Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Unspoken ❯ Hanareru ( Chapter 7 )

 

Unspoken

 

 

Chapter 7 - Hanareru

 

“You are back sooner than I had expected. Did all go well?” Radditz greets me outside of my chambers. I waste little time entering my room and locking it behind us. Brolli exited the conference some time before I did. I have to admit I was surprised that he did not ambush me once I left. Perhaps he is biding his time.

 

“I believe it will be easier to divide Nappa and Brolli from their allies than we originally anticipated,” I respond briskly before turning to my comrade to switch to a more intriguing topic that had been in the back of my mind since my newest acquisition had left, “Where is she?”

 

“She went into her chambers to shower and change. I told her to come back in here when she was done.”

 

I nod my head, and then ask that which I am not certain I want to hear an answer, “And did you test her loyalties as we planned?”

 

Radditz nods sternly, “I made her the offer to have an affair with me. She refused, claiming her ningen sense of `integrity' was stopping her. She insulted our people somewhere in her declaration, but I feel quite confident that as long as you keep your word, she will keep hers.”

 

I feel the expression on my face sink. Keep my word; I am beginning to wonder if I am capable of that. The woman tempts me in a way no other has. I question whether my `integrity' would be proven as principled as hers if right this moment I were faced with having to set her free. “Then your nerves are now settled?”

 

The plot had been Radditz's suggestion. He doubted the woman more than I did, but I had been the one to agree to it. I suppose I needed to know if there was some possibility that she was merely acting with me, that she was merely using all of her charms to manipulate me into granting her freedom. The thought brought me more grief than anger, a realization that unsettles me. “I would say so,” Radditz announces, before adding, “but I do not envy your situation. There is something about her. It seems to have driven Brolli and Nappa nearly insane. Being so near to her, I could almost feel it. I worry you may succumb to the same witchery.”

 

“Not possible,” I scoff. “No woman will ever ensnare me.”

 

“For your sake, I hope you are right,” Radditz announces with all seriousness. “Will you tell her of the setup, or shall we leave her believing my offer stands?”

 

“Leave things as they are,” I decide quickly. Should the day come that she feels the impulse to betray me, I want to know exactly where she will run.

 

“As you wish,” Radditz bows and then asks, “Do you need anything else from me this evening?”

 

“Find Brolli; determine if he is partaking in anything I should know about, and then report back to me.” The taller man nods before heading toward the exit. I stop him with a question I did not intend to voice, “Do you think me a fool for waiting to have her?”

 

I see Radditz stop out of the corner of my eye. He turns back around to face me, “I can not stand in judgment of a situation I have no experience with. However, I suppose if I were in your position it would really come down to deciding how I want her. You see the way she hates Brolli after years of being taken against her will. If her opinion of you means little or nothing, then I suppose it would be foolish of you to wait. But, if you are biding your time in hopes of garnering her willingness, then I do not believe I could call it foolish. I believe we saw today the passionate woman she has the potential to be when accepting. I am quite certain I would prefer that mere possibility over `deadweight,' as I believe Brolli described her.”

 

The image of that brute over her, inside of her, makes my blood run cold. I want that man to suffer more than ever, but Radditz is right, I do not want to become like him. I am better than him. “That will be all, Radditz,” I dismiss my associate without further discussion. Unconsciously turning toward the adjoining room, I hesitate to enter. We need to discuss what has happened today, but there is a very strong possibility she is scantily clad from the shower. I am not sure I trust myself to keep my hands off of her when confronted with such a view.

 

Taking a deep breath, I tell myself I will not allow my libido to rule my actions. However, the nagging vision of Bulma naked, sprawled out on her bed, beckoning me toward her makes it all the more difficult to focus, at least until I finally enter the room to be greeted with a vision that is chillingly different.

 

“Hello, Vegeta, we have been waiting for you.” The unexpected image of Brolli greets me in a condescending tone. The bastard is sitting upon the massive bed centered in the room. His brazen intrusion into private chambers of mine, coupled with the bitingly arrogant smirk plastered across his face is more than enough to send me flying across the room in a violent attack. However, the “we” Brolli alludes to, keeps me in my place, “Shame on you for not watching my departure from the meeting more carefully. A King should know better than to let his enemy leave his line of sight for a single minute. Just look at what that minute difference means to our little ningen.”

