Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Ningen or nekojin? ❯ Chapter three ( Chapter 3 )

Ningen or nekojin?

 

By The Chichi Slaughter House

 

This was inspired by a doujinshi that one of my friends sent me and I really enjoyed it, even having ideas for a fic. Neko Vegeta's are my new obsession, so I don't want any flames about `OMG, are you sick?? Vegeta is a cat!', because he won't ever truly be a cat in my fics. I'm not a fan of animal sex.

 

Warnings: Uhh…let's see…Vegeta as uke, Goku pov, lemon, romanticishness, swearing maybe and anything else my twisted mind wants to come up with.

 

Disclaimer: Ugh! I can't believe I forgot to put this in! Bad Slaughter, bad! (cough)

I do not own DBZ, because, sadly, I am not rich. But if I did… (evil laugh) there'd be no more seme Vegeta stuff, because I'd put everyone straight! (shakes fist) ((Don't be offended by this if you support seme Vegeta, this is merely me being an idiot. Thank you.)) The `put your socks on' is not mine, it is © GogetaJr, I just borrowed it(with permission) because it's funny! I also don't own the flora company, or the Pussycat dolls, although that'd be nice… (rubs chin)

 

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Chapter three:

 

You put your left sock on, you take your left sock off, you put your left sock on and complain that it's too cold! You do the `put your socks on dance' and you chuck a psych! And this song is really bad! HEY! Woooooow the `put your socks on'! Wooooo! The `put your socks on'! Woooo! The `Put your socks on'! And that's what it's all about!

 

I open bleary eyes, that strange song dancing in my head as I blink and look around the left side of the room. Where am I? How did I get here? My last memory is of… My eyes widen and I stare at my left arm in shock, seeing it bandaged heavily, blood visible on the outside covering in a line from my wrist to my elbow and I wince, remembering what I did. I attempted to commit suicide…in front of Bulma. I sit up and bury my face into my hands in shame. I must have looked so insane and unstable…I don't blame her for knocking me out with the frying pan… Oh God…what if she's gotten a therapist for me?? Or worse! What if she wants to put me in a mental hospital?!

 

The irony of my situation slaps me in the face. I deserve this for what I did to 'Geta. I threatened to send him to one for something he couldn't help, but I'll be the one living there…for something I could help. I bite my lip harder. I truly do deserve this. I blink, then look around the rest of my room silently. This may be the last time I'm in here… I am shocked to see Bulma sitting on a chair next to my bed and I look away, unable to face her. She must think I'm crazy…

 

“The `put your socks on' song?” I hear Bulma's concerned, confused, yet slightly amused voice ask me. “You still remember it? It's been so long since then…about 16 years…” A hand gently grasps my right and I look over at her, sad that she had to see me do something so shameful and weak, looking into her eyes reluctantly, expecting to see disgust and fear in them. But I don't. All I can see is concern and friendly love towards me, making me completely grateful to have such wonderful, caring people as my friends. Her hand gives mine a comforting squeeze and I manage a weak smile, afraid of what's going to happen to me. I…I don't want people to think I'm crazy…I don't want to go to a mental hospital… Bulma's blue eyes glitter at me and she smiles softly. “Just relax. I swear everything's going to be fine…” I nod dumbly, not believing her. 'Geta's still in his room and I keep getting closer to killing myself…I just don't see how everything will be `fine'. There's no possible way it could be.

 

“How long did you knock me out for?” I whisper, the side of my head starting to hurt from remembrance. Damn psychosomaticism. I rub my head and wince, looking back at her sadly. She doesn't seem to have heard me, just holding my hand and smiling to comfort me, though it isn't working. In fact, it's rather disconcerting and I'm getting nervous. I ask louder. “How long did you knock me out for?” She blinks, then blushes slightly, obviously embarrassed that she didn't hear me the first time and clears her throat, looking at her watch. I wait.

 

“Not much longer than three hours, really…” She says in hushed tones, obviously aware that I have a headache from when she hit me. Looking deeply apologetic, she bites her lip. “You must have a terrible headache…do you want me to get you some paracetamol?” I nod, then wince as my wound aches, the pain getting worse. Silently, she gets up and leaves, going to get me the relief she had promised. I sigh and look at my hands. I still can't quite believe I did that, though my memories, the bandages and pain all support it. I never thought I'd be left with no other option than to kill myself…it's so selfish…what about the people who love and care about me? What about my friends? How would they feel? What about 'Geta? How would he have felt to finally leave that room, then discover I had killed myself? Would he be sad? Would he feel guilty? I bite my lip. It would be so awful…he'd be alone…with nowhere to go and no one to turn to…

 

A hand on my shoulder makes me look up and Bulma offers me two tablets, which I take from her and sigh. I pop them in my mouth and am given a glass of water, which I drink to get the tablets into my system, drinking half of the glass, before putting it on my bedside table. Bulma sits next to me and I look at her in regret.

