Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Perfection ❯ Chapter 3 ( Chapter 3 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Todesengel_ 
"I love you and I love you."
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai / Horror / Psychological | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 03.27.2006 | Pages: 4 | Words: 3.4K | Visits: 590 | Status: Completed
"I love you and I love you."
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai / Horror / Psychological | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 03.27.2006 | Pages: 4 | Words: 3.4K | Visits: 590 | Status: Completed
Laughter. Laughter.
I heard it, even as I picked up my pen and started writing in the ridiculous journal once more. Closed tightly behind thick doors and darkness, like some sort of dirty secret, my only lighting was a candle, as any sort of power source had long since burned out. I didn't want to tell the next stories, to up-to-date the readers of this diary. I didn't want all my desperation thrown down in ink, like somehow, by not writing it, it wouldn't be solidified truth.
But it was regardless.
Maybe I thought that if I didn't admit on paper that I was in love, somehow, that made it simple speculation. Like, a less carved-in-stone rumor or something.
Oh but God I was. I was so in love that I burned with it. Like somehow, it spite massive ovals of fire at any given moment, erupting into liquid flames that danced inside me. Like I had this constant fire pit within my stomach that never died, that was never extinguished with water. It never simmered, it never steamed.
It roared.
After the kiss, I was flying, soaring, diving, spinning. Every verb that could personify dizziness. All of a sudden, it was like my tranquil world of good/bad guy was stretched and then spun rapidly. Everything twirled around me and so rapidly that it caught fire.
While Vegeta had claimed that I made him hot and cold, after that night, I was hot. Constantly. I was like I could sit over a sink on a luke-warm day, and just have sweat pouring down my cheeks. It pooled at the crevice above my lips and beaded over my eyebrows. I thought about the kiss constantly.
Readers may at this point be thinking that I was suffering from very obvious guilt. That might be a half truth. I was guilty. But not because it happened or even that yeah, I liked it. But I was guilty, because I wanted MORE of it. It wasn't like medicine. It wasn't like something you took that made you cringe and then cured you later on. It was a pop-than-you-can't-stop thing. I craved it.
I obsessed about it every moment and every moment that I did, I wanted more of it. At first, I thought that maybe it was just how I felt that made me dwell on it so much. I guess maybe the idea of kissing another man had always brought the feeling of shame and even a bit of disgust. I kissed my wife because it was an intimate gesture that I held as above and beyond my affections for my sparring partners. A hug and a pat on the back was my physical adoration for my friends but a deep kiss was something held only for my wife. Because it had meaning and because it meant a lot more to her than something I could voice.
And just because it had been from Vegeta this time didn't really change any of that.
At first, I had thought that maybe, in his description of how I made HIM feel, he was trying to demonstrate what his words couldn't ever really inflict. Sure as shit, as soon as he kissed me, I was feeling the coldness of chaotic confusion and the heat of shame. But they didn't linger long, I'll admit that much. Then I realized, maybe he kissed me to voice something that words would never do justice.
As I had never been good with speaking or giving emphasis to what I felt in the moment, sometimes kissing ChiChi or making love to her was my only outlet for emotional chaos. Perhaps, the kiss hadn't been intimate or sexual at all. Maybe, it had been a very chaste, emotional understanding he was trying to impart on me.
And then, that theory took a nasty crack to the balls and fizzled to nothing.
It HAD been sexual! It HAD been emotional! And it had been both all at once.
So I thought about it until I was damn near purple in the face and blue everywhere else! Yes yes, chuckle awkwardly; 'everywhere else' entails precisely what you're thinking. I just wanted it so much more. I wanted MORE of those kisses that made my eyes flutter, that made my stomach sink and swim at the same time.
I thought for about .5 seconds that maybe I'd be perfectly content to just have one more. And once that theory was flushed down the shitter, I thought about .2 seconds, that maybe JUST kissing would suffice.
But yeah .5 and .2 seconds are a LOT shorter than you can even imagine!
I wanted HIM. I wanted to kiss him, I wanted to have sex with him, I wanted to explore and pillage and kiss and suck and fuck just about every portion OF him. Mentally, physically, emotionally, I needed him.
It was SO odd because it happened so quickly. Yeah, that's true. BUT... it doesn't make it any less real.
It was an over-night infatuational Big-Bang.
