Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Vengeance ❯ Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball Z, or any of the characters featured therein. If I did, there'd have been a lot more “three years” filler. You know what I mean.

Author's notes: When you get to a certain point in this chapter, you might think to yourself “WTF?” And when you hit this point, you will ask me and I will admit that, yes, I have been re-reading RM's “Space Station Z” in all its incomplete glory, and this pairing holds some unexplainable, perhaps perverse interest for me. (What doesn't?)

Also, there's some graphic sexual content in this chapter, of both the homo and heterosexual varieties. Not work safe! Not family friendly!

And I know this note is getting really long, but I just wanted to thank everyone for reading, and thank you so much to those of you who've commented. You've no idea how much your words mean.

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Last time: What she did not expect was to turn a corner and come face to face with one of Frieza's top henchmen, none other than Vegeta, the Prince of Saiyans.

*

Ho, shit.

That was Bulma's first thought, as mindless as it was. Her second was that he was quite handsome up close, and her third, once her brain was capable again of intelligent thought again, was that she was going to die unless she came up with something good, and fast. She saw the confusion and surprise in his eyes, even if the rest of his face remained cool, and she knew that he recognized her from the presentation that her body double was still currently attending.

She opened her mouth to speak, stopped, licked her lips, and tried again, with little success. Vegeta wondered what form of brilliance would possibly come out once she finished thinking. He'd heard it all before, and killed for most of it. Hopefully she at least came up with something funny. Looking at her wide eyes and gaping mouth, he didn't have much hope.

Both were saved from that gruelling fate by the sudden explosion that rocked the building, shaking the ground beneath their feet. Vegeta stood still, glued like a rock to the floor, but Bulma took a teetering step, trying to steady her balance on three-inch heels. Another explosion went off in the distance, causing that one shaky step to become two, three, four, till she ran, smack dab, into the Saiyan's chest.

Surprised beyond belief, Vegeta found himself reaching out automatically to catch her as she bowled into him, her shriek of surprise ringing through his sensitive ears, as the next blast sent them both tumbling to the floor. He landed on his back with a thump, shrieking female hitting his chest hard. Her shoulder caught him in the sternum, and he let out a gasp as all the air was knocked out of him. He groaned, glad that no one had been around to see the prince of Saiyans being taken down by a weak female. She'd have been dead already, if there'd been witnesses, but as it was, she lay stretched over him, legs straddling his hips, dazed and lazy, as though she'd hurt herself in the fall. He felt her heart pounding against his chest, even through his armour plate, fast and strong and obviously terrified.

She raised her head, her eyes locking with his as she slowly pushed herself up, so that she was no longer plastered against his chest. The look on her face was that of a little animal that knew it was about to become dinner. “Whatever else I did today,” she began, shakily, “I did not do that.” She swallowed hard, not breaking eye contact, as though willing him to believe her. As though innocence of that crime would save her from disembowelment and whatever other tortures were running through her panicked mind. Vegeta could tell by the wide-eyed look of surprise on her face, that she was telling the truth.

Frankly though, at that moment, with her long legs clamped so snugly over his groin, and her plush, round breasts hanging there in his face, he was willing to believe anything she told him. He could not deny that she was appealing, with her plump lips still forming a shocked, scared little `o' that he couldn't stop staring at, couldn't stop imagining wrapped around him.

“Kindly get the fuck off me.” He growled out, before the urge to grind her into the ground became too strong. It had really been too long. Maybe he'd hit his head when he landed. Maybe her species exuded some kind of aphrodisiac pheromone. Maybe explosions just made him randy.

