Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ How to Make Love to a Saiyan ❯ Talk of the Heart ( Chapter 19 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Disclaimer: I own the man okay. Geez, sue me already. I'm kidding people, back off.
How to Make Love to a Saiyan
Chapter 19
Step 20 - Talk of the Heart
“Men I've had a few
but they wouldn't quite blow me like you
you gave me your name and signed
with a halo around my eye
…True love is cruel love…”
A high pitched sound punctured her brain like a needle, preceded by echoes of her own ragged breathing. The haunting tunes that permeated the hall were now lost in her frantic desperation to get away, eyes restless, searching for an escape. She trudged her way to the nearest exit, on weak knees and a belly that swirled with the ardent punishment of nausea, the cracks through which the light seeped proclaiming air, life and a reservoir of badly needed oxygen. To her it was like clambering her way from the depths of hell in her last attempt at salvation.
Time became sluggish, people bumping into her as she reached for the doorway like an agonizing patient. Perhaps it was the drugs, perhaps the mental burden, but truth is her body felt leaden, brick-heavy… and she swore she could feel the nimble hands of demons as they coiled around her limbs to drag her back down. She grabbed her head that had become like a spinning top, thankful when she stepped into the crisp serenity of the night and the breeze worked its magic. The desire to vomit was temporarily allayed.
She strode aimlessly down a desolate bridge, feeling half-blind and half-dead, and wounded mortally inside. And still no tears came, nothing but black rancor boiling and festering inside her stomach.
She was vaguely aware of her hasty retreat, legs moving out of their own volition to place as much distance as possible between her and her torment. Even through the haze of her thoughts, she could feel the rush of the wind as it blew bangs out of her face. She moved swiftly but then her legs faltered and the lights before her skidded to a blur as she fell headlong, scraping a knee and a forearm on the hewn surface of the concrete. Tapping unto her last remnant of strength, she managed to pick herself up, deciding to ignore the stinging place where her silken skin had torn. Ruby pearls marred the immaculate surface with their angry color and painted trails down her arm, but still her face remained firmly set in a feral contortion.
Her aim was the edge of the bridge as she howled brokenly; drugs, alcohol and alien nicotine melting her neurons, and a sense of loss twisting her inside. Bulma Briefs was nothing. She was a minuscule star twinkling in a sea of refulgent masses. She was not powerful, not a beauty, not a goddess and damn the day she thought she could conquer the universe and change the way it spun. Damn her silly superiority complex, and curse that God forsaken day he'd crashed on earth and changed her life forever.
How dare he sleep with a whore while she was still being held as his slave? How dare he feed others what should be fed to her and her alone? Just as he was her torturer, she was his victim, and that was the one true bond she thought exclusive. Disturbing thoughts poisoned her mind as she reached a gruesome conclusion. Had the other woman crossed paths with her that moment, she was nearly sure she would have sunk to the lowest tier possible. She felt like murdering.
Just as that thought crossed her mind, she felt her knees give way once again and she reached for the waist-high barrier of the bridge in earnest. Her eyes rolled back behind shut eyelids and a weak exhalation left her lips as she descended to the floor in what felt like slow motion.
But no thud was heard, no contact with the ground made. A strong arm appeared from nowhere and circled her waist to hoist her up, pressing her into a powerfully built body. She instinctively began to fight her way out of his grip, spasming and squirming violently until she broke free from the cage of his arms.
“Where do you think you're going?” He demanded, battling down the stupor of the red poison trip with the ability of an expert. He prided himself in his control and the way he was able to retain the grace of his gait even through the power of intoxicants, even tonight when he thought he might have overdone it. He wasn't quite sure why he'd indulged so much. Perhaps it was to undermine the unsettling effect the Chikyuu-jin girl had on him and to force himself into the slutty motherfucker he used to be. Sleeping with another woman was his desperate statement to himself that he didn't need this blue-haired bitch. It was the proof he needed that he wasn't insanely addicted to her. So why was he chasing her now? Who cared what she thought or felt after her little discovery? But still, something warred within his chest and compelled him to follow. It was maddening him that the blue eyes that often looked at him with hot-white fire had suddenly looked so dim, reminding him of the eyes of so many of his victims. The angel that he'd wanted to break in order to save his sanity and secure his autonomy had become another cripple from the endless wars that afflicted him.
“Bulma.” He called in a solid voice that rang across the bridge. He stepped behind her and twisted her arm so she was forced to look at him.
