Big thanks to Jami, who was kind enough to Beta for me.
Disclaimer: I don't own DB/Z/GT. I'm broke and living off birthday money. I don't own the song 'Get Mine, Get Yours,' either…. In fact, that song doesn't apply to this chapter more than the chorus.
Keep Me From Dying (1/3) Can you…Put your hands on my waist line
Want your skin up against mine
Move my hips to the baseline
Let me get mine you get yours
Hang a please don't disturb sign
Put my back into a slow grind
Runnin' chills up and down my spine
Let me get mine you get yours
-Get Mine, Get Yours, Christina Aguilera
A muffled, "We really shouldn't be doing this…"
"Your mouth says that, but you don't mean it…" a smirk.
Light moan, "Nope, guess not."
"Hey big boy, calm down a bit. We don't want this to only go two minutes," a swat and a giggle.
A nibble and a soft chuckle, "Yes we do, I have a meeting with my mother in ten."
She sat up, still seated on the edge of his desk, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist and her arms loosely around his shoulders. She moaned for him as his mouth made contact with her skin just behind her ear, slowly progressing just down her neck. "I love being with you like this," she whispered in his ear.
She could feel him smirk against her flesh, "Funny, here I was thinking it was me you loved," he nibbled and suckled on a small patch of skin seemingly demanding his undivided attention, "All well, I suppose there are worse things."
She slid her hands up his cheeks, bringing his face to hers, "I love you too. So much," she grunted and furrowed her eyebrows, "sometimes it hurts."
He groaned and buried his face in her shoulder, "You have no idea."
She idly played with the hair on the nape of his neck, "I live to serve." She leaned back on her elbows and he followed, slowly tracing kisses along the neckline of her cami top. His hands rested on her hips, slipping his index fingers below the line of her skirt and rubbing them back and forth like windshield wipers. His thumbs traced circles under the hem of her shirt.
"Mr. Briefs, your mother is waiting in the-" Trunks' personal secretary said, stepping in the newly opened doorway and nearly dropping the folders she held in her hands, "Oh, Mr. Briefs… I'm so sorry…"
Pan covered her mouth and leaned all the way back on the desk, trying not to laugh at the compromising situation she and Trunks were in. Trunks groaned and put his hands on the desk, biting his lip, "Could you, uh, please excuse us for a moment? If you wouldn't mind, that is…"
"No, no mind," she stuttered, turning back and leaving the door at light speed compared to her entrance. She slammed the door tight behind her.
No sooner had the door closed behind her did Pan arch her back with laughter. Trunks hung his head as he chuckled in spite of himself. "Way to ruin a romantic moment, huh?" he asked. She smiled, connecting her hands behind his head.
"Guess so," she mumbled, "are you ready for the two minute challenge?"
"Yes."
* * * * * * * *
Bulma was seated alone in the largest meeting room in the building when Trunks walked in. Her back was to him, she was staring out the window, but the distinct blue hair over the top of the chair easily gave away that it was she. "Hey mom," Trunks said, softly shutting the door, "the secretary said you were waiting for me…"
Bulma turned her chair around and smiled at her oldest child, "Yes, Trunks. Though had I known Pan had you… occupied, I would have never sent her in to get you. I believe now would be a good time to remind you that the office isn't exactly the appropriate place for that sort of escapade."
Trunks nodded, "Sorry mom."
"It's alright Trunks," she said, standing, "Please, take a seat."
Trunks was mildly surprised. He'd half expected his mother to fly off her handle about him… you know, doing it in his office. The last time his mother had let him get away with something, she was about to tell him she was pregnant with Bra. He eyed his mother suspiciously. Nah, he decided, she was far too old for that. "Is there something wrong, Mom?"
She pushed the unnoticed piece of paper on the table toward him, "It's a death threat."
Trunks quickly skimmed the page, lifting an eyebrow skeptically, "This isn't the first one of these we've gotten."
She nodded, "I know," she turned and looked out the window, "It's just that… I have a bad feeling about this one, Trunks."
"I'm sure you'll be fine, Mom," Trunks said, gaining that airy, happy-go-lucky smile he'd had since he was a small boy, "I mean, it's not like it's going to cause some kind of mass chain reaction that's going to end the whole world, now is it?"
Bulma laughed a bit to herself, "No, I guess not."
* * * * * * * * *
Trunks looked up, pausing his search over the contents of the papers in his hands to see who had entered. The raven hair of his lover poked through the cracks, her eyes lighting up at the sight of him and a smile spreading across her features. "Hey Trunks."
