Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Power Trip ❯ A Fifth of a Distraction ( Chapter 5 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: inuy21 
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Hentai / Drama | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 09.19.2010 | Pages: 1 | Words: 559 | Visits: 616 | Status: Work In Progress
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Hentai / Drama | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 09.19.2010 | Pages: 1 | Words: 559 | Visits: 616 | Status: Work In Progress
Prompt: "Coffee". Word count set at: 500
Disclaimer: I do NOT own DBZ or any of the characters. They belong to Akira Toriyama.
Vegeta bared his teeth at the cocky attitude that was pressing down on him. His eyes bore into hers--his blazing with fire; hers glowing brightly with satisfaction. He would let her think she was overpowering him for this session. Let her have that bit of freedom so that maybe she’d stop bitching him out.
“If you’re a good boy, maybe I’ll give you a treat.” She gave a playful smirk followed by a teasing touch.
His eyes rolled away from her as she continued her torture. He took in the sight of the closed wooden door with it’s little silver handle. Moving to the right, there was the metal sink along with it’s sterile counter. A white cabinet--that held who knew what kind of other medical devices to torment him--was hung above the silvery facilities.
Soft, warm lips landed on his chest and traveled down to his stomach. Small hands rested against his thighs, propping herself up so their bodies wouldn’t touch or brush anywhere she didn’t want them to.
His eyes roved back to the left, scanning across the deep tan of the wall to an open door. Inside the darkness he knew there was a toilet and another sink. Had he been here that often that he knew the layout of the room by heart? He felt a growl burning deep in his lungs at the thought.
Wetness filled his bellybutton, then trailed along the lines of his abs. Cool air rushed around to chill the once warm saliva that had settled on his body. His injured arm once again gripped the thin white sheets instead of the silken blue hair he wanted to fist between his fingers so badly.
His eyes moved back to the blueness. He ignored the strands of silk that tickled his sides and hips. ‘Just let her have this,’ his mind gritted out. Once again directing his attention away from the female, his eyes turned left this time to greet the bare tan wall. They ran down the course of the wall, finding the one small window in the room. The natural light from outside being blocked by a pair of thick coffee-brown colored curtains.
He gave a mental snort and felt plump breasts brush teasingly across his groin. His attention immediately snapped back to the curtains. The rich, dark color that blended well with the color of the walls. The intricate weaving pattern that made up the fabric. Had it been made by hand or machine? Did all the other rooms have the same curtains?
Being reduced to thinking about damn curtains was a new low. He couldn’t believe he was thinking about such asinine thoughts while with a female. He rolled his eyes before they settled back on the fabric. It was his own fucking fault. He really should just end this charade right now!
Bulma felt muscles tense under her hands and mouth. She smirked before sitting up and glancing down at him. “And where do you think you’re going?”
Disclaimer: I do NOT own DBZ or any of the characters. They belong to Akira Toriyama.
Vegeta bared his teeth at the cocky attitude that was pressing down on him. His eyes bore into hers--his blazing with fire; hers glowing brightly with satisfaction. He would let her think she was overpowering him for this session. Let her have that bit of freedom so that maybe she’d stop bitching him out.
“If you’re a good boy, maybe I’ll give you a treat.” She gave a playful smirk followed by a teasing touch.
His eyes rolled away from her as she continued her torture. He took in the sight of the closed wooden door with it’s little silver handle. Moving to the right, there was the metal sink along with it’s sterile counter. A white cabinet--that held who knew what kind of other medical devices to torment him--was hung above the silvery facilities.
Soft, warm lips landed on his chest and traveled down to his stomach. Small hands rested against his thighs, propping herself up so their bodies wouldn’t touch or brush anywhere she didn’t want them to.
His eyes roved back to the left, scanning across the deep tan of the wall to an open door. Inside the darkness he knew there was a toilet and another sink. Had he been here that often that he knew the layout of the room by heart? He felt a growl burning deep in his lungs at the thought.
Wetness filled his bellybutton, then trailed along the lines of his abs. Cool air rushed around to chill the once warm saliva that had settled on his body. His injured arm once again gripped the thin white sheets instead of the silken blue hair he wanted to fist between his fingers so badly.
His eyes moved back to the blueness. He ignored the strands of silk that tickled his sides and hips. ‘Just let her have this,’ his mind gritted out. Once again directing his attention away from the female, his eyes turned left this time to greet the bare tan wall. They ran down the course of the wall, finding the one small window in the room. The natural light from outside being blocked by a pair of thick coffee-brown colored curtains.
He gave a mental snort and felt plump breasts brush teasingly across his groin. His attention immediately snapped back to the curtains. The rich, dark color that blended well with the color of the walls. The intricate weaving pattern that made up the fabric. Had it been made by hand or machine? Did all the other rooms have the same curtains?
Being reduced to thinking about damn curtains was a new low. He couldn’t believe he was thinking about such asinine thoughts while with a female. He rolled his eyes before they settled back on the fabric. It was his own fucking fault. He really should just end this charade right now!
Bulma felt muscles tense under her hands and mouth. She smirked before sitting up and glancing down at him. “And where do you think you’re going?”