Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ The Stranger ❯ Comforting Hands ( Chapter 8 )

 

The Stranger

By Jody

 

 

Kind of fic: Romance / Mystery / Hetai / Alternate Universe / Angst

Pairing: Vegata/Bulma

Rating: R

Warnings: Suggestive language, Cursing, lemons

Disclaimer: I not own Dragonball Z or any of it's characters.

Background: This fic takes place in the late nineteen century in England, which is more technologically advanced. Vegeta is a very rich gentleman who moves into the countryside in which Bulma resides with her mother and father. Because of his wealth he is simultaneously welcomed into the elite social circle in the society with Bulma.

Summery of Chapter: Well Vegeta lays his comforting hands on Bulma

 

Chapter 8

Comforting Hands

 

 

He stayed hidden away in the darkness of her bedroom where neither the moonlight that sifted through the fibers of the material of her bedroom's curtains nor the light coming from the quivering flame of the candle on her nightstand could possibly reach him. Only the whites of his eyes remained visible in his entire silhouette, the darkness of the room engulfing his entire body completely, masking any sign of his presence. He stayed there, disguised in darkness, leant up against the wall nearest to the window from whence he had come, watching her intently as she slept as peacefully as could be expected with the day's events.

 

He didn't know how long he had been there admiring her sleeping figure. He watched her breathing, her chest slowly rising and falling almost rhythmically except for the occasional cough, which stalled both of their breaths. He watched the way she would occasionally toss and turn in her sleep, her aqua hair spreading haphazardly over the pillows, sheet and blanket with her every movement as if exploring and conquering every newfound fiber foreign to her yet tailored precisely for her. Lastly, he watched her shiver. The cool breeze flowing over her body, chilling her to the bone, causing her to search for the warmth he could have easily provided her, given her in moments of ecstasy, shared with her in the moments thereafter.

 

He, however, wouldn't warm her. How could he? She was not his. And after today she would never be. She was not the sort of woman who one had a tryst with, nor was she the sort of woman who would take part in one without her damned morals coming into play. And plus at the woman's current state of mind, she wouldn't allow it. She couldn't possibly want him after today. She just couldn't. So instead of following his instinct he watched her, amused with her struggle unknowing her fight was with not only with the cold weather engulfing her body but also the lust encompassing her mind.

 

She was so beautiful, far more beautiful than any other woman he could recall, but it was not only her beauty that drew him to her, it was also her life, her spirit, her intelligence, qualities that most woman in this world did not have or could possibly even hope to possess and yet they were the qualities that he desired, that he ungraciously demanded in all his women transforming these unyieldingly attributes into discernible staples all his women, his sinuous lovers simply had to possess. Maybe it was exactly these qualities that made him believe she was so beautiful for she possessed these qualities to a far greater extent than any other woman, almost matching his own lust for life with her passion for her own.

 

This passionate disposition of hers was the reason for her erratic emotion drenched behaviour, her logic and reason being totally consumed within the fires of her fervor, making her an enemy to both herself and others. It was not her being an enemy to others that elicited a sort of selfish worry from him but it was her being a danger to herself. Even though he had indeed taken the stance that he would not talk to her much less touch her, he did enjoy having his options open to him so that if the occasion did arise there was always room for him to change his mind, always room for him to sate the hunger he felt for her inside.

 

He had been unable to budge, to remove himself from her door, her plead for him to stay with her kept him there for hours until he decided to check up on her, to lay eyes on her instead of monitoring her ki from where he stood. It had to be guilt. Guilt could be the only answer to why he had not gone and slept peacefully. He had after all done worst crimes to people and felt no remorse, wanting no absolution for his terrible sins, wanting to actually commit more and trying to grow stronger in order to do so and by doing do. And after all of this, he still had been able to sleep and sleep peacefully. Yet he stood there, cemented in his torment, unable to even imagine sleeping without checking on her though he knew his dreams would have been filled with her image whether or not he did.

 

He wondered if her dreams remained as tormented as his with the hunger he felt for her, with the desire she unabashedly showed for him. Her hands, though unschooled, toying expertly with his thread thin control, slowly unwinding him until it was ready to snap. She easily turned his controlled persona into a ravenous beast, a beast that he knew too would set ablaze her body's growing needs. With scenes of her long waited flirtation with her own steaming desire, unknowingly exciting and enhancing his aggressive need, silently begging him to quench her growing fire by placing his engorged manhood skillfully between her knees. Him basking in her flushed lips and her readiness to please, his hands touching places that he had yet to see. He would make her beg, beg him for release, beg him not to stop, beg him to complete her. He would make her scream, his name, in want, in need, earnestly. He would make her come, in pleasure, with him, over and over. He would fulfill her needs.

 

But as he looked at her, he knew that those thoughts would never become a reality. His stubbornness and resolution prohibited him from acting out what he unwittingly didn't know both of them desired. That while she was twisting and turning in front of him on his bed, she was dreaming of him caressing her body, every part of it, with every part of his. That though she was unschooled in the art of lovemaking, her mind translated what her body wanted into the steamy visuals in that laced her every thought, engulfing every fiber of her being with what a night with Vegeta would be.

 

As she dreamt of him, she became more relentless in bed, fighting the air relentless reaching for the ghost that was there.

 

“Vegeta.” She sighed. Almost a murmur, but his ears heard it. His mind yearned for it. He wanted her to be his. He wanted her to want to be his.

 

“ Vegeta.” She moaned, a little but louder. I little bit more insistent.

