Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ or any of the characters seen in the show, manga, movies, etc. But in the twisted world of my mind…well, that's a different story.
A/N: Here comes the lemon as promised! Read the end for thank yous…
Part 5Bulma's every sense was attuned to the bedroom door quietly opening, the light spilling in from around a darkened silhouette, then shutting in the darkness.
He was here.
Somehow, her imagination had conjured something a bit more extravagant, a little more heart stopping for his entrance; but then, his face was still hidden in shadows and he had yet to speak. And he hadn't moved forward into the moonlight yet. No, he hung back in the nearly black shroud of darkness, watching her. She considered standing up to face him and ending the undisclosed staring contest in the dark, instead of peering over her shoulder at him from the bed; but this was like so many other challenges he'd issued to her in the past. If she yielded first and looked away, then she was the loser and it would attest to his triumph over her. She could not yield. Even the sound of footsteps moving toward her did not keep her from staring at the spot in the darkness where his face should be.
When he crossed the threshold of moonlight, she was not surprised to see his sharp gaze piercing into hers. He continued to move toward her, his eyes focused intently on her as she allowed herself a brief glance at his appearance. His body did not look as though he had just returned from battle. He was dressed casually in a royal blue shirt—did he ever wear any other color? —and loose black training pants. She had seen him this way many times before, and it still amazed her how he could look so regal in such informal clothing. She looked back up at him and realized his eyes were doing the same, assessing her with the same close scrutiny.
Their eyes finally met, though she noticed a slight weariness in his. So, he was not as unaffected by battle as she'd originally thought. He must have made use of the regen tanks, and that thought made her wonder just how badly he had been injured, knowing his usual hesitancy towards regen tanks. But her thoughts were abruptly cut off as he moved forward and stopped in front of her, grasping her chin with ungloved fingers, his face unreadable in the dim light.
"Have you an answer to my challenge, woman?"
"Yes," she said, trying to control her breathing and the shivers that had made their way down her spine at the low, husky pitch of his voice. I will not be affected by him, she admonished herself mentally. His thumb was rubbing gently against her jaw line as he waited for an answer, his eyes not giving her an ounce of respite as he stared down at her. She pulled away before she could embarrass herself further by reacting indecently to his touch. He was asking her a question. And she had waited this long to give him an answer. But how would he react to her answer? She had just figured out herself what she was going to say, actually moments before he'd arrived, but now she wasn't so sure she could do it. Was she ready for this? Could she tell him her answer and keep her wits about her?
"Do you yield?" he asked a few moments later when she didn't respond. When he put it like that, how could she? She had once told him that she would never yield to him, and now he was asking her to recant it. He had always been blunt about what he wanted, had never led her to believe anything else other than that he wanted her to accept him.
Bulma relaxed slightly as she realized that this conversation was very similar to the others they'd had. Why had she thought that he would use different tactics this time, that he would somehow do something that she couldn't combat and would be forced to submit to? He had been persistent yet passive in his campaign for her submission, never once going beyond arguing with her over her resistance. She had always been the one to initiate their intimate encounters while he stood waiting for her to weaken. He had not once initiated contact between them or forced himself on her as he'd done her first night on Vegeta-sei. But what had he meant then, when he'd told her he wouldn't allow her to deny her feelings anymore? That sounded like he had something in mind.
Her answer came out in a sigh. "No." She watched him warily as he set his jaw and turned away from her. She had made up her mind to deny him. There was no going back to what they had before. How could they? He might not have been the one to destroy her planet, but it would be imprudent to believe that he had completely changed from the killer he'd been. Whether he had been forced or not, he still didn't view the act of killing and purging as entirely bad. It had been pure chance that he hadn't been the one to destroy Chikyuu. How could she stay with a man who didn't think killing was wrong? Bulma lowered her eyes as she thought of the disparaging truth of the matter. She loved him, more than ever, but this rift would always exist between them. Vegeta thought that it could be overlooked, but she would never be convinced that it could, and because of that, she and Vegeta could never be. She looked up from the floor she'd been staring at, wondering why Vegeta hadn't responded to her. Her eyes met with Vegeta's turned back. What was he doing?