Most of him wanted to be happy to see her, yet the other part feared for both of their lives, "Pan, I thought I told you not to come here!" he said, putting his papers down on his desk and turning to walk to her, "I know my mom's okay with you and me but my dad would throw a royal tantrum," he said, pressing up against her and sliding his hands down her arms until his hands entwined with hers.
"That would be fine and dandy Trunks," she said, pushing her hips up against his, causing him to close his eyes for a moment, "but your mother called my house today and asked my father specifically to not allow me to visit you during work hours."
"You're an adult, you need your father's permission?" Trunks questioned.
"Just be happy she wouldn't answer why she was making such a call, Trunks," she replied, turning her head to the side while he trailed kisses down her neck. She allowed one hand to part with his so she could slide it south of the border, to which he growled in response, "I promised her I'd visit after hours."
"What did she say to that?" he mumbled against her neck, "something embarrassing, I assume."
"Of course…"
He grabbed the hem of her shirt, slowly rolling it up, dragging hot fingers over flesh for as long as he could. She rolled her head back as his fingers slid momentarily under her bra, before departing and continuing the voyage until he reached the top. He kissed her softly across her collarbone, barely touching her skin.
She pulled his face back up to hers with both of her hands, "Trunks," she whispered, "I want you…" He smirked and crushed his mouth against hers in a kiss so hard she was surprised he was ever able to peel their lips apart again.
"Not nearly as much as I need you…" he whispered back.
She rested her arms around his shoulders as he lifted her up off the ground. She wrapped her legs tight around his waist. She grinned against his mouth as his hands gripped under her backside, squeezing just a little. She pushed her hips closer against his, "Ah, I see…"
"Yeah," he chuckled a bit, "feel like helping a dirty man clean himself off?"
"Always," she replied as Trunks carried her to the bathroom, kicking the door shut with his foot behind them.
* * * * * * *
Bulma was running late. She ruffled through her bag, digging for her capsule as she stood on the roof of Capsule Corps. The thought had crossed her mind that perhaps she'd left it in her office, but she was beyond sure she'd put it in there. This was ridiculous. You'd think she would be able to handle one stupid little capsule. No, no, apparently not.
She was about to curse when she heard a noise. Not one that would bother her normally, but something about it was venomous. A rock rolled out from behind the side of the building with the door that she couldn't see.
"Hello?" she called.
Nothing replied. She decided she was just being stupid. It was that note, she'd been scared over nothing. What idiot would mess with the wife of one of the most feared men in the universe anyway? Nobody. That's right, nobody. Well, maybe Trunks if he was feeling lucky. And certainly Goku had never failed to kick Vegeta's ass. But that was just mud under the bridge. The point was that none of them would wish harm to her, and no one would even dare.
But there it was again. That isn't very reassuring. "Hello?" she asked again.
Was that a chuckle?
A black figure slowly crept from behind the wall. Bulma's heart sank. She didn't know that figure. She didn't know their walk. She didn't know that haggard breath. She definitely didn't know their voice. "Who are you?"
Another chuckle.
"Stay back…" she warned, digging her arm into her purse again. What was it with her and losing capsules today? "I have a gun…" she just held her hand steady and hoped that he'd believe in the nonexistent weapon. "You don't want to come near me… I'll blow your head off."
At some point, she felt herself start walking backwards, until the backs of her legs pressed against the rail. She was rapidly getting more and more fearful, closing her eyes and taking a gulp. She wouldn't look behind her. She'd keep looking right ahead. She couldn't pretend to be scared; she couldn't let him get the upper hand. What she saw when she opened her eyes, however, wasn't what she was expecting.
The bun barrel was at the bridge of her nose. Her attacker was no more than three inches from her body, grinning wickedly. She stared at him with wide eyes and sucked in what she was sure would be her last breath, "Sweet Jesus…" she murmured.
And then, the shot of a gun rang out.
* * * * * * * *
Trunks closed his eyes and gripped the sides of the shower of support, absolutely sure that he was going to die. Not that it would be a bad death, but it was definitely in his future. Pan was going down on his so hard on him, even harder than that, he would have been surprised she wasn't breaking any teeth had he been thinking clearly.
"Pan…" he said, trying desperately to move away from her, hoping to all the powers under the sun that their pleasure party wouldn't be ended too soon. Did she really have to go and match him stroke for stroke every time? Just because he made her come already once, didn't mean he was capable of doing it twice in one hour.
Pan lifted her mouth from him and slowly yet surely dragged her tongue from the treasure trail up to his chest to kiss his mouth fiercely, the faintest taste of what was already threatening to break the damn lingering in her mouth. "Now," he whispered, "I need you now."
"I thought you'd never ask…" Pan said, giving him a smirk that would have made Vegeta whither.
