Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Silver Springs ❯ Chapter 2: Impulsive ( Chapter 2 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

** = journal entries



Chapter 2: Impulsive


**I could have left him there, left him to die cold and alone on the wrecked battleground. But I knew that if I had left him there, left him to fade away in the blowing winds of an alien planet, I would have never been able to look at myself in the mirror again without turning away in shame. I would have become him, a ruthless uncaring bastard that was incapable of showing any mercy.

In any case, I ended up caring for him over the course of 6 full days, watching the incredible power of his Saiyan anatomy as it healed him, making him stronger than he was before, making him a more efficient killing machine. However quickly his body healed, his mind was another story. I found that during his sleep, he fought demons in his dreams, running from monsters that had trailed him since the day he was born. It was almost undetectable, but I spent a lot of time sitting by his bedside, studying the way his body healed and in that time, I allowed myself to watch his face. His face barely moved, but the monitors on his heart and head allowed readings of extreme activity.

He would moan quietly sometimes, or murmur words in a language that was forgotten to everyone but him. Maybe he wasn't the ruthless man that I had originally thought, and that idea gripped me like a vice. Did I pity him? No. But I did find him fascinating, the deep eyes, unfractured like brand new glass that held so many secrets. The iron will that kept him from crumbling under the strain of taking a blast a fifth the power of a nuclear bomb, the stubborn nature that kept him from allowing his eyes access to my curves. Or so he thought.

Sometimes I would catch him staring at me as I cleaned his wounds or brought him food, his eyes holding want, need and something else that I later learned was confusion. This man was so complicated, so unlike anyone else I had ever met. He filled my mind, conquered every corner of it in nothing but a few days. My own desire was climbing every time I was near him, his intense stare not making it any easier on me. He could send my hormones into a whirling frenzy with one well placed glance or small intake of breath when I touched him. And finally, on the fifth day he was with me, the eve before he left to fight again, I let my hand linger a bit too long on that chest made of steel and scars...**

-Excerpt from the journals of Bulma Briefs, 796 AD



"Well, let me just check these wounds out." She said to him, finally used to his attitude. She ran her fingers under the medical tape letting her fingertips linger a bit too long on his broad chest. Pulling back the snow-white gauze, she found nothing of the wounds that had almost killed him days ago, except a fresh pink scar that was beginning to blend into the rest of his chest. "Wow...you're healed. You can leave in the morning." She said, pulling the bandages off of his tanned skin, trying very hard to concentrate on her work and not the fact that he would be leaving in a few short hours. She knew that she should hate him for what had happened in the past, but something in her would not allow it. And the effect he had on her body wasn't helping her very much.

Her hand lingered on his chest. She wanted to pull it away, but it wouldn't listen to her, it sat on his chest taking in every rippling muscle and angry dented scar that lie underneath it. As she regained control of the insolent appendage, she went to pull away but found her hand pinned. He had reached up and grabbed it, holding it to him so she could not escape.

"Why?" he asked, eyes tunneling holes through her. She knew what he wanted; he wanted an explanation for why she had helped a man that was supposedly her worst enemy.

"I thought that you might know where the dragon balls are and I figured that I couldn't-"

"Why?" he asked again, cutting her off. He knew she was lying to him.

"I-I don't know..." she whispered as honestly as she could. There was no logical reason for helping him the way she had, offering him medical care and protection. She had placed her own life in danger by bringing him into her house.

He didn't understand. No one had ever helped him without a selfish motive behind it. But this earth woman, she had helped him with no thought but to save his life. Save it because he was a living, breathing being, not because he was a prince, not because he was an invaluable pawn in an invisible chess game or because he was a strong warrior, but just because.

Gazing into her eyes, he pulled her down to him, inhaling the heavenly scent of her shampoo, making it his own. This was going to be his moment, untainted by anything. Nothing had ever been truly his before, not even his first time with a woman. Even that had been a highly orchestrated plan that benefited Frieza. Not this time.

She found herself crushed against his chest, looking into his eyes in a deadly dance of desire. Moving her lips closer to his face, she waited for him to make the next move. He moved his head up, tentatively pressing his heated lips to hers, waiting for permission to continue. She kissed him back, and he increased his passion, wrapping his arms around her body as she melted into his kiss. The blood pounded through her ears and body as his hands roamed over her back and curves, memorizing everything about her. Somehow, she found herself straddling him; her tongue plundering his mouth that tasted of strawberries and power. He kissed her back just as fiercely, running his fingers through her hair. His kisses made her feel a way she had never felt before; beautiful, desired, loved and wanted all rolled into one. He made her feel like a woman. She ground her hips against him, signaling that she was ready, more than ready for all he had to offer.

