Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Live Well ❯ Whispers and Kisses ( Chapter 6 )

Kizmet,

(I think I've seen your name before ... XP This is going to bug me all day ... Have you ever reviewed any of my YYH work ...?)

Mmmm ... Okay, I understand your concern on that, but these things about Vegeta in these last couple of chapters had to be said. However, this next chapter will probably focus a little more on Vegeta again before it switches back to Kakarotto. What's going on with Vegeta right now is important, you see. It's called setting the stage/mood, and I've been known to take at least fifteen chapters before my plot becomes known. Hope you were paying attention.

As for Kakarotto making more like Gokuu ... I would like you to know that Kakarotto is not Gokuu. This seems a simple enough explanation, but a lot of people seem to think that slapping the name, Kakarotto, onto Gokuu will suddenly transform him and make people `understand' that he is someone else. Unfortunately, the reason for this is that they don't take into account the Saiyajin upbringing/views that he would have had. In fact, Kakarotto should be more based on Turles because he's supposed to represent what Gokuu might have been had his head not been bashed into some rocks.

Taking this in, you really have just hope that Kakarotto is a convincing enough representation of that type of person/monster - to convince your audience that Kakarotto is not just another name for Gokuu, and that he is his own character.

A lot of people are saying how they like my Kakarotto. I was hoping that they wouldn't because that means that my representation needs further tweaking to make her character be hated, or at least respected and left alone to do her own thing.

I'll be working on that, so beware … In fact, I have the perfect fix now. Thanks.

~The AL

Live Well

Chapter Six: Whispers and Kisses

She cuddled into the heat pooling beside her, sighing softly as it sent thick tendrils to wrap around her torso, her bare nipples warming against the new heat in her bed. Feeling something wet on her ear, her eyes creased open only to see a blurred head of hair, and she melted against the dark form of her husband as hazy unconsciousness threatened her in the back of her mind. Her hands clenched over his body before she realized that there was no cloth over him for her to cling. Groaning, she buried her face into his chest, reveling in the warmth that wanted to lull her back to sleep.

“Are you awake now?” He asked of her, and she nodded tiredly, yawning. The prince gathered her closer against him before she trilled sleepily, her eyes sliding shut.

Her eyes opened again some time later, her breath hitching sharply from the odd presence of some warm forms on her breasts, and she whimpered from the unexpected tightening. She relaxed marginally when she heard the prince again, “Shh, you're doing so well.”

Shuddering when she felt something hot swallow over one of her breasts, her eyes drifted shut again for a long time once more. Kakarotto stirred fitfully again, groaning softly as she felt a deep thickness permeating her body. Holding her breath, she arched hard, crying out before she slumped back, and moaned. Her husband kissed her lips before pressing them quickly over her neck and breasts, “Ooh, baby, yes, yes.” She gasped for air when heat spread throughout her body, and Kakarotto dug her nails into his shoulders as she screamed abruptly, her next arch almost lifting them both off her bed. His energy crackled over them both, and she clutched tighter as something even hotter entered her in a long-winded spray.

Panting heavily, she scratched his chest lightly before she licked her salty-tasting lips. He pressed his lips to her temple after a moment, and Kakarotto shifted beneath him uncomfortably when she felt like she could move, “Mmh … Lord … you're heavy …”

“Hm?” Her husband didn't move for a few moments before he made a sound of understanding, and shifted so that they were laying side by side with him still resting inside of her. Her cheeks stained bright pink, and she covered her face when she realized this. The prince rubbed up and down her arms before he pulled her close against his chest, “Sleep now, Princess Kakarotto.”

Sighing when he pulled away, she curled up into the heat he left behind in her bed, and shuddered in wonder. That was sex …? He didn't keep me awake the whole time! That was so mortifying, but at the same time … She flushed with shame before she sat up, shivering at the contact of cooler air on her skin, “Lord Husband, wait.”

