Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Pseudo Ferocity ❯ Ares ( Chapter 4 )

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z or any of the character appearing in the manga or television show. Nor am I making any profit off of this story.

Author's Notes: Okay, kitty has some things to talk about! Don't worry, no flames or anything, so you're not in for a rant. Anyway, a few people have voiced concerns over Vegeta's character…and I suppose I'd be a little worried too, if I didn't know what was going to happen…lol. I just wanted to say DON'T WORRY!! Things will change. It's been my plan to shift his attitude more gradually, but I'll try and speed things up for you guys. This chapter you'll see the first major attitude shift! Whee! *giggle*

As for being OOC, I just feel the need to point out that the sex-bomb Vegeta is a fanfic thing. If you watch the show, there's no indication that he's the sex machine we all like to think he is…lol, personally, I like to imagine him as a sex machine too, but I've started this fic out differently, and I'm not giving up on it! I just hope you guys won't give up on me! *sigh* If I were a better writer, I could make you see exactly what I see in my mind…but I'm not, so I guess I'll have to keep explaining things…lol.

Anyway, I know I'm pretty long winded when it comes to things like this, so I'll shut up now and let you guys read the story!!

Special thanks to, ssjblackguy, Kat8125, Bulma Peacecraft, and SilverSun, for beta-ing!

Pseudo Ferocity

4: Ares

Flicking off the bathroom light, Vegeta padded quietly over to the lumpy, slightly smelly bed he had been sleeping in for the past week. A run-down motel room had been his home for the short time, because he hadn't been paid for his modeling 'services' yet. Of course, he hadn't actually done any real modeling. The day after he was hired, he had been fitted for clothing, poked and prodded and ogled by Bruce and his pet Bridget. Initially, Bridget had not bothered Vegeta, what with her seemingly timid ways, she seemed sweet and somewhat tolerable, for a human.

But the more time she spent around him, the more annoying she got. She stared at him constantly, always finding some way to make physical contact with him. It irritated him, made him uneasy because he didn't quite know how to turn her down. Yelling at her would probably work, but it would also probably get him fired in a heartbeat. He didn't want to be the target of her sexual advances…Hell, even Bruce's advances were more comfortable to deal with!

He supposed he had to give Bridget credit where deserved though. She had been the one to convince Bruce to hire him, and during the fitting, had convinced the uppity designer that the scars criss-crossing Vegeta's body would be all the more appealing. His job was to portray the dangerous, leather wearing, bad boy, and the scars, she had managed to convince Mr. Hoffman, would add to the menacing look, and set the strange new model even further apart from the conventional modeling world.

"He'll be a star Bruce! And he'll be working for you, which will make you a star!" Bridget insisted, taking Mr. Hoffman aside into a corner, thinking that Vegeta would not be able to hear their conversation.

"But…but all those horrific scars…" Vegeta cringed, his Saiyan hearing picking up every word. "Where do you think he got them?"

"How should I know?" Bridget sighed. "But that's not important Bruce! Look at him in those pants! He looks absolutely gorgeous, and so do they!"

"But the scars…"

"Look at all that muscle tone Bruce, look at that fantastic profile! Chiseled features, olive skin…He looks like a Greek God, for Kami's sake!"

"But Bridget…the scars!" Bruce hissed, a little louder than he had intended.

"So he's Ares, god of war, handsome and cruel! Scarred from battles!"

Bruce looked skeptically over at Vegeta, standing in front of a three-paned mirror, corded, muscular arms crossed over a broad, naked chest. Bridget was right. He did look like a god, the scars even adding to the strange man's sex appeal. And Bruce had to admit, somewhat grudgingly as he was wearing the same style, that he had never seen a pair of pants look so good.

"If he agrees to model those pants shirtless, he can stay." Bruce conceded, eyeing Vegeta's chiseled, rock hard abdominal.

Vegeta, needless to say, had agreed. He needed the job and hadn't yet realized just how annoying his new female shadow would be.

The Saiyan crawled into his bed with a yawn, tired after a full day's workout. All of the fitting nonsense had been completed a few days ago, and the actual showing was happening in a few days, so Vegeta hadn't been needed for three days in between, and had taken the opportunity to do some heavy training in a small park nearby. The lightly wooded area had been a perfect place to practice his agility skills, and the sight of a man doing katas on a grassy lawn had not been unusual, as no more than fifty meters away, a daily yoga class had taken place. However, the sight of a man like Vegeta doing katas in only a pair of skintight shorts had been enough to draw a small crowd of young women, who watched him while they pretended to jog. Unfortunately, he had also drawn the attention of one particularly overzealous old lady who had attempted to pinch his rear on several occasions.