The day comes to me now, when yes, thoughts of him had run as rampant as ever, my mind, of course, chaotic with it. ChiChi had grabbed the phone, muttering out her half-assed greeting and her eyes widening slightly when she handed it to me, giving no explanation before crossing her arms and listening in.
Bulma's high-pitched voice sank into my ear from the other end, her words sprawled out so quickly that I strained to even make sense out of them.
"High-jacked.... kidnapped....holding hostage.... bomb.." Were about the only words that registered, my body straightening in alert.
"Where?" I said simply, nodding as she gave me a sputtered answer, my fingers flying to my forehead as I concentrated on the location. I glanced towards ChiChi, for not the first time, completely not caring what she thought and instead, looking away from her obvious disapproval. Honestly, what did she expect? 'No, I'm sorry Bulma, I can't save any hostages or punish any criminals. My wife would feel too inferior if I did that.'
I rolled my eyes at the idea, fazing out before hearing the last words Bulma spoke.
"Vegeta's already on his way."
Unexpectedly, my focus in the last moments had brought me directly to Vegeta, my mind subconsciously finding the source of his power and transmitting me directly to him. He stood shocked for a moment, his hair a blaze of silvery whiteness, his skin pale against the mass energy he was unfolding with his body. His youthful face was masked soon by a slight look of disappointment, his word "ascend" suddenly dawning on me.
He didn't want us to be recognized.
Before even taking in my surroundings, I let my energy rocket forward, my hair and eyes turning silvery white, the irises surrounding my pupil a very light shade of blue that only made the whiteness that much more piercing. I had seen the transformation before, gazing at myself in a mirror after having done so, staring in disbelief at the seeming-deity before my eyes. We were beautiful. But then, we were always beautiful. Only now, that beauty which could transcend any human being, was piercingly so. If anything--- I wanted to argue--- our ascended form could only bring that much more attention to us, as flawlessness was not comparative to humanity.
At close proximity, we looked nothing like them.
Dismissing this obvious problem, I gazed around us, our bodies only slightly shielded by the fact that the immense crowds gathered were paying no attention to my arrival. All eyes were glued to an enormous building, a hundred cop cars and black trucks with the word "Swat" written across them, gathered outside.
Loud voices behind speakers bruised my ears, my eyes squinting to see the reason for such upheaval. Vegeta, seeing my reaction, pointed towards a man, his forearm wrapped around the throat of what might have been a toddler. Squealing women, no doubt the mother and grandmother, were hauled backwards into the crowd by police officers, crying out for order they weren't about to get.
The man seemed less than fazed, perhaps a methamphetamine addict, red eyes glazed with something I can only describe as immense desperation and social detachment. Lined arms wrapped around the throat and face of the wincing child, the hoarse cries from the kidnapper setting my alert into over-drive.
Desperation was the quickest leap into insanity... and I'd heard voices like that before.
"Is this what we're here for?" I whispered, eyes lowered as Vegeta stood next to me. I couldn't help but glance over at him, his entire demeanor changed since the last time we'd been together. I felt, unwillingly, my hope for something more intimate flutter down, his face void of anything but professionalism. He was here to stop this and my presence hadn't changed the fact that this was a matter to be dealt with seriously.
"Not exactly," he said in a hard, accented voice. "There's a bomb."
I glanced up from my writing, closing my eyes as I smelt it. The sulfur and fire, the tangle of chemical fumes and smoke that tore upward around us. We had slaughtered them, one by one, as I came to the memory again in that moment, feeling flesh break beneath my hands. We had infiltrated the building, my clumsiness getting us spotted and unleashing hell on the building. Hearing the rain of gunshots from inside, the crowd had broken into hysteria, running to their cars and fleeing. Even the law enforcement agents were hightailing it, believing that the bomb would soon be unleashed.
Human nihilism being what it is, the mother and grandmother of the kidnapped boy were only too quick to forget their attachment, jumping into their cars just as quickly as any of the other bystanders. Blowing out the insides of the boys' head, the leader ran inside, meeting with the roughest end of Vegeta's fist. I had stared with fascination, watching as if in slow motion the monster's face wound around his knuckles, bending and breaking until it was just gory matter, his hand on the other side up to his elbow in the man's head.
"Slaughter them," He told me, seeing my hesitance. "Kill them all."
And we had.