He stopped at the door, and looked back at her, and she realized then that he was still completely naked, glimmering in the scant starlight from outside her windows. His hand rested deliberately on the door's latch as if to tell her that he would leave no matter what she said, “What is it?”

“Would you stay? I” - and that's when she began to blush - “don't feel done yet.”

“`Done?'” He laughed, his hand tightening over the latch, “Are you baking? Though that would explain why you're so red, princess.” She shook her head, and wobbled onto her feet, unsteady from the prior rush that had infiltrated her body just moments before, but he frowned, looking away, “Just tell me what you want.”

“Please, stay.”

“Why?” He quipped, grabbing her hair, and forcing her to her knees. It took her a moment to realize that she was wearing a tight bodice again with dark skirts that billowed around her when she hit the floor. Her hands clutched into the petticoats tightly, and she swallowed nothing when he hissed, “Is that what you want? Do you think I'll stay just because you asked, or are you offering your body to me to produce my heir?”

“Yes,” she said immediately. Kakarotto had deemed that she had already acted wantonly enough, and that she didn't need to appear more whorish in front of him, so she gave him the excuse of doing her duty. “Please, I don't think I can sleep now.”

---

She bit her tongue, drawing blood as she sat in her sweat bath. When she had finally awoken, her husband had already been gone, and the only people that greeted her that morning were her slaves, maids, and mother-in-law. The latter of which had been furious, and slapped a new red mark onto her face.

“How dare you,” she had snapped. “You have hickeys up to your ears. I don't know how I'll be able to cover up this mess you've made.”

It's his mess, she had wanted to say, but the words had stuck to the back of her mouth, and all she could do was nod her head, wondering if she would be able to spit the taste of him out of her mouth. The worst of their doings had been rinsed away in the strange spray of water from the ceiling, and then the queen had left the servants to care for the rest of her cleansing. None of them giggled or whispered amongst each other this time, and she felt like she could have handled that more than their silence.

Being her slaves and maids, they were to attend to her throughout the whole day - day and night. Last evening, they had been just outside her bedroom door like always, and had heard the entire thing. Kakarotto had cursed herself for a fool every moment she was inside that room. Since they were husband and wife, surely, such things were normal, so why hadn't she known or thought ahead? Were things like this to be kept a secret? How was she supposed to hide all of the marks and bruises from prying eyes before she got to the medical bay?

Kakarotto rose when they were done scraping the rest of the mess and sweat off her, and went back to her bedroom to stand and wait for them to dress her. The queen was waiting there with a large black gown whose neckline would reach up to the bottom of her chin once she was adorned in the heavy thing. She almost thanked the woman for finding such a dress to cover herself, but the thought froze in her mind when the woman was raising her hand again for another strike.

Furious, she grabbed Arba's wrist, and punched her forearm, hearing the bones crack before she released her, and stepping back. The older woman hissed sharply, clutching at her shoulder to still her broken arm as much as possible as it hung loosely at her side, “What do you think you're doing!?”

“Don't touch me,” she said before she ignored the queen completely, and pointed at the black gown with a finger, tossing an energy ball at it to torch the hideous cage that it was. “Slaves, find my new pink dress,” she told the gaping women, and then went to sit at her vanity to wait.

---

“Are you sure?” Still traveling through space, the emperor and empress were scratchy images upon the giant screen of their meeting hall. He stamped another document before he picked up a copy of what was in front of the prince, but didn't look at it, only over the paper and at Vegeta. The prince only nodded, and the emperor frowned before glancing at the parchment, “… Nogao, did you meddle again?”

The empress stopped her fan-conversation with Vegeta's mother, and glowered at her husband as if there were something wrong with him, “I do not meddle, Emperor. I merely give gentle nudges.”

“Fine then,” he stood up, and brought the parchment over to the woman who suddenly went quite still, just as stunned as the others present in their meeting that he had not simply called her over. “Were you gently nudging twenty thousand Saiyajin into starvation? It was only mentioned once that Saiyajin were the rioters, and it was hidden in a mess of a paragraph at the very bottom of the page. It's a miracle that the Prince Heir saw it.”

