Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ How to Make Love to a Saiyan ❯ Lamb and the Wolf ( Chapter 22 )

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

AN: This is a most sincere thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. It's a vast saturated fandom, spanning God knows how many years and countless authors, so your words are truly to cherish.
How to Make Love to a Saiyan
Chapter 22
Step 23 - Lamb and the Wolf
“And on your right, the bloody pond, a timeless landmark of the outer rim of hell.” An excited murmur sprinkled with “uuhs” and “aahs” spread forth from the crowd sitting on the trolley. They glanced wide-eyed in the same direction, fingers curling on the edge of the doors. A portly blue ogre holding a megaphone stood at the front, peering at the crimson body of liquid that lay inert and unsuspecting. He grinned a toothy grin at the fountain in the middle, marveling at the grace with which it filtered its contents, then turned back to the audience. They swayed their head in unison, all little white collared men with glasses and horns sitting in an orderly fashion. “It's said to be bottomless, harboring the blood from the countless victims dismembered in the chambers of torture.” He raised a thick finger to the attentive lot, his dim-witted, sluggish voice booming through the speakers. “That's right, torture, because we do get some very bad people around here…”
“Can't an old woman tan in peace!” A rock bounced off the head of the blue-skinned mastodon. After the hollow clonk was heard, the buggy-full of clerks turned to the old, pink-haired woman sat atop a beach chair and gasped. Two round slices of cucumber glared from over her eye sockets, one plumpish hand holding a headphone away from her ear. “I can hear you all the way through my recording.” She yelled at the onlookers. Her black robe was rolled to the tops of her thighs, her sleeves bunched over her shoulders leaving the pasty skin exposed to the rays of sun.
“Oh, dear Enma Sama.” One of the members of the audience uttered nervously, readjusting his glasses over his nose. He then shifted eyes to the leader of the excursion. “I do believe it might be best to move along, sir, ogre, sir.”
The burly creature cleared his throat, still caught in a daze. He then brought fingers to the protrusion that had already formed where he got hit by the rock. Eager to avoid another barrage he gave the ogre on the driver's seat a signal to hit the pedal and move the trolley along, as far away from the vicious little woman as possible. The engine revved, fumes popping noisily from the exhaustion pipe as it struggled to ride over a mound. It then disappeared amidst a cloud of smoke.
She frowned, leaning back to lounge on the chair. “Had I known they were going to hold one of those stupid little field trips I would have picked a different day to pay the old bastard a visit.”
The outer edge of hell may be perfectly safe, yet she still shivered at the notion of setting foot on it. Enma's little administrative troop got to visit the different realms of the other world as a perk of the job, but it always befuddled her that they'd even consider hell as a destination.
She repositioned the cucumbers, and sighed heavily. Waiting. She told herself she wasn't crazy for not only messing with the living, but now also taunting the dead. No matter the outcome of the encounter she was about to have, she would at least come out sporting a brand new tan, the first in several hundred years. Something positive was bound to come from setting foot in hell.
A posh accent, heavily reminiscent of a 1970s documentary, played smoothly in her ears. “The large ape of the mountains of Deebrrish on the east-side of Vegita-sei was a solitary animal by nature so the first encounter between a male and female was often accompanied with much snarling and snapping.”
“Guess not much changed through evolution.” She scoffed, the green slices staring sightlessly up towards the sun.
“Gradually the pair would move closer, until they stood snout to snout, yet they continued to snarl for a time. Much snorting and foot stamping later, the male watched with disdain as the female presented herself in earnest.”
She frowned and her entire face creased. Why the hell was a British narrator recounting space biology from the arcs of the otherworld? Well, slap her wild with an oven mitt.
“The female may smack the male, inflicting quite severe, though superficial, scratches, some of which exacerbate the need for copulation.” A series of loud cries and screeches followed and she winced at the sound.
“Feh, monkeys. Can't quiet get to the good stuff without making a royal fuss.”
“Old woman. Cease your ramblings or I shall put an end to them myself.” She squeaked and snapped to a sitting position, headphones slipping off her ears, cucumbers flying in opposite directions.
Up trailed her eyes, over the figure before her. Curse the day she decided to enter that odious bet. Now her pride forced her to seek out this pompous bastard, all to cover the lost ground. At the moment the hottest couple to grace the galaxy in a millennia scampered across the universe, bitching and moaning to each other. Yet deep down she knew the truth. That girl was crazy and the boy wasn't exactly the model of sanity either. He was rather volatile, often forgoing common sense. It was only a matter of time before they found themselves in a room humping like gorillas. The recording told her so.
