Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Unwanted Memories ❯ Unwanted Memories ( Chapter 1 )

Unwanted Memories

 

By QueenSaiyajin

 

{Rated NC-17 for very mild lemon.}

 

There wasn't very much to do once he was done eating.

 

With Master Roshi and the others gone, there would be no sparring tonight. Bulma didn't even seem to want to have very much to do with him. There was something definitely wrong with her. She'd been quiet—and that was very strange for Bulma—for most of the day, and had spent hours just sitting on the beach by herself. He didn't like to see her like this. She was, after all, his best friend besides Krillin, and in many ways he had always felt closer to her than even his bald-headed buddy. They'd been through a lot together, since that first day they'd met and teamed up to find the dragon balls. She'd been the one to draw him out of his solitude on Mount Pao, and teach him about the outside world. If it hadn't been for her, he would have never met Master Roshi, or Krillin, or competed in the Martial Arts Tournaments…

 

He headed towards the beach, wanting suddenly to spend time with her. Maybe he could even cheer her up. As much as he complained about her screaming, he did miss it. Maybe that was just something that girls do. Maybe that was their way of sparring...

 

He didn't expect to find her the way he did. At first, he'd thought she'd falling asleep sun-bathing, but only as he stood above her did he realize that she was…

 

…crying. Silently sobbing, her face buried in the beach towel, curled up like a baby. He'd never seen her like this. And it gave him such a pain in his chest that he began to panic. What had happened to her? What was making her so upset?

 

“Bulma?” he asked softly, his face betraying his concern.

 

She turned to face him, her beautiful blue eyes red, her delicate face streaked with tears. Goku's heart was breaking to see her like this. His friend Bulma was the strongest girl he had ever met. What horrible thing could do this to her?

 

He knelt on the sand facing her, reaching out to brush the hair from her wet cheeks. “I want to know who or what did this to you,” he found himself demanding, anger rising within him.

 

She sighed, looking up at him with a sad expression in her eyes. “Goku, you wouldn't understand.”

 

He didn't appreciate that. “It's been years since you found that naïve little kid on Mt. Pao, Bulma. I think I've grown up since then, and I can understand more than you think.”

She smiled weakly at him. “I'm sorry. You're right. You're not a little kid anymore. Maybe if I had realized that before—” There was something she was leaving unsaid that made him feel a sudden flush of something he didn't quite understand run through him.

It was hard enough trying to keep his eyes on her face, and not her huge breasts in that tiny bikini top she was wearing. He was beginning to feel that strange stirring in his loins that he tried so hard to ignore whenever she stood close to him dressed like this. It hadn't always been like this. When he was a kid, and had innocently tried to help her in the bathtub, he'd thought nothing of it. But that was before he knew the differences between girls and boys, wasn't it? Before that day that he'd pulled down her underwear and screamed out in shock to see that she was missing some parts…

 

Bulma sat up to face him, and he tried desperately not to let her see what her proximity was doing to him. “It's Yamcha,” she admitted to him suddenly.

 

“What did he do to you?” Goku asked, his anger suddenly finding a focus.

 

“I didn't want to admit it,” she began in a tearful voice. “But, he's been cheating on me.” She could tell that he didn't quite understand, and she clarified, “He's been having sex with other women.”

 

“But why?” Goku asked, horrified. “Isn't he your boyfriend?”

 

“I guess that doesn't mean anything to him,” she wept. “and it…it just really hurts…because he was my…first…”

 

She couldn't go on then, and Goku wrapped his arms around her as she fell into his chest crying. His rage at Yamcha was overwhelming. He hadn't been quite comfortable when something more than friendship had sprung up between Bulma and the wannabe desert bandit. When he'd accidentally spied them—together—it had made him feel more awkward around them than he could stand. Krillin had told him about the things men and women do together, and Master Roshi's perverse videos had given him a visual aid. But seeing Bulma like that with Yamcha…there was just something wrong about it. Especially when the happiness she'd seemed to find with Yamcha seemed so fleeting. He'd begun to wonder if Bulma had regretted her choice to be with Yamcha, or if he was somehow hurting her some way. But the notion of Yamcha needing, or even wanting, to be with someone else…it was beyond his comprehension.