 

My eyes lower from Brolli's to land on Bulma's. Her body is trapped between his legs. One of his large hands circles her throat as the other wraps around her waist. Her naked skin is wet. Her hair is drenched. I gather she must have still been bathing when Brolli entered the room. I am concerned for her treatment in my absence, but her expression is difficult to read. Though the woman does not outwardly appear frightened, her eyes divulge a nervousness that fails to veil her concern.

 

“There is no `our,' Brolli. The woman is mine; release her this instant or else—”

 

“Or else what?” Brolli goads me. “Will you fuck her right in front of me this time, Vegeta? Attempt to humiliate me further by showing me how completely you have tamed her body? It might succeed in feeding my fury, were I not sure the effects were fake.”

 

“I believe I already proved otherwise,” I cannot believe the man is invoking the same argument once more. “The woman is not under the influence of anything unnatural.”

 

“Really?” my adversary dares to question me. “Because I am willing to bet my life you have been inducing her attraction to you.”

 

Unconsciously a smirk pulls upon my lips. His life is exactly what this transgression will cost. “I am glad to hear that, because you just gave me grounds to publicly kill you. You break into my chambers, accost my property, the King's property, and dare to stand here ordering me around as if you have control in this situation? Such disrespect calls for a battle to the death, and we both know I will be the victor.”

 

“If we battled, perhaps, but there will be no challenge. I am fully within my rights to impugn your integrity, which is exactly what I intend to do.” Releasing Bulma's throat for a moment, Brolli reaches into the collar of his uniform to pull out a small vial. “Nappa gave me this little treat. Though I was unfamiliar with it, I am certain you are not. The chemical in this container is known as Hanareru. Men who are incapable of properly breaking their women use it. It travels quickly through the bloodstream, inducing a state of mindless arousal focused solely on the first person the subject lays eyes upon after ingesting the drug. A fascinating little remedy, I must say. Though I prefer a natural reaction from my women, I can understand how you would need yours stimulated. I am sure it protects your ego.”

 

My teeth grind audibly, “You think I gave that to the woman?”

 

“Yes,” Brolli confesses. “Nappa and I both feel that is the case. So I have come to prove you the fraud I know you to be. You gave the woman the drug before you entered the conference. It explains her attraction to you and rejection of me this afternoon.”

 

“You are wrong,” I refute immediately. “I will no longer suffer your accusations. Release the woman, and prepare yourself for your punishment.”

 

“My accusations will become fact once I complete my experiment.” Abruptly Brolli twists Bulma around in his arms. Jerking her head back, he digs two fingers into her mouth to force her jaw open. Once he has gained access, he opens the vial and pours its contents down the woman's throat. After releasing a few choking noises, Bulma collapses momentarily in the brute's arms, “Now we see who will be disgraced.”

 

As if I am suddenly too paralyzed to move, I stand idly by as I watch Bulma slowly regain focus. With a tenderness that unnerves me, Brolli cradles the woman in his lap. He runs his fingers through her hair as he almost tenderly coaxes, “Wake up, Aoiro.” Hearing his pet name causes me to clench my fists. I mentally scream at myself to attack the man, to stop this madness before Brolli's test provides results that will likely be to my detriment. However, something keeps me in place. It is an unnatural fear that if I attack the man in haste, I will harm the woman.

 

Bulma's now bloodshot and dilated eyes fully open. Her line of sight is filled with nothing but Brolli. To my horror, the drug seems to do exactly as the son of a bitch promised as I witness the woman pressing her lips to her former master's neck. Her hands scrape over his chest, attempting to remove his suit and armor. From this victory, Brolli lifts his chin to smirk at me. The fury I am now displaying to him must seem a confirmation of his claim, yet my anger does not stem from my now complicated predicament. My anger comes from the sight of Bulma reacting to another man; a man that, were she unaltered in personality, she would hate herself for willingly touching.

 

“Enough!” I scream, unable to watch the scene any longer. To my surprise the reverberation of my voice seems to strike a cord with Bulma as she steadies her hands and twists her head to look at me. Through the haze of her induced state, I see a moment of realization flash across her eyes.

 

“Aoiro,” Brolli grabs her chin as if suddenly realizing the drug is not as foolproof as he wants to believe. “Focus on me; I will be the one to cure your pain.” He slides his hand up the center of her stomach to cup one breast. She reacts with an uncertain pout, as if her mind and body are sending her two completely different messages. I immediately intend to take advantage of her confusion.