“And cover yourself too.” He sneered down in disgust. “I do not wish to gaze upon your offending nature.”
“Alright, already.” The witch spat, pulling down the black robe to cover her stubby legs. “I trust you realize who I am, and who I'm here to talk to you about.”
The sound of mating monkeys wormed its way into their ears, the tape still whirring on the device. The figure before her folded his arms across his chest and narrowed his eyes, denoting a slight suspicion as to the woman's motives. “I wouldn't be here otherwise, yet I suggest you tread carefully or you'll regret having the nerve to drag me away from the hellfire that's been my home throughout the years.”
“You'll be glad you were allowed to retain your body, believe me. Much has happened since you met your demise, things you couldn't even begin to fathom.”
“And what do you possibly stand to gain from allowing me this knowledge?” He remarked so scathingly her blood curdled. “I'd rather loose my corporeal expression than let myself become entangled in your dealings.”
“The gods of the mystical realm have taken a keen interest in the affairs of one of your sons, the crown Prince of Vegeta-sei. Don't ask me how. I somehow got caught in it myself.” A floating orb appeared seemingly out of nowhere and she came to repose on it so she would look the other in the eye. “Yes, our motives are more than selfish. We like testing people's spirits, perhaps out of boredom, perhaps simply because we can.”
The long muscular figure frowned in contemplation, relieving her of the intensity of his gaze and diverting it towards the pond instead. “I didn't doubt he'd survive.”
“He more than did, ou-sama. He became an expert at it.” She added, careful to assess his every nuance. The deep rooted concern was there, etched in the subtle lines of his face. “I can show you the realm of the living, catch you up with what he's been doing.” The dignified planes shifted and she immediately knew what he thought. He truly had nothing left to loose. The deal was practically sealed. “Eventually, given the need, I can even let you walk among the creatures of earth, if only for a day. After all, once you know what's become of him, the path he's leading, you're gonna want to do so. Attempt to rearrange the boy a bit.”
He lifted an eyebrow, a look of puzzlement in his eye. “Earth? I hope dealing with inferior beings isn't necessary.” He supplied with an edge of displeasure.
She nodded, the crystal ball bobbing over the swirling air currents. “Me neither.” Her lips lifted into a humorless smile, thinking they may not even make it back to Chikyuu anyway. “Yet it may come to that. A day can change a life, but for now, why don't we just have a chat?”
They touched down next to the infinity pool of the Royal suit and it was all he could do not to dump her on the ground. All through the flight she'd been wrapped around him, her arms firm as they circled his neck, the mound of her pelvis hard against the tip of his cock. The tilts and dives had sometimes shifted her, creating enough friction between their bodies for it to feel like fore-play. He'd gritted his teeth so hard he was sure he'd chipped a molar, flagellating himself for gifting the girl with some sort of stupid, heart-felt, stroll under the sun. Fucking amazing thing to do for the terror of the seven quadrants. All for a female who wouldn't even sleep with him.
Her gleaming blue eyes had settled on him upon take-off, playing tricks with his mind. She'd then sighed and tucked her head beneath his chin, her breath tickling his Adam's apple. He'd streaked through the sky, nearly desperate, fingers digging on the mound of her ass that was spread because of her straddling position.
She'd started asking questions, wanting to know more about his past, his hopes, his fears. Unsubstantial shit he'd never truly bother to ponder. It served him well for letting her on. He'd growled deep in his throat when she wouldn't shut up, desperate to crush those lips with his own and devour her whole. But he hadn't, he'd only held her tighter, her lips colliding against his throat, the soft part of her womanhood flush against his lower abdomen.
Bulma grabbed unto him as they landed, her heels rocking back from the inertia. “Vegeta!” She pouted, following him inside into the plush pad he called his lair. He truly did remind her of a wolf, every bit as lonely as he was deadly. He'd suddenly become quiet, that air of irreverence draped around him like a shroud.
“All I asked was if you ever had a nanny as a child. I had several, all different models and sizes. You see they were all bots, built by Pappa especially for me. I distinctively liked the Mary Poppins one. She could sing every single song on the soundtrack.” Her voice was a tinkling chime as she walked down the steps after him. Her cheeks were flushed, her blue eyes glinting like perfect sapphires. He stopped mid-step and threw her a glance over his shoulder, his brow knotting. “Mary who?”