 

“I-I'm so sorry…” I whisper, rubbing my right hand over my left sadly. I don't really have the right words to say to her. I regret doing this to myself. I regret that she had to see me do it and stop me…I regret not thinking about anyone else's feelings…I…I am so glad I'm not dead. My heart pangs with sadness as I think of how 'Geta might have reacted…what he might have to do to survive without me because he has no other place to go and no money… Bulma rests a hand on top of mine, and I break out of my depressing thoughts to look at her.

 

“Nothing bad is going to happen…” She reassures me. “You're not really that bad, just lovesick…so, my guess is when he comes out of his room, you'll be fine.” My throat closes up. But what if he never comes out? What if he's died from lack of food? What if he's already gone?? My eyes widen and I push the sheets away from me, also pushing Bulma's hand away, dashing from my room. I hear Bulma yelling after me, a high tone of panic in her voice, but I ignore her, running up to 'Geta's door and pulling on the handle desperately.

 

“'Geta?! 'Geta, you in there??” I cry, pulling the handle harder. “Please 'Geta, answer me! Are you okay?!” I stop yelling and let go of the handle, slumping to my knees in defeat. He doesn't want to talk to me, otherwise he'd be out of there already. Bulma arrives, walking nervously towards me and I get up, going to sit on my settee. She follows, sitting next to me and opens her mouth to speak.

 

-knock knock knock-

 

I blink, then turn, listening for the sound. Is someone at the door? I go over and listen, but nobody's there. I look back at Bulma, but she looks as confused as I am. Where's it coming from?

 

-knock knock-

 

I twist around, going over to 'Geta's room and put my ear to the wood, hearing nervous breathing. 'Geta's knocking…can't he talk again? I look at the keyhole to see it still covered, to my great disappointment.

 

“'G-Geta? Is that you knocking?” I ask, quiet.

 

-knock-

 

My eyes widen. I know this type of communication! Knock once for yes, twice for no! I get it! I take a deep breath and sit in front of the door, wondering what to say. He's here, he's listening, he cares.

 

“A-Are you ready to come out of there yet?” I ask, nervous. I want him to come out so much…I miss him dearly. But I don't think he's quite ready yet, unless he's stuck, or-

 

-knock knock-

 

I was right… I sigh, my hand on the door as I whisper.

 

“Are you stuck in there? Or can you come out when you want?” I ask, then realise that these questions could both need opposite answers. “I-I mean…you can come out, can't you?”

 

-knock-

 

Okay, I see now. He's capable, but he's not ready. My hearts sinks in my chest. I didn't mean to hurt him, really, I didn't. Does he know that? Does he forgive me? So many questions twist through my mind, but I know I have to keep this short; the longer we communicate, the longer he'll be in there.

 

“I-I'm really sorry about what I did.” I whisper, trying to tell him, but not cry from the emotional overload. “I never wanted to hurt you, I just didn't know what to do…I-I was serious when I said it…but I was being too hasty…I…” I pause. What do I say now? I look over to Bulma for help, but she says nothing, shaking her head. He might not know she's here, and he might get the wrong idea about us. That'd be the last thing I need right now. I decide that I need to get to the point, so I take a deep breath, then say what I have finally figured out. “I-I think…I think I love you…” I bite my lip, waiting for an answer, but I get none. “Y-You understand…don't you? Can you still hear me?” Silence. For a very long time, I can hear nothing. Maybe I can't hear him? Maybe I've said too much too fast. I stay quiet for a while, but then I crack under the pressure. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry I pushed you away. I'm sorry I threatened you. I-I…” I trail off, then swallow nervously. “I'm sorry I love you.” I move away from the door. “And I'm sorry if that isn't enough!” I practically yell the last sentence, then turn to bulma, speaking in low tones. “You should leave. I'll be fine.” I walk hurriedly back into my room and slam the door, leaving myself isolated from them both.

