Rainwater
Chapter 13: Appearances II
Rating: R for sexual situations and suggestions, adult topics and language.
WitchyPrincess

Keeping up Appearances II

Pretty people smile a lot. Have you ever noticed it? They smile because they know, no matter where they go, they'll always be someone watching, someone looking at them that's willing to return that smile ten-fold.

Sometimes I wonder if they ever mean it when they smile. I know plenty of pretty people that aren't really happy on the inside, you know? And I just wonder what they're thinking when they light the room with their empty happiness. I mean, do they think they're fooling everybody? They don't fool me.

Ugly people smile too. They hold their head high and walk with dignity, pretending glee as a self-defense mechanism. They smile, don't you know, because they realize that if they don't, they'll always be someone there, staring, laughing at them instead of with them.

And on the inside, I know, they're just as empty as those gorgeous people. They hold the same feelings in common with them.

But not people like me. People like me don't smile, they don't laugh. They don't even try to pretend. We hold our heads down low, looking at the soles of our feet, because we're not pretty enough to be noticed or ugly enough to be stared at. We fade into the background and we're used to it.

–Pan Son
#######

All his thoughts ground to a halt; all his words were born and died on his tongue, never making it past his lips. He forgot everything the moment she opened the door, every sensible thing he'd been preparing to say. All logic, all reason, flew from his brain as he stared down at her. He'd never seen anyone look so perfect before.

She was wearing green, which was automatically a good thing, and her hair was flowing in waves past her shoulders. The nightdress she had on was nothing like the sweater she'd been wearing earlier, and earlier he'd wanted to rip her clothing off. It was silk and clung to her body very appropriately. The darkness of her hair made the color seem more alluring to him.

Her eyes seemed, to him, to be darker somehow. Her lips appeared fuller, a deeper red. And maybe he was imagining things but, it seemed as if there was natural glow around her face that made him instantly think she was beautiful. He couldn't catch enough of his breath to explain to her why he was standing outside her door.

Finally, when he was able to regain some semblance of self-control, he cleared his throat and announced,

"We need to talk, but you need to put more clothes on first."

"You can't tell me what to do, Trunks-San. I'll wear what I want and I'll talk to who I want. And I don't want to talk to you." She started to slam the door in his face but he caught it, pushed it open and, softly moved her back.

"Let me rephrase then," He sighed, making his way into the room despite her contempt. "We're going to talk and, if you don't want me to ravish you on this hotel room floor, you will put more clothes on."

"And if I do want you to?" She questioned lightly, smirking deviously and sending a shiver all the way through him. He sighed, trying to remind himself that he wasn't going to talk to her again after this. Trying to convince himself that he didn't find the way she was looking at him sexy, and he absolutely did not want to do very naughty things to her at this moment in time.

His stomach clenched with what he suspected was butterflies, a feeling that he'd never truly experienced before, as he shook his head and tried to rid himself of those thoughts. But, Dende, he'd love to touch her again.

"You don't." He stated firmly, dryly. "But if you did, we'd still talk."

"Oh, then your threat was empty. So I don't have to change after all." She deduced, curving her lips into another smile as she sat down on the sofa and looked at him expectantly.

He was surprised; she wasn't going to put up more of a fight then that? He had expected yelling, screaming, fighting. He had expected to have to hold her down and force her to listen to what he had to say. He'd thought it would take him twenty minutes to even convince her to open her door to him. But here he was.

"Well, get to it so I can go to sleep. I suppose this is the reason this whole get-together event was orchestrated, to get us to talk. So, the sooner it's done, the sooner I can get away from you."

"That's blunt." He stated, raising an eyebrow in self defense and taking a seat opposite her.

"You expected anything less? Have I been anything less than honest with you all this while?"

"Well, I don't know Pan, you've not really been much of anything with me. We just sort-of..." His voice trailed off and he paled a little, visibly unnerved by what he was trying to say.

"Screwed each other." She finished his statement, causing him to blush with embarrassment before nodding slightly.

"I guess you could put it that way."

"And now you want to tell me how sorry you are that you let yourself get carried away. That you don't know what got into you and you'll never make the mistake again. That if you could take it back, you would and this whole ugly mess would be behind us. But you can't, can you? So there's no need for the speech. I get it."

"I wouldn't call it an 'ugly mess'." He frowned, looking at her with an expression that stated how put-out he was by her comment. She smirked.

"I would. It definitely wasn't pleasant." She stated defiantly, rolling her eyes.

"I mean, I don't know about all that," He started, getting a little angrier by her vehement confession.

