Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Thicker Than Blood ❯ A Moment Of Passion ( Chapter 10 )

Alaura felt the silent scream like a thousand knives peircing her temple. She had been in the kitchen stirring a spoonful of sugar into a cup of warm tea for herself to clear her nerves, Tae was seated at the table, his back to her as he studied the melting snow outside, his elbow on the tabletop with his chin resting on his palm. He sighed deeply and wondered, as his eyes lifted of their own accord, how Mira was fairing and how his little sister was taking things.

Soundlessly, Alaura watched as her fingers refused to grip the cup's delicate handle and she watched in horror as it seemed to slip, in slow motion, from her hand to shatter into a million tiny china pieces on the floor of the kitchen. She opened her mouth and could not hear herself scream. Though she must have make some noise, other than the dish falling, because suddenly Tae was there with his arms around her, holding her steady as she continued to scream, tears falling, unbidden, from her eyes and damping his shirt.

"Mother!" Tae cried, "What's wrong?"

She shook her head, unable to form words, the task was too difficult for her now. All she could see was blood…blood and an unending rage barely covering a childlike terror. She stumbled from her adopted son's grip and slid to the floor amid the broken china. She cut the palm of her hand and the pain only made what she was seeing and feeling behind her mind's eye all that much more real.

"Oh, Dear God…" She moaned, her hands covering her face, blood dripping from between her fingers like some morbid reddish-flesh curtain, "No…No!"

"What is it?" Tae asked, "Is it Neko? Is she okay? Mira? Piccolo?"

Tae sounded frantic, she thought, he sounds like I feel. I must get ahold of myelf, I must be strong, they need me. My family needs me. She sucked in a deep breath, sobbing halfway through it and lowered her hands to her knees. Looking at Tae though blood-smeared features, she said; "My daughter and I were just connected. I have no idea she was capable of…Oh, God!" She grabbed for Tae and buried her face in his chest, her shoulders shook as she cried; "She saw everything, Tae, Neko saw everything…Mira…Mira is dead…awful…"

There was sudden shimmer of light near them as Piccolo, holding Neko to him and Gohan appeared, having been dismissed from the ship following the fight between the two sisters. All wore grim expressions. Without a word, Alaura went to Piccolo and Neko and Neko held out her arms to her mother. She did not cry, Neko, but buried her face into her mother's soft shoulder and clung her her blouse as if afraid to let go. Alaura held her tight and soothed her as best she could. She exchanged a look with Piccolo and left to take their daughter upstairs to bed.

"Poor kid." Tae shook his head, watching Alaura depart with her little girl, her baby, "No child her age should have to witness death…"

"Death is a part of life." Piccolo said, standing with his muscular arms folded across his broad chest, his expression severe, "Every child needs to learn this."

"But, Piccolo…It's so cruel…!" Tae snapped, his eyes narrowing, annatae flickering, "Did you see her? She was terrified! She'll be lucky if this doesn't traumatize her for life!"

"Life is cruel, Tae." Piccolo replied, not to be mean, but because it was the truth, "You of all people should be able to appriecate that, at least."

"Life was cruel to me, for awhile," He agreed, nodding, "But after I found Alaura and you and she pressed me to continue my dancing, and I saw how you cared for her, I realized that life can be sweet as well…and that we make our own destiny, come what may."

"She will grieve for Mira." Piccolo said, sadness in his voice, "So will I."

"I think we all will." Tae said, "Even though she wasn't with us long, I got the feeling she was…as Alaura once said to me, a kindred spirit."

Piccolo nodded and Gohan, who had been silent until now, spoke up; "May the spirits bless and keep her…"

"I must see to Alaura and my daughter." Piccolo said softly after a long heartbeat. His cape fluttered in the wake of his movement as he turned about and climbed the stairs which led to Neko's bedroom. He found Alaura seated in the rocking chair he had brought home to her one night when she was still swollen with child, Neko curled into a ball in her mother's lap, sucking on the end of her tail as Alaura rocked them both gently and ran her fingers lightly over the child's brow.

"How is she?" Piccolo approached, removing his heavy cape and turban with the training weights and setting them down carefully on the floor so as not to disturb the tender moment. Alaura looked up at him with liquid eyes, taking in his handsomeness and motioned with her free hand for him to come near. He knelt down and ran one large hand across his daughter's head, smoothing down her wayward curls and strands. He leaned over Neko and kissed Alaura softly, tenderly, on her lips, making her smile and sigh against his mouth. They had all been though so much, every last one of them, and he ached to be near her now. As if kissing and caressing her would ease away all the pain and terror of the last few hours.