“Mary Poppins. I'll show you what I'm talking about when we arrive home. It's the story of a magical nanny. Flying umbrellas, dancing penguins…” He winged an eyebrow, something fluttering under his eye. “You might just like it.” She added, soft shapely lips drawn into an exquisite smile. Gods, this woman was crazy beyond comprehension. Yet she was insurmountably beautiful, so much so he was sure she'd be even more insufferable if she only knew.
“We'll follow it with another Chikyuu classic, another musical, so you can get the full extended experience. It's about a girl who leaves a monastery to become governess to the children of a widower. I'll treat you to a tubful of popcorn and a gallon of cold chirping coke. ” He gave her a nasty glare. She never shut up did she, for the love of hell, was the beauty worth the rambling? He literally couldn't tell if she was messing with him. She was right out of her mind if she thought he'd sit through a film about dancing penguins, then go on to listen to a singing nun. “Oh come on, Vegeta.” She said, looking at him with big child-like eyes. The wind had mussed up her hair, giving her an ethereal look. “I'll balance it out with Shaolin Temple. There's only so much singing I can take anyway.”
A tight frown creased his brow and a curl of distaste twisted his lips. “I don't think so.” He turned to check for any activity on the private channel of his scouter.
Bulma extended her lower lip in another pout, bracing her hands on the back of a lounger. His face had acquired that perennial look of tension it seldom got rid of. It was difficult to fathom how thoroughly exhausting his life must have been, always on the brink of death, always ready for the next big blowup. A little boy raised amidst the jarring sounds of war, when she'd gently been sung lullabies.
He'd barely clicked on the side of the hi-tech device when slender womanly arms surrounded his torso from behind, a sugary breath that reminded him of cherries tickling the base of his neck. She began humming, some form of Chikyuu-jin incantation, of that he was sure. She then went on to whisper something, a bit of hesitation in her voice, like she was struggling to remember long forgotten words. “My heart… my heart wants to beat… like the wings of the birds that rise from the lake to the trees...” Her fingers played games with his chest plate, softly calming the beast within. “To laugh like a brook when it trips and falls over stones on its way…. to sing through the night like a lark who is learning to pray.”
Her mouth moved over his shoulder blade, spreading thin tentacles of riveting pleasure down his spine. He doubted she was even aware of his quandary, the way she crept her way through every pore and haunted his very soul. She was as placid as a lamb lounging leisurely against a wolf. “I sometimes want to feel like a child again, like I did the first time I heard that song at the age of three. To forget about cynicism.”
She was melted against his back, the natural fragrance of her coating him whole. She was marking him and she didn't even realize it, dousing him with so many pheromones a Saiyan female would wince and flee at his very presence. When he didn't move, she perched her chin on his shoulder.
“You never answer my question. Did you ever have a nanny?” Her voice was bedroomy, lazy against the side of his neck.
“Something like it.” He added tonelessly, fumbling with the scouter yet not truly concentrated.
“And what became of her?” She added, arms still banded over his slender, narrow waist.
“Him.” He corrected her curtly.
“Alright, what became of him?” She closed her eyes, a smile pillowed against the slope of his shoulder.
“I killed him.”
Bulma's eyes widened but she didn't move, coldness spreading through her veins like rivers of ice. They streamed unhindered, freezing her innards and pooling within her gut. Her arms tightened around him instinctively, determined to not let go. “Well, it happened a long time ago. It's in the past.” Her voice seeped quietly forth. She squeezed her eyelids, as if that could make the knowledge disappear.
She clung to him, blindly, burdening him inside to the point he couldn't stand it. “The past is all I've got. It's my present. Every day, every night. Awake and asleep. You can't just run from it. Believe me. I've tried.” The last portion slipped unintended and he clamped down his teeth in displeasure. He should put an end to this charade, violate his own word and toss her on his bed, then pound the questions out of her for once and for all. She'd be too busy crying in ecstasy over his hardened shaft. Couldn't she see who he truly was? He wasn't fuckin' prince charming come to save her. He was a soldier, a warrior, a ruthless killer. First and foremost, he was a survivor. He did what it took to keep on living.