 

I can't stand this for much longer! My eyes well up with angry tears of regret and shame. I can't believe what's been going on…it all happened do fast! Almost too fast, unbelievably fast…like it wasn't real. As if I were dreaming all of this. I pause. That seems very likely right now. This is a dream. And I will wake up before anything too bad actually happens. Like a tightrope walker has a safety net. I'll wake up and 'Geta will be there, nuzzling my face to make me get up and feed him, and then I'll look into his cute brown eyes and kiss him breathless, pinning him under me and spreading hi—My eyes widen and I punch myself in the face, finally being alone. I shouldn't think things like that! I wince and cover my hot cheek with my hand, trying to calm the pain. Sighing, I move my hand away. This can't really be a dream if I feel pain, can it? Unless, of course, that this is a very detailed dream…

 

I laugh. Bitterly. For a very long time. I don't know how long, but when I stop, the laughter has made my voice and throat hurt really badly. I stand up and pace my room in silence, feeling kind of hungry, but I just don't really feel like eating. I know I should, but what if Bulma's still there? I don't want to face her yet. I just want to be alone. I want 'Geta. No, that's not right. I don't know what I want. It's funny how I never know what I want, then a decision is made and I just go along with it. I sigh sadly, my hunger getting the best of me. If Bulma's there, then she's there, there's nothing I can do about that. I walk over to my door and fling it open, looking into the livingroom to see it empty. She must be gone. I look to the clock on the wall and wince. It's almost midnight. How many hours have I been laughing for? I walk straight to the sink and grab a glass, filling it with some nice cold water and I drink half of it in one go, cooling my sore dry throat.

 

I look over to my fridge longingly, wondering what Bulma will have put in it, but strangely, I don't want anything she may have given me. I don't understand why I feel such resentment towards her, but I do. I bite my lip. I only have two options: eat or don't eat. My stomach rumbles and I open my fridge, hunger winning. My mouth waters as I gaze upon the wide selection of foods stocked in my fridge and I go straight for the Scottish Smoked Salmon, opening the packet and eating it cold, though I much prefer to heat it in the microwave and have it with rice. I eat and eat until I realise the packet is empty, my cheeks flushing slightly in embarrassment as I drop the wrapper in the bin. I'm glad no one saw me. I must have looked like I hadn't eaten in days.

 

Now that my hunger has receded, I root around the cupboards until I find some white bread, getting some flora out of my fridge with some cheese, making myself a sandwich and snacking on it as I look around my empty home, then look away. It's painful to look at. It never used to be so empty or silent because there was always someone else around besides myself that I could talk to and be around and have fun with. I'm not used to being alone. That's why it pains me. I feel useless, unneeded and unwanted…worse than after my family fell apart. It's really no wonder that I'm acting crazy and trying to commit suicide, is it?

 

I sigh and finish eating, putting my dirty dishes next to the sink, not knowing what to do. I'm not tired, so there's no point trying to go to bed. I spot the TV and go over, sitting in my comfortable seat on my settee, turning on the screen and flicking through the channels, finding nothing except bad films and adverts with half-naked women on. I frown. For once in my life, I wonder where the half-naked men adverts are. There's loads of half-naked women adverts, but I can't seem to find any with men! I scowl. Stupid biased adverts! I turn on a music channel and smile. More half-dressed women. But then again, it's a girl band, so it makes sense that there's no men. I strain my eyes to see the name of the band, then blink, looking to the side. Pussycat dolls. Cat. 'Geta.

 

~Don't cha wish your girlfriend was a freak like me?~

 

I bite my lip. Freak. Chichi called 'Geta that once and he'd done nothing wrong! The song fades out and I turn off the TV before another song can start. Everything reminds me of him. I sigh sadly and look over to his bedroom door. Is he ever going to come out? Well, of course he will, but why won't he come out now? I sigh again in defeat and get up, deciding to try and sleep again. There's nothing else I can do. I feel like drinking, but I don't think that there are any pubs or shops open to get any from. it's weird. I've legally been able to drink for four years now, and up til now, I've never really wanted to. I mean, sure I've had the occasional bottle of wine every now and then with a meal, but it doesn't really count. I've never wanted to just go out and purposely drink alcohol, with no food or anything to absorb it all up, but now…now I want to grab a bottle of anything and just drink it…

 

I look around again, this time looking for something to drink, and I notice the cool cabinet where I keep vintage wines for celebrations with friends. Perfect. Wine is good enough to get me drunk, isn't it? I walk over and open the cabinet, finding - to my great happiness - that there are at least ten bottles in there, and they're all red, so that I don't have to mix up the flavours. Now, all I need is something to occupy my time while I drink these… I look over to the new table Bulma bought for me and smile. I can play cards! I take three bottles from my cabinet, and gently nudge it shut, bringing the bottles to the floor next to my sofa, placing them under the table, so I won't knock them over and get a bottle opener from my kitchen, placing it under the table with them. Now…where did I put those cards…? I think carefully and look around the room, wondering when I played cards last. Was it Christmas when I played Canasta against Brolli? Or was it earlier…? I don't really remember… I go over to the cabinet again, and find an old pack of cards at the bottom. Great!