Her face reddened and she scrambled to get off, one leg sliding over his crotch and nearly crushing that all too sensitive part in the process. By the time he'd hauled himself up, she'd already bolted and was halfway down the hall, running as though she could really escape from him if he chose to give chase. What surprised him was that whatever she'd done - he had a pretty good guess, but he still didn't know for sure - he really had no desire to turn her in. Any woman who ran like that in three inch heels deserved her chance at life. Even more surprising was that he couldn't stop watching her, with her bouncy hair and round ass. He could hear her panting and she wasn't even around the corner yet. He could catch up to her easily, knock her to the ground, push her on her back and-

Just as he was considering it, a bleep on his scouter informed him that he was probably going to be in deep shit pretty soon, seeing as the whole facility was crumbling down around him. He groaned, thinking about the upcoming confrontation with Frieza, as he watched the woman round the corner and disappear from view. Suddenly, his appetite for her had disappeared. Vegeta shook his head to clear his thoughts, before blasting off to find Nappa and Radditz. He needed to talk to them before Frieza did, and make sure that there was no mention of his disappearance from the presentation.

*

*

Two hours later, Bulma was still trying to catch her breath. She still couldn't believe that she'd gotten away, couldn't believe that he'd let her get away, because that was what had happened. She had no illusions about her physical prowess, not when running down a hallway made her lungs burn and her heart race. Everything she'd ever heard about the Prince of Saiyans said he should have killed her on the spot. He should have killed her the second she came out of that computer room and he realized she was up to something. Or when she'd knocked him flat, or again when she'd pretty much admitted to having done something bad. He was a legend, a nightmare, a ruthless, sadistic bastard who lived for the thrill of the slaughter.

And he'd let her go after she'd bowled him over and practically molested him. If the building hadn't been collapsing around them, she might've done worse. Having the terror of the universe between her thighs was a thrill like nothing she'd ever experienced before, and hey, it didn't hurt that he was kind of hot.

Shaking her head to clear that silly line of thought, she considered the situation a little more rationally. Of course he hadn't let her go because he liked her, or something silly like that. Aside from the stumbling debacle, their only interaction had been about two seconds of eye contact before that dull presentation had started. She'd heard his scouter bleep as she ran; she remembered it because the sound had surprised her so much she'd stopped concentrating on running in her heels, and almost rolled her ankle. He'd probably gotten a transmission about something more important than some bimbo wandering around where she shouldn't be, never mind the fact that her exact double happened to be where she was supposed to be. Whatever, he'd obviously known that she hadn't set the bomb. He had to have, because she was busy falling into him when it went off, all the way on the other side of the facility. Plus, she'd told him she didn't do it. That had to count for something.

Anyway, he'd probably been called off to help deal with the real culprit; some poor bugger that Bulma imagined was probably seven kinds of dead by now. Either that, or wishing he was.

“Hey Bulma, how's it going in here?” Krillin's voice startled her, and she dropped the pen that she'd been twirling in her fingers. They both watched it clatter to the floor. “Still shaken, hm?” He asked as she bent down to pick it up. He pulled up a chair next to her and sat down, leaning back and propping his feet up on the ship's console. They were in port in a nearby city for the night to rest and refuel before starting the journey back home. Puar had gone out, needing some air before being confined to the ship again, so Bulma and Krillin were left to finish the preparations. It would be at least another month before they reached Red Station again, and more if the stops they were planning along the way didn't go on schedule.

“Yeah, I still feel like my heart is going to burst out of my chest.” She smiled over at him, wryly. She'd debated telling Krillin and Puar about her little run-in with the Saiyan Prince, and in the end, she'd come clean. She felt they should know if their safety was in jeopardy, simply by virtue of knowing her. Krillin, especially, since the Saiyans had seen them together during the presentation.

“Me too. I thought we were goners the second I saw those Saiyans in the room. And then when the whole place started to go, I couldn't believe they didn't try and hold anyone for questioning.”

“They're Saiyans, Krillin, listen to what you're saying. I don't think they ever hold anyone for questioning.”

The small man grimaced and nodded. The universe was rife with horror stories about those three beasts, and the race of which they were the only survivors. Bloodthirsty monsters. “But Vegeta let you go.” Krillin persisted, “There's got to be a reason for that.”