 

A smirk slowly crossed his face, as his watched her slightly parted lips release his name. He back was arched, her breath short.

 

At least you have surmised how good I am in bed.

 

He looked at her more intently, watching her every move form the corner of the room. Her fingers were lost in the mass of tangled comforters and sheets she had previously lied between. She was no longer quiet but she was so beautiful. Her aqua hair no longer neatly combed in some exaggerated bun, but it wild, brazen, bold has it encroached upon already marked territory, claiming the pillows, covers, comforters as Bulma herself claimed the entire bed with her scent. And he could smell her scent. It was rich and sweet as he knew she would be. He could almost taste her on his lips. He wanted to feel her body shake under his lips. He wanted to taste, suck and lick her everywhere his mouth could reach. He would make her find completion before his body got its release.

 

Her scent intensified as he came closer and closer to her. Calling him to taste her, have her, claim her as his own. But he knew she would give him no such release without some sort of social contract, some grandiose admittance of his love. He would have to in the least worship her, like all the other men who saw her and wanted her did. Bow to her every whim, her every need. He would have to marry her. But he had no marriage contract or license to give her. He could promise her unbridled nights of passion and lax days of love making in the sun, in which he made his body be the shade from the sun, and his hands make her as hot as the noon day. But she would want marriage and he would not give her that. But she was surely beautiful from his view right beside her. She would surely be his.

 

“Damn it Vegeta……..please,” she moaned. Her yearning sounds, pierced through the silence in the room, stifling the sound of the breeze outside the open window.

Damn it, woman. You do not even know what you are asking for. You beg for my touch not understanding, not truly experiencing what I am, what I have done. You saw but just a taste of me today and you retreated. You ran like a mad woman through the rain and lightening. You ran like a coward to your doom. Foolish woman!

 

But He wanted her to tell him yes. That she wanted everything from him as well as the consequences that came with it. But she stilled and she became less relentless as his hand approached her forehead. She shivered feeling his ki warm her, from his closeness.

 

“Oh Vegeta,” she sighed

 

He fingers paused as he was about to touch her forehead.

 

“Do you want me this badly, woman? Tell me……Tell me what you want. Tell me the words.” He looked at her head turn away. He chuckled.

 

“But you can't find them, can you? Can all you say is please?” he growled getting angry.

 

She was so innocent. Innocent was something he doubted he ever was. Even at birth, he doubted he was truly innocent, naive like her. She had no control over her emotions. She showed all of them, even in her sleep it seems. She was an open book. And she wanted to be read and admired by him. To be cherished. But there were repercussions to going to bed with a Saiyan. And he doubted she wanted to deal with any one of them. She wanted to feel him, his hips, his lips.

 

Do you want to feel them, women. Do you want to know how I feel?

 

She sighed.

 

He touched her temple and give her some of his ki, warming her through and through. Bulma felt it. It felt like heaven. And when he rose to leave her, to depart from her now that he knew she was okay, she awoke. Her eyes flung open, her blue eyes where darkened with lust. Her blues eyes stared unknowingly into his deep endless black orbs, as he hovered over her.

 

She reached to touch him, but he vaporized in front of her eyes. She watched him disappear in astonishment, in disbelief. She rubbed her eyes, wondering is she was still asleep, if this was but a continuation of her dream. It had to be. Men could not disappear into thin air.

 

She sat up and rubbed her aching back, looking straight in his direction but not seeing him, hidden behind the curtains, away from her view and her touch.

 

“ I must me dreaming.” Bulma whimpered so soft that only Vegeta Saiyan eyes could hear.

 

“Damn it, Vegeta, please leave me alone,” she cried. “You pester me in the day. You haunt my dreams in the nights. You have me seeing things now. Damn it, you have me seeing you.”

 

She flung the sheets off of her sweat drenched, pleasure hungry body in absolute frustration. What was she was she to do. Wait for the insufferable man to feel a little of need for her in turn while she waited and dreamt of unbridled nights of ecstasy. She left the one yearning as he walked without the burden of desire.

 

She got out of bed overwhelmed with the realization that a decision needed to be made. Would she keep this up or go to a man who she could control with little effort on her part, and given into her desires, her needs? Was she supposed too stay in hopes that her fierce attraction of him, would be returned with his for her.

 

She sighed.

 

She fumbled to the mirror and stared, just stared at her own tired reflection, a reflection that ached for a lot of sleep and muscular hands. Her entire persona looked tired, like she had no business getting out of bed.

 

“When were these dreams going to stop. Do I want him THIS bad? Do I need his touch this badly?” she sighed.

 

Vegeta watched her looking at the mirror staring at herself in the mirror, talking to herself. She was not at all aware that he was right there listening to her, wanting her as she wanted him.

 

She had given him a scare. He thought she would realize that he was right in front of her opened eyes, but his person was another section of her dream.

 

He hoped he haunted her. He wished she dreamt of him every night until she came to his bedroom for release. He wanted her to give in. He would make her give in.

 

He would make her beg, beg him for release, beg him not to stop, beg him to complete her. He would make her scream his name, in want, in need, earnestly. He would make her come, in pleasure, with him, over and over. He would complete her fantasies. He would make her dreams of them a reality.

 

 

 

 

Message From Author

Hey Guys! Sorry for the long wait have been busy but I am totally free this summer. I also please review because this helps gives me direction and the will to keep on writing. So please please review especially if you want me to continue because after the long wait, I am really not sure if anyone is reading it.