She had nearly voiced her question when she heard a dull thud in the darkness, like a heavy weight hitting the floor. As she scanned the floor, her eyes fell on a boot, partially illuminated in the moonlight. She stared at it dumbly for a moment, trying to comprehend the significance of the mislaid boot, until its mate dropped to the floor beside it. Bulma looked up at their owner, her eyes widening as she realized Vegeta was slowly unbuttoning his shirt, staring straight at her as he did so, almost challenging her to say something to stop him.
For a moment, Bulma panicked. Her rational mind knew she had nothing to fear; she believed his promise that he would never force himself on her again if she didn't want it. Yet here he was, undressing before her very eyes, slowly shrugging out of his shirt and pants and dropping them onto the floor carelessly, unclothing his perfectly sculpted body for her to peruse at her leisure—Oh no. A thought suddenly sprang into her mind, and she gasped at the incredulousness of it. He was not planning on forcing her at all. No, he wanted her come to him, wanted to taunt her with his body until she gave in to her wanton urges. But why this way? He knew she had always been weak in that respect; he had only to come within a few inches of her to get her to disregard all of her self-control. What was he trying to prove by doing things this way? What was he trying to accomplish?
Bulma closed her eyes, her mind and body warring with each other, as she thought of him naked, standing before her in all his muscled glory, waiting for her to jump him and prove that she wanted him more than she could deny. She did, but he didn't need to know that. No, she could resist this, she thought determinedly. She would not be ruled by her lust. It wasn't so hard. She would not—
He was walking towards her, strong and beautiful and reaching for her. She backed away from him, knowing that his touch could be the end of her. How was she going to resist him when his proximity made her ache with need? He must have known that, because he continued to move towards her until her back was pressed firmly against the wall and his face was mere inches away from her ear. She was breathing as though she had just run a marathon, closing her eyes again and suppressing a moan as his warm, teasing breath kindled a fire in her that spread searing feeling down to the very tips of her toes. He had to know what this was doing to her. This was his secret weapon; this was what he had planned to do to her from the very beginning. He wanted her to beg him. He wanted her to submit to her desire and offer herself to him. No, her mind shouted at her. Remember why you chose to resist him. If you give in now, it's forever. She collected herself as best she could and stood there stiffly as his mouth hovered near her ear. She could do this. He would become frustrated by her cool reaction and then he would give up. He had to, or else she would not last for more than a few minutes with his nearness torturing her this way.
"Bulma," he husked into her ear. "This game between us cannot last much longer. You cannot resist your feelings forever. It is time to give in, woman. It is time to accept what's between us and build on from there." He leaned in closer as his hands pressed against the wall on either side of her, imprisoning her. "So I ask you again," he whispered as he nuzzled his face against her cheek, sending a dizzying sensation through her body. "Do you yield?"
"I…" Her mind seemed vacant as she sought out an answer, any answer that would end this agonizing torment. Remember, a tiny voice persisted at her.
"No." She exhaled a relieved sigh as she commended herself on her firm resolve. She had done it again. She had refused Vegeta, and she had kept her wits—
Her knees buckled as she felt the warm tip of his tongue stroke the sensitive edge of her ear. He caught her just before she slipped to the floor, his arms tightening around her and lifting her off of the ground. He was carrying her somewhere, but she was in too much of a daze to protest. He suddenly stopped and set her down in front of the bed. "Vegeta…" she tried to whisper, but he didn't allow her to finish, instead brushing her lips teasingly with his own, pulling back whenever she tried to deepen the kiss, chuckling as she growled in frustration and caught his lower lip between her teeth. He opened up to her then and gave her what she wanted, tasting her with excruciating slowness, drowning out the rest of her thoughts until all that remained was him, his mouth, his touch, his passion. "Vegeta," she said again against his mouth, but this time it came out in a moan as his hand smoothed up her thigh and stopped at the hem of her robe, and then ventured just beyond. How could he do this to her? She felt like a lump of molten wax, aching to mold herself around him and take all he had to offer.