"Well I do so move along with this speech. It's not like it matters."

"It does matter, Pan, it wasn't horrible or anything like that."

"What's your point here, Trunks-San?" She changed the subject, not willing to argue with him anymore. "Does it matter what I thought of it? It's not going to happen again.

"Aren't we supposed to be discussing what a huge mistake you made by losing yourself like that? Aren't you supposed to be telling me it wasn't anyone's fault, or something like that, as you no doubt intended to do?"

"It most certainly was someone's fault. You threw yourself at me, Pan. And if you don't stop calling me Trunks-San I'm going to lose it." He challenged, throwing her an angry look.

"How dare you, Trunks-San! You jerk! In case you didn't know, you kissed me. You pulled me back into your office and, I doubt I need to remind you of the rest." She had risen from her seat during that explosion of anger and, as she finished, flopped back down again.

"No, but you need to remind yourself. I mean, I never heard you protest, it was quite the contrary as a matter of fact. I never heard you complain once, for you to think it was so horrible now." He pouted, not willing to admit how much her statement had wounded his pride. He had been called many things in his life but, bad in bed had never been one of them.

"There's no need for this discussion. If you want to think of our encounter as something pleasant then, by all means, do that. But I won't be indulging along with your overactive imagination. Besides, you've said all you need to say to me. Good-night Trunks-San."

"What was horrible about it?" He ignored her, gritting his teeth and trying not to be angry. But he couldn't help it, for some reason her words swelled something inside him and he couldn't leave now. He wasn't through with her. He would not have her thinking he was 'horrible' at anything he did. Especially when it involved his hands.

"Do you want details, Trunks-San?" She slightly teased, sitting back in her chair with an annoyed expression. He nodded, face stern.

"Please."

"You can't be serious." She countered, disbelief in her look.

"I am. Indulge me."

"We've done quite enough indulging, don't you think?"

He rolled his eyes. "Answer me."

"Your hands." She stated, shifting slightly.

"What about my hands?" He questioned, voice edgy and she was sure she'd hit a sore spot with him. She smiled.

"They were awkward, rough." Pan remembered exactly how rough and, with a tinge of embarrassment, exactly how she hadn't hated it. In honesty, nothing about Trunks was 'horrible' but she rather enjoyed the wounded look on his face as she told him these slight lies. There were some things that she hadn't liked about their encounter, but there were also some things that had been strangely erotic and passionate. And there was nothing wrong with passion.

She wondered silently if he'd believe her, he had to know his hands were perfect. But her teasing had to be hitting its target because his face took on a scowl and he leaned forward in his chair.

"And?" He questioned.

"And?" She echoed, smiling deviously. Payback was a great thing, he'd hurt her so much a few days ago she was glad to be receiving some of her dignity back. "And your kisses were sloppy, if you must know. The whole thing was fast, clumsy, and kind of juvenile. Like you had no control over your emotions at all. It ended abruptly, too, which just made it seem all the more awful."

"Well, I didn't hear you saying anything about it then." He countered, face scrunched in annoyance as he tried to remember whether he agreed with her or not. She suppressed a laugh.

"You didn't hear me saying anything about anything then. I believe I just got up and left, and can you blame me?" She waited a second for him to respond, noticing the angry twitch his eye was taking on and deciding to play on it.

She leaned forward, a small 'sympathetic' pout on her lips, and shook her head. She knew she shouldn't tease him, had a feeling that doing it could only lead to chaos in the end, was well aware of what the consequences for toying with a Saiyans pride were, but she couldn't help herself. She couldn't stop her mouth from spewing the words that were bound to push him over the edge. She was angry, she was blood-thirsty for vengeance. She had to receive her due payback.

"What's wrong? You didn't actually expect me to tell you I thought it was wonderful and come crawling back for more, now did you? I wouldn't touch you again, Trunks-San, with a ten foot pole."

It wasn't until the words were out that she heard the challenge in the last sentence and instantly regretted it. Her heart started to throb quickly right after the words left her, knowing that in a second he'd make her pay for what she'd just said. Knowing that now he had to do something in order to retaliate against her challenge, he wouldn't be Vegita's son if he didn't. She began to pray that the earth would slide open and swallow her whole before he had a chance to react. It didn't.

He was up in a second, grabbing her and pulling her with him. His face was set, anger making his cheeks red, his eyes were blurry with it. She swallowed hard as his grip tightened, face darkening for a second before he regained himself.

"What did you say?" He asked softly, too softly. She closed her eyes as he waited for her to respond.

"Nothing. Get your hands off me."