 

“I…don't understand,” he said aloud, though he realized how naïve he must sound to her. He had no experience in these matters whatsoever, and she knew it. “I mean…there's no way he could find someone as pretty and as smart as you…” he fumbled, realizing he had never really said anything like that to her before, but knowing it was true. Maybe it had never needed to be said. Bulma was always the image of self-confidence, yet now seemed more vulnerable than he had ever imagined she could be.

 

She looked up into his eyes in surprise, her blue eyes glistening with her tears. “Son-kun, you never said anything like that to me before.”

He felt his cheeks grow hot, and he tried to cover his embarrassment by joking, “I don't have to, you usually say so yourself.”

 

In spite of herself she smiled, though he could tell that right now she wasn't feeling as beautiful as she was. “You've always been so sweet,” she sighed quietly. For a long moment she looked into his eyes, as if seeing him for the first time. Then, as if instinctively, she kissed him lightly on the lips.

 

She'd kissed him before, a brush on his cheek as he'd given her a hug between friends. But never…like this. So brief, so gentle, yet so warm and soft, the sweet taste of the wine she'd been drinking mixed with the scent that was her. He felt himself stop breathing as the heat from her lips seemed to course through his entire being, setting him on fire. He opened his eyes in wonder as he looked at her, and knew that she had felt it too. She was motionless as he took her face in his hands, caressing her cheeks, feeling her tremble with the same desire that was controlling him now. And he brought his lips to hers again, not knowing quite what to do, but knowing that he had to taste her again, to feel that incredible spark of electricity through his body, to assuage that hunger for something he had never even known existed…

 

They fell into the sand, the touch of her fingers running through his hair urging him to deepen his kiss. She tasted so good, and as his hands smoothed down her neck, finding those soft mounds of flesh that he had wanted to touch for longer than he could remember, he could hear her moan softly in pleasure. She liked him touching her like this, he could tell, and with a boldness that he knew surprised her, he tore off the tiny bikini top, allowing him full access to her. He brought his face up to see with his eyes what only his fingertips had felt, the hardened pink nubs that looked so inviting. He smiled at her as he saw her panting below him, awaiting, inviting his next move…

 

She moaned in pleasure as he took her breasts in his hands, squeezing them as he suckled at each in turn. He could stay like this forever, he thought, until a musky scent drew his attention to something he had innocently seen and never forgotten…

 

The throbbing in his loins was uncontrollable as he explored the moist warmth of Bulma's most private self, sliding his fingers deeper and deeper as she wriggled in utter ecstasy at his touch. Then, as she pulled down his pants, he groaned aloud to feel her delicate fingers wrap themselves around him, gently guiding him into her heat, as their bodies began to dance in a rhythm dictated by pure instinct and desire…

 

 

He awoke with a start, the dream as real as the erection that throbbed with his need for her. She stirred in his arms, her bare flesh against his warming him despite the chill that the nightmare had left him with. She was here, she was his, his woman, his wife, and last night they had made love with more passion than ever before, as he'd shown her just what she meant to him. Yet even as she snuggled against him now, he knew with a deepening horror that those images had been more than some sick perverse dream, or nightmare.

They had been a memory.

 

Kakarot's memory.

 

And with a jealous wave of rage that began to overwhelm him, Vegeta knew the secret they had both kept from him, the horrible truth that only the fusion had revealed to him.

 

Kakarot, his greatest rival, his only real friend, had slept with his wife.

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was the first peaceful sleep she had had in longer than she could remember.