 

“Bulma,” I use her true name, in an effort to force her to some semblance of rationality. With that single word, her body twists from Brolli's and toward mine. She reaches out an arm slowly in my direction, and I quickly take it before Brolli has a chance to react. In less than a breath the woman has wrapped her body around mine: her legs around my hips, her arms around my chest and her face against my neck. Rapidly I become a blinding combination of victorious, aroused and oddly content.

 

The temptation is strong to flip the woman onto the floor, rip off my uniform and drown myself inside her depths, but I do not allow my passion to overtake me. I must deal with my audience first. “What did you just call her?” Brolli jumps to his feet, clearly startled by the ability of a single word to tame this frail woman's passions.

 

“Her name,” I answer minimally. I need to end the conversation without delay. My mind is too absorbed in the lust of the woman to think straight. “I believe you now know whom she truly wants, and unfortunately for you, that confirmation will cost you your life. We battle tonight, Brolli.” I waste no more breath declaring my victory.

 

After a long, dark gaze at his former prize, Brolli threateningly lifts his glare toward me. “This is not over,” he forebodes before storming out of the room. I should be concerned about what he may plan next, but at the moment all of I think about is the very erotically charged female in my arms.

 

“Bulma,” I attempt to calm her ravenousness as I carry her to the shower in the washroom. Making the water as cold as possible, I step under the freezing liquid with her, hoping to quell the flame between us.

 

“Vegeta,” she whispers my name so longingly, so alluringly, I feel my arousal rebuild what little potency the cold water has dissipated. “I need you,” she tells me while pulling my gloves off. “Please,” she begs while laying my hands upon her supple breasts. I cannot help but cup them as my forehead crashes against the wall I have her pinned against. “Yes,” her hot breath tickles my throat as she leans in to lick my tender skin. “You have the softest hands,” she compliments as she covers them with her own; guiding my rhythm to a pace she prefers.

 

Once I seem to master the rhythm, she releases my hands to grip my cape. With a power that surprises me, she rips the garment off. Next she drags her nails down to my armor. To her disappointment, I have to release her breasts to help her remove the rough barriers. In the process I help her lower my suit to my waist before I return to my attentions. “Your lips… use your lips,” she pants. I feel her nails dig into my thick hair as she pulls my face toward her chest. I thoughtlessly oblige her as my mouth engulfs what it can of her ample mound. I kiss, I lick, and I bite; each action eliciting a different sound from her, each sound driving me into a deeper level of passion I soon fear I will not be able to return from.

 

“Bulma,” I nearly curse her name as I try to regain my poise. As willing as she is at this moment, as desperate as I am at this moment, the consequences of my actions are not lost on me. If I take the woman now, while I do not yet have her true acquiescence, I will loose any chance of having her the way I am now certain I want her: willingly, completely and without any hesitation. To take her now would make me no better than Brolli, and as pleasureful as the next few hours of her addiction could be for the two of us, the hateful rift it would create come morning would not be worth such a fleeting reward.

 

“What the fuck have you done to me, woman?” I hiss against her shoulder before lifting one of my hands into the air. Swiftly I crash the edge of it against a pressure point on her neck. Her body tumbles into my embrace immediately. “Lucky for you, sleep will be remedy enough for your pain,” I moan jealously. As I lift the woman into my arms to carry her back into her chambers. The irony of the situation strikes me. This woman is intended as my pleasure slave, to provide my body with a physical release and to service me in any manner I see fit. Yet, I am standing here with an unattended erection; I am the one catering to her: laying her in bed, tucking the covers around her and checking her pulse to make certain she is not seriously harmed. “What have you done to me, indeed?” I reverberate as I watch her flushed figure lay peacefully asleep.

 

Falling on my knees next to the bed, I clutch myself violently. I stroke my frustrations away at a rough and fast pace. The image of the woman's angelic sleeping figure and the thick aroma of her arousal still filling the air send me crashing over the edge with minimal effort. I briefly contemplate how my father must be laughing at me in Hell. A beautiful, aroused, unconscious woman lying on the bed before me, and I must resort to pleasuring myself. He must feel vindicated for every insult he has ever levied against me.

 

Taking deep breaths to try and regain my composure, I ponder topics that easily chill my excitement. Though I should be glad the woman has provided me with the opportunity to legitimately kill Brolli under the scrutiny of the public, her aid has come at a price. She won't trust me to protect her any longer. I let Brolli get to her. In the few brief minutes she was alone with him, he could have committed any number of atrocities against her.