"I'm not asking Pan, I'm telling…"
"Good…" Pan said, pushing his shoulders down, until he was seated on the floor of the shower, and she slid down to straddle his hips, not stopping before pushing him insider her. Trunks groaned and buried his face in her shoulder, while she gasped at the feeling of him being in so deep he may have actually reached the deepest he could ever dream of going.
Trunks opened his eyes and lifted his head, to find Pan digging her nails into the wall behind his head. He smiled calmly to himself, lowering his face to kiss along her collarbone. She closed her eyes and moaned, shifting her hips so Trunks could join in her enjoyment.
His hands slid to her hips and assisted her in her task. He growled when she started to purposely squeeze her walls around him, and looked his devilish blue eyes to her face. His hand went down between them as he started to rub her button with fervor, and he smirked when he watched her face drop in shock.
"Trunks, what are you—Oh!"
He chuckled against her flesh and continued to rub her while she continued to pump him.
* * * * * * *
Something was wrong, Vegeta could feel it. The air outside was off. The breeze was almost eerily calm, and something in the nature of it told him he was being mocked. The sudden sounds of sirens in rushing down the street just… caught him completely off guard… something wasn't right. He knew it.
He walked around the gravity room, calmly opening the door of the house. The news was on in the living room, and Vegeta could hear the distinct sound and changing colors of the same police cars he'd seen before. His heart, whether or not he was willing to admit it, was sinking to the floor as he watched the screen. He didn't breath for several moments.
There were cars all around the middle of the street. He wasn't sure were the building he could see in the background was, but he was sure he'd seen it before. There was an ambulance, though there was no rush. The person on the stretcher was in a body bag. Dead. Someone was dead. Who? Who was dead?
Then, he heard it.
This is breaking news. Tonight, at 8:43 p.m., Bulma Briefs, former President of the Capsule Corporation, was brutally murdered. He attacker, it appears, shot her in the head at the top of the building, causing her corpse to drop the two hundred flights to the street below…
There was never a moment in his life that Vegeta had felt like he was without breath. Even in the most pain he could imagine, even in his last moments of life, he remembered the ability to breath. But at this time, this very moment, no breath would come. The woman was dead. Bulma was dead.
The world turned red. Someone killed her. His mate, and someone killed her. No body, but no body, had the right to kill her. He didn't even consider himself worthy of her end. She was supposed to die an old lady with her spawn at her side and him in the corner of the room. Not by someone's gun. Never by someone else.
They would pay.
He always knew there was something wrong with these humans. He hated them. He'd never felt such distaste for any other being he hated more in his entire life. He was going to find the bastard that killed the woman, and every single one of them on the way. Even if it meant he'd have to kill Dende on the way, he'd do it.
He ran through the glass of the back sliding doors and threw his fists in the air. He let out the strongest, most pain filled cry a Saiya-jin had ever uttered in their history. The reason was simple.
Vegeta had actually loved something, and someone else took it away.
* * * * * *
Trunks came down the stairs to get food for him and Pan about an hour later. Their shower bang had only been the beginning, and now they were both tried and hungry, as most of their race was at the end of such activities. Their fridge has never stocked when his mother and father were trying for Bra.
He walked back through the living room holding two of those sports drink things in one hand, a baggy of ham in the other. He was about to greet the stairs again when he heard something on the still blearing television that caught him a bit off guard.
And more news on the Bulma Briefs murder case…Trunks' mind was reeling. His mother's murder case? Oh Dende, the note she'd told him about that afternoon. He wanted to vomit. It had been real. They'd actually killed her. "Pan…" he choked, "Pan… come here, please!" He sounded like he was about to cry, which he was pretty sure he was.
Her form appeared in the hallway as she quickly came down the stairs, "Trunks…? Trunks are you okay?"
He stared at her and pointed at the television screen.
A man now identified as Bulma Briefs' lover, Vegeta, murdered the number one suspect this evening. Vegeta was on some kind of murderous rampage; killing almost anyone he came across. Police found him dead in a field just outside town, a hole through his head by an unidentified weapon…
Pan watched as Trunks sank to his knees before the television.
Police have tested the body of the dead Vegeta for any evidence of drugs or alcohol. The only abnormality sown in blood tests appears to be some kind of… unidentifiable gene. The authorities are starting a worldwide search to see if this abnormality exists anywhere else…
Pan stared at the screen, pondering the finding. There was only one thing in Vegeta's DNA that could possibly throw someone off. She looked down at Trunks, who looked spookily up at her. They were having the same thought. She uttered the only thing that came to mind, "Holy fuck."
They were going after the Saiya-jins.
* * * * * * * *
TBC