 

Vegeta's death had taken its toll on her. Even before Goku had told her that he was dead, she had known in it her heart. The moment that his spirit had left this dimension, it had been as if half of her soul had been ripped away. She'd tried to maintain a façade of strength, especially for Trunks. Their struggle against Majin Buu had left no time to mourn. But even as the evil creature had taken their lives, her last thoughts had been of her Saiyan Prince. For the first time in her life, she hadn't been afraid to die. She would be with him again. Forever.

 

But he had not been there. At least, not in the part of Other World that she and the others had found themselves in. None of them were there, not even Gohan, who had about as much chance of having been sent to Hell as his father had. Chichi had been adamant that they must all be somewhere else, but Videl had insisted that no, Gohan wasn't here because he was still alive. Just as the young lovesick girl knew that in her heart her love was alive, Bulma had come to the awful realization of why Vegeta hadn't been there to meet her.

 

He was in Hell. Despite all the good she knew was in him, and the sacrifice he had made for them all, the gods and King Enma could not forgive the evil of his lifetime. She had lost him forever, and the only thing that would keep her from losing her mind with grief was the secret resolve that she would find her way into Hell if it took her half of eternity.

 

But it had never come to that. Her heart had sung with pride in him as he'd made that sincere appeal to the people of the Earth to lend their energy to the final attack against Buu. He'd heard her cry out, “I love you, Vegeta!” And in her mind he had responded, “And I love you, Bulma,” across dimensions and time. At first, she'd thought it had only been the desperate wish of her imagination. But when he'd returned to her a changed man, at peace with himself and truly content—no, happy, he'd said—in his life with her, she knew that it had been the connection between them that had spoken.

 

The last few days had been more blissful than Heaven had been. By day he had shown more tenderness and caring to her and to Trunks than ever before. And by night he had truly made her his princess, making love to her with unabashed passion that left her with no doubt how much he loved her. Yet still he would whisper those words in her ear, just to make certain that she knew.

 

She'd felt him stir awake, but when he'd made no move to rise, instead tightening his protective hold on her, she'd snuggled back against his warmth, happy to prolong what had been a wonderful night. The pressure of his arousal against her thigh sent a rush of new desire through her, and she reached down to stroke him tenderly. He moaned slightly at her touch, and she looked up, expecting to see the familiar wicked smile in his eyes that meant he wanted her again.

 

But his face was emotionless, as if he were consciously erecting a wall between them, and as she brought her lips to his for an encouraging kiss, his failure to respond convinced her that something was definitely wrong. It was then that he looked into her eyes, letting through the feeling he had been trying to obscure, and she gasped as she realized that it was pure unadulterated rage.

 

“Vegeta, what's wrong?”

 

“You deceitful whore!” he said in a hushed whisper, almost as if his voice would break if he were to say it any louder.

 

“Excuse me?!” she said, sitting up in bed, shock, more than anger, her predominant emotion.

 

“How could you keep this from me for all these years!?” he accused, sitting up to face her. “You've made a fool of me! I trusted you, and bared myself to you as I have to no one, and in return you betrayed me with my greatest rival!?”

 

It was only the fact that she could see the real hurt in his eyes that kept her from screaming at him. Calmly, she said, “I don't know what you're talking about, but I have never been unfaithful to you. You must have had some kind of dream—“

 

“It wasn't a dream!” he snapped angrily. “It was Kakarot's memory, that must have been transferred to my subconscious during the fusion. You fucked him, Bulma! You fucked him, and I saw it and felt it as if I were there myself! On Roshi's island, when you were a girl, and that scarred-faced weakling had cheated on you. That was the first time, but the gods know how many other times you were with him! You've made a fool of me, Bulma, both of you, and I will never be able to face that clown again without blasting him into oblivion for daring to touch you!”