Like angels of vengeance, we reeked monstrosities upon them, the kind no overdose could do justice. Like shadows, we crept from room to room, my heritage goading me to torture in ways it never had before. I admit, there were times in previous battles that I would prolong the pain, living off the pleasure I partook in it and indulging in the torment of someone who rightly deserved it. But not like this. Never like this.
Animalistic fascination overwhelmed any guilt and I saw the flash of cruelty in his eyes, reflecting my own. This was sex. This was our little secret, the ghosts from inside us awakened and tearing down upon the drug addicts. I grabbed a fleeing man by his long, greasy hair, feeling the strands come loose as I purged his face against a wall, loving the feeling of it pop, like a ripe, cherry tomato.
Vegeta laughed merrily over the sounds of gunshots, the light from blasts only flickering around his sadistic, bloodthirsty grin. He dove his fingers into a man's scalp, blood running into wide eyes as he peeled both sides apart.
I think even at the time, I realized my conscious would punish me for it later. It was completely contradictory to everything my heart told me. Every rabid instinct in me was alive and pumping, demanding the silence of my conscious in exchange for thoughtless cruelty. Vegeta had given me a gift in this; the beauty of bloodshed as it splashed around me. Everything was morbid artwork, to the stains of brain that shattered around a wall, to the eerie screams and moans of those we'd merely mortally wounded.
True, I'd always indulged in violence. It was an enormous part of my general nature. But I'd never loved it so much as I did in those moments we shared together. It was like the greatest gift he could have ever given to me and I realized that perhaps, that was his basic intention. He wanted to show me who I could be, what I was without the judgment of my home-world society. No one but us would ever know and despite the fact that they were human, I took no pity as even now, I spare very little on the victim's account.
Glancing over through the darkness and strobe-flickering of gunshots, I saw a red-rimmed set of fearful eyes staring at me. A shaking, quivering hunk of human life coward in the corner, his eyes glaring up at me as though he were meeting death itself; which he was. I walked towards him, my chest rising and falling with the luscious fear I could taste pouring from his skin. I could smell it seeping through his dirty pores, fluttering about his feverish body.
I crept closer, feeding off his fear, seeing something small and compact shaking in his sweaty fists.
"Kakarot!"
I woke up on the ground, fire pouring around my body. Vegeta's energy surrounded us, blocking off the worst of the flames as the bomb had gone off in my victim's hand. I flew to my feet, gathering my own power around my skin to keep the mass heat at bay. We were surrounded entirely by walls of flame, the blast taking out the entire building. The heat exploded around me, sweat pouring into my eyes as I met with his. Black reflected the flames, blood sprayed across his immaculate facial features as he smiled at me.
"You loved every minute of that, didn't you?" He whispered, his throaty accent paling the roar of flames. "My caged Kakarot."
I smiled at him, wanting suddenly to grab him up, to hold him and myself within the darkness we'd just unleashed. I couldn't feel bad about it. I couldn't regret it. Because he was absolutely right.
I'd loved it.
"Your heritage demands it," He breathed, seemingly able to read my mind. "Your love affair with cruelty."
His fingers suddenly reached towards me, wiping some of the sweat from my cheeks as I breathed hard.
"I wish I could set you free," He whispered, moving closer to me almost in a predatorial way. "forever."
His lips met mine and I thought that either that or the flames would melt me into the ground. The heat only increased as his tongue slid into my mouth, caressing my own as he led me closer to him. This is what I'd been waiting for, I wanted to scream. His fingers gathered in the back of my hair, yanking my face towards what must have been the ceiling, his teeth and tongue on my exposed throat.
"Take down your power," he told me. "Let this burn."
I closed my eyes, every part of me hurting with arrousal, letting my energy dive downwards as the heat from the flames began to burn me. Pain erupted, mixed with immense pleasure as he did the same, our teeth clenching as fire torched our wet skin. I screamed as his teeth tore into my neck, feeling boiling blood pool down my collar bone. Everything hurt, everything burned yet I wanted to cry in delirious sexual awakening. The pain was absolutely euphoric, kissing every inch of my body in ways that just plain pleasure never could.
I never knew I could be so primal and sadistic.
I pulled him hard against me, attacking his mouth as my fingers went beneath his tight shirt, feeling his smooth skin beneath my fingertips. I let the pads of my skin slide over the poreless flesh of his shoulder blades, grinning like a maniac as I forced my fingernails beneath the surface. Hot blood spat over my nails, his cry of agony causing my powerlevel to plummet even more, the fire making sweat on my skin simmer into steam. Electricity crackled around him as I wrenched my fingers downwards, still imbedded an inch into his skin.
