties he had with Bulma. As her warmth receded, he was left with a void as cold and empty as the space that he traveled through.

 

8888

 

Hours later, Vegeta flew through the night, having docked the ship at Capsule Corporation and immediately taken off to track Bulma. As a skilled warrior he had the ability to pinpoint the ki of anyone he had met. As a territorial male he had the ability to taste his woman's essence in the wind.

 

He landed outside what was very obviously a military installation that sprawled inside an electric fence crowned with barb wire. At the center was a four story building, which was heavily guarded. The walls gleamed sheet-metal gray with only a few windows on the upper floors.

 

He had a pretty fair idea what was going on. Bulma had given refuge to the enemy. Military men had died inside her laboratory, and he had escaped. More than likely, Capsule Corp. had been under constant surveillance since they had left more than two years ago. Once Bulma reappeared, the military had taken steps to retrieve what they thought to be an enemy to the government. The fact that she was hidden in such a desolate installation high in the mountains outside her country's borders told him that her kidnapping wasn't sanctioned by her government leaders. More than likely this was a personal vendetta perpetrated by the leader of this facility or it was a black operation. Her kidnapping might not be sanctioned, but it might not be a secret either and those in charge had turned their heads and pled ignorance. Both scenarios worked to Vegeta's advantage. He wasn't dealing with an agency, but a man, and a man could be intimidated.

 

Once he killed Bulma he had to be sure that her family would not continue to be hounded. He owed her that much, he reasoned. She had released him from his vow to protect this world once she had realized how badly the sworn slavery made him suffer, even at the potential cost of her family. Everything she had done, she had done for them---imprisoning him the first time, sacrificing her own personal safety to get him away from Earth, entering into a deadly bargain with him to ensure their protection.

 

Once she loved, Bulma was loyal to the bitter end. Even her false betrayal with Zarbon had been contrived in an effort to keep him safe. He physically shook his body, like a soaked hound, banishing his dark thoughts as they headed towards dangerous, emotional eddies that he didn't want to contemplate.

 

Instead he focused on the task on hand. He needed to ward off the dogs of war one way or another. They weren't really after Bulma after all. He was their true target. What they failed to realize was that he wasn't obtainable. He wasn't about to trade himself for Bulma like they undoubtedly believed. There was no reason to. He could easily wipe anyone who dared to fuck with him from existence. The problem was that they had forgotten that and it was Vegeta's job to remind them.

 

He waited until it was dark, smirking appreciatively at the sliver of the moon high in the sky. Flood lights drenched the interior of the compound, looking for intruders on the ground, never dreaming that the enemy would come from the dark, midnight sky. A single light glowed from a corner office on the top floor of the tallest building, a beacon in the night.

 

Vegeta landed soundlessly on the window ledge, a dark shadow peering in. A large man sat grimly behind a mahogany desk. His blonde hair was cut with military precision, and his starched white shirt was crisp and clean. His jacket was slung over a nearby chair and Vegeta could tell that he wasn't comfortable in his clothing or in his setting. He was a man of action, a warrior of the battle field who had been regulated to desk duty because age had dulled his skills, but not his mind. Now he lent his expertise to younger soldiers, resenting them for their vitality while his waned with every passing year.

 

He slid open the window, stalking in the shadows of the room. A breeze blew in behind him, ruffling the papers on the man's desk. The soldier was quick for his age, leaping to his feet, his sidearm already drawn. Seeing nothing at the window, his pale blue eyes scanned the room, immediately lighting on the shadow that was darker than the rest.

 

The man's eyes narrowed and Vegeta saw his finger tighten over the trigger. Faster than the man could react, he was across the room, ripping the pistol from the soldier's grasp. He crushed it into an unrecognizable hunk of metal, dropping it with a heavy clank onto the man's desk.

Without missing a beat, the soldier stepped back into a defensive stance, opening his mouth to scream for his guards, but Vegeta was faster still. The predatory Saiyan wrapped his strong hand around the weaker man's throat, cutting off his oxygen, holding him aloft until his toes scrapped the plush carpet.