 

Bulma's face turned white as she realized that Vegeta had seen one of the most shameful moments of her life. And her eyes began to fill with tears, not for herself but for him, as she saw the effect that a mistake of her youth was having on him. “Vegeta, please, listen to me. It did happen, that one time. But never again. It was a mistake. I was young, and Yamcha had hurt me terribly. I was drunk. I regretted it as soon as it happened. But it was long before I met you. There's never been anyone else in my heart or in my bed from the moment you and I were together. I swear to you.”

 

“How can I believe that, when you've kept this a secret from me for the last ten years?” he rasped. She knew he desperately wanted to believe her. The trust and love that had been so difficult for him to give were being thrown in his face, mocking him. Knowing that she had had sex with Yamcha had never seemed to bother him, probably because he knew that her ex-boyfriend was no threat whatsoever. But Goku had been his rival since Vegeta had come to this planet. Perhaps that was why she had avoided ever telling him about that night so long ago.

 

“Vegeta,” she began, reaching up to stroke his cheek. “I never told you because it wasn't important. It was meaningless.”

 

“Not to him,” he told her resolutely, removing her hand from his face.

 

She blinked at him, speechless. Had he really been able to tell that from Goku's memory? She wasn't quite sure how Goku felt about it. It had happened once, and they had never spoken of it again. For her part, it had been shame. She had always assumed that Goku had simply thought nothing of it.

 

“You were his first. Do you think that harpy he's married to could ever compare?”

 

“Vegeta, Goku loves Chichi,” she replied. “And I love you.”

 

He turned from her in frustration, grabbing the pants he had dropped on the floor last night and pulling them on. “Foolish, meaningless words,” he muttered, an echo of the man he had been before using them himself. “You loved Yamcha, didn't you? And you slept with Kakarot because he upset you.”

 

“That's not fair!” she cried, wrapping a short robe around herself and walking over to face him. “You know I never felt for Yamcha what I feel for you!”

 

“You spent as long with him as you have with me! And during that time, you cheated on him with Kakarot!”

 

“Yamcha and I were on and off for years, Vegeta. What happened with Goku was an isolated incident, and it only happened because Yamcha treated me like shit!”

 

He looked into her eyes as if she had just proven his point, and she knew at once why. “Well then, woman, tell me, did Kakarot comfort you every time I treated you like that?”

 

“No,” she replied evenly, knowing he still regretted his treatment of her in the past.

 

“Oh, that's right, Kakarot was dead for seven years,” he responded dryly. “Who, then? Yamcha? I'm sure he was more than happy to comfort you after I blew myself up to save you and the boy from Majin Buu!”

 

“Stop it!” she cried, slapping him on the face. “How dare you! I never even thought of being with someone else from the moment we got together, no matter how much pain you put me through! Not when you left me and our newborn baby to go off into space, not when you ignored me and Trunks for weeks at a time, not when you sold your soul to Babidi, and certainly not when you died! We have been to Hell and back, literally, and you still refuse to trust me completely?!”

 

“I did,” he replied quietly. “And perhaps I should not have.”

 

He burst into SuperSaiyan and shot through the window, smashing it to pieces along with her heart.

 

 

 

 

 

He wanted to trust her. With every fiber of his existence, he needed to. Yet the image of Bulma, his Bulma, and Kakarot in the throes of passion, had become irrevocably etched into his mind, and he could not bury the unwanted memory in his subconscious no matter how desperately he tried. He'd fled from her in a fury borne of insane jealousy and unspeakable anguish, as the peace and contentment that had filled him just last night seemed utterly shattered. He'd been a fool to bare himself to her! He cursed himself for making her the center of his existence, and despised his own weakness in having let her know that she was. He had actually reveled in the belief that she loved him so unconditionally, and that what they shared was unique. Yet Kakarot, his greatest rival, had…had…

 

“Kakarot!!!” he cried as he burst through the wall of the little home on Mt. Pao, grabbing the clown by the neck and pulling him out of his slumber. Kakarot's wife was screaming, and it took every ounce of will not to silence her with a blast of ki as he dragged the startled man through the roof of his bedroom and up into the air. The bigger Saiyan had been taken totally by surprise, and only when he could not pull Vegeta's hands from his throat did he burst into Super Saiyan to try to break free. Vegeta saved him the trouble by throwing him into the sharp rocks of a nearby mountain, cursing as the mountain crumbled rather than his foe.