But she couldn't, she shouldn't. He wanted her to give up everything she had left in her. She had to fight him. His breath was in her ear again, soft and low, his hand dragging her thigh up to rest on his hip. "Tell me, Bulma. What do you want?" Bulma couldn't answer, not when she could feel his arousal so close to her, his body so tightly pressed against her. So this was what he'd had in mind. Drive her crazy with lust, then make her admit that she wanted him, needed him. Her resolve had crumbled. She wanted him so much, it was painful. But she could not say it. She would not say it. Bulma repeated that thought over and over in her mind as she felt him untying the silken knot of her robe, and hoped desperately that it would be enough to keep her from tumbling over the damning precipice of ruination.
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He pulled her small, heaving form onto the bed slowly, letting the silky material of her robe slide off her shoulders as he lifted her to straddle his hips. His face nuzzled her neck, inhaling the delicate perfume of her scent, and she sucked in a quivering breath as his hands slid up the soft flesh of her bare thighs.
"Is this what you want?" he whispered seductively into her ear as he allowed his fingers to linger inside the lace of her panties, stroking the damp patch of blue curls just above the wet, musky heat of her desire. "Tell me you want it, and I'll give it all to you." His hand inched slowly downwards, eliciting from her a moan of anticipation, before promptly pulling back up, awaiting her response.
"No," she breathed out huskily, even as she lifted her chin to invite him to ravish the lovely column of her neck. He obliged hungrily, smoothing a hand up the curve of her back to slip his deft fingers into the soft, loosely hanging curls. She belonged to him, loved him, but refused to believe it. He would have to make her understand. This was the only way. Wrapping the soft, cerulean hair quickly around his fist, he tugged, hard, making her arch her back and thrust out beautifully rounded breasts tipped with stiff, rosy peaks, straining beneath the transparent material of her nightgown. Roughly, he pulled up the flimsy fabric, ripping it in the process, and swiftly took an erect nipple into his mouth, suckling the firm swell of flesh until her hips ground against his own in wild abandon. He felt her arms slip around his neck and tighten as he grazed the puckered skin of her nipple with his teeth, granting him a low whimper of pleasure.
"Say you want it," he murmured against the smooth skin of her breasts between kisses and caresses of his tongue. "Say you want me. Tell me that you've wanted me inside you ever since the day I took you from that bastard." He lifted his head and nipped roughly at her shoulder before looking her in the eyes, probing the deep, blue depths for the answers he knew were true.
"I can't," she sighed softly, casting her eyes downward. "If I do, I'll be betraying every thing I vowed not to do. I can't ever forget what you are, what you've done. I…I don't think I could ever love you, you know," she said as she allowed herself a quick glance into the dark, scrutinizing eyes. "I can't allow myself to love you."
"You already do love me," he growled angrily as he pulled her to him sharply, pushing the flat taughtness of her stomach against his hard, solid abs. There had to be a way to reach her, to show her that what was between them was to far gone to deny. His black eyes burned into hers as he moved his face closer, and his lips suddenly pressed against hers with a bruising force. He would have to show her. She gasped for breath as he tilted his head and thrust his tongue into the enticing warmth of her mouth, at first punishing, and then melting into something more loving and affectionate, rubbing his tongue gently against hers until he felt her relax in his arms. Her slender arms moved druggedly to grip the wide, muscled planes of his back and he felt her pulse quicken at the feel of his fingers playing at the thin band of her panties.
He released her mouth as he pulled back and pushed her down into the softness of the bed, bracing himself with his arms as he stared down into the beautiful face that had haunted his dreams and nightmares for countless nights. "Before this night is over, woman, I will make you cry out in passion, and then you will accept what you have denied to yourself for far too long. You belong to me, just as I do you. Nothing can or will change that. And I'll be damned if I'd let another bastard have you."
Without breaking eye contact he moved down her body, gripping the edges of her panties almost savagely and yanking them down to her knees before ripping the material to shreds. Her chest began rising and falling rapidly, and he almost wanted to freeze the moment in time at the sight of her flushed skin, her parted lips framed by the blue silk of her hair. She was so beautiful in the pale, lunar light cascading over the soft curves of her body; he knew that he'd be condemning his chances for restraint as soon as he tasted her. Parting her legs gently and propping them up on either side of him, he dipped his head slowly to sample her, looking up briefly to watch her writhe under his ministrations before diving back down to punish her some more. He delved deeply into her, drawing from her desperate moans of pleasure as he plunging in and out and stroked her mercilessly, savoring her flavor.
