Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Wait and Bleed ❯ Old Burn, New Flame ( Chapter 3 )

Warnings: Yaoi, VxGk (Kakarott), Violence, insanity, lemons, language, angst (For the whole fic) NC17. Warnings will be added when necessary.

Chapter Three: VxR

Disclaimer: I, being the fantastic and wicked Dynishra the Vampire, does not in any way, shape or form claim to own Dragon Ball Z or any of the therein owned characters, merchandise, television programmes or manga. All who contest to this fact and attempt to sue me can roast in hell over a slow flame. I do though, own the idea of this fanfiction, and any whom do steal it from me will shortly be meeting with a committee of six inch earth worms in a large mass grave with the rest of the fools whom deem it wise to thwart me. Therefore, use your heads and what little is in them, to politely leave me be on the matter of legal actions. Never the less, enjoy this story I have written, as I have enjoyed writing it! Chow!

Wait and Bleed.

~There are just too many

times that people

have have tried to look inside of me

wondering what I think of you

and I protect you out of courtesy

too many times that I'veheld on when I needed to push away

afraid to say what was on my mind

afraid to say what I need to say

too many

things that you've said about me

when I'm not aroundyou think having the upper hand

means you've got to keep putting me down

but I've had too many stand-offs with you

it's about as much as I can standjust wait until the upper hand

is mine

so many people like me

put so much trust in all your lies

so concerned with what you think

to just say what we feel inside

so many people like me

walk on eggshells all day long

all I know is that all I want is to feel like I'm not stepped on

there are so many things you say

that make me feel like you've crossed the line

what goes up will surely fall

and I'm counting down the time

cause I've had so many stand-offs with you

it's about as much as I can stand

so I'm waiting until the upper hand is mine

One minute you're on top

the next you're not

watch it drop

making your heart stop

just before you hit the floor

one minute you're on top

the next you're not

missed your shot

making your heart stop

you think you won

and then it's all gone

I know I'll never trust a single thing you say

you knew your lies would divide us

but you lied anyway

and all the lies have got you floating

up above us all

But what goes up has got to fall. ~

~Hit the floor - Linkin Park

Chapter Three: Old burn, new flame.Lightning crashed in symphony with the constant screams that echoed off the granite mountains of Hell. Bizarre trees shafted up into the tin-coated skies, where the sun never shone and darkness and thunder reined like incestuous twins. Their branches, hard obsidian spikes where writhing impaled spirits whimpered and moaned for all eternity, bled fruit for the odd passing demon ravished by hunger.

The earth quaked and bled gouts of lava and blood, slicing sizzling rivers into the cracked parched dirt. There amongst the rocks and iron grass crawled countless numbers of the damned, shackled to the ground by their own hate and despair. They constantly crawled like a great mass of slithering white worms, in a northerly direction, accompanied by the screams and howls of their masters. Great black demons, their tails of flame whipped at the backs of the pitiful, driving this cursed herd forever north towards the great demon: Dargula.

They passed through the rivers of blood and lava, being scorched and drowned. They dragged their flayed bodies towards him, raw skin bloody, river blood flaking off like false paint.

Dargula sat nestled between two large mountains, his long clawed fingers tapping a crevasse in his left armrest of fallen castles. His soft blue skin was almost a deception in this world of red and black. The first weeping souls of the herd often looked up at him with hope, thinking him some great messiah there to save them. His long golden hair fell about his shoulders like a heavenly cloud. His bright green eyes eternally looking distantly, contemplating and thinking great god-like thoughts. If lucky, the herd would witness a slight ruffling of his tremendous saffron feathered wings. Maybe even some feel blessed when the odd ruby feather might flutter loose to crush several of them under its weight, saving their souls from the constant agonies they are ignorant of.

Dargula sat like the unholy fallen angel he was. His movement was minimal. The crowds cried out with adoring awe when a random thunder bolt flashed, making his muscular humanoid chest glitter. The fools still under the illusion they were saved, not realising the glints of light bouncing off tiny cell-sized scales which covered his entire being, each one made from the skin of those he devoured. His brilliant jade eyes twitched down to look at the large lilac globe he held in his right hand, his long claws curled about it in a confident grip. Every soul he had ever taken was inside that ball. After it had been dragged, crushed and broken though his being.