“Oh, of course. Didn't I tell you, he saw me and it was love at first sight, obviously.” Bulma laughed and batted her eyelashes at her friend, who gave her a knowing look.

“I don't know about the Prince, but the tall one with the long hair seemed pretty keen on the Puar version of you.” He grinned. “Maybe you should play that for what it's worth.”

“Oh, shut up!” Bulma groaned and threw her pen at him. It bounced off his forehead, leaving a mark between the top two of the six dots on his bald head. “I could never date a man who had that much hair. I mean, my god, imagine how long he takes to wash it! He'd use up all the hot water and I bet he's the type who doesn't even clean out the drain!” She stuck her tongue out.

“Ooh, touché.” Krillin smiled at her and made to get up. Bulma's hand on his arm stopped him from leaving. She wasn't looking at him, however, as her eyes were glued to the computer screen suddenly alive with text.

“Think of a radio codename, and think of it fast.” She said, pointing to the screen. CODENAME VENGEANCE REQUESTING VOICE TRANSMISSION, it said in blinking capitals. CONFIRM IN 5 SECONDS. “Because I am not up to dealing with him by myself right now.”

*

*

Puar took a deep breath and stepped through the doors, feeling the bass pump through his body, more and more with each step toward the dark interior of the club. He took stock of himself, making sure everything was in the right place, properly proportioned and held fast. This was a fairly familiar form to him by now; he'd been practicing it for months, but he'd never tried it out in public before and he wanted to make sure that nothing was slipping away on him.

Satisfied in his outward appearance, he ran a hand through his shaggy blue hair and walked up to the bar. “One alkabrew,” he called out, ordering the closest thing he'd found to good old Earth beer. He smiled to himself as he handed over his money, liking the way his voice had come out; smooth and just a little bit deep. He'd spent hours perfecting his vocal cords to produce the right sound. Same with the rest of his body, in fact. He'd played with every shape and size of humanoid form imaginable before settling on this one, this `new' Puar. Of course, he didn't intend to ever remain permanently in this form; he'd still spend most of his time in his natural cat shape, but he was sick of always being the little guy. On Earth, it hadn't mattered so much, but out in space it had become more and more necessary to be able to shift into something more intimidating than a tiny kitten. Coming into contact with those Saiyans had clinched it for him; as a female, he'd been uncomfortable enough being seen as a sexual object by that longhaired one, and in his normal form, he'd probably have been eaten whole! He was sick of being prey. He needed a new body, a second comfortable form that would at least make people think twice about messing with him.

The form he'd chosen looked fairly human, an average sized adult male. Not too intimidating, but at least he didn't look like a total pushover at a lean, well-muscled six feet and three quarters of an inch. Of course, he wasn't as strong as he looked, the muscles being mostly for show, but they would do well enough. He'd patterned his body shape mostly after Yamcha's, but his face resembled Bulma's a little bit, so that combined with blue hair the colour of his cat form's fur, he looked almost like he could be her brother. He'd kept his own eyes, as changing them always screwed with his vision, and simply altered his cat teeth to fit a human mouth. Small detail though it was, he felt that their sharpness made him seem just a little more dangerous.

Puar took his brew and made his way through the crowd, looking for an empty table. He noticed a few stares directed his way and thought, not for the first time of the evening, that maybe it had been a bad idea to go out by himself. It wasn't that he intended to do anything dangerous - he'd just wanted to go out and grab a beer - but a place like this was never not dangerous. Port bars tended to be crowded with pirates and lowlives, looking to buy their pleasure, and some of their looks said that they weren't above just taking it if a deal couldn't be struck.

*

Radditz scanned the bar, glumly, as he sipped his drink. He hadn't really wanted to come out on his own tonight, but neither of his teammates had been willing to come along for a night of drinking. Vegeta had holed himself up in his quarters after being chewed out by Frieza for failing to complete a task that he hadn't been assigned in the first place; protecting the research facility. No big deal, as they'd all known it would happen the moment the first tremor rocked the building. Nevertheless, the prince was never very sociable after a run in, even just over the com-link, with their lizard overlord.

