Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Trapped ❯ Chapter 1

Trapped

Author's Note: Written to the Eagles' `Hotel California.' Vegeta's POV, one-shot written, about a loss of freedom. Not my best work, but it lept into my head fully formed. Let me know what you think.

 

 

`On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair
Warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air
Up ahead in the distance, I saw shimmering light
My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim
I had to stop for the night'

 

If I'm stuck on this mudball of a planet, I might as well make the best of it. I am free of Freiza for the time being, a definite plus. There is another Saiyan here, and even though he is an idiot, he is still Saiyan; another plus, and I am the second most powerful being on the planet next to him. He is strangely compassionate, a crippling weakness, but at least I know that he does not have the will to dominate me as Freiza has for decades.

 

For the time being, I am free. I am proud, independent, and the entire population fears me. Damn, life is good.

 

And then there is that blue-haired woman.

`There she stood in the doorway;
I heard the mission bell
And I was thinking to myself,
'This could be Heaven or this could be Hell'
Then she lit up a candle and she showed me the way
There were voices down the corridor,
I thought I heard them say...'

She has offered me a roof and sustenance on a regular basis, and at the moment I see no strings attached, except one. She says I am `cute.' I am nothing of the sort, I am the Prince of all Saiyans, a superior example of the species, handsome, anything but `cute.' The single string? Sex. Life cannot possibly be this good. For a little sex she will provide me with food and shelter, and satisfy my needs at the same time. What is there to lose?

 

I must admit, she is fiery, and I like her that way. It is, at times, an insufferable annoyance the way she questions and refuses me, and her piercing shrieking is harsh on the ears, but at least she is amusing. It is highly amusing to, with a few well-chosen comments reduce her to sputtering with anger.

 

I will stay with her, for now.

`Welcome to the Hotel California
Such a lovely place (Such a lovely place)
Such a lovely face
Plenty of room at the Hotel California
Any time of year (Any time of year)
You can find it here

Her mind is Tiffany-twisted, she got the Mercedes Benz
She got a lot of pretty, pretty boys she calls friends
How they dance in the courtyard, sweet summer sweat.
Some dance to remember, some dance to forget'

Lucky me, the woman is rich. Spoiled rotten because of it, but it is nice. I now have luxuries I have not had since I was a child. It has been months, and I am slowly adjusting. We agreed not to be monogamous, but it angers me when she invites men over. She calls them her `boyfriends.' What a stupid term.

 

She likes to throw parties and invite two or three of them over at a time, and have them turn into orgies, with herself as the main attraction, of course. Her favorite time to do this is after we've had a fight, because she knows it angers me. Human women are so weak. She is the only one I would ever consider having sex with, if only because of her fire and her spirit. It makes her seem almost Saiyan. But only almost. I would still literally break her if my control slipped.

 

I can hear them outside now, the men groaning, her own moans and panting cries. There are days I curse my Saiyan hearing. They are out around the pool, I could look out and see them if I wanted, but I know that would only make me angrier. What do I care about that fucking woman? Let her have her little orgies as she tries to forget me.

So I called up the Captain,
'Please bring me my wine'
He said, 'We haven't had that spirit here since nineteen sixty nine'
And still those voices are calling from far away,
Wake you up in the middle of the night
Just to hear them say...

Welcome to the Hotel California
Such a lovely place (Such a lovely place)
Such a lovely face
They livin' it up at the Hotel California
What a nice surprise (what a nice suprise)
Bring your alibis

Mirrors on the ceiling,
The pink champagne on ice
And she said 'We are all just prisoners here, of our own device'
And in the master's chambers,
They gathered for the feast
They stab it with their steely knives,
But they just can't kill the beast

I must admit, the sex is great. She has mirrors on the ceiling so she can watch herself. It is a vain thing, but turns her on, and makes it better for me. They were just installed a few weeks ago, still a novelty. How long have I been here? I don't know anymore. We fuck, we fight, but other than that we have no contact. At least she has stopped throwing her little sex parties. I tell myself I can leave any time I want, but why would I with all the comforts I have here? I stay out of my own choice, knowing that I have the freedom to leave, but will not.

 

At times doubt rears its ugly head, and I wonder if I am trapped here, but that is just stupid. I am the Prince of all Saiyans. Nothing can bind me if I don't want to be bound, not even this woman. But she is so soft, and it is always interesting to see what sounds I can get out of her, knowing she makes them for me and only me.

 

I am Saiyan, and must admit wanting to see that third-class idiot writhing under me as the woman does. I wonder what the hard muscles would feel like under his soft skin, the sounds he would make, how his skin, his lips, his cock would taste. But he has his harpy, and claims he is happy. He is probably to ignorant to even know that his body sends me signals telling me that he is interested.

 

I could leave here at the drop of a hat, with no regrets, I have nothing tying me here. I have purposely made no permanent ties for that very reason, and use my attitude to keep myself distant. They all think I care nothing for this place or any of them, even the woman. Especially the woman.

 

No, I would not leave this place, this planet unless I had no other choice. I am becoming attached, comfortable here, and it is time to leave before that freedom is taken away.

Last thing I remember, I was
Running for the door
I had to find the passage back
To the place I was before
'Relax,' said the night man,
'We are programmed to receive.
You can check-out any time you like,
But you can never leave!'

 

I start to mull over leaving; I know that wrinkled, green guardian must have some sort of ship I can use. And if he won't give it to me, then I will take it from him. I smirk at the thought. Ah, to intimidate someone again…

 

The woman is hovering in the doorway.

 

“What do you want?”

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“I am leaving, woman, what does it look like?”

 

Her eyes go wide. “But you can't leave!”

 

I snort. “Of course I can, and I am, woman. Now, again, what do you want?”

 

“Dammit, Vegeta, I thought you cared about me! I thought you at least would stick around for a while…”

 

“I never said that I do not care for you, Woman, just that I am leaving. Why would I need to stay?” I continue to pack. She is trying to talk me into staying here, staying with her. I cannot allow that. I will not lose my freedom, I will not give up control of my life again.

 

“You can't leave, Vegeta. I want you to stay here.”

 

“Why, Woman? You still have avoided the question. Just spit it out!” I am scowling at her, my arms crossed over my chest.

 

“Because I'm pregnant, you asshole!”

 

Shock. I am struck stupid, watching her raise her hand to her lips, her eyes widening. That is not how she wanted to tell me, and my mind is racing, though my face is calm. Pregnant? The Woman? I take a step closer to her and breathe in deeply, scenting the air.

 

Her smell has changed. I cannot believe I was so absorbed in my own internal battle as not to notice. She has been hiding this from me for a while, I can smell the extra hormones her body is producing.

 

“How long have you known?”

 

“Two months.”

 

“Why did you not tell me sooner?”

 

“I wasn't sure I wanted to keep it, wasn't sure what to say to you. I tested it too, by the way. It's a boy.”

 

A boy? I have a son, growing in her womb. I am trapped. A cynical little voice in my head laughs at me; I waited too long. I simply stare at her, taking her in, breathing in the smell of her pregnancy, of my son. I can never leave.