 

Yet, suddenly I realize that was exactly the result I had set her up for. I should have known Brolli would go after her. I should have ordered Radditz to be protecting her instead of testing her loyalties. She had already proven it in the conference room. I saw the look in her eyes when Brolli became enflamed with anger. It was no act. She hates the man for what he has done to her, and she has every reason to work with me to destroy him.

 

I should have trusted her.

 

“Sire!” I hear Radditz's voice call for me as he rushes into my room. “I just located Brolli, he—” The larger man stops in his tracks as his eyes roam over the scene before him. “Then he was telling the truth,” his tone is somber before turning his gaze to me. “I found Brolli with Nappa on the training grounds. They were cursing about his failure to disprove your breaking of his former sla—Vegeta?” Radditz breaks his train of thought as he sees me push myself off of my knees and walk past him. “Where are you going?”

 

“Kill anything that comes near her,” I warn before I head to my chambers. “I am going to shower, change and then make the arrangements for Brolli's execution tonight.” I offer no more explanation before disappearing into the next room. I tell myself I am leaving Bulma in Radditz's hands because I worry about my temptation around the woman, but in the back of my mind I know that is not the only reason.

 

I recognize the streak of cowardice that runs through me. I fear facing the woman after this. I fear seeing her eyes open, and witnessing the disdain she will feel for the many ways I have managed to fail her in such a short amount of time.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“Be careful sitting up,” Radditz warns me as I grasp his hand to steady myself. After an initial moment of confusion, my mind floods with images of Brolli interrupting my shower, dragging me out of the washroom and throwing me onto the bed. I feared he had come to violate me once more, but to my surprise he had other plans. He drugged me. He made me want him, but not exclusively. Vegeta's voice triggered some sort of antidote to the narcotic, because I turned to him.

 

I threw myself at him.

 

The weight of the realization sends a sick feeling through my entire body. “I should shower,” I state briefly before pushing my body onto my knees and crawling off the opposite side of the bed Radditz stands next too. I slam the door behind me before stumbling into the square basin. As soon as the water beats against me, I feel my knees give out as I sink to the floor. My head falls back against a sidewall as my mind reflects upon my wanton behavior. My arms rise to cover my breasts as I recollect Vegeta's hands and lips against them.

 

“How could I have…?” I contemplate as one of my hands slides down my stomach to reach the juncture between my parted thighs. Dried passion stains my legs, as I attempt to wash the shame away. Digging two fingers into my still wet vagina, I roughly attempt to wash away the remnants of my humiliation.

 

The dark realization slowly creeps over me that my reaction toward Vegeta is plaguing me more than that which I felt for Brolli. Any attraction I directed toward my enemy was doubtlessly the result of the drug. But with Vegeta—I cannot understand why, if I was strong enough to reject Brolli, I could not do the same with Vegeta?

 

I do not know for how long I sit on the shower floor unsuccessfully preoccupied with that very question before I finally decide to push myself to my feet and finish bathing myself properly. I then step out of the shower and wrap a too-small drying cloth around my torso. My next step brings me back into the sleeping chambers where I find Radditz standing stoically in the middle of the room.

 

To my surprise he has one of the trashy outfits the Saiya-jin men like to decorate their possessions in. “You need to put this on if you plan on going out in public to watch Vegeta kill Brolli tonight.”

 

My chest tightens. Yes, now I vaguely recall Vegeta leveling such a promise against Brolli. “Right,” I grab the outfit from him. “I'll wear it.” I do not think twice before dropping my towel and stepping into the garment. It is in two parts. The bottoms are a straight cut of pants, torn in diagonal lines circling my legs from top to bottom. The top is merely a single strip of matching black fabric to cover my breasts. As I pull the straps behind me, I encounter some trouble tying it.

 

“Would you like me to help you?” Radditz steps forward to do so, but I pull away from him.

 

“Keep your hands off me,” I snap more forcefully than I intend.

 

“Leave us, Radditz.” A new voice enters the fray as I turn back to see Vegeta standing in the doorway. “Wait in the hall,” he tells the taller man before the changing of my guard is complete. I keep my back to Vegeta, however. I don't want to look at him.

 

“Ah,” my back arches as I feel his hands against it. “Don't,” I try to step away from him before he can grasp the straps. Not surprisingly, I am too slow.