We panted for cool air, finding none as we indulge in this flaggelancy, the inner sadist in both of us wide awake. But then, so was the inner masochist. We fed on the cruelty we endured and enacted, our eyes planted upon the other's to ensure that we were experiencing the same thing; the challenge to overcome the horror of pain and find the pleasure beneath monster.
I let my head fall back as we fell to what was left of the floor, his trembling body over mine. I could feel the mass of muscle that surrounded my gorey fingertips, the bones not far beneath. His steamy breath came over my ear, his words forming disgusting sentences that made me smile beneath him. Scenarios of what he'd always wanted to do with me, what debaucheries he wanted to enact with my body.
"I like it to hurt," He promised, goading me on as I dug my fingers deeper, loving the changes in his breathing. He pushed against me, the hardness in his body propelling mine to levels I'd never even experienced before. I'd never been so animalistic nor so nihilistic in my lifetime. And as I mentioned before, I loved every minute of this.
Every minute I spent being somebody else, or more, being MYself. Every minute that I didn't have to smile, or to laugh or to spit out sentence fragments to hide my true intelligence. I loved every minute that I didn't have to sound or act or look like a Saturday morning cartoon hero; every second that I got to act out the creations of a deranged, inhumane mind.
More importantly, I loved every second that I didn't have to behave like a human would; no longer the mannequin for a race that wasn't my own.
We indulged in nameless sex that night. I write 'nameless' because it wasn't sex. I wasn't something human minds could comprehend or words ever justify. It wasn't purposeless sex like animals have or passionate sweetness like human movies portray. It was something of our own. Something that can't be labeled or even described properly. It was pain and pleasure and that is all that I can rightly tell you.
Amongst the flames and ashes, we created something beautiful. Amongst the burning bodies and stench of death, we enacted something the planet had never known before.
And it was wonderful.
Afterwards, he lay over me, our bodies steaming, the hotness rising over our spent forms. We both trembled, our muscles unable to cope with the vast energy we had expended during our trist. Blood clotted over terrific wounds, mingling with sweat and spit.
And he'd whispered it. A thousand times he whispered it, like it was something he had to say, something that held more importance than anything that we'd done that day. Like if he'd held it back any longer, it would have imploded upon us.
"I love you," He'd panted against me. "I love you and I love you."
I heard it, even as I picked up my pen and started writing in the ridiculous journal once more. Closed tightly behind thick doors and darkness, like some sort of dirty secret, my only lighting was a candle, as any sort of power source had long since burned out. I didn't want to tell the next stories, to up-to-date the readers of this diary. I didn't want all my desperation thrown down in ink, like somehow, by not writing it, it wouldn't be solidified truth.
But it was regardless.
Maybe I thought that if I didn't admit on paper that I was in love, somehow, that made it simple speculation. Like, a less carved-in-stone rumor or something.
Oh but God I was. I was so in love that I burned with it. Like somehow, it spite massive ovals of fire at any given moment, erupting into liquid flames that danced inside me. Like I had this constant fire pit within my stomach that never died, that was never extinguished with water. It never simmered, it never steamed.
It roared.
After the kiss, I was flying, soaring, diving, spinning. Every verb that could personify dizziness. All of a sudden, it was like my tranquil world of good/bad guy was stretched and then spun rapidly. Everything twirled around me and so rapidly that it caught fire.
While Vegeta had claimed that I made him hot and cold, after that night, I was hot. Constantly. I was like I could sit over a sink on a luke-warm day, and just have sweat pouring down my cheeks. It pooled at the crevice above my lips and beaded over my eyebrows. I thought about the kiss constantly.
Readers may at this point be thinking that I was suffering from very obvious guilt. That might be a half truth. I was guilty. But not because it happened or even that yeah, I liked it. But I was guilty, because I wanted MORE of it. It wasn't like medicine. It wasn't like something you took that made you cringe and then cured you later on. It was a pop-than-you-can't-stop thing. I craved it.
I obsessed about it every moment and every moment that I did, I wanted more of it. At first, I thought that maybe it was just how I felt that made me dwell on it so much. I guess maybe the idea of kissing another man had always brought the feeling of shame and even a bit of disgust. I kissed my wife because it was an intimate gesture that I held as above and beyond my affections for my sparring partners. A hug and a pat on the back was my physical adoration for my friends but a deep kiss was something held only for my wife. Because it had meaning and because it meant a lot more to her than something I could voice.