She arched against him, offering him more of the honeyed delight of her arousal, and he gladly indulged himself. He pressed her thighs apart a little more, and after suckling the swollen nub of flesh that made her thrash her head violently on the pillow, he traced two nimble fingers around the slick entrance and slid them in slowly, feeling the strong inner muscles grip him tightly. He almost groaned aloud in eager anticipation at the urgency of her arousal. She felt so tight and wet around his fingers that he almost got ahead of himself and nearly abandoned his sweet torment to ravish her ruthlessly.
He continued his ministrations until he felt her fingers threading through his stiff hair, gripping it tightly as she neared her release. Disengaged himself, much to her dismay, he moved to cover her body with his own, positioning himself at her entrance before looking up at her, his eyes serious and piercing. He trailed his fingers lightly down the length her arm, brushing over the creamy skin and sending the nerves connected to the delicate hairs of its surface into an uncontrollable frenzy. He reached a hand up to briefly cup her face, and then slowly slid it back until it tangled itself in the silken strands of her hair.
"Tell me, woman. I have to hear it."
"Why are you doing this to me, Vegeta?" she said suddenly and spitefully. "Why can't my body just be enough?" Her eyes glistened lucidly in the silver light of the moon. That strong will of hers was breaking under his request, and it was then that he realized that she must have been trying to ignore the intense and definite chemistry that had always existed between them. She didn't want to believe that she actually felt for a brutal killer such as himself. It had been much easier for her to explain their passion on the heated battles and highly emotional states they frequently worked themselves up to in their opposition for each other; that their fiery couplings were due to the intense attraction that the opposite sides of morality posed. He couldn't let her deny it any longer. If he did, it would drive them both crazy. It didn't matter anymore who was justified or not. He just wanted her here, in his arms, giving him what he so desperately needed from her, and filling her own need with what he knew only he could give her.
"I don't want just your body, baka woman. I want you. I want what you've been holding back from me all this time. Dammit! Stop fighting it and just give in. Give in." He said the last words forcefully as he pushed himself roughly inside her, causing her to gasp and arch against him as she shuddered at the frictional contact of their bodies. He hadn't wanted to do it this way, had wanted her to admit to her need of him. But she was already melting in his arms, moaning as he slid in deeper, and he couldn't stop himself now if he wanted to. He held on to her firmly, almost triumphantly as he felt her tighten around him, but immediately regretted his actions as he looked at her, feeling his chest constrict as he watched her shoulders begin to shake with sudden emotion, the tears now flowing freely down the pale hue of her cheeks. It reminded him too much of their first night together in his palace.
"How can I? How can I accept that I'm in love with a murderer? Yamcha wasn't a murderer. He was kind and good and he only did what he did out of love for me. I know that now, and to betray him with you…how could I be so cruel to him? How could I explain that what I feel for you is something more powerful than I ever felt with him? And now I'll never be able to tell him that I'm sorry, that I could never have loved him the way I love you, that he sold his soul for nothing…" She broke down then, the sobs wracking her slight frame as she lifted her arms instinctively to encircle his neck, burying her tear-stained face into the comforting hollow that seemed almost made to soothe and console.
Vegeta held her tightly to him, letting her cry out everything that had kept her from giving herself completely to him. As her sobs dwindled into soft whimpers, he pulled back gently, wiping the tears from her face with the pads of his thumbs. Leaning down, kissing her slowly and thoroughly, tasting, savoring each and every inch of her delectable mouth, he tried to banish the sorrow with his tenderness, finally showing her what he had been practically begging her to see since he had first recognized it: that he loved her with his whole being; that without her, his life would have been empty and void of destination; that without her, he would have killed himself ages ago and submitted to the silent misery of a bleak and unwelcoming afterlife.