 

“Calm yourself,” he tells me in his deepest voice. “I will not hurt you,” he promises as I cross my arms over my chest and allow him to finish. He is too slow completing the task. My back tenses as his fingertips continue to slide against my skin. Memories from earlier echo through my psyche, sending chills down my spine, that he must recognize. “I will fight Brolli shortly.”

 

“I know,” I reply quietly.

 

“I will kill him,” he adds.

 

“I am glad you got everything you wanted.” I feel the straps secure and immediately move to step away. He stops me by grabbing my arm.

 

“Look at me,” he orders. Under a power of their own, my eyes lock with his. To my astonishment, he betrays more emotion that I would have expected. “I… I am sorry I allowed Brolli to reach you.” His sincerity impresses me, as well as he sober choice of words. However, at this moment, I am not in a terribly forgiving mood.

 

“I was the bait. Brolli took it. You win.” I jerk my arm from his grasp. “Do not patronize me by acting like you care what it cost me, how it humiliated me. We have a business arrangement. Let's not confuse it with anything else.” My tone must be harsher than I realize because the expression upon his face is now withdrawn.

 

“You have my word; no more physical harm will come to you for as long as you are under my protection.” Anger is floating in his eyes as his fists tighten. Unfortunately, I cannot tell if his anger is directed at himself or me.

 

“You can not promise that,” I am quick to argue. I wish he could, but we both know better.

 

“After the example I will make of Brolli today, I assure you, no man will come near you.” The vehemence in his voice almost makes me want to believe him. But I do not. I know whom I am dealing with.

 

“Does that include you?” I dare to ask. His reaction to my words is strikingly pained, but I forge on regardless, “If you really want to assure my safety, you could just set me free tonight.” I pause. When he does not answer, I nod my head. “Right, I didn't think so.” I turn to walk away from him, but his words stop me before I get far.

 

“You will have your freedom, woman. You have completed one part of our bargain already. I hold little doubt you will succeed in the rest.”

 

My arms wrap around myself as I sigh unbelievingly, “And if you are wrong?”

 

He is behind me. I feel his breath against my neck. “I am not Brolli,” he informs me as his fingertips graze my shoulders. He is waiting for me to push them away. I don't. His movements are slow, cautious. I do not fear them. “I will never force myself on you.” His fingers slowly expand until each of his hands is flat against my shoulders. “I will only have a woman in my bed who comes willingly. I thought my actions today would prove that to you.” He tugs at my shoulders and pulls me back against his chest. His body is hard, warm, safe. Brolli cannot touch me while I am with this man. No one can. “You will have your freedom, one way or another.”

 

I want to believe him. Desperately, I want it all to be true. So I pretend it is. I twist my body around and bury my face in his neck. I wrap my arms around his torso, underneath the warmth of his cape. I feel his hands wrap around my back as he pulls me against him.

 

Comfort.

 

I have not felt it in so long. I barely remember how much it means to simply be held. It might not be real, but it is enough to deceive my senses. “I want to believe you,” I whisper against his throat.

 

His chin shifts toward me. “I am a man of my word,” he promises. I find myself trusting his sincerity, but not his resolve. He swears he will keep his word now, but even Radditz advised me that I cannot be certain this man will follow through with his end of the bargain when there is nothing forcing him to do so. I have only his word to believe in. I wish it were more. “I am not Brolli,” he strikes me with a declaration of such vehemence that I gather he is pleading for me to understand something of grave importance. “I am not Brolli,” he insists for a third time. Those few short words are packed with meaning I am not willing to face. I cannot, not now.

 

When he seems satisfied that I have comprehended at least the basis of his avow, he releases me and turns toward the exit. Suddenly I find myself unable to let him part with the last word on the matter. “I hope for both our sakes you prove not to be,” I call after him. “But don't think that will make me forget who you and your people are.” He stops for a moment in his tracks, his back stiffening, his head turning slightly toward me. I think for a moment he may respond, but he does not. Instead he completes the rest of his trek silently until he is out of the room.

 

A minute later, Radditz returns. He warns that shortly he will escort me to watch the battle, where he pledges not to leave my side. Again, his words are meant to be a comfort to me, but they are not. And I suddenly realize that it is not because I hold little trust with the Saiya-jins, but instead it is because the only person I have since long found comfort in just departed from the room carrying my biased censure on his shoulders.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Translation:

 

Hanareru - Apart (as in to fall or to come)