And just because it had been from Vegeta this time didn't really change any of that.
At first, I had thought that maybe, in his description of how I made HIM feel, he was trying to demonstrate what his words couldn't ever really inflict. Sure as shit, as soon as he kissed me, I was feeling the coldness of chaotic confusion and the heat of shame. But they didn't linger long, I'll admit that much. Then I realized, maybe he kissed me to voice something that words would never do justice.
As I had never been good with speaking or giving emphasis to what I felt in the moment, sometimes kissing ChiChi or making love to her was my only outlet for emotional chaos. Perhaps, the kiss hadn't been intimate or sexual at all. Maybe, it had been a very chaste, emotional understanding he was trying to impart on me.
And then, that theory took a nasty crack to the balls and fizzled to nothing.
It HAD been sexual! It HAD been emotional! And it had been both all at once.
So I thought about it until I was damn near purple in the face and blue everywhere else! Yes yes, chuckle awkwardly; 'everywhere else' entails precisely what you're thinking. I just wanted it so much more. I wanted MORE of those kisses that made my eyes flutter, that made my stomach sink and swim at the same time.
I thought for about .5 seconds that maybe I'd be perfectly content to just have one more. And once that theory was flushed down the shitter, I thought about .2 seconds, that maybe JUST kissing would suffice.
But yeah .5 and .2 seconds are a LOT shorter than you can even imagine!
I wanted HIM. I wanted to kiss him, I wanted to have sex with him, I wanted to explore and pillage and kiss and suck and fuck just about every portion OF him. Mentally, physically, emotionally, I needed him.
It was SO odd because it happened so quickly. Yeah, that's true. BUT... it doesn't make it any less real.
It was an over-night infatuational Big-Bang.
The day comes to me now, when yes, thoughts of him had run as rampant as ever, my mind, of course, chaotic with it. ChiChi had grabbed the phone, muttering out her half-assed greeting and her eyes widening slightly when she handed it to me, giving no explanation before crossing her arms and listening in.
Bulma's high-pitched voice sank into my ear from the other end, her words sprawled out so quickly that I strained to even make sense out of them.
"High-jacked.... kidnapped....holding hostage.... bomb.." Were about the only words that registered, my body straightening in alert.
"Where?" I said simply, nodding as she gave me a sputtered answer, my fingers flying to my forehead as I concentrated on the location. I glanced towards ChiChi, for not the first time, completely not caring what she thought and instead, looking away from her obvious disapproval. Honestly, what did she expect? 'No, I'm sorry Bulma, I can't save any hostages or punish any criminals. My wife would feel too inferior if I did that.'
I rolled my eyes at the idea, fazing out before hearing the last words Bulma spoke.
"Vegeta's already on his way."
Unexpectedly, my focus in the last moments had brought me directly to Vegeta, my mind subconsciously finding the source of his power and transmitting me directly to him. He stood shocked for a moment, his hair a blaze of silvery whiteness, his skin pale against the mass energy he was unfolding with his body. His youthful face was masked soon by a slight look of disappointment, his word "ascend" suddenly dawning on me.
He didn't want us to be recognized.
Before even taking in my surroundings, I let my energy rocket forward, my hair and eyes turning silvery white, the irises surrounding my pupil a very light shade of blue that only made the whiteness that much more piercing. I had seen the transformation before, gazing at myself in a mirror after having done so, staring in disbelief at the seeming-deity before my eyes. We were beautiful. But then, we were always beautiful. Only now, that beauty which could transcend any human being, was piercingly so. If anything--- I wanted to argue--- our ascended form could only bring that much more attention to us, as flawlessness was not comparative to humanity.
At close proximity, we looked nothing like them.
Dismissing this obvious problem, I gazed around us, our bodies only slightly shielded by the fact that the immense crowds gathered were paying no attention to my arrival. All eyes were glued to an enormous building, a hundred cop cars and black trucks with the word "Swat" written across them, gathered outside.
Loud voices behind speakers bruised my ears, my eyes squinting to see the reason for such upheaval. Vegeta, seeing my reaction, pointed towards a man, his forearm wrapped around the throat of what might have been a toddler. Squealing women, no doubt the mother and grandmother, were hauled backwards into the crowd by police officers, crying out for order they weren't about to get.