"Not until you tell me how wonderful you really think they are." He bit out, backing her around the couch.

"I've already told you what I thought of your hands." She informed him, opening her eyes as she realized she was moving. Her ebony orbs sparkled with anger as she shook, trying to get out of his hold. But he was furious with her, she knew she'd never win; besides, she was afraid to provoke him anymore. There was no telling what the consequences would be if she did.

"You were lying, I want you to tell me the truth." His eyes were like fire now, boring into her as she held her breath.

"I was not lying." She finally managed, her voice cracking at the end; her back had made contact with the wall. He didn't stop moving, kept walking until he pressed painfully close to her, their bodies lightly brushing. She closed her eyes again, unsure if it was from fear or the fact that every part of her was lighting up. She wanted desperately to rub against him, to caress him. She wanted to reach up and touch him but she didn't dare, upset with her own self for the instinct.

"Yes you were." He stated plainly, lowering his head to her neck as she shifted her leg, bringing it slightly around his own. His breath trickled all the way down her spine as he continued to talk, making her shiver from the inside out. "You love my hands and I'm going to make you admit it. I'm going to make you scream it."

"You're standing too close to me, Trunks," Her voice was airy, breathing hitched as she told him, trying to back away from him while knowing it was impossible. "Get out of my hotel room. I don't want you to touch me. I'd rather die than let you touch me." Her voice was slowly getting weaker as his face moved closer to the skin on her neck. Her heart pounding so fast and violent she was sure he could feel it in every part of him.

He laughed softly, teasing her skin with his amusement. "That's why your arms are around my neck then?" He questioned, slowly running his hands up her sides.

Her eyes opened wide, looking up with pure shock. He raised his head to gather her expression, to feed in her confusion. It was obvious that she hadn't even been aware of those treacherous limbs encircling enemy skin the way they had. He smiled broadly before sliding his cool hands up her torso, onto her shoulders, fingers caressing the skin teasingly.

"Stop it." She pleaded weakly, pulling her arms from around his neck. "Don't do this. You remember what a mistake it was?" She thought her best option, at this point, was to try and talk some sense into him. He clearly didn't know what the hell he was doing anymore. They'd both be better off if she made him realize he didn't want her because she couldn't fight him off; she'd never been able to tell Trunks Briefs no and she didn't think today was the day to test her limits.

"I remember it wasn't horrible." He countered, running his hands down her arms seductively. She exhaled deeply, trying not to close her eyes. Trying to keep her mind focused on the task at hand.

"Then you remember I'm fourteen years younger than you and you said you'd never find me attractive. You remember that you're not the least bit interested in me and you're almost old enough to be my father. You remember-" She lost her entire train of thought when his lips pressed softly on her skin, his hands running gently down her hips and pulling her closer to him. She nearly cried out in surprise, and pleasure, when his tongue found that spot on her neck that made her forget everything she was saying to him.

"I remember," He started when he pulled his head away, a smirk in his voice. "That spot made you cry my name." He teased, completely ignoring every reason she'd just given him for what he was doing being wrong.

"Stop this." She pleaded weakly, trying to move out of his grasp. But he didn't. He didn't even acknowledge that he'd heard her as he trailed kisses up her neck, across her jawbone.

"Tell me how wonderful you think my hands are, how badly you want me to continue despite your protests, and I'll consider it." He finally stated, pulling his head up to look into her eyes, making sure his words slid past his lips and right across hers.

She fought the urge to kiss him as she nodded her head, tingling from the way his hands were massaging her stomach, making crazy knots fill her gut and ease all the way up to her throat. She opened her mouth to tell him, to do anything to get him to stop this, but the words didn't seem to want to flow.

His hands moved farther down, easing up the edge of her nightgown and her head dropped back, softly banging against the wall. She was shaking, she realized, as his lips kissed the bridge of her nose before moving downwards. She lifted her head to assist him, making their lips meet without thought of consequence.

A needy moan fell from her lips as they broke apart, his hands finding their target. She drew in a deep gulp of air and bit her lip, trying to keep the words he'd asked for from falling off her tongue.

"Tell me to stop again Pan, and I will." He provided softly, kissing her cheek and pulling back with a smirk.

She tried to force the word out but the only noise she seemed to make was another moan, this one more strained, a muffled cry of frustration. She couldn't even remember why she was trying to tell him to stop, just that she should, and, very quickly lost all motivation to. What his hands were doing, it felt wonderful, and she found that she was murmuring just that as he slid the gown over her head and let it fall to the floor. She'd also told him that if he stopped, she'd murder him.