 

I take the cards and run back over to the table, sitting on my settee so that I face it and open a bottle of wine, drinking it straight from the bottle, grinning weirdly. I think I just drank a whole glass in one go! My vision looks a bit fuzzy, but I ignore it, shuffling the cards and laying out a solitaire deck. A row of one, then two, then three, up to seven, leaving the top card face up, looking at me as I leave enough room for four spaces and put the rest of my deck near the top. Luckily for me, there's already an ace I can put up, and turn over a new card.

 

On my fifth game of solitaire, and my third bottle of wine, I realise I need the toilet, so I stagger to my feet and go. When I get back, my solitaire hand is gone and I frown, slipping onto my seat and look at the table, until a deep voice interrupts my thoughts.

 

“Kakarott?” I look up and see 'Geta sitting on the floor on the opposite side of the table and I stare, seeing him in my clothes, covered from neck to toe. I look over him greedily and lick my lips, the alcohol fuzzing up my thoughts as I look into his eyes. “Want to play strip poker?” He asks playfully, a smirk on his lips, and I smirk back, the idea arousing me further. I reach over the table and grab the back of his head, pulling him into a deep kiss, then pull away, grinning.

 

“How about we forget the game and move on to the after part?” I suggest, lust making my voice husky as he pouts at me, the look making me want him even more. It seems almost unreal that this is happening, but I am not going to reject him again. Never again. I love him too much.

 

“But I want to know who won!” He says, his eyes glittering slyly at me. I chuckle and move off of the settee, picking him up and laying him on it, crawling over him, knocking the cards from his hands and onto the floor.

 

“You won.” I purr, my hands touching over his covered chest slowly. “See…you're fully clothed and I don't have pants on…you won…” My mouth reaches his and he wraps his arms around my neck, pulling me in for a kiss, his tongue searching through my mouth slowly, as if he were savouring the wine I had been drinking. I can't take it anymore, and I break away, pulling the zip of his pants down, and undoing the top button. He looks at me in confusion, his face pink, obviously wondering why I am removing his pants first, but I ignore him and pull his pants down past his knees, licking my lips at his arousal in front of me. It looks delicious. But my own arousal is throbbing, trapped in my boxers and I yank them down, freeing it into the air. I hear 'Geta gasp, but I just smirk and press his knees to his chest, leaving his entrance exposed. He is trembling, but I can't stop myself as I position at his entrance, panting.

 

“K-Kakarott?” His voice sounds worried and unsure, so I lean forward and kiss him, pushing deeply into him, feeling him cry out from the pain, but I can't stop, sheathing myself completely and moaning lowly at the heat and tightness around me. It feels so damn good! I can't help myself as I push my hips forward, then draw them back, repeating the process, groaning in pleasure, the sounds of my happiness drowning out his cries of pain. So damn tight! I thrust harder, moaning and groaning over him, watching his face as I shove myself deeper into him, ignoring his tears. My eyes widen and I gasp, finally realising what I am doing and I still my hips, leaning forward to kiss him, yelping when he bites my tongue. I pull away and stare sadly at him, my hands caressing the curve of his hips in apology, his pained expression making me feel awful and thrust my hips gently, watching his expression change to wide-eyed shock, no longer looking pained as I brush over his prostate.

 

“Vegeta…” I murmur, one of my hands moving to stroke his erection, his mouth wide open as my hips gently move, my arousal moving deeply within him, but not hurting him. Moans flow from his throat and I move my hips faster, watching him worriedly for any pain, afraid of hurting him further, but luckily, seeing none. I buck into him harder, my hand moving at a fast pace, panting as I feel a tightening in my loins, signalling the closeness of my orgasm, the look on 'Geta's face indicating that he is close too. My mouth latches onto his and we kiss desperately, 'Geta reaching his climax first, crying out into my mouth as his scalding walls clamp around my hardness, warm liquid splattering onto my hand as I yell, my own orgasm filling him. I fall onto him limply and kiss his neck a few times before I open my mouth to speak, but he shakes his head, silencing me.

 

“We can talk when we wake up…” His whispers, his voice low and I nod as he yawns, slipping out of him and hugging him close as we cuddle and fall into a deep slumber.

 

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Thanks to El Tango Master of patatos for flaming, even though they cannot even spell potato or write a fic worth reading! =D