Vegeta said nothing to correct his grandfather despite having his wife sitting beside him, quite aptly aware of how much trouble his grandmother would be in should she prove false. He watched her fan snap shut, and she stared at the document in his hand before she took the page, looking over it carefully. After a long ten minutes of investigating the assignment given to her grandson, she gave it back to her husband, and said faintly, her painted face a deathly white, “I do not gently nudge our people.”

Nodding, he touched her cheek, and she relaxed, color returning to her face. Then the emperor went back to his chair, and sat down while the empress took some time to regain her composure. Vegeta's mother, also a frighteningly pale tone, had already closed her fan quietly, and was glancing between the couple unsurely. In fact, she had seemed rather agitated this entire morning. His wife had come in with her, totally devoid of all the marks he had left on her that night, and she appeared as cool as ice. However, his mother had been such a pallid color in comparison that he could not imagine that Kakarotto knew what was wrong. The very moment that Queen Arba had sat down beside her husband, she had not moved to another seat, and she and the empress had been conversing with their fans from the beginning of the meeting.

Kakarotto was still beside him, not even shaking or troubled in the least that his mother was worried, and only flinched when his grandmother was in danger. He took her hand, and murmured into her ear, “You seem to be doing better already.”

“I hate you,” she whispered back, and he closed his eyes momentarily before he drew away.

His grandfather frowned at the two, but the Prince Heir's wife didn't even twitch while the man did so, and Vegeta glanced over at her uneasily. Eyes sweeping over his wife, daughter- and granddaughter-in-law, Emperor Vegeta barked, “Family meeting now. Generals, leave the room.” Vegeta looked between the three women himself, and sat up straighter while the generals left. His grandfather grabbed a slave before he left, murmuring something into his ear before shoving him away to make him leave as well. When they were all completely alone, the emperor beckoned his wife closer to him, and then pulled her into his lap, “Nogao, tell me. What's wrong with Arba?”

Nogao waited until Arba was situated snugly in her own husband's lap, and her face buried in his chest before the empress murmured lazily, “The princess broke her arm this morning.”

Vegeta's chest went numb, and he stared ahead at nothing when his grandfather nodded, and looked directly at his grandson, obviously putting the new husband in charge of the situation. Restraining his hand, he turned to his wife, and hissed out, “You did what?”

Raising her head higher, Kakarotto told him calmly, “I was returning the favor.”

He almost discarded the notion - his own beautiful, cultured, well-bred, and graceful mother would not dare hit another upper-class lady - but seeing his wife's proud stance, Vegeta slowly turned around to look at his mother a little closer. Almost tossing away the thought that she was hiding, Vegeta inspected her pale countenance, and slightly shaken form before he closed his eyes. Why have I never seen this before …?

“Willful beasts like you always break harder,” Nogao murmured, her head still against the emperor's chest. Her full lips had curled into a serene grin of delight, her supple tail loose and wrapped contentedly around her husband's wrist.

Vegeta's mind reeled when Kakarotto responded with a smile, “So they do.” She looked over at the queen who hissed softly before her eyes were on the empress again, “When are you going to be here again?”

He grabbed her shoulder then, feeling her tense in shock before he spoke hurriedly, “I want to speak with my wife alone for a few moments.”

“Prince, this is a family meeting, and as such, you will speak to her in front of the family. This needs to be solved right away. I will not have such disorder among our wives,” the emperor said, and Kakarotto tried to pull her shoulder out of his grasp. Tightening his hold on her, Vegeta yanked her into his lap then, and grappled with her to keep her there. With her eyes wide and abruptly frightened, she fought against him, scratching and clawing at his arm, nearly breaking his grip before he finally had her - for the most part - immobile against him.

