Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Ningen or nekojin? ❯ Chapter eight ( Chapter 8 )

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) I don't own the Resolve Company either, though I do have a box of them in my cupboard, lol.

 

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Chapter eight:

 

I open my eyes hours later to total darkness and blink as the moon shines through the window and casts itself across the sheets of my bed. Finally waking up properly, I register that there is a body pressed closely to mine, closing my eyes and shifting closer to it, enjoying its warmth. Hair tickles my chin and I sigh, opening my eyes again to allow them to adjust to the gloom by aid of the sparse light.

 

When I can see clearly, I shift back a little in the bed and look down upon my 'Geta snuggled up against my side, a peaceful expression on his beautiful face. Sitting up, I give a little smile and stroke my fingertips through his jet hair gently so I do not wake him. I can't believe how peaceful I am right now; in this moment, everything else seems trivial and unimportant as long as I have him here with me. My hand comes to rest on his slightly cool cheek and I lean in, pressing my lips to his forehead affectionately before I climb out of the bed, making sure to tuck in the sides to keep him warm.

 

I'd love to just stay there in bed with him all day, but I can already feel my stomach start to grumble, and am aware that he will be just as hungry as I - if not more - after our passionate tumble. I watch him as I pull on some boxers and socks, finding my chest feel warm at the beautiful and peaceful look on his face. He looks so innocent that I cannot help the way I feel for him…

 

Wait; he's only four, and hasn't been around many people…

 

My cheeks burn. Does that mean that I…have deflowered him?!

 

The idea triggers something in my body, and the next thing I know, I am half-hard, my cock tenting my boxers in his direction, as if pointing at him crudely.

 

Fidgeting, I turn away and make my way towards the door, tearing my gaze from his beauty as I leave the room. As I pad down the stairs, I curse my eager body. Why does something like that have to arouse me so much? Embarrassed, I press my palm to my face, realising how like a perverted old man I am acting, a feeling of shame making itself known as I push down the thought and walk into my kitchen. Standing in the middle of it, I frown. I have no idea what time it is, let alone what sort of food to eat is best for this time. Looking at the clock, I see it is about five in the morning, shrugging to myself as I get out eggs, bacon, sausage, and all the other various items suitable for a fry-up.

 

Turning on the hob and getting out frying pans seems to take almost no time, and eerily, the next time I feel aware of myself is when the food is finished; dishing it out onto two plates, ready to take upstairs. A strange feeling of unease fills me as I place the food onto a tray, putting two glasses of water along with them. The hair prickles on the back of my neck, and edgily, I move my hand to soothe it back down, not knowing why I feel so alert and nervous. I calm down and pick up the trays, nudging the kitchen door open with my foot as I slip out, practically bounding up the stairs to my bedroom, surprised to find I had not spilt one thing.

 

Using my foot to nudge open the bedroom door, I smile at the image of 'Geta resting in bed, moving to place the food on the side table. Leaning over him, I stroke his hair and sit next to him on the bed, rubbing his shoulder through the covers as I kiss his forehead again.

 

At the touch of his skin to mine, my eyes widen.

 

Ice.

 

His skin feels like ice under me.

 

Panicking, I grab his shoulder with both hands, shaking him frantically, my eyes never leaving his face. No! He can't be…!

 

When he doesn't respond in the slightest to my motions, I pull the sheets away from him, moving to rub his body with my hands, desperate to feel heat coming from his skin. But there is not even an ember; just ice. As my hands start to go numb from cold, reality slaps me hard in the face.

 

His body seemed weak the whole time we indulged ourselves. He let me look at and touch anything and everything I had interest in with no complaint, even doing things for me that I had to persuade my wife for months on end to do just once. The heavy panting, the smile he gave that seemed sad but happy at the same time… The cold feel of his body after a while against my warm one…

 

“H-He…knew…” The peaceful expression on his face is haunting, and I cannot help but stare, a sick feeling rising in my stomach. He must have known that he was getting weaker somehow! He should have told me…why didn't he say anything?!

 

Hot tears burn my cheeks and I find my teeth are gritted as I stare at the body, filled with too many emotions to list or count running through me. Why…!

 

Just as everything starts to go right, something goes wrong!

 

“Why couldn't you just be normal??” I scream in rage at the lifeless body next to me, shaking it again as I tremble from the sheer force of my anger. “Why couldn't you stay here for me? Why didn't you tell me?!” He doesn't move, and for a moment, I feel the urge to beat his body for how much it has wronged me, barely resisting. I listen for any kind of sound to prove me wrong, but I am rewarded with nothing but my own heavy breathing and I stop, just to see if I am being loud, only to no avail. The deathly silence drives me deeper into my rage as I run from the room, the still corpse still fresh in my mind. I scramble down the stairs, going almost blind from fury as I grab the nearest object, hurling it against the wall.

 

I hear a crash, but the force of my anger is too strong to make me stop; my arms grabbing everything within their reach, throwing every item as hard as I can in any direction at all, completely mindless. I kick at an object and find myself falling, making no move to stop the action whatsoever. I just don't care anymore.

 

I think I fall onto the sofa, beating it with my fists and legs until almost all of my energy is drained and I fall off, landing face-first onto my messy and object littered floor. My shoulders shake as more tears flow, moving my arms to push myself off the floor, cutting my hands on shards of something in the process, getting to my feet. I tug at a piece of what must have been a wine bottle out of my palm, and blood starts to bead along the wound; the red one of the only things I can see through the mass of tears.

 

If he was alive, I would get scolded for this… Slapped, yelled at and taken care of to try and stop it happening again. But he's not.

 

“Vegeta…Vegeta…!!” I sob, sinking to my knees once again, burying my face into my hands, tears streaking down my cheeks undaunted before splashing onto my thighs. The image of his dead body flashes in front of my eyes and I cannot help the horror and sadness in my heart as I cry and yell until my voice is hoarse.

 

Everything is throbbing painfully; my hands, my eyes, my throat and my hands, but I pay them little attention, only one thing running through my head the whole time I kneel in glass.

 

…Why…?