Soon this globe would be big enough for him to use. Millions of years it had taken for it to grow large enough to fit comfortably in his hand. The tiny souls of the wicked had taken a long time to accumulate. One decent good soul would double the balls size instantly. And over the last ten years he had managed to feed the globe ten good souls. It had gone from being the size of his thumbnail to this hefty palm-sized sphere. He was thankful to his servants for this deed. He had rewarded them, giving them a small amount of the ball's power to slowly bring them closer to life. From there, in the living world, they would be able to do their job so much easier. Anyone they killed was dragged directly to him and devoured, no matter who it was or how the person died.

Dargula absently lowered his left hand and swiped a few of the demented souls into his mouth. After several moments of snapping bones and screams he swallowed them, and gave a shiver. The ball glowed slightly and grew within itself, though it was not visibly obvious. Now, the crowds devoid of their illusion filled the grey skies with screams of shattered hope and moans of insanity.

Dargula frowned slightly as he scanned the distant horizon, as though he saw something slightly unpleasant. From his loft position, and his unholy eyes, he gazed upon the ever-death of Dodoria as he was slaughtered by a brush-haired Saiyan as easily as though his hide was made of raspberry pudding. He watched, slightly angered, as the Saiyan stole the life energy he had granted the great pink idiot. To make matters worse, the Saiyan had been almost totally reformed and thereby was granted life again through his endeavour. But Dargula wasn't fooled, he saw the hand of the Kais behind this little interruption in his plans. They were becoming bolder and this made him irritable.

The Kai's could do nothing about him, he was as much a part of the balance of life and death as they were, but they could hinder his progress. He watched the Saiyan vanish and grow solid in the living world. So, he was to confront the two Saiyan he had been after. Most likely telling them of his plan. Not that it mattered, they could do nothing to stop him. He was Dargula: he who was destined to end the universe… and he was coming closer to his goal. If he could get the two powerful souls of those two Saiyans, the ball would be large enough.

And when the ball was large enough…

Dargula smiled, shiny pointed teeth and molars glinted.

…then he would be alive.

With his smile, the black demons howled at the slate skies and the damned screamed.

~*~

A hot body was shoved up rough against the wood-panelled wall, a sweat-slicked back squeaked slightly against it. Grasping hands about his shoulders dug fingered bruised into his lusting skin and he moaned slightly at the intensity of his hungry lover. "Raditz… pl..please…ugh.."

A knee pushed his legs apart as hot lips moved against his ear. "I..its been too… long…" Nip, lick.

Raditz didn't care about his brother's obvious attraction to Vegeta; the Prince was his mate first and he was not going to move over just because he had been dead for more than 30 years. Now, there was something he had been needing for a very long time.

He growled as Vegeta slipped his right leg about the long-hair's waist, a blush freckling over his cheeks. No matter how long it had been, or who he had been with, the scent of his chosen mate drove Vegeta to lust-madness. Sensibilities were irritating moths fluttering against his rational mind, easily brushed aside to let his primal self rage.

Raditz's tail claimed space about his waist as the large Saiyan threw him from the wall to messy bed, following swiftly to mount between two agile legs. He smirked and took his mate roughly. With sweaty screaming thrusts and lusting desperate bucks the two coupled in a way neither had in so long, it was like waking from a boring, dull dream.

With gratification came arched backs and howling bestial screams that rattled windows.

Several hours later, after several repeats, an aching Vegeta climbed into the shower to slump against the cream tiles with a slight smile and drooping eyes. He sighed and soaped his used, tan skin. Raditz had always been a dominating fuck; it had been quite a while. Vegeta shook his head, water scattered against the walls. How could he have forgotten what it was like? Too many years of pain and anger. And boring sex, he couldn't forget that. The onna was lovely, she was nice, and he had loved her, but she was constantly under the illusion that they had a great sex life. For her maybe… he on the other hand…

If he hadn't hated Kakarott so much he would definitely have found solace in that ass long ago.

If he hadn't been blinded by years of almost… childish… grudges and jealousies.

Perhaps it had been that Vegeta wanted to take his rage out on the killer of his mate, but he knew he was deluding himself if he decided to believe in that illusion. It had pained him that Raditz had died. But the Saiyan bond between them had been smothered and covered up by pride born denial and years of focused hate on Frieza.