Nappa was generally a good time at a party, but the bigger Saiyan had declined an outing in favour of lessons with the cub. He was determined to have Gohan speaking fluent Saiyan before his next birthday, an endeavour which was staunchly supported by Vegeta. Radditz didn't see the need for such haste when there were only the four of them left, but he'd been quite obviously outvoted. Beat down was more like it.

He watched idly, mug in hand, as a blue haired man threaded his way through the throng of people, presumably looking for a place to sit down. In his loneliness, he toyed with the idea of calling the man over and offering the empty chair across the table, but there was something about him that set Radditz's internal alarms ringing. He looked vaguely familiar, and Radditz had learned over the years that if you couldn't place someone, especially a good-looking someone in a bar, sometimes it was best not to try, and just save yourself an awkward situation.

A few glasses later, Radditz had swallowed his pride, but not his curiosity. He'd watched the blue haired man finally find a table and sink down into it with such a look of relief that he'd almost cracked a smile himself, simply observing. With every sip from his mug, the man grew more and more relaxed, settling comfortably into his chair to watch the world spin around him. Radditz followed his gaze to the dance floor, where some moved with a semblance of talent while others simply engaged in an exhibitionist display that was only a few steps shy of an outright orgy.

Radditz swore under his breath as the man took a long pull from his mug. All this watching and not doing was driving him crazy.

*

Puar put down his glass, licking the last drops of alkabrew from his lips as he watched a pair of particularly provocative dancers get closer and closer to total nudity. He jumped in surprise as a full mug was plunked down in front of him, the liquid inside sloshing over the edges to spill down onto the table.

“On me.” Said the long haired Saiyan as he pulled out the other chair and dropped himself into it. Puar stared, stupidly, wondering first at the coincidence, and second at the possibility that there was some sort of hallucinogen in his alkabrew.

“Wha...What do you want?” He stuttered as the bigger man eyed him up and down, exactly as he had done the fake Bulma earlier that day.

“Just the pleasure of your company.” Radditz replied, a trace of sarcasm in his voice as he pushed the glass smoothly toward the other man. Inside, he was reeling. The second he'd gotten close to the table, he'd picked up the same intoxicating scent that the blue haired woman had been emanating at the presentation earlier in the day, and he'd instantly understood why this man had seemed so familiar. Up close they looked very similar, like they could be related, and he wondered if maybe they were of the same species. He'd lost track of the female, but applauded his luck in finding an equally attractive specimen of this rare people.

Puar sat frozen, unsure of what he should do. This man was dangerous. He knew this man was dangerous, and yet he found that knowledge being overridden by broad shoulders and well-muscled thighs. Was this what Bulma had meant all those times she claimed that bad guys were irresistible?

“Don't worry, it isn't drugged.” Radditz bared his teeth in a Saiyan smile, noting Puar's hesitation. If he'd known what effect it would have on the cat, perhaps he wouldn't have done it. He reached over and grabbed the mug, taking a healthy swig before plonking it back down on the table. “See?” he said, “safe.”

“As if anything like that could down a Saiyan anyway.” Puar said, surprised by the venom in his voice as his wits finally surfaced. Misinterpreting the Saiyan's earlier gesture, Puar bared his own teeth in a clear `don't mess with me' signal, which Radditz steadfastly ignored. If anything, it only made him try harder.

“Wanna dance?” He asked, jerking his head toward the dance floor as he leaned over his crossed forearms, the table shifting and groaning a little as it took on his weight.