He had been taken by surprise at first, by the wily old bat, and had thought it was Mrs. Briefs for a moment, and had been surprised at his disappointment when he realized it wasn't. Rolling over in bed, he thought about what life with the Briefs had been like, and was irritated to realize that he actually missed the three humans. It was especially irritating to realize just how much he missed a certain one of them.

"I really shouldn't miss the bitch…" he muttered to himself, no real malice in the harsh words. "After all, she's the one who threw me out. And she was always yelling and screeching and insulting me…" He trailed off, thinking that she had also been very kind to him. She had always been concerned about his welfare, and even tried to talk to him sometimes. She had tried to be his friend, in a way, and though it had irritated him beyond belief in the beginning, in the final weeks before she kicked him out, he had actually started to feel rather comfortable around her.

Even that was a bad thing though, because he had become a little too comfortable around her. And Vegeta knew that becoming close friends with someone was not a good idea. If his days in Frieza's army had taught him anything, it was that you could never trust anyone but yourself. And sometimes even that wasn't a good idea.

And especially since the one he was trusting was a woman…a beautiful woman at that…He had been very comfortable around her, enough to become attracted to her in more than a friendly way. But he didn't want to get close to her. Every time he thought of her in an even remotely sexual manner, he was reminded of the other girls he had been with, the harem girls of Frieza's army. And one in particular, the girl he had been with first, always stuck out in his mind. It was the worst of all of them.

Sometimes he had dreams, where he lived the awful event over and over, but sometimes the girl, the nameless thing, her features would begin to shift, her hair would change color in the blink of an eye, a lustrous blue replacing matted, mousy brown. Dull blue irises would stare lifelessly at the ceiling, pale pink lips moving ever so slightly as she drew air in, just enough to live. His body would continue to ravage her, intent only on relieving the straining ache in his groin while his mind screamed to stop, begging and crying inside.

Vegeta would wake up, ill sometimes, covered in sweat, his whole body shaking as he tried to calm himself. Once, Bulma had wandered in, hearing the sounds of him retching, emptying his stomach into the toilet after reliving a particularly graphic memory, luckily not one of the morphing dreams. She hadn't asked him about it, hadn't pressed to find out why he was ill, but had knelt down beside him, her soft, cool hand rubbing his bare back as he trembled, clutching the rim of the toilet for support. He hadn't even been able to look at her, unable to bear the tender look her eyes conveyed. Instead, he had said her cooking was the fault of his sickness, and she had yelled at him and nearly dunked his head in the toilet, still full of his vomit.

Vegeta growled, suddenly angry as he pulled the covers back over himself. How could she be so cruel? How could she be so kind and caring, to make him trust her, and then turn her back on him? She had carelessly tossed him out into the world to fend for himself…

But he soon found that he couldn't stay angry. How many times had she been there to tend his wounds? To cook him a meal and fix the things he destroyed? And how many times had he callously pushed her away, and insulted her efforts to please him? How many times had he repaid her kindness with cruelty?

Vegeta sighed, knowing he hadn't actually deserved any of her kindness in the first place. Hell, he had known from the beginning, but allowed her to foolishly believe that he could change, that they could be friends. And he had allowed himself to believe that he deserved more. His attraction to her was unacceptable. He had already taken advantage of her kindness and hospitality…it filled him with shame to think about taking advantage of her body as well, just to sate his own urges.

His dreams though…they were growing strange. Sometimes they were different, not cruel and horrific, but rather passionate and pleasurable, filled with the soft cries of female ecstasy. Of course, these dreams left him with a sense of intense embarrassment, to accompany the hardened bulge below his waist, and the perversely sated feeling felt when he awoke.

What the Saiyan Prince did not realize though, was that not all physical relationships were as he thought them to be. Taken from his culture at such a young age, and raised as a warrior, he did not fully understand that not all sex would be as his experiences in Frieza's harem were. Nappa and Radditz had not thought to educate him in such matters, so there had been no one to teach him the beauty behind such an act, or that it could be pleasurable for both partners. He had never experienced anything different to make him think otherwise, though in his time on Earth, he had begun to suspect that there was more to the act of sex than he had previously thought.