 

“Don't make me kill more people than I have to. As much as that thought appeals to me, it would solve nothing.” His black eyes slid to the desk, reading the brass plaque that announced the man. “Hallows,” he said the soldier's name, deliberately leaving out his title of Major General.

 

He tossed the man away, noticing with a glance that the soldier quickly righted himself before he plowed into the wall. Vegeta pretended disinterest, rummaging through the papers on the desk while Hallows rubbed his throat.

 

“I'll never tell you where the bitch is. You'll have to kill me.” Hallows' voice was hoarse, but he still manage to convey his venomous hatred along with his threat.

 

Vegeta looked up from the desk, his eyes flashing with deadly menace. His lip curled, and the man could see a flash of ivory teeth in the golden lamplight. Then as quickly as it came, the danger was cloaked beneath of thin veil of acrimony.

 

“I see that no introductions are in order.” A search of the desk revealed no files on Bulma, so Vegeta moved away towards the oak filing cabinet against the opposite wall.

 

“I know who you are and why you are here, but you'll never find her. We will kill you before you do.” Wisely the man stood as far from Vegeta as possible, keeping his hands visible. He made no move to escape, having already come to terms with what he thought to be his inevitable sacrifice.

 

“First, I know exactly where Bulma is.” Vegeta glared at Hallows, letting him know without words that the insult he had dealt earlier would not be forgotten. “Secondly, I could raze this facility to the ground, killing everyone with barely the effort that it takes to raise my fist.” He turned from the cabinet, still empty-handed and stared the man down, allowing his black eyes to freeze into chips of obsidian ice.

 

“Do you think I would hesitate to kill you and every human here if it suited my purpose?”

 

“You're a monster, but there is no way you can defeat all of my men,” Hallows spat, but Vegeta could see the flicker of doubt in the man's pale eyes.

 

“How easily you humans forget. My subordinate demolished half of your military, just for the sport of it.” A slow wicked smile spread across his full lips, but his eyes remained dead and cold.

 

“How dangerous do you suppose I am?” The question was whisper soft, filling the air between them with suffocating promise.

 

Hallows swallowed hard, the sound heard across the room.

 

Vegeta shrugged, stepping to a plaque of a shield and a sword that hung on the wall. His wicked grin slipped into an almost affable smile as he pulled it away, revealing a metal safe beneath.

 

“Tell you what--I'm going to level this entire installation as a reminder of just what I'm capable of, but I'm going to leave you alive. Can you guess why?”

 

Vegeta reached for the safe, sinking his bare fingers into the thick metal like it was modeling putty and wrenched the door off the hinges. He grimaced at the sharp shriek of rending metal before he tossed the door away, and peered into the dark hole. He pulled out a thick file, reading Bulma's name on the yellow tab. He generated a sharp burst of ki that traveled up his arm and out his finger tips, engulfing the entire file in flame. He tossed it into the wastebasket, standing over the flame as he stared hard at the man who stood frozen on the other side of the fire.

 

Hallows watched as the orange light from the flames danced over Vegeta's dark face, and he knew at that moment that he was dealing with a demon straight from the pits of hell. He and his colleagues had made a grievous mistake daring to take the woman that the devil called his own.

 

Slowly he shook his head, eyes wide as he stared at Vegeta, his voice lost in his tight throat.

 

“I'm letting you live because I want you to make it clear to whoever is in charge that the Briefs family is to be left alone. No harassment, no kidnapping. They better not even have a bad fiscal year. Because if they do I will systematically slaughter every man, woman and child even remotely related to this little butt-fuck conspiracy. Do I make myself clear?”

 

Hallows nodded, very, very slowly.

 

“Say the words,” Vegeta ordered with deadly softness.

 

“You've made yourself perfectly clear.”

 

Vegeta smiled, his long incisors shining in the firelight.

 

“Excellent.”

 

He disappeared out the window he had entered, leaving only the scent of sulfur in his wake.