“With an Empire soldier? No thanks, I'd rather not catch anything. Don't you have a whore or something to be...playing with somewhere?” Puar snapped, on the defensive as the big man crowded his space. He felt trapped. That's why his palms were sweating and his heart was beating harder than the bass pulsing through the club. Despite that, he applauded his own courage in stinging the soldier, however weak his remark had come across. He'd badly wanted to say fucking, knew it was what the badass Saiyan in front of him would have said, but he just couldn't. He blushed at even the thought of saying a word like that while those intense black eyes were looking at him.

“Pfft.” Radditz snorted, rearing back a little. His pride was a little stung at being lumped in with the rest of Frieza's lot, even though he deserved it, on most counts. “Whores are for low class shit. We Saiyans seduce our women properly, like real men.” He felt his pulse quicken a little as a spark of anger lit in the smaller man's eyes.

“I am not a woman.” Puar ground out. No tits and a well-crafted fullness in his jeans. Wasn't it obvious? Was it something about his mannerisms, or had spending a few hours as Bulma really wrought such a change in him?

“Izzat so?” the bigger man grinned, leaning in close to whisper the next words, barely audible above the pumping music. “Well baby, if you wanna be the man tonight, I ain't got issues with being the chick.”

Puar stared, dumbfounded, for a full minute, unable to even blink as Radditz's meaning sunk in. His face flushed hotly and he found himself reaching for the booze. He was going to need it.

*

*

“How did you like the fireworks?” That deep, gravely voice came over the speakers, hitting the two of them like a wave of power. He didn't bother to introduce himself; they knew who he was. Bulma was the first to gain her courage.

“That was you? You could have KILLED us!” she shrieked, and Vengeance's soft chuckle came through the static. “You son of a bitch, it's not funny!”

“Oh, come off it, Blue. You didn't die, so calm yourself.” He said it as though she didn't have a right to be angry, because she'd lived, all the while ignoring the fact that if she'd died, she'd have been too dead to get angry at him. It was win-win for him, and that was all that mattered. “Besides, how the hell did you think I was going to get rid of the prototypes?”

“We...thought you were a tech. We thought you would steal them or something.” Krillin said, meekly. Immediately, he wished he hadn't opened his mouth. He wished he'd gotten away before this conversation ever started. Vengeance scared him a little, to be honest. He never, ever wanted to meet the man in person. He was probably a ten foot tall, fire-breathing, monk-smushing monster.

“Who the hell is this?” Vengeance demanded, his voice harsh, like the bark of an angry dog.

“Codename...Monk.” Krillin stuttered, spitting out the first thing he could think of. Bulma would give him hell for being too obvious later, but he didn't care. Like any of these space monsters knew anything about him anyway. If they'd known anything about Earth, they would have caught on to Mr. Clean and Malibu Barbie in about three seconds flat. He'd be sure to throw that one in Bulma's face later if she got on his case.

“Well, Codename Monk,” their contact spat the name out, derisively, “I don't recall inviting you to the conversation.”

“I did,” Bulma snapped, “so deal with it, you prick.” Krillin's eyes widened. Was it a good idea to piss this guy off? “What the hell is wrong with you, anyway? Blowing up the facility with us inside it? Blowing it up with all those workers? Do you have any idea how many people you killed today?”

“Of course I do.” He laughed again, as though her insults were like flies buzzing around a giant. “There were one hundred and eighty three workers there, including the research team, plus eleven guests who didn't make it out. Lucky you, hmm? Now tell me, Blue, what would your little operation have been worth if the pioneering researchers on the project lived to share their secrets?”

“What was it worth anyway?” She demanded, slapping her palm against the table so hard that it hurt. He was just as bad as the people he was fighting against. “You blew everything up, so why did we even bother going in, if the computers were all going to be destroyed anyway?”

“Do you think I'm stupid, Blue?” Vengeance asked, very matter of factly. Softly. Dangerously. “You went in and you took something out, didn't you?” He didn't wait for her to answer, just continued speaking in the same cold, factual manner. “I let you go in there because I knew you wouldn't be able to resist taking a copy of the information for yourself, and you didn't disappoint, Blue. But don't, for one second, think that you can pull one over on me. You'll build it, I know you'll try, and I let you have it because I know you're the only one who can.”