The attitude, for example, of Bulma toward her human 'boyfriend' was highly indicative of that theory, seeing as she never seemed terribly repulsed by his advances, more often than not she seemed to welcome them, even reciprocate, in fact. Then there was the older Briefs woman, who had taken the liberty of making several playful sexual advances on him during his stay in her home. And of course, the women in the park had seemed very interested in the possibility of coupling with him, so perhaps there really was more to it than a physical release…

It was something he would have to look in to.

(Didja see it? *giggle* The enlightenment of the Saiyan Prince has begun!!)

***

"Cassandra!" Bruce shouted in dismay, "I told you not to drink milk on the day of a show! You know it makes you bloat! Go to wardrobe and get yourself a bigger size." He ushered the sullen looking model away, searching in all the chaos for his fiery new star. "Oh Vegeta, there you are! Thank god! I was worried you weren't going to show up!"

"Mr. Hoffman! Mr. Hoffman! Reynaldo isn't feeling well!" Bridget emerged out of the chaotic dressing rooms, panting, with one hand on Bruce's arm for support, and the other holding a clipboard. "We'll have to assign the other men to take on extra outfits."

"Are you sure?" Bridget nodded, and the poor designer's perky face fell. "Oh fiddlesticks," he stamped one leather booted foot. "Well, hurry up and inform the guys." As Bridget rushed off into the hubbub again, Bruce turned to Vegeta again, grabbing his arm and leading him to the dressing room where all of his outfits waited. "You would not believe all the stuff that's gone wrong!" he wailed, "My whole show is crashing down around me!"

"Mr. Vegeta, here are the extra outfits you'll have to model." Bridget appeared again, throwing a pile of clothing into the Saiyan's arms before rushing off again.

Depositing the pile into the change room, the top item caught Vegeta's eye. "What the hell is this?" he asked warily, picking up a strappy little leather thing and holding it up before Bruce's blushing face.

"It's…well, you see Vegeta, it's a…thong…"

"I'm not wearing this."

"But-"

"No."

"Vegeta, please-"

"I said no."

"Fine." Bruce sighed in defeat, taking the article of clothing. He went off, clutching the scrap of leather in one hand, to find Bridget. She'd have to find someone else to wear it…and boy, would she be disappointed with the news.

Vegeta turned and closed the door of his dressing room, sauntering over to the rack of clothing, all numbered and sorted so he would know exactly when to wear each outfit. Grumbling to himself, and knowing it was Bridget's idea to put him in a thong, he pulled outfit number one off the rack.

Double-checking the lock on the door, he pulled off his sweatshirt and jeans, having already kicked off his sneakers. His boxers went too, and he pulled on the first pair of pants. They were black leather, awfully tight around the buttocks, and looked fairly plain, except that the sides, from top to bottom, were cut out. Along the outer sides of his legs, they were laced together by long silver ropes criss-crossing all the way down, like a shoelace, to tie at the bottom of the leg. A strip of toned olive skin was visible all the way from his hip, where the low-slung pants rested, down, hence the need to take off his underwear. Something told him these pants were meant to be worn commando style.

Scoffing at the impractical design, he sat down and pulled on a pair of black leather boots, with a sort of neo-cowboy style to them. A thick belt was next, and he looped it around his waist, allowing it to rest loosely, at an angle around his hips. Bruce had instructed him not to use the belt loops, and to just allow the soft black leather to mold as it wanted. A pair of gloves came next, black leather, with the fingers cut off. They went up past his wrist a few inches, and were adorned at the edge with small silver studs. Lastly, he picked up a shiny black velvet cowboy hat to hold in his hand as he walked down the runway. Originally, the plan had been to actually wear it…but trying to keep Vegeta's spiky mane tamed under that hat was not a feat anyone was willing to attempt.

Vegeta stood in front of the body length mirror, scowling at his reflection. The pants were tight and hard to move in, and the belt was a useless adornment that served no real purpose. The boots were heavy and constricting around his thick calf muscles, and the gloves would do nothing to protect his fingers. The hat would have done something had he been able to wear it…but his hair was too big so he couldn't. And he wasn't even wearing a shirt.