Her body was heaving; eyes rimmed red with the fury of hatred as she screamed at him raucously. “I have nothing to say to you, or do you think I owe you any explanations?” She echoed the words that had been spoken to her only minutes before, the hidden accusations not lost to him. They were screeched with a mind-numbing volume. Ah, she was positively furious, every little sizzling thing she felt for him brought into the open by the power of the stimulants.
“You have nowhere to go, no one to turn to. Do you wish to end up gang-raped and beaten up on a dark filthy alleyway?” He argued, jerking her body to wake her up from the rage that was blinding her senses. This was his prey and he wanted her confined. She wouldn't slip from his grasp like water, no, she wouldn't break free like a bird abandoning her jailer. She was his.
Bulma tried to shove him away with all she got, wrestling in his grip with fierce determination. “Gang-raped, killed… it sounds like a better fate than being chained to you. You are sick and twisted, Vegeta and I just can't be another one of your `women'. I am leaving you tonight, for once and for all, and I don't give a damn what happens to me. I won't let you do this to me, and you can be sure I will NOT surrender to you like a love-struck teenager so you can use me at your will. Do you think I want to bear children to a depraved fuck like you so you can keep on murdering entire worlds and expand your shroud of evil over the galaxy?”
The wind played with the lanky threads of hair that framed her face as she battled him. Her pallor was almost ghostly under the Ixian moons and it was suddenly clear to him why he had run after her so vehemently. No matter how many bitches he slept with tonight, he would always be fucking her in his mind. This wasn't just lust. It had the potency of thunder and the brightness of lighting. It was positively wrong and then perfectly right at the same time. She was the one thing he craved the moment he woke and the single high of his torturous days. The one thing he never knew he wanted. Gods… was it possible… that he? That a grotty bastard like he could feel... the one thing he vowed he'd never feel for anybody. “That would be a much better fate than a single more day with you.” She finished, yanking her arm back unsuccessfully.
Vegeta cupped her skull and forced her gaze up to meet his. The black irises were glowing in the dark like the eyes of a wolf, making him look like a beast. They bored into hers with all their power, leaving her breath taken. “What is your real problem? Does it bother you that much that I would halt your advances so I could sleep with someone else? If that's the case, why don't you just come out flat and say it?”
So it was real then. He had intended to bin her away so he could partake in God knew what with some other woman, and to Bulma's worse misfortune, that other woman was a total beauty. Her fertile imagination hounded her with images of what he probably lent himself to during his sojourns here. Did he stop at one or did he like group action? Because there was no question the man would have no problem taking three at once and working them with equal vigor. Liquid rushed forth to blur her vision and sting her eyes like acid, but remained contained between her eyelids as she pushed him away once more. “Were you really thinking of fucking her tonight?” She spoke through gritted teeth, eyes restless, voice half-cracked. “Were you?” Her pupils darted left to right, trying to read into that blazing look he was leveling her with.
When his scowl only deepened and his lips pressed together, her mouth sagged and her eyes widened. “You were. You were, you were… you… were.” Bulma started hitting him as hard as possible, every blow punctuating her words as they came. She couldn't muster much strength but still gave it her all, every blow truly meant to hurt him. The punches rained upon his chest and his shoulders, interspersed with slaps to that dark regal face that she so despised right now. The murderous feeling from a few minutes ago was fully revived and now aimed at him and him alone, fostering a very crooked idea. If anyone were to actually kill him they'd be freeing the universe of a devastating force. AND assuring their place in hell, she sourly concluded, but anyhow, perhaps that's where she belonged if she was so overtaken with such a sadistic bastard.
When he realized she wouldn't stop until she demolished her own fists, he grabbed her, pulling her into his arms and pressing his temple to hers. His own breathing was irregular when he spoke, the poison that still rolled freely through his synapses heightening every sensation and his private monster feeding of her rage like a leech. Perhaps this is what he liked the most about her, that she could make him feel so alive. Blood rumbled in his veins full strength when he'd often thought he was already dead. She had managed to resurrect him from the dead, raise him from a tomb were he'd lain years upon years, numb and broken. But such robust life and such pristine light was jarring to a creature of the night such as him.
This he felt for her, what he'd often thought was only stuff of legends, was simply unacceptable. The crown Prince of Vegeta-sei, slain inside by a puny little girl and made infinitely weaker then he thought he'd ever be. While others were off, basking in the glory of Super Saiyan power, he was harboring nauseating feelings for a mere subordinate, things he couldn't even bring himself to say. It had to stop, and he was going to put an end to it tonight. He didn't need a liability and she'd become just that. Finishing her off would be the number one way to vindicate his reputation.