He held her up in the air, throwing the blankets to the floor and ripping her clothes off in the same feral movement. His gaze oozed sex as he looked at her, lowering her slowly back onto his lap, not yet filling her with what she yearned for. Gripping the base of him, she stroked it roughly and smoothly all at the same time, overloading his mind with pleasure, almost bringing him to climax before he stopped her, grabbing her hands and making her keep them still. Holding her still with one hand, he slid the other down her body, parting her folds with one highly skilled finger, brushing her bud with agonizing slowness, turning her thighs into jello as he reached her entrance. He slipped two fingers into her, moving them just right as to hit her spot over and over again.

She tried not to scream in pleasure, kissing his neck and shoulders to keep her mouth busy as his fingers moved inside of her and his manhood pressed against her thigh, hot and throbbing. But she failed, crying out against his shoulder, making him thrust harder with the excitement of her sounds. She moaned, brushing her teeth and tongue over his earlobe, exhaling hot, urgent breath in an animalistic pant into his ear. He gasped and she felt his member become harder than it was before, he thrusts becoming deeper and harder with his hand, his lips devouring her throat like a hungry child. She did it again, driving him mad with need.

She stopped his hand somewhat reluctantly, removing his fingers from her and rising up to her knees. Grabbing him, she stroked him from his base to his tip before pushing him into her entrance. She slid all the way down slowly, feeling him fill her. She began to work a rhythm, gasping every time he slid deeper into her, pushing her breasts against his chest. He buried his head into her chest, working his lips over her pert breasts as she leaned back, letting him hold her body in place as she thrust her hips wildly.

He could sense her getting tired, and he pushed her beneath him without withdrawing. Pushing harder and faster into her, she wrapped her long, silky legs around his body and pulled him closer, hoping to get him deeper, if it were possible. She felt herself nearing the edge as he kissed her neck and moved his hips.

"Oh...God..." she gasped as she pushed past her barrier and clenched around him. He stopped, allowing her to shutter against him and dig her nails into his skin as she came. Kissing her softly, he thrust again very slowly, allowing her to ride the last waves of her orgasm for what seemed like hours. The final clench of her walls around him pushed him over the edge and into his own climax, and he came with a gasp, spilling into her. He held himself still, braced with his arms and eyes shut tightly as he finished, enjoying the ripples of pleasure shooting through him. She reached up and kissed him gently on the lips, running her nails along his back as she felt him emptying into her.

They collapsed in a heap of sweat, sex, breath and weariness. Leaving himself inside of her, he rolled onto his back, taking her with him. She panted into his ear as his fought to control his own ragged breath. When they were calm, he finally slid out of her and they fell into dreamless slumber.



She awoke the next morning to find herself alone in the bed. Not surprised, she got up to shower. As the hot water caressed her body, she found that she didn't feel one shred of regret for the events that had transpired the night before. She had wanted him and needed him almost dangerously. He had done things to her with nothing more than one finger that the very thought of left her shaking like a newborn animal. He had been amazing.

Her thoughts turned to Yamcha for a second, and she felt a surge of guilt that lasted as long as a dying battery. Maybe the reality of what had happened with Vegeta the night before hadn't sunk in yet, but she didn't feel all that guilty for being taken by him. Braving danger once more, she stuck her head out of the cave, hoping for some sight of Krillin or Gohan, but more preferably, Vegeta. No one was there, but the sky was beginning to take on a monsoon quality; as dark and ominous as Vegeta's eyes.

::The dragon!:: she thought, digging in her pocket for the capsule with her airbike. Tossing it to the ground, she jumped on and headed straight for the source of the swirling lightning and the hurricane-like winds. She wasn't going to miss the completion of their mission.




Waking by the regeneration tank he had placed Goku in after finding him immobilized from his fight with Ginyu, he brushed the cobwebs from his mind. Staring at the Saiyan in the tank, he wondered exactly what had happened during his fight with Ginyu.

He had arrived in time to see Gohan fighting Goku, trying to overpower the maniac in his father's body. Surprisingly, the kid held his own and Ginyu had become scared that Goku's body was too damaged to continue. Seeing him in the regeneration tank, he could understand the concern. And the half-wit had even saved him by tossing that stupid frog in front of the body snatch the captain was trying to pull on him before finding himself yet again immobile after another fight.

Even after the small task of defeating Jeycie and moving Goku into the regeneration tank, he had found himself exhausted. He had no idea he had expended that much energy in the woman's bed the previous night. He pushed the thought of her aside as he walked down the halls of the familiar ship. As he reached the window, he saw the black of night instead of the green he had come to expect during his time on Namek.

"How could I have slept that long?" he asked out loud before realizing that night never fell on Namek. This was a completely different phenomenon. Bursting through the doors, he saw it in the distance, looming like an upside down mountain. "Fuck! I must be getting old or something! What the fuck is wrong with me?" he yelled, taking off toward the lumbering beast in the distance.