 

Before Kakarot could even speak Vegeta sped at him again, holding Kakarot's throat with one hand as he pounded his abdomen with his fist, smirking with satisfaction as the man spit up blood. “I'll kill you, you son of a bitch!” he cried, ready to do so with his bare hands.

 

A knee in his groin startled him into loosing his grip, and Kakarot threw him off with a kick to his stomach. Vegeta caught himself in midair and rushed back at the other Saiyan, still incredulous that the moron had no idea what this was about.

 

“What's your problem, Vegeta?” he asked, his annoyance no more than that of having been awoken from a night's sleep.

 

“My problem?!” he growled as his kick thrust Kakarot to the rocks below. A ki blast to the chest kept him on the ground until Vegeta stood above him. “My problem is with you fucking my wife!”

 

“What are you talking about? I never—“ His clueless face turned pale as it suddenly struck him. “Oh,” he said stupidly.

 

His casual response was maddening. “Oh? Is that all you can say?! It's not enough that you robbed me of my destiny, but now you try to take from me the only thing that truly matters?!” The admission was humiliating, yet there was nothing secret between them now. The fusion had seen to that. He waited for Kakarot to rise to his feet, then blasted him with a Galick gun just to watch him fall. “I could have destroyed you and your entire family with one blast as you slept, but I have more honor than you, you bastard! Now fight me, and see if your Super Saiyan 3 can match the power of my rage and pride!”

 

Kakarot sat up, but had the gall to power down, his face taking on a serious calm as he said, “I don't want to fight you, Vegeta.”

 

“And I don't want to fight you either, Kakarot,” he mocked. “I want to rip you to pieces and make you pay for daring to touch her! Now power up and battle me!” Vegeta rushed at him, a swift kick to that thick skull making Kakarot wince with pain.

 

“Come on, Vegeta, relax,” he said, rubbing his head. “This isn't necessary. Okay, I realize, you saw my memory because of the fusion. To tell you the truth, I've had some pretty scary dreams too seeing parts of your past—“

 

“My past is none of your fucking business!” he cried in rage, his mortification merely adding to his fury. “But you having sex with my wife is—“

 

“She wasn't your wife, Vegeta,” Kakarot interrupted him matter-of-factly. “It just happened once, a long time ago, and never again.”

 

“Do you think that makes a difference?” he shot back, though relieved that at least that part of Bulma's story was corroborated.

 

“She hadn't even met you, Vegeta,” he replied, rising to face him.

 

“That doesn't change the fact that you had her,” Vegeta responded. “I saw it, Kakarot, through your eyes. I felt it. You…enjoyed it. It had meaning to you. Do you mean to tell me that you never again desired her?”

 

Kakarot took a deep breath. “Of course I…enjoyed it. I wouldn't be a man if I didn't. It was…nice. It was special because it was my first time…you know. But the truth is, Bulma and I just never liked each other that way. She's always been more like a sister. It was really kind of awkward after. We never even mentioned it. I guess we just both knew it was something that probably shouldn't have happened.”

 

His words seemed sincere, and yet Vegeta was not convinced. “Yet you promised the Elder Kai a date with Bulma if he trained Gohan. You admitted to me that she is prettier than your wife.”

 

Kakarot shrugged his shoulders. “Vegeta, even Bulma herself will tell you how gorgeous she is. The fact is, I'm not in love with her. I love Chichi. And she loves me. We're right for each other. You and Bulma are the ones who are meant to be together. You may have seen the memory of that one time that she and I were together, but I've seen your entire lifetime with her. I know what she means to you. I've seen through your eyes—and my own— how much she loves you.”