The man seemed less than fazed, perhaps a methamphetamine addict, red eyes glazed with something I can only describe as immense desperation and social detachment. Lined arms wrapped around the throat and face of the wincing child, the hoarse cries from the kidnapper setting my alert into over-drive.
Desperation was the quickest leap into insanity... and I'd heard voices like that before.
"Is this what we're here for?" I whispered, eyes lowered as Vegeta stood next to me. I couldn't help but glance over at him, his entire demeanor changed since the last time we'd been together. I felt, unwillingly, my hope for something more intimate flutter down, his face void of anything but professionalism. He was here to stop this and my presence hadn't changed the fact that this was a matter to be dealt with seriously.
"Not exactly," he said in a hard, accented voice. "There's a bomb."
I glanced up from my writing, closing my eyes as I smelt it. The sulfur and fire, the tangle of chemical fumes and smoke that tore upward around us. We had slaughtered them, one by one, as I came to the memory again in that moment, feeling flesh break beneath my hands. We had infiltrated the building, my clumsiness getting us spotted and unleashing hell on the building. Hearing the rain of gunshots from inside, the crowd had broken into hysteria, running to their cars and fleeing. Even the law enforcement agents were hightailing it, believing that the bomb would soon be unleashed.
Human nihilism being what it is, the mother and grandmother of the kidnapped boy were only too quick to forget their attachment, jumping into their cars just as quickly as any of the other bystanders. Blowing out the insides of the boys' head, the leader ran inside, meeting with the roughest end of Vegeta's fist. I had stared with fascination, watching as if in slow motion the monster's face wound around his knuckles, bending and breaking until it was just gory matter, his hand on the other side up to his elbow in the man's head.
"Slaughter them," He told me, seeing my hesitance. "Kill them all."
And we had.
Like angels of vengeance, we reeked monstrosities upon them, the kind no overdose could do justice. Like shadows, we crept from room to room, my heritage goading me to torture in ways it never had before. I admit, there were times in previous battles that I would prolong the pain, living off the pleasure I partook in it and indulging in the torment of someone who rightly deserved it. But not like this. Never like this.
Animalistic fascination overwhelmed any guilt and I saw the flash of cruelty in his eyes, reflecting my own. This was sex. This was our little secret, the ghosts from inside us awakened and tearing down upon the drug addicts. I grabbed a fleeing man by his long, greasy hair, feeling the strands come loose as I purged his face against a wall, loving the feeling of it pop, like a ripe, cherry tomato.
Vegeta laughed merrily over the sounds of gunshots, the light from blasts only flickering around his sadistic, bloodthirsty grin. He dove his fingers into a man's scalp, blood running into wide eyes as he peeled both sides apart.
I think even at the time, I realized my conscious would punish me for it later. It was completely contradictory to everything my heart told me. Every rabid instinct in me was alive and pumping, demanding the silence of my conscious in exchange for thoughtless cruelty. Vegeta had given me a gift in this; the beauty of bloodshed as it splashed around me. Everything was morbid artwork, to the stains of brain that shattered around a wall, to the eerie screams and moans of those we'd merely mortally wounded.
True, I'd always indulged in violence. It was an enormous part of my general nature. But I'd never loved it so much as I did in those moments we shared together. It was like the greatest gift he could have ever given to me and I realized that perhaps, that was his basic intention. He wanted to show me who I could be, what I was without the judgment of my home-world society. No one but us would ever know and despite the fact that they were human, I took no pity as even now, I spare very little on the victim's account.
Glancing over through the darkness and strobe-flickering of gunshots, I saw a red-rimmed set of fearful eyes staring at me. A shaking, quivering hunk of human life coward in the corner, his eyes glaring up at me as though he were meeting death itself; which he was. I walked towards him, my chest rising and falling with the luscious fear I could taste pouring from his skin. I could smell it seeping through his dirty pores, fluttering about his feverish body.
I crept closer, feeding off his fear, seeing something small and compact shaking in his sweaty fists.
"Kakarot!"
I woke up on the ground, fire pouring around my body. Vegeta's energy surrounded us, blocking off the worst of the flames as the bomb had gone off in my victim's hand. I flew to my feet, gathering my own power around my skin to keep the mass heat at bay. We were surrounded entirely by walls of flame, the blast taking out the entire building. The heat exploded around me, sweat pouring into my eyes as I met with his. Black reflected the flames, blood sprayed across his immaculate facial features as he smiled at me.