He listened to her quick panting against the crook of his elbow, and the sharp scent of fear - adrenaline reeking out through her pores with cool sweat, ready to bolt the moment he loosened his grip. Sighing, though not relaxing in any manner, Vegeta laid his head into her hair, nuzzling tenderly in an attempt to soothe her. After a moment, she began to struggle again, and the scent of salty tears became known to him.

She hissed, and spat, “Don't you dare! After all you did to me, don't you dare!” His fangs clenched, glancing over at his parents and grandparents, and was not surprised to see no form of confusion in their features or eyes. “Let me go! I have to vomit all of you out!” Vegeta swallowed hard, only tightening his arms around her, and for a moment, he thought that she might break her own ribs against his embrace with how much she was fighting. Finally, she was still again, huffing and hissing in and out breath. He could see her face in a reflective piece of metal, and he didn't think the warped metal was what was twisting her teary face into such bitter rage.

When he was mostly certain she would not pitch a fit again, he managed a whisper into the hair near her ear, “I wish you had stayed that timid, scared, little girl. Instead, I have a soldier for a wife. An emotionless doll that won't to be played with, and doesn't know what she wants. I knew what you wanted before all this - freedom. Now, I can't figure you out.” He dared another glance at the others in the room. All four were conversing quietly, shooting expectant looks toward as if knowing what was happening. Feeling sick in his stomach, he turned his head so that his cheek was flat against the top of her head, and he whispered again, “The disorder is not yours; it's mine for doing what I did. What I wanted was to know what you wanted, and I didn't want a doll.”

“Isn't that what I am?” She said. Kakarotto's voice, dry and husky from her screams was soft enough that he had to hold still and his breath to listen. “I've always been a doll. You just didn't see it in that scared, little girl.”

Vegeta sighed, relief flooding through him like a tsunami, and his grip relaxed enough that she situated herself more comfortably on his lap. “Will you tell me what you really wanted last night?”

“I don't know anymore,” she deflated against him, almost a dead weight, and he saw in the piece of metal across from them that her eyelids were drooping slightly as if tired. Trusting in her exhaustion, he raised one hand to begin stroking what he could see of her tears from her cheeks. He frowned when some sort of peach cream - the color of her skin - rubbed off onto his stark white glove with the salty liquid. “I want to go sleep now though.”

“Kakarotto,” he said a bit louder so that his parents and grandparents could hear, “you visited a regen-tank, didn't you?”

“No.”

Gripped with horror, Vegeta began to rub at her neck and then shoulders, wiping away what he could of the make-up to display his work in agonizing detail. It was made easier with the light coat of sweat that her fear had developed. The blotchy, purple bruises, and reopened red scratches coated wherever he wiped away the foundation, and he swallowed hard to keep his face straight. After a moment, he sat Kakarotto down onto the table to face him as he wiped down her chest, stopping at last at the swooping neckline of her pink and black gown.

“Prince,” his grandfather began to admonish.

“Don't call me that,” Vegeta said, staring at the bruises before switching to look up at her face. Kakarotto blinked at him before she laughed softly, shaking her head in disbelief, and then turned her head to face it away from all of them. He didn't dare to look at the emperor for he knew that the man would be angry, and tried to concentrate on why his wife had not gone to the med bay for some regen patches at least.

“Prince!” His mother hissed quietly, “You will not use that tone with your grandfather, the emperor, ever again.”

“Probably,” he muttered, “but he'll remember the time that I did.” The amusement continued to flash through her eyes, and Kakarotto began kicking her feet slightly as they dangled above the floor. Grimacing, he looked down at her hips, imagining the bruises he had left there that night, and wondered how sore she was - inside and out - from his treatment. “I'm taking you to a regen-tank now, Princess. You won't resist that, right?”

She gazed at him a while before she sighed, her smile leaving, “If you do anything other than that, I will.” Vegeta nodded, and took her wrist carefully, suddenly remembering the bruises shaped like his fingers on them. He tugged gently, and she hopped off the table to follow him.