 

Vegeta shifted uncomfortably. “All this talk of love…it's irrelevant. She was in love with Yamcha, and then she slept with you because he betrayed her.”

 

Kakarot shook his head. “I don't think she ever really loved Yamcha. She had a crush on him, sure, but I think the main thing that kept her going back to him all those years was the fact that she didn't think she could find anyone better. And then she met you, and all that changed. She dropped Yamcha like a hot potato when you came into her life.”

 

Vegeta powered down as he took in Kakarot's words. Bulma had told him a thousand times that her feelings for Yamcha could never compare to what she felt for him. And yet… “You know my mind, Kakarot, so you know I have not always treated her and the boy as they deserved,” he admitted.

 

“No, you haven't,” Kakarot concurred evenly, adding to his shame. “But Bulma has stood by and defended you through everything. Even when you let Babidi take you over. She was devastated when you died, and even more so when she didn't find you in Other World.”

 

“How would you know this?” he asked with more suspicion than curiosity.

 

“Chichi told me. She overheard Bulma asking Dabura what she would need to do to get sent to Hell.”

 

Vegeta's eyes opened wide, and his chest tightened at the thought of Bulma anywhere near that cursed dimension. Would she really have condemned her own soul just to be with him?

 

“Vegeta, I know it's hard for you to trust anyone,” Kakarot said, looking him in the eyes.

 

“I trusted her.” Left unspoken was the fact that he had come to trust this man, too, but he was certain that Kakarot knew that. He had considered him a friend.

 

“There's no reason not to trust Bulma,” he told him with certainty. “She'd never betray you. I'd bet my life on that.”

 

In his heart he knew it to be true, no matter what years of learned mistrust told him. “What good is a bet like that, you've already been dead twice,” he said dryly.

 

Kakarot smiled, though not that idiotic grin that made it impossible to take him seriously.

“And no matter what you think, Vegeta, you can trust me. I wouldn't lie to you. I am your friend—“

 

“Let's not get carried away,” he quipped gruffly, though Kakarot knew that if he was insulting him that things were settled between them.

 

“Well, if it's okay with you, I'd better get back home. Chichi is going to beat the crap out of me if I don't start fixing that roof.”

 

“You get off on that, don't you, Kakarot?” Vegeta said sardonically.

 

Kakarot considered what had just been a rhetorical question and grinned. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

 

“Then go home to your wife, Kakarot. And I will go home to mine.” He began to rise into the air, but looked back with a warning that was crystal clear. “I believe you, Kakarot. But never forget, that if you so much as look at her in a way that causes me to question your motives, I will kill you.”

 

There was no sign of mocking whatsoever in Kakarot's response. “I believe you would, Vegeta. I believe you would.”

 

Vegeta had no doubt in his mind that he could.

 

 

 

 

 

 

He sensed her ki as he approached the house, and found her asleep on the chair outside on the balcony to their room. It had gotten much cooler since he had gone, and she was shivering in her sleep in the short silk robe she had thrown on as he'd left. He knew she had drifted off waiting for him here, watching the sky. He had heard her crying in his mind, and as he lifted her gently into his arms and kissed her lightly on the cheek, he could taste the salty tracks of her tears. Her skin was ice cold, and he raised his ki gently to warm her as he wrapped his arms around her.

 

Her eyes fluttered open and she sighed deeply in relief to find herself in his embrace. She laced her fingers around his neck and looked into his eyes, the unspoken questions lying between them. Do you forgive me for not telling you? Do you trust me?

 

He brought his lips to hers in answer, kissing her deeply as he carried her into their bedroom and set her down on the bed, lying down next to her to draw her back into his arms. Suddenly her lips were trembling, and as he opened his eyes, he saw that she was crying. “Shhhhhhhhhhh,” he soothed her gently, kissing the fresh tears.