It was the most impractical outfit in the world…but as he stood, examining himself in the mirror, there was no denying it; he looked damn good.

As he emerged from the dressing room, Bridget latched quickly onto his arm, dragging him off toward the brightly lit makeup tables. "Come on Vegeta, you need your makeup and hair done!"

"Makeup?" Vegeta asked, pulling back. Wasn't makeup that stuff that females wore to make themselves look more appealing?

"Yeah, stage makeup."

"Oh no you don't!" Bruce appeared from behind a rack of clothing. "Vegeta's not going through hair and makeup. We want the raw appeal."

The Saiyan let out a small sigh of relief as he yanked his arm from the annoying human female. He thought of the gunk that Bulma plastered her face with every morning; concealer and foundation, lipstick, mascara, and a number of other foul concoctions he didn't want to go near. Hell, he would rather have modeled Bruce's thong in front of the huge crowd seated around the runway than let them put all that crap on him. Luckily, though, they weren't going to make him do either to get paid.

"By the way Vegeta, have I told you that you look absolutely scrumptralescent? Fantalicious?"

"No."

"Well, you look absolutely scrumptalescent! Fantalicious, even!" Bruce laughed, and Vegeta smirked. Even if it was a man complimenting his looks, he enjoyed the fact that someone was praising him. And he had seen enough from the other models to tell that Bruce was always sincere in his comments. This was his show, and he wouldn't send someone out to model his clothing if he didn't think they looked good in it.

"Sir, Mr. VanDios is out by the stage door."

"Bridget…Bridget, tell him I can't see him right now. I'm far too busy in here at the moment. I'll talk to him after the show though." Bruce called over his shoulder, then turned back to adjusting Vegeta's belt. "Caleb VanDios." He muttered, by way of explanation. "He's a really good friend of mine, helped me get my design firm off the ground."

"He's not going to be happy…" Bridget muttered to herself, trotting away, clipboard in hand.

"Are you done yet?" Vegeta hissed between his teeth, not quite liking Bruce's close proximity. "I am not a child you know. I can dress myself."

"Eh heh, sorry!" The flamboyant designer laughed, toying with the chain around his neck. He turned serious for a moment though, looking down into Vegeta's coal eyes. "Vegeta…you're the most honest person around here…and I need your opinion. The others are all too worried to say what they think," he whispered, conspiratorially, "and they're worried that if they offend me, they'll be out of a job. But I really need to know Vegeta…do you think people will enjoy the show? I'm really worried…my whole career could rest on this one show…"

"Uh…"

"There are tons of important people out there Vegeta!" Bruce wailed, clutching the Saiyan's shoulder. "What if they hate my designs? If I get bad reviews, I'm out on my rumpus room Vegeta!"

Vegeta cringed…comforting upset people was not something he was good at…But looking around, he didn't quite know how to answer, and he had to answer, or he might be facing unemployment again. He didn't really know a lot about fashion; the extent of his knowledge being what he had picked up from Bulma's nagging about spandex bodysuits and all that garbage. She had bought all of his human clothing, so he had a slight idea of what looked good to the backwards race, but nothing he owned was like the clothing Bruce had designed. But he had to say something at least somewhat nice, or he faced the possibility of unemployment.

"Look…" he began, removing the distraught man's hand from his shoulder. "Your designs are impractical, hard to move in, and I don't own a single thing like any of it, and I probably won't be buying anything like it any time soon. But I'm not really big on clothing. Truthfully though," he cringed, realizing that he was actually being somewhat nice, "I kinda like it, though only Kami knows why." He snorted, trying to offset his slight kindness with a bit more of a gruff attitude.

"Oooh! Thank you!!" The designer's eyes began to water. You're the best!!!" He squeezed Vegeta in a quick hug, releasing the startled Saiyan before he had a chance to react, and ran off do finish with the last minute preparations. "Oh and Vegeta, you'd better be getting to the stage doors! You're on in about five minutes!"

Well, there's the end of that chapter!!! Lol, I told you last time that #4 would be all full of sexy Vegeta-ness! *giggle* I hope you enjoyed it! If you did, please review!! If you didn't, please review anyway and tell me why so I can do something about it!! (Just don't be mean!)

Oh, and the mp3 of the day is: Right Said Fred, "I'm too Sexy" *giggle* I couldn't resist…