He stopped only at the door to face his grandfather. Vegeta opened his mouth before he closed it, all thoughts going blank in his mind before he shook his head, and pulled Kakarotto out into the hallway with him. Just before the door shut behind him, he heard his parents erupt into a pleading apology toward the emperor.

Snorting, Vegeta offered his arm to his wife, and she took it, glancing back at the door. “What was that about?”

“I did you wrong,” he said numbly while they walked, his voice echoing quietly through the hall. “I should not have done so. You trusted me to teach you, but I hurt you instead.”

“You taught me quite a few things last night actually. Nothing I would really like to repeat though,” Kakarotto said, and he nodded after a moment in understanding. “I … don't want that thing in my mouth again,” she whispered, and he swallowed hard, nodding once more as he recalled her sounds of disgust and anger. “I'll chew it off if you do.”

Vegeta winced, “I understand completely.” He looked at her before clearing his throat, “I assume you at least rinsed out your mouth before going out.”

“Thoroughly,” she said, her lips turning into a thin, displeased line. Curling his fingers around her own, Vegeta leaned down to kiss them, and the couple stopped in the hall. She went still, fidgeting slightly even after he pulled back.

“So you really don't know how to give your husband a proper kiss?” He asked, slightly disappointed by her nonparticipation. When Kakarotto shook her head, his eyebrows seemed to rise halfway up his forehead, “Oh.” Combing through his thick mane with his fingers, Vegeta scrutinized his small wife before he repressed a wicked grin, “I'll teach you then, dear princess.” She stiffened in alarm, and he murmured quickly to soothe her, “Not right now. We'll start after you're through with the regen-tank.”

Lips turned downward, “After what you did to me? How can you even look at me like you can touch me again?”

He scowled in turn, telling her, “Because I will touch you again, princess. For one thing, we are married, for another, we should be producing my heir, and it is our honeymoon still. It lasts another four days, if you remember.” Even though you aren't going to be my queen, you will be good practice for the woman who will be.

“Five days,” she said abruptly, and he blinked a few times in shock. Kakarotto explained brazenly, a faint tinge of pink to her cheeks and ears, “Last night … never happened. It doesn't count.”

“If you want to forget it so quickly,” he began, inspecting her bruises again, “then we should get you into the med bay. We can start your kissing lessons before we retire for the night. It would be a nice way to relax and warm up for even more lessons.” Her cheeks were flaming red, but she appeared more pleased and a touch more indignant than angry.

Vegeta kissed her again before the two went on their way to the medical bay.

---

Kakarotto stretched out early that morning, bathing in the heat made from the man beside her. She curled up behind him, having every intention of slipping away into sleep, but her husband pulled away, and got out of bed. Abruptly awake, she sat up, rubbing one eye.

He chuckled, “Didn't mean to wake you up.” He leaned down, and kissed her, but she wrapped her arms around him, dragging him back inside. Their breath left their lungs when he landed on top of her, but she didn't let a lack of air stop her. As she began to knead and work at his naked flesh, she listened to him talk, “Princess, I must go now. I have duties to focus on that need my attention.”

“I need your attention,” she insisted softly, and he groaned before sinking into her slowly. Her husband made sure to kiss her often, keeping her lips a dark, aroused red. Clenching her fangs did little to cease her imminent moans and cries to herself. He seemed to gorge himself on them anyway.

In another lifetime, she seemed to remember that someone once told her that her prince liked it when his women were loud in bed, and her form quivered while she realized how right they had been. It took her a long time for her mind to regroup, and by then her husband was already out of her bed. Kakarotto sighed softly, hugging over her torso as she reveled in the warmth of their brief union, and watched his bare body leave her bedchambers to greet the giggles of maids. She smiled sleepily, and curled up, trying to do as he had asked and keep her hips horizontal.

“Little princess,” she felt his hand on her cheek, and she blinked awake again, blushing when she realized she had fallen asleep so easily. “I'm going to tell my mother to let you sleep a while longer for my seed to settle, all right? Just rest here - there's still hours yet until sunrise.”