 

“I just don't want to lose you, Vegeta,” she whispered. “I've been so happy since you came back…”

 

“So have I,” he admitted softly in her ear. “Perhaps happier than I thought I deserved to be.”

 

“Oh, Vegeta,” she sighed, running her fingers lovingly through his hair.

 

He brought his face up to look into her eyes. “Hear me out, woman. I won't ever admit this to you again. But I know…I haven't always been the best husband or father. But you and Trunks…” He hesitated as he searched for words that would be sufficient, choosing finally, “…are my life. The thought of losing you to Kakarot—to anyone—“

 

“You'll never lose us, Vegeta,” she reassured him.

 

“It would be my own fault if I did,” he replied grimly. “I have not treated you—or the boy—as you deserve. I realize that now. I only hope it isn't too late to make amends—“

 

This time it was she who silenced him with a kiss. And he knew without a doubt that it was not too late. She had always loved him, no matter how difficult or arrogant he had been, and somehow, despite his own inability to acknowledge it even to himself, she had known all along that he loved her and their child more than he could ever express. When their lips separated he said softly, “I'm sorry. I am so sorry.” He couldn't even tell her all he was sorry for. It was for more than tonight. It was for a thousand nights that he had failed to show her what she meant to him.

 

She kissed him again, her forgiveness, as always. But then she looked into his eyes and said, “I'm sorry, too, Vegeta. I should have told you about…that night. It was just so long ago, and so unimportant. Goku and I never even spoke about it again. It was a mistake. And it has nothing to do with us now.”

 

He nodded, relieved now knowing that she and Kakarot both seemed to feel the same about their mistake as she called it.

 

“I guess I was also afraid you might do something crazy, like—“

 

“Like crash through Kakarot's roof, pluck him from his bed, throw him into a mountain and beat him until he coughed up blood?” he asked with a smirk.

 

“Uh, yeah, something like that,” she answered knowingly. Amazingly, she wasn't angry at him for that. “Should I expect a screaming phone call from Chichi tomorrow?” she asked with mock dread.

 

“No real damage that a Senzu bean and a bit of carpentry won't remedy,” he replied wryly. “I don't think Kakarot will tell her what it was all about. For some odd reason that is beyond me, he actually loves that annoying harpy, and probably won't want to upset her over something insignificant that happened in the past.”

 

He realized even as he said it that those had been Bulma's reasons precisely for not telling him. Her I told you so expression would have annoyed him if it weren't for the sheer peace and contentment that was settling over him once more. “And for some other reason that I can't begin to fathom,” he said seriously, looking into her eyes with pure adoration, “you fell in love with an arrogant son of a bitch who didn't appreciate what he had until it was almost too late.”

 

“You've always been my Prince,” she said lovingly, stroking him on the cheek. He could feel his face grow hot even as his desire for her stirred.

 

“And what can I do to show my Princess what she means to me?” he whispered huskily, planting soft kisses on her neck as gently pulled aside the robe that hid her treasures from him.

 

“Aside from what you're doing right now?” she breathed as he kneaded her breasts with his hands, ready to bring his mouth to her hardened nubs.

 

He broke away from his own delight in her body, looking her in the eyes to show her that he was sincere. “Anything you ask, my love,” he said tenderly, loving the way she reacted to hear him address her in a way he never had. Had he understood what these simple verbal expressions of his feelings meant to her, and how much pleasure he would derive in making her happy, perhaps he would have torn down his façade of indifference long ago. After all, he had no one to impress, no one to guard himself against, when they were alone together. She was all that mattered, and had he realized that long ago, he would have spared them all a great deal of anguish.

 

“Just be happy in your life with me—with us,” she amended, reminding him of the boy who had been born out of the love he had denied for so long.

 

“I already am,” he told her with certainty. And as he made love to her, he knew that all he had desired to the point of obsession—power, immortality, besting that fool Kakarot—paled in comparison to all he possessed.

 

He would never let himself forget that again.