“Yes I was thinking about it. I was going to fuck that girl until the break of dawn and I was going to do so mercilessly. At least that was what I intended to do, but you, you puny little creature, you're doing strange things to me. Because I'm here, with you, wasting my time instead of being myself. Or have you forgotten who I really am Bulma?” His grip on her upper arms intensified as he spoke against her hair, his arms strong and unyielding. He somehow knew every word would wound her like a dagger, and still he wouldn't stop. It just wasn't in his nature to gloss over the awful truth or shield her from the demons that accursed him. She'd lived a sheltered life, surrounded by pompous, self-righteous hypocrites all her life, ensconced in lace and riding ponies as a child. Well, the world wasn't such a pretty place and she'd better begin to believe that.
“In case you can't bring yourself to say it, I will say it for you, girl. I am not one of your decorous little Chikyuu-jin friends who've lived an uncorrupted life, training to compete in childish tournaments and picnicking during the weekends. I've been a mercenary, and believe me, I've slept with many a whore. And just in case you were wondering, YES, I have slept with more than one at once and done despicable things to them during. I'd keep it to a minimum when I was on duty, stationed on a war base or aboard the flag ship, but the few times I was given furlough I'd binge on everything I was normally deprived of. Can you wrap your pretty head around that?”
Bulma was struggling in his grasp, clenching her eyes shut and battling the bile that rushed to her throat and soured her mouth. “You, so chaste and pure, perched on your throne of holiness, that have never known what it's like to have no place to call home or to feed off corpses for fear of hunger, are going to argue about it with me?” His speech was virulent, eyes blazing with that power that she knew lived inside him and burst like a supernova when he angered. “Do you think you have a right to do so?”
Bulma was gasping now, as if the ozone in his energized aura was sucking the life out of her. “Do you?” He added more forcefully, mouths almost touching and the space between crackling with electrified tension. Then he repeated the same question he'd uttered back in that lounge, and this time something stirred and tore inside her, rendering her mute. “Do you honestly think I owe you any explanations?”
And the truth is he didn't.
When that blinding realization hit her, she lent into him, terribly aware how sick she was about to be and how defenseless she was against it all.
“Tell me what the difference is between this and what you wanted to do that night I took you from Chikyuu, when you kissed your boyfriend, in the balcony.” Bulma, even through the whirl of her head and the weakness of her bones, attempted to retreat, uttering a shaky “No” that wasn't lost to him. He grabbed her chin painfully and looked at her with twin pinpoints of passion. “You thought I wasn't looking, didn't you? Not only was I looking, I was also SMELLING.” Something inside his chest snapped and short-circuited, his throat constricting with a maddening feeling that was eating away at his sanity. “I smelled you from the distance and you reeked of lust. YOU were going to fuck him and don't you dare say you wouldn't because the stench could have made me vomit. It travelled to me like spores in the wind and they spoke a single message: that you don't care if it's me or him or whoever. All you want is to spread your legs and have a good ride.”
“V-V-egeta” She became frightened, lost in his accusatory gaze. It was hard to swallow and painful to breath as her body stood tremulous. He looked at her ruthlessly, hurting her, physically hurting her as he pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger, jerking her so the motion rattled her brain. “I should have made sure to pay you well when I had you, just like I do a prostitute… How much are you worth, hm? Give me a number. How much does a good lay with you cost?” Tears finally broke free from the confines of her eyes and spilled down her cheeks in languid, silvery trails. Her eyes and her nose reddened and she clawed at his shoulders, desperately hoping she wouldn't just fade to black any moment. “I should pay you right now and throw you away afterwards, let you go and never turn back. And I assure you, by all the Gods, I swear I'd do whatever it takes to stay away.”
