When love is a gun
By The Chichi Slaughter House
Warnings: Bad title, Vegeta as an uke, and a whore, degradation of Vegeta, yaoi, lemon, swearing, GokuxVegeta later on…etc
Disclaimer: LOL, Do I even need one? (points to name that does not say 'Akira Toriyama', 'Ocean', 'FUNimation', or any other the many other companies that own rights to the awesome show) Not mine…sadly.
I've set this fic in 1861-1865, the time of the American civil war. Here's the situation; The north and south are engaged in battles around America, hurting any civilians to take their supplies for their armies, oppressing many young newlyweds. Whorehouses are even more popular around this time, as all American men are involved in the war, and could die, or are going out on business to help those who fight. Many men are far away from home, so a little female 'company' is desirable, even if it costs money. However, owners of whorehouses are getting increasingly short on women as some of theirs keep ending up pregnant and leaving, causing them to seek other people for prostitution…
And so, our story begins…
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Prologue:
Loud drunken howlings were carried through the wind as ragged brawling men scuffled inside of a building, fighting over a young girl dressed in nothing but a slightly see-through white dress, that was cut low around her breasts, and flowed down to her knees, as she stood silently, tears streaming down her face. Her long black hair was in knots and tatters, a large bruise forming on her right wrist and above her left eye, her gentle blue eyes showing her pain. She was sick and tired of being the object of this man's lust; this old, cruel man, with eyes of a dark green, and hair of a flowing brown, watching as the owner of the brothel slapped him around for trying to mistreat her.
It was the first time he had been able to try and use her to please himself, and he had gone berserk as soon as they were in the room alone, trying to hurt her and make her leave with him behind her Master's back. Needlessly to say, the keeper was very very angry with him, and consequently, was beating him harshly, so angry that it seemed like he would beat him to death.
As the pained cries from within the large manor grew louder, a tall figure appeared on the horizon, a basket on one arm, and a cloak around the neck which sailed in the wind as the figure surveyed the large house, clutching a piece of paper. After a short while, the figure seemed to agree on something to itself, and slowly began to walk closer, silent, hoping not to get noticed by anyone inside, anxiously laying the basket beside the door, taking another look in it, laying the paper inside, underneath a bundle, before scurrying off hurriedly, crying.
A short gust of wind blew and rocked the basket, causing a soft wailing sound to emit from it, a tattered blue blanket lifting out and sailing into the air, only to be caught in the branches of a nearby tree, black and withered from age, the blanket flapping around in its sharp prison, almost looking like a flag silhouetted against the moon. Inside the crudely-made carrier, a young male baby cried, its wails getting louder and sounding even more terrified as the cold windy night dragged on, nobody noticing the make-shift crib as they left the manor, some being too preoccupied or uncaring of anything but getting home to notice such a small thing.
It wasn't until mid-morning the very next day that anyone who resided in the large mansion found the small baby, pale, shivering and hungry as the young black haired girl took him into the house, wrapping him up and feeding him some milk. The other ladies of the house came down to smile and coo at him, all of them finding him absolutely adorable, all wanting to keep him. Eventually, the girl knew that she had to take him to see the 'Master', who – after a long time to think – decided that it was alright for him to stay.
But, on two conditions.
Firstly that the baby would not upset the customers…
…And secondly that he would have to earn a living at the house too, on his eighteenth birthday…