“You don't know anything about me.” She hissed, trying to sound braver than she felt. Did he really know something about her? Something he could use against her and the other inhabitants of Red Station? Krillin patted her arm, reassuringly. She hadn't noticed that she was shaking.

“Oh, but don't I?” Vengeance asked. “So far you've played just as I suspected you would. And you'll keep playing along, my dear, because I know how much you need me. If you cut off contact, then there's no one on the inside to help you, and your little operation will be dead in the water.” They could practically hear him smiling, the smug, self-satisfied son of a bitch.

“Don't act so superior, Vengeance.” This time, it was Krillin who spoke up, pushing all his courage into that one sentence. “You just said it yourself; you need Blue to figure out that headpiece. Without us, you're just as fucked.” He went pale with the shock of what had just come out of his mouth.

“Blue, we will speak again.” The voice said after a moment of tense silence, his words clipped with anger. “And next time, you will leave this little shit out of it.” The com-link went dead, and they could tell he'd pretty much hung up on them.

“Nice one, Krillin.” Bulma smiled, shakily. “I'm impressed.”

“I'm not.” The bald monk replied. “That was a pretty dumb move on my part. Did you hear him? He must not know our location, because I'm sure if he did, he'd be pounding our doors in right now. He sounded pretty ready to kill us.”

“He'll get over it. He needs us, he knows it, and now he knows that we know it.” Bulma grinned. “Now get out, I've got some blueprints to look at!”

*

*

Puar moaned as the Saiyan's teeth caught his earlobe, shuddered at the soft whisper of breath in his ear. He'd known it was a bad idea to leave the club with the Saiyan, kept telling himself it was a bad idea during the cab ride to the hotel where Radditz had rented them a room, and even at that moment, with the other man's lips on his neck, his mind positively screamed `bad idea'.

Funny thing, how what the mind considers a bad idea can seem oh so good to the body.

“Rad...ditz.” He panted, reaching up to tangle his fingers in the other's thick, black mane of hair. He was so lost in the feelings that this new body produced, so wanting of the other man's touch on his skin that he felt like he was losing his mind. He'd never done anything as crazy as this in his entire life; even walking unarmed into the research centre had seemed safer.

They'd learned each other's names in the cab on the way over, between heated kisses and moans. Not that it seemed to matter to the Saiyan, of course, but Puar was beyond mortified by the idea that he'd gotten as far as he had, with a man whose name he didn't even know. It was the only talking they'd done since hitting the dance floor together, aside from Radditz's whispered “Wanna go somewhere?”

Puar had stood, silent and red faced in the lobby of the hotel while Radditz paid for their room, thankful at least that the Saiyan was paying for the whole night instead of just a few hours. He didn't want anyone to think he was some cheap hooker. As it was, the poor shape-shifter kept thinking someone would recognize him somehow, call him out for his crass behaviour, and humiliate him completely in the lobby of a seedy hotel. He'd nearly made a run for it when the clerk handed Radditz a key card, but something in the Saiyan's grin had stopped him in his tracks.

He was a new Puar, he told himself. He'd come this far, why not continue? Why not enjoy what the other man was offering, just for one night? No one knew him here, none of his friends knew where he was, and he would probably never see Radditz again. No one would ever have to find out. No one would ever have to know of this shameful moment.

So he'd followed the Saiyan upstairs and they'd locked the door behind them, and that's how Puar had found himself in a strange bed, on his back, with a bloodthirsty killer sucking on his neck.

“Say my name again,” Radditz growled, scraping his teeth along Puar's skin, before giving it a playful nip. “I'm gonna make you scream it before tonight is over.” He shifted his weight, straddling the smaller man's hips so that his hands were free to roam. “Gonna make you scream till your throat is raw.” His hands were under Puar's shirt, pushing the hemline up to reveal his belly and chest, before lifting it up and off over his head.