“I'm sorry for last night. I wouldn't want to hurt you.” Is all she said, her tone soft. He knew she meant the cut.
Vegeta snorted, a smirk redrawing the shape of his lips. “Don't be silly. You might as well have used a toothpick, woman. It's nothing Saiyan genes can't fully regenerate in a manner of hours.” He barely remembered the private code he needed to access the private channel, the one his hired informants used to deliver intel through. Her pelvic region pressed against the taut hillocks of his buttocks, shapely thighs pressing into his much more powerful ones.
“Can I ask you something, else?”
He rolled his eyes. On and on with the inquisition. It rivaled the interrogation he'd been put through at eighteen before being tossed into prison.
“You're going to ask anyway.” He growled the words, a sense of idiocy hazing up his keen predatory senses.
“Did you just take me out on a date?”
Eyes black as the heart of night shifted, a muscle in his jaw tensing in response. She'd barely spoken when his mouth was already moving out of its own volition, his tone vindictive. “Did you hit your head when I wasn't watching? Just because I'm forced to traipse across the galaxy shopping for trinkets doesn't mean I'm ready to abandon my training regime. You are merely necessary cargo. I can't leave a feeble thing like you alone for too long.”
“So that's a yes then.” She concluded, grinning and readjusting her face against his shoulder.
A low gurgling sound, that sounded like the beginning of a growl rumbled through his ribcage.
A moment later she breathed, lifting her chin so her lips grazed his earlobe. “I guess I'll have to shower before take off. Your idea of fun left me a little sweaty.” He turned his face to the side, eyes seeking hers under heavy lashes. A red light in the scouter flashed intermittently, yet he was fully unaware. She rubbed her nose against his neck, smelling his heat and his sweat, taking in the thick spicy scent of male that made her womb cartwheel.
Bulma closed her eyes, mouth watering in expectation. Dreams of surrender warped her mind, memories of his slackened face against her pillows, regarding her like a big satisfied cat back in Chikyuu. The veil of her lashes fell as she rose on her tiptoes, lips hungry for his.
And that's when it happened. The world did a pirouette and she found her back flat against his front, his gloved hand clamped over her mouth. “MMPHHH!” She attempted to free herself but the effort was futile. He wasn't even paying attention to her anymore, his every muscle tensed like a panther scenting danger, every limb tightened like a coil ready to spring. Her eyes roved around nervously, catching nothing in the eerie silence of the place.
Vegeta's preternatural senses picked up every click, every subtle change in the transparent stitch work of the suite, the stench of living demons reaching him like a putrid odor.
Her heart beat a tattoo against her ribcage, anxious over whatever it was Vegeta was assessing. He was her sole guard against the evils of the universe. Ironically enough, he might be evil incarnate but the heat and energy he emanated became her blanket of comfort, his heartbeat strong and brave in the midst of the hunt. A moment lapsed, him stretching against the walls, peering beneath the door frames with icy calculation. He moved like he'd been cornered before, like he was used to run.
And he was, but he'd always done so by himself. Vegeta felt the cold clammy touch of death vandalize his chest. He'd never had to worry about a female. How could he forget for even a minute the truth of who he was? That moment he saw her on Namek, hiding behind that bald freak he knew she'd only mean trouble. There was a slight creak, imperceptible to anyone without his heightened sense of hearing and there was no doubt just how many invaders prowled around the corners. Too many, and every second was precious.
He grabbed her by the arm, dragging her to a counter projecting from a wall. Bulma sensed him closing his every compartment, his face morphing into a cold, expressionless cast. A shiver crawled over her spine, like the slippery feet of a centipede. This was the side she'd never witnessed, the one that had seen a lifetime of never-ending monstrosity and chaos. This was the face of a destroyer, every movement automatic so as not to dwell on the constant tragedy that was his life. Pain lanced through her heart, her chest constricting against her sternum.
He snatched his crystallite card and the ship's capsule and thrust them into her palms, then grabbed her by the shoulders. “Listen to me. Those are your responsibility, everything I gained through a lifetime of glorified slavery to a master I hated. You take it all and no matter, don't turn back. Do you understand what I'm saying?” Bulma blinked up at him, sporting a look of utter stupefaction. He couldn't be sending her away, freeing her of the chains that bound them together. He couldn't.
“I want you heading back to Chikyuu full speed. I want you forgetting I ever existed.”