She nodded, and kissed his palm before she drifted back into slumber, feeling an answering soft press of lips on her brow.

---

Fanning herself, Kakarotto chewed on her tongue as she stared at the screen, weighing her options. The day had grown progressively hot that morning, informing her of the approaching summer and imperial couple. Her mother-in-law had indeed come in later than usual as her husband had asked, and the two had dined with each other in cool, aloof company before she had introduced Kakarotto to a group of other young women.

Most were older than she was, though there was a Noblewoman that was thirteen among them. Queen Arba had left her in charge of the small assembly, saying that she would instruct them in the ways of a decent and proper Noblewoman.

The thought almost made her laugh.

Unsure of what to do, she tried to think back on all of her lessons back at Lord Nuches' estate. She was certain they knew how to curtsy properly, and that one couldn't slurp while having tea, but that slurping was necessary with soup to show appreciation to the chef. In her opinion, they had so much decency and polite etiquette about them that everything that she knew of would barely fill one of their pinky nails.

Thus, she had taken them to the lush parlor in her suite, and pulled up a war game. The three-dimensional screen allowed the players to place their pieces in whatever location that they were capable of occupying - whether in the sky or on the ground. In this at least, she had the chance of dominating over them.

However, she had come across a rather strange pickle in the group by the name of Sunabi.

The woman was intelligent, and had a quick wit. So far, it seemed that their battle had come at a standstill, and neither wanted to let up. Kakarotto had breezed through the first four women as if they were nothing - much to her shame as the thirteen-year-old girl had cried after her loss. Sunabi held a firm ground though, and had gone through most of the princess' feints and plays with ease before Kakarotto reassessed her position, and started her stance over.

She wasn't sure what it would mean to her husband if she lost, but if the crying girl had told her anything, it was that she could severely shame her prince. The girl, Onya, had asked permission to call her fiancé to inform him of the terrible news, jittery and worried the entire time until Kakarotto had told her a firm negative. If Onya was worried about her fiancé's reaction, the peasant turned princess wanted to find out a way to deter anything untoward. Currently, however, Kakarotto was anxious over her game with the Lady Sunabi of the Kir'Min House.

Sunabi smiled. Her almond-shaped eyes were almost brown in color, and her dark face was a perfect oval. Yet it was her brown-red lips curved into a seductive twist of womanly might that made Kakarotto's stomach lurch in terrible irk. If she lost, could her husband's newly found affections turn to this woman?

“My lady, are you going to make a move or shall I serve tea now? I'm sure it will arrive by the time you figure out what you're going to do.”

Her grin slowly slipping off, Sunabi answered, “Some tea would be lovely, but by the time it has arrived, I'll have beaten you and your peasant army. I'm sure it would relax you substantially”

It was Kakarotto's turn to smile, and she turned to the maid at her side, “Bring up a pot of ice white tea, and a dish of lizard hearts.”

“And green wine for me.” Kakarotto blinked before she turned around to face her husband. As the maid left the room, all of the women sans Kakarotto stood from their seats to curtsy deeply to the man. She found her eyes not on the prince, but the man walking strangely behind him.

The head of hair that greeted her could belong to no other man, and she stood gradually, trying to hide her shaking hands in her petticoats, pretending to move them out of the way. Her brother smiled weakly and then bowed deeply to her and the other women present.

The prince took her hand, kissing it as was suitable in front of Noblewomen, and then turned so that he was facing Radittsu, and standing beside her. He said, “Princess, this is your eunuch guard. He is only male that I will accept by your side other than myself, and my sires - may they live forever.” He stroked her palm with his thumb, and she could hear a lace of confusion in his voice because she had not looked at him since he had first entered the room. “He won absolutely over the other candidates when he castrated himself with an iron nail.”

---

Ha! … Hey, he had to get in somehow, and - and - and … do you really think that Vegeta would let a functioning male guard his bride? Come on, people.

And … that's it, I think …