“Do you wear this everywhere you go?” Puar panted as he helped Radditz pull off his armour to reveal what little else he was wearing. “Who wears armour to a club?”

“Men who value their lives.” Radditz grinned, before leaning back down to trap his prey between arms like pillars. “Now shut up.” He said, pressing his mouth to the smaller man's, coaxing pliant lips open with his tongue.

*

Puar limped across the room, shutting the bathroom door behind him as Radditz dozed peacefully. He lowered himself gingerly onto the edge of the tub, wincing at the slight pain it caused him. Shit. So much for being the `man' tonight.

He stretched his arms out, feeling the pull of sore muscles, and pushed the lock on the door beside him. Gratefully, he allowed his body to shift back into its natural state, hoping that the `pop' sound wouldn't disturb the slumbering Saiyan. It was four in the morning, local time, and he'd left his own ship around eight. He'd never held such a complex form for so long, and it was wearing on him. Everything ached, though he couldn't blame that entirely on shapeshifting, he thought, as he rubbed his sore behind. Not only had he been the bottom, but Radditz had a bit of a thing for spanking, and Puar knew that his humanoid shape looked a lot tougher than it actually was. Things had gotten a bit rough.

Puar squirmed, a bit embarrassed to admit to himself how much he'd liked it. Of course, that didn't make sense, as he'd already admitted it plenty to Radditz.

Desolately, Puar floated up toward the mirror, placing one kitty-paw against it as he looked himself over. He sighed and hung his head. No one thought a blue cat was sexy. Radditz certainly wouldn't. The big Saiyan probably ate cats for dinner.

“Hey,” speak of the devil, “What are you doing in there?” Radditz's voice came through the door, just as his fist connected with the panel in a knock loud enough to startle the poor cat.

“I'll be, uh, right out.” Puar stuttered, trying to calm his racing heart after the surprise. After a moment of concentration, he was able to force himself back into his man shape with a telltale `pop'. He hastily pulled on the jeans he'd left on the bathroom floor, wincing as the stiff material rubbed against his crotch. He really needed more practice with those parts. He opened the door to find Radditz blocking his exit, hands braced on either side of the door frame.

“Hey, you okay in here? I heard a weird sound.” He leaned in, nose just a few inches from Puar's. He was completely naked, cock hanging heavily between his legs. The smaller man took a step backward, blush staining his cheeks.

“I...uh...” he stammered, unwilling to share his secret. “I...um...farted.” To his surprise, the Saiyan broke out in a wide grin, a soft chuckle escaping from somewhere deep in his chest. Oh god, Puar thought, If he lets one rip too, I'll just die right here.

Luckily, Radditz had a little more class than that. Just a little bit. A very little bit. “Come back to bed,” he murmured, reaching for Puar and pulling the shapeshifter toward him. “Why are you wearing pants?” He asked, running his finger down the strip of short blue fur that ran from the base of Puar's skull down beneath his jeans to his tailbone. He nipped at one ear.

“I have to go.” The cat said, desperately wishing it wasn't true. He could feel Radditz's hardness against his belly, remembered the other man sliding in and out of him, and felt himself go stiff. “I really, really have to go.” He said again, as though to convince himself.

“Puar,” Radditz whispered in his ear, his big hands sliding over bare skin, pressing their bodies together, “stay.”

“I can't...I really can't.” Puar untangled himself, feeling the ache of transformation once more. He was exhausted and didn't think he could hold this body together much longer, especially if Radditz talked him back into bed. He cringed at the thought of what might happen if he were to transform back into his natural state with Radditz inside him. Ouch. “My shipmates...they'll be wondering where I am.”

Radditz relented, stepping back with a sigh, and watched sullenly as Puar collected the rest of his clothing and dressed himself. He wanted the blue-haired man to stay the night. He wanted to fuck him again, hard, right now. He wanted to wake up beside this stranger and fuck him again in the dim light of the morning, probably - maybe - more gently. Damn sentiments.