Now, she was kissing him back, with more passion than she had ever shown, and he felt his heart ache at the truth of her surrender to him. She was accepting him. He pulled back once more, cupping the beautiful face and smiling down into it, his fingers reaching out and brushing the loose strands of brilliant blue hair from her face, seemingly of their own volition. Her eyes looked up at him with such pain and confusion and…love. I love you, her eyes said to him. Even though I don't want to, I do.
"This is what I want, Bulma. I want you, all of you, everything that you are. I want you here with me for as long as we both have in this life. I can't erase what I've done to you, gods, there's so much that I want you to forgive me for; but I know only one thing: this thing between us is too powerful for us to ignore. And I know that you feel it too. You feel it," he said as he began to move against her slowly, causing her arms to tighten around his neck. "You feel it… every time we're together. You feel it…whenever we fight…when we make love…when we…oh gods, Bulma…"
His movements had become frantic by then, the thrusts between his words making it more and more difficult to maintain his thin leash of control, so he silenced himself in the smooth junction between her neck and her shoulder, continuing his thrusting like a man possessed as he slid in and out of her velvety warmth.
Bulma was the one holding him now, her arms wrapped around the hard body above her in a soothing embrace, as he lost himself within her. She soon began to adopt his frenzied movements, taking up his maddening pace as she moaned out her acquiescence, and soon they were moving together, breathing as one and clinging to each other as they had never done before, even in their most intimate of moments. During this act of passion, they had both acknowledged and accepted the love between them, and even though it had not been audibly spoken, as the first mind-numbing wave of pleasure washed over them in a simultaneous whirlwind of bliss, she lifted her head and kissed him deeply, giving him a final sign of her submission to her once clandestine feelings.
He was left breathing heavily against her sweat-sheened shoulder, after collapsing, just moments ago, from the final release of their union; and as he raised his head to look into those expressive blue eyes, he knew that there was nothing else in his lifetime that could possibly compare to these short, hushed moments when he held her trembling form beneath him after they had made love in such a way. It didn't matter what happened to him in the future; he would die a happy man as long as he retained memory of the peaceful stillness present in this moment. No matter what happened, they would be together.
He heard her give a contented sigh as he repositioned himself to pull her snugly into his arms, still inside her and still feeling the burning desire that overwhelmed him whenever she was near. He suspected that he would always feel that way; that she would always bring out the feral and passionate nature that he had such trouble controlling at times. But she also soothed that passion, even as she inflamed it with her caresses, and kept it in check, rerouting it into forms other than killing and destruction. She was what he needed, just as she needed him, and that fact was enough to satisfy him for the rest of his time on this mortal plane.
The End
So, there you go. Hope you enjoyed it. I know the fic was kind of short, but I wanted everything in the story to lead up to that final, emotional encounter between Bulma and Vegeta. And it was supposed to be a one-shot. Who knows, if you guys yell at me enough, I might just write an epilogue, though I hope the story is strong enough to stand by itself. I plan to write a few more one-shot-type stories in the future, but I will probably be focusing on finishing my other fics for a while. Au Revoir, mon amis.
Reviews can do wonders for a dying spirit.
Thank yous and answers to a few people with interesting comments:
JoSav: Lemon good, violence better ^_^
Rasberries: I guess so; and thanks
Gryphaena: This is on Admira's site
Nicka: Actually thought about giving a little insight on Yamcha, but decided against it since the fic is focused on B & V
Vegeta-is-forgotten: Thanks, nice to know that you liked it that much
The Rogue Raven: Yep, this was on the Forever site
Condesa: Thanks, I will try to continue writing
Bunni Girl: Great conversation we had…didn't know I was such a money-grubber ^_^
Dragon's Moon: Glad my writing had that effect; kind of the goal I was shooting for. And you're right B/V fics are
one of the best kinds out there
Not Sure Yet: Thanks
Viny88: Thanks, hope I can continue that way
RockAngel83: Thanks
Pocahontas82: I hope so, and I did
Bao: Squirly's good for this type of fic, right? I miss NC-17 as well
Dosvidania: Thanks
Aeris is Dead: Thanks
Little Pinky: Oh no, not the frying pan! Hope this appeases…
Nosweetangel: Thanks a lot. I hope it turned out the way you wanted
Myrrh: Well, here you go
Questions and/or Comments can be sent to let88b@mizzou.edu