Vegeta shook his head and winced as he cleaned between his legs. Gods. How he remembered many a sore morning. It looked like they were going to repeat them until… the situation changed.

Vegeta was sure that something bad was coming up. Though the thought of future battle thrilled his blood, he had, over the many years on earth, grown a strange sort of responsibility for his kin, which was at once alien to him and comforting. He knew he had made this mud ball his new `home'… his substitute for Planet Vegeta in a way. And… if he wanted to be truthful, it somehow also lay in Kakarott's devotion… to the planet of course. He shook his head again, his long black hair plastered by shower water to the tiles his head leant against.

He tensed suddenly, remembering yesterday. Frieza in his room. He KNEW he really had been there. And now Raditz had verified that he wasn't going mad after all. This calmed him immensely, it made him feel more rational. Instead of spending his mental energies to dismiss the ghostly spectres as just his imagination, he could focus on ways to counter their disturbance.

He blew the water trickling over his lips and pushed himself up from his tiled resting place. Sighing, he turned off the wonderful hot water, reaching a hand past the glass door to snag his burgundy towel off its rung. He rubbed his face with it and slicked back his hair before wrapping the cloth about his waist and stepping out. He walked over to the cabinet, leaving watery footprints.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his vision, he swore he saw a white clawed hand reaching for his ankle. Dancing forward in surprise, he slipped and fell, his head smacking the sharp edge of the vanity with a dull thunk. He fell to his back staring up at the ceiling, spots and black patches rolling across his vision as his breath came to him in short sudden pants. What the hell…? He reached one hand up to his forehead and then the pain came.

"AGH! GOD FUCKING DAMN IT!!"

Raditz blinked open his eyes at the loud bellowing from the bathroom and sat up with a gasp. Where was he?! Another hell-born delusion of comfort, ready to shatter as soon as he moved? No...no... this was real…. He groaned and rubbed his eyes.

His eyes darted up to the steamed door to the bathroom as he heard another wave of curses. Vegeta's voice? Oh…right. He grinned and wiggled his tail at the sudden wave of happiness.

"Vegeta? You alright?" He climbed out of bed, not bothering to hide his nude body as he walked to the bathroom. His eyes widened slightly as he saw Vegeta sitting on the floor, one hand pressing a nasty cut on his forehead, his teeth gritted to push back the pain.

"Gah!" he swore. "Yes! I'm fine!" he growled and pressed his forehead with both hands. "Ow damn it!"

Raditz raised an eyebrow. "How did you…"

"I slipped! How else do you think? I bashed my head into the vanity!"

Raditz frowned. Since when did Vegeta `slip'? "Are you sure… I mean…"

Vegeta growled and glared daggers at him. "Of course I'm sure you great idiot!" He pushed himself up unsteadily, snatched a flannel off the bench, and cleaned the blood from his forehead, the cut already healing.

Raditz darted his dark eyes about the room with a frown. "Are you sure you didn't see anything?"

Vegeta glared at him with irritation, one hand pressing the wet flannel to his forehead. His eyes softened with thoughts. "Well.. now that you mention it, I thought I saw…" He snorted, as if thinking it ridiculous. "I thought I saw a hand reaching for me so I jumped forward… and slipped." He muttered the last.

Raditz snarled, his tail whipping about in fury. So… he thought. Loudly he spoke to the air, as if there was someone invisible listening. "It's not going to work you fools! Don't even bother trying!" With a snarl, he walked over to Vegeta and grabbed him up like a doll.

"Hey! HEY! You can not manhandle your Prince like this!" He yelped as Raditz yanked him back into the bedroom.

~*~

Small white fingers curled into frustrated fists as Frieza stood in the corner of the bathroom. He should have known it would be harder than that to get Vegeta. Still… as an experiment of his power and how it effected the living world, it was a success. His blood red eyes turned to the closed door and narrowed as a small, tight smile came to his feminine features. Perhaps… he grinned small white teeth… perhaps it was …possible to still get what he wanted, and give his master the power he needed. His thick white tail swayed slightly, disturbing the steamed air. There was after all, four other very strong Saiyans on this planet. Surely, two of them would suffice.

Frieza smiled.

~**~

TBC…