"You loved every minute of that, didn't you?" He whispered, his throaty accent paling the roar of flames. "My caged Kakarot."
I smiled at him, wanting suddenly to grab him up, to hold him and myself within the darkness we'd just unleashed. I couldn't feel bad about it. I couldn't regret it. Because he was absolutely right.
I'd loved it.
"Your heritage demands it," He breathed, seemingly able to read my mind. "Your love affair with cruelty."
His fingers suddenly reached towards me, wiping some of the sweat from my cheeks as I breathed hard.
"I wish I could set you free," He whispered, moving closer to me almost in a predatorial way. "forever."
His lips met mine and I thought that either that or the flames would melt me into the ground. The heat only increased as his tongue slid into my mouth, caressing my own as he led me closer to him. This is what I'd been waiting for, I wanted to scream. His fingers gathered in the back of my hair, yanking my face towards what must have been the ceiling, his teeth and tongue on my exposed throat.
"Take down your power," he told me. "Let this burn."
I closed my eyes, every part of me hurting with arrousal, letting my energy dive downwards as the heat from the flames began to burn me. Pain erupted, mixed with immense pleasure as he did the same, our teeth clenching as fire torched our wet skin. I screamed as his teeth tore into my neck, feeling boiling blood pool down my collar bone. Everything hurt, everything burned yet I wanted to cry in delirious sexual awakening. The pain was absolutely euphoric, kissing every inch of my body in ways that just plain pleasure never could.
I never knew I could be so primal and sadistic.
I pulled him hard against me, attacking his mouth as my fingers went beneath his tight shirt, feeling his smooth skin beneath my fingertips. I let the pads of my skin slide over the poreless flesh of his shoulder blades, grinning like a maniac as I forced my fingernails beneath the surface. Hot blood spat over my nails, his cry of agony causing my powerlevel to plummet even more, the fire making sweat on my skin simmer into steam. Electricity crackled around him as I wrenched my fingers downwards, still imbedded an inch into his skin.
We panted for cool air, finding none as we indulge in this flaggelancy, the inner sadist in both of us wide awake. But then, so was the inner masochist. We fed on the cruelty we endured and enacted, our eyes planted upon the other's to ensure that we were experiencing the same thing; the challenge to overcome the horror of pain and find the pleasure beneath monster.
I let my head fall back as we fell to what was left of the floor, his trembling body over mine. I could feel the mass of muscle that surrounded my gorey fingertips, the bones not far beneath. His steamy breath came over my ear, his words forming disgusting sentences that made me smile beneath him. Scenarios of what he'd always wanted to do with me, what debaucheries he wanted to enact with my body.
"I like it to hurt," He promised, goading me on as I dug my fingers deeper, loving the changes in his breathing. He pushed against me, the hardness in his body propelling mine to levels I'd never even experienced before. I'd never been so animalistic nor so nihilistic in my lifetime. And as I mentioned before, I loved every minute of this.
Every minute I spent being somebody else, or more, being MYself. Every minute that I didn't have to smile, or to laugh or to spit out sentence fragments to hide my true intelligence. I loved every minute that I didn't have to sound or act or look like a Saturday morning cartoon hero; every second that I got to act out the creations of a deranged, inhumane mind.
More importantly, I loved every second that I didn't have to behave like a human would; no longer the mannequin for a race that wasn't my own.
We indulged in nameless sex that night. I write 'nameless' because it wasn't sex. I wasn't something human minds could comprehend or words ever justify. It wasn't purposeless sex like animals have or passionate sweetness like human movies portray. It was something of our own. Something that can't be labeled or even described properly. It was pain and pleasure and that is all that I can rightly tell you.
Amongst the flames and ashes, we created something beautiful. Amongst the burning bodies and stench of death, we enacted something the planet had never known before.
And it was wonderful.
Afterwards, he lay over me, our bodies steaming, the hotness rising over our spent forms. We both trembled, our muscles unable to cope with the vast energy we had expended during our trist. Blood clotted over terrific wounds, mingling with sweat and spit.
And he'd whispered it. A thousand times he whispered it, like it was something he had to say, something that held more importance than anything that we'd done that day. Like if he'd held it back any longer, it would have imploded upon us.
"I love you," He'd panted against me. "I love you and I love you."