"Let me put Neko to bed." She whispered, but her eyes held his rapt, he could read the passion buring within, her desire an open book, easy to decipher. He helped her put Neko into the pretty pink and blue canopy bed and tuck the blankets up around her chin, kiss her goodnight and leave her to find their own room. "Gohan and Tae can tend to themselves for awhile." She said quietly.

Nodding, he closed the door behind them once they were in their own room and she threw herself into his arms as if she'd not been with him like this in a million years. He placed one arm under back and the other behind her knees and lifted her easily from the floor. All the while he was carrying her to their king sized bed, she was kissing and stroking his lips, his cheeks, both eyes which closed to her feathery kisses, his antannae which trembled at the slight warm wetness of her tongue.

He laid her down gently and began to unfasten the buttons of her blouse, his other hand shoving beneath her skirt and into the waistband of her panties. He could feel with the palm of his hand just how damp she had become in the short time between their daughter's room and their bed. Piccolo felt his own heart race in time with the steady pulse he could feel between her thighs. Frustrated with such small buttons, Piccolo leaned down and took her blouse in his fanged teeth, pulling the thin material apart savagely. She cried out at this new experience, though not in fear or anger, but in complete ecstasy.

She ran her hands up and down his muscled chest, loving the feel of him as she loved nothing else in the world and with her eyes wide open she drank in the sight of him as an artist drinks in the sight of her model before beginning a new, brilliant piece of work. She could never get enough of looking at him, she thought, never. As she continued to watch and caress, the day's events seemed to melt into the far reaches of her mind, to hide there until further notice.

Piccolo pulled the two tattered pieces of her blue blouse apart and easily unclasped her dark bra, slipping it away as her twin orbs fell into his grasp and offered themselves up for his attentions. He ran his tongue in small, tight circles around one nipple, delighting in it's swift hardness before moving his head to focus on the other. All the while, Alaura moaned deep in her throat, her breasts heaving with every breath and heartbeat as he played her body like a delicately tuned instrument of passion.

Lifting her hips slightly, she was able to help him pull her skirt down and off of her. It fluttered to the floor beside their bed and he easily slipped her panties, now sodden with her juices of anticipation. "…Piccolo…!" She gasped and wriggled beneath him as he found her sweet opening with a finger and pressed gently into her tight, damp orifice.

"Do you like that, my love?" He whispered huskily in her ear, snaking his tongue out to flick at her lob and around the enterance to her ear canal. She shivered in pleasure, sighing and moaning at the same time, she nodded but could not get the words out into the open. He chuckled softly and continued with his actions, loving all the responses her could arouse in her by just a few simple caresses and explorations.

He kissed the hollow of her throat and followed a path only he could see, or perhaps feel, down her body, from the sweet flesh between her breasts to the slight tremor of her concave stomach, dipping his tongue breifly into her navel and making her whimper softly. Finally, he reached her lower stomach and could heard her insides gurgle and churn. He paid no heed to that and found himself still lower, running his hands up and down her dancer's legs and parting them attentively as his hands slipped from her outter trembling thighs to her inner.

She could feel him poised above her, his breath stirring the fine blonde hairs on her mound of venus. She bit her lip to keep from crying out too loudly as she felt his hot tongue flick across her clitoris, rising sensations within her that she could never hope to describe, only that she felt as if everything were only a sweet, sweet dream. Piccolo placed his hands beneath her hips and lifted her towards him, enchanted beyond all words and thought with the scent and luscious nectar just inches from his face.

She writhed and whimpered, chewed her lip until it bled as she felt his mouth engulf her most secret place in the most intimate of kisses and her hips moved unbidden in a circular motion as his tongue found it's way deep inside of her, pushing within and out in time to her breathing and shudders of pleasure bordering on pain. Piccolo noticed that her small, hooded clitoris had grown hard under his care and sucked it slightly, causing her to move more and cried out more, her hands flailed in the air, unsure of what she should do with them, at last she busied herself fondling her own nipples absently as he head turned from side to side in rapture.

"Oh, God!" She cried out as he flicked her shining damp clitoris with the tip of his tongue, her breathing coming so fast now one would think she'd just run a marathon, sweat beaded her brow and stuck her flaxen hair to her head, the rest fanned out on the pillow beneath her. He paused her a moment to look up at her, his face drenched with her honeyed nectar, "Alaura…tell me what you want…"

She shook her head, unable to speak, whimpering loudly and in need. He waited for her to speak and finally she told him what she wanted; "Please…don't stop…what…you're doing…"

After a few more moments, he felt her tunnel of womanhood tighten around his tongue and tickled her clitoris with his fingers, and knew by the way she jerked upwards and stiffened that she had finally reached the summit and he guided her past it, drawing out her orgasm as far as he could, telling her without words, once more, how he cared for her.