“I-I…” She stammered, fearful her stomach would rebel any minute now. Her blood pressure was lowering, her face now ashen and her skin cold and damp. “You left me. I thought you weren't coming back.” Came a small whisper. That rare moment she managed to gather a measure of courage. She sought something indefinite in his face before carrying on. “Do you want to know the truth? The truth is it was you I was thinking of and I despised myself every second I did. It was your eyes, your face, your lips… all I could remember. Your arms around me, your hands all over me…” Bulma curled fingers around his wrist as he held her jaw in place, fingers infinitely weak against such power. Her face looked almost theatrical now, black trails ramifying over pearly cheeks and eyes that gleamed like dark blue oceans. “Vegeta, I am too weak right now. I can't stand anymore.” She complained, knowing the chemicals were wreaking havoc on her system and threatening to collapse it. How could they provide such wondrous highs and such a cruel downfall…
He was bearing almost her entire weight now and she was infinitely thankful. She felt she was receding into some black void. “Please…”
But he was lost in a trance, his thoughts colliding violently. Had he not appeared that night, would she have truly slept with someone else? It was the one somber notion that overtook him as he pressed her up and cupped her cheek, fingers digging into her pliant skin painfully. “Why is it I keep you alive…” He muttered to himself, grounding the words in his mouth like they were hard to pronounce. He thought terminating her without availing himself to her body one last time was too much of a pity, but then the executioner within, the one that needed her stronger than anything else, knew touching her again could probably mean his demise. What he felt for her… Gods, what he felt was unnamable. He needed her like oxygen and that was the most frightening feeling he'd ever experienced. The executioner needed to ensure his self preservation. It would be a pity yes, but the fine golden threads of pain and pleasure would hold them together forever, in this world and the next.
He tangled his fingers through the long waves of her hair and pulled her closer. “I don't need you, pitiful slave.” His voice scratched at her ears, paralyzing her, her heart straining to keep beating under the weight of her emotions. “But you…YOU need me too keep living. It is I who govern your every breath, I who says when you get to feel pain and get to feel pleasure. If I were to put an end to you right now, it would be my prerogative.” He sniffed her neck, the scent of the blood that fluttered there wafting into his nose with coppery clarity. His tongue came out to slake the thirst of his lips, the very tip of it grazing across her pulse almost by accident. “You are going to give me what I want right now. And what I want is your life.”
Bulma inhaled sharply, a sense of doom tensing her frame. Tears fell free like tiny diamonds, catching the light of the moon as they ambled down her face. “No… don't” Her voice was strangled.
“Yes… “ He continued, as he cradled her in those arms that had provided her with a taste of heaven so many times. “And don't pretend you don't get high on it, because you do. You'd take that over me being with anyone else tonight. Every time I touch you, even if I were rough, you'd feel nothing but pleasure. You'd rather I tossed you around if it meant I was with you and not anyone else.” She could feel him hardening against her and she had a vivid picture of her sanity leaping out a window and tumbling down to meet its demise. He was right, unfortunately so. She fed of his violence like some sordid creature. She was his in a way she couldn't be anyone else's. “Vegeta…” Bulma's eyes closed and his name came out like a defeated moan. “Will you kill me tonight?”
“Perhaps. Perhaps I will only punish you.” Is what he said with a certain roughness to his voice. “Wouldn't you like that?” He continued, grabbing her arm and dragging her behind him across the extensive bridge that vaulted the oceans.
As she followed, she felt the tremor of death wrap its talons up her spine, and she knew this was no game. He could stay true to that notion and these may very well be the last steps she took in life. The worse part is she would have it no other way. She was his to do as he pleased. Some twisted desire was already beginning to grind its way into her womanly walls, contracting them in anticipation as she let herself be hastily dragged. Not that she had any other option but to let him take her away with him. Even though she was genuinely scared and her fingers were shaky, she still managed to forge a definite idea. It was either kill or be killed in this cruel, miserable world they lived in and the spirit she'd been born with propelled her to fight against all odds.
The universe compelled her to try and find a way to end his life before he took her own.
That was her one resolve as they strode through the streets of the alien world, her breath resounding in her ears harsh and persistent. If it came to that, then it came to that. To kill or be killed tonight.
---You haunt me with your violent heartbeat at night
oh, you strike me with your silence baby, tonight
why you haunt me with
your violence baby… come hit me
you haunt me with your violent heartbeat...”
AN: I gotta take this chance to thank starrz35 who's reviewed a hell of a lot lately. Dammit girl, you rock my socks. To Susie: my apologies for not answering your fantabulous review. “Mil Gracias por tus palabras ;)”. To everyone else, as usual, you make this world a better place.
Note: The lyrics in this chapter come from the song “And then you kissed me” by The Cardigans. I know I have mentioned music before, but this song is truly gorgeous and it speaks volumes of the relationship between Bulma and Vegeta. I would STRONGLY suggest you listen to it so you get a vibe of what I am trying to say / do with them. It inspired me through a lot of this chapter and it's full of some very powerful metaphors.