“Maybe we could meet up again.” Radditz said, surprising himself, as Puar was pulling on his jacket. “You know, if we're ever on the same rock again.” He grinned lazily, trying not to seem too desperate, but the sway of his tail gave him away. Puar nodded, thinking about how unlikely it was that they'd ever see each other again. How unlikely, at least, that Radditz would ever see this him again. “Is there a way I could contact you? Do you have a com-number you could give me?”

Against his better judgement, Puar said that he did.

 

*

Bulma twisted in agony, her body screaming out for more. She could feel his hands sliding over her skin, warm, rough palms cupping her curves, fingers splayed over hot flesh. “I love you, Blue,” he said, and she knew she was dreaming, but she didn't care. She missed being touched like this, feeling the warmth of a body next to hers, the pressure of one on top of her.

“Yamcha,” she sighed, arching her back as he cupped her breasts, thumbs gliding over her nipples, teasing them to points.

“Codename Sable is dead.” Her companion said, in Vengeance's voice, and she knew that Yamcha was gone. She opened her eyes to look at Vengeance, hoping to get a glimpse of his face, but all she saw were shadows, a sort of human-shaped mist whose hands had slid down to her hips and under her bottom, to lift her into his lap. She felt him, hard between her legs, and suddenly it seemed absurd to her that she was about to make it home with a shadow man. But then again, he was solid in all the right places. She had the evidence of that throbbing against her inner thigh.

“Vengeance,” she moaned, tossing her head back and placing her hands on his shoulders.

“Kindly get the fuck off me.” He said, and Bulma's head snapped forward. She found herself staring into familiar black eyes.

“V...Vegeta!” She was surprised, but she didn't move. He snarled at her, lip curling up on one side in a sneer, but he didn't say anything else. Instead he shoved her backward, quickly following her down so that he pinned her body with his own. She felt his skin, hot against her own, despite the fact that he'd been fully clothed when he first appeared. He pressed himself against her, spreading her legs with a knee so that one hand could slide between them. She gasped to feel his palm cupping the damp flesh there, slipping one then two fingers inside. Bulma squirmed against his hand, trying to clamp her legs shut around it, hampered by the presence of his body between her knees. He placed his other hand on her belly to stop her moving, but it only intensified the pressure that was building inside of her and she writhed against him.

Bulma moaned as he withdrew his fingers, opening her eyes to watch as he stretched himself over her once more. She spread her legs for him as he settled between her thighs and arched as she felt the slow, sweet intrusion of his body into hers. She desperately wanted him to say something to her, maybe say her name, even though she knew that he wasn't aware of it. She wanted him to whisper sweet nothings into her ear, but even as she wished it, she knew it wouldn't happen. He'd only ever said the one thing to her, and she didn't know how his voice would sound saying anything else. Even in dreams, reality often trumped her fantasy.

“Say something to me.” She begged as he pushed the last inch of himself into her. He grunted, drawing out for another thrust. “Please.” She moaned as he slid home again. She didn't know why it was so important that he say something, why she wanted so badly to hear him say something other than Kindly get the fuck off me, but it was, and so she lowered herself to pleading, as he pounded into her.

Vegeta looked down at her, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple as his hips kept up their pace. He leaned down, to whisper in her ear and she tensed, waiting for the words she so desired. “Kindly get me the fuck off.” His words were punctuated by a forceful thrust that drew a gasp of pleasure from her lungs.

*

Bulma awoke to the sound of the ship's outer hatch hissing shut. Vague images of her dream still floated at the forefront of her mind, and she was a little embarrassed to discover how wet her panties had become. Blearily, she swiped a hand across her eyes, pushing her hair back, and squinted through the darkness at her alarm clock. 4:48 am. Son of a bitch, she hoped that was Puar.