And he didn't disappoint her.

This time was different than the last. His hands lingered in every spot he touched, every move he made was calculated and mind-numbing. Every single touch sent her over the edge, and everything happened slower, more patiently.

There was still that animal-like urgency in their embraces, in their kisses, but now everything lasted longer and happened with a painful sort of slowness that sent guilty pleasures all the way through her body right into the core of her being. She lost herself in him, she felt the exact moment when she slipped away, but was helpless to stop herself.

He was doing something inside her, to her soul, that shook her being and knocked her completely senseless. She'd never be the same again, she knew, when this was over. It was like she'd given herself over to him in every possible way. And, with the way that he was touching her, tasting her, savoring the moment so possessively, she felt that he knew it too. That he knew he owned her and he liked it. Every time he moved against her, she forgot everything but him. Her own name even slipped her mind a few times until she heard him whisper it softly against her ear.

Distantly she was aware that her mind was wondering if this was what love was. And if it was, what the hell was she going to do when he left this time. But, in those moments of desperate desire, she didn't care about anything but him. The way he touched her, the way he moved with her, the way he held her, nothing but his hands, his mouth, his body. And she certainly didn't care if her world fell apart when he was gone, all that really made the difference was he was right there at that moment. Tomorrow made no difference today.

#######

"You wanted to talk to me?" Goten asked Bra as he shut his room door and turned around. He silently wondered what was wrong with him. Why had he invited her into his room? Why hadn't he just suggested they take a walk around the hotel or something? It would have been smarter considering the way his eyes examined her while her back was to him.

She looked good, though. Her hair was pulled into a high ponytail and she was wearing a white tank-top with and black skirt. He could see a good bit of her legs as well as the beautiful outline of her shape. When had she become so pretty? He wondered thoughtfully, closing his eyes for a moment to try and control his hormones. He was a grown man, for Dende's sake, not a fourteen year old boy.

"I." She stopped, turning around to face him with worry creasing her gorgeous face. He sighed, waiting patiently and trying to fight the urge that made him want to pull her into his arms.

Her face turned slightly red and he could see her breathing increase. She looked like she was going to cry, but he knew she wouldn't. He wasn't sure if he had ever seen Bra cry, not since she was older. Now that he thought on it, not even when she was younger. After she hit double digits in age he hadn't seen a single tear slide past her cheeks.

He didn't fight the urge this time, as he looked into her glassy blue eyes. He walked over to her and drew her into his arms, rubbing his hands across her back and pressing her face into his chest.

"What's wrong, Bra? Are you okay." She only seemed to get worse when he touched her, her breathing becoming more labored and her body started to shake. He silently prayed that she wasn't crying, he didn't know what he'd do if she started crying. He already wanted to smother her with kisses when she was calm and composed.

"I'm okay, really, I promise." She told him, pulling her body away quickly. He was both glad and disappointed that her voice wasn't quivering. At least that would have given him a reason to kiss her. He smiled lightly, backing away from her.

"Then why do you look like your world just fell apart?" He challenged, serious concern taking over his voice as he saw her pained expression. "You're not okay, Bra. I don't think you've been okay since you got back. I want to know what's wrong, what's really wrong, and I won't take one of your run-around answers." He crossed his arms and gave her a proper glare, trying to make her realize that she meant a lot to him; her well being meant a lot to him.

He was not going to sit back and watch her fall apart without saying anything, she'd been so unhappy for so long. Everyone knew it, could see it in her eyes. At least, he always could and had always wondered if everyone else could.

"Sit down, tell me from beginning to end."

"I can't." She voiced weakly, ignoring his request that she sit.

"You've got to talk to someone or whatever it is will eat you up from the inside." He told her softly, stepping closer to her and placing a hand on her shoulder. "And I'm listening."

"I know you are, but you're the only one. And you're the one I can't tell." She told him angrily, shoving his hand away from her shoulder. "Don't do this to me, Goten, don't ask me to tell you again. I might just take you up on it." It sounded like a warning.

It only served to make him more curious as to what was wrong with her. Only made him want to push her into a chair and make her tell him everything. His mind was reeling with a million questions. Why was it that she couldn't tell him, of all people? Why did she sound angry, bitter, hurt all at once? Why were her eyes looking up at him as if he'd broken her heart?

"Why can't you tell me, Bra?" He asked, walking closer to her still. She backed away again.

"Because I can't, Goten, that's why."

"Then why are you here?" He was getting angry with the way she was pushing him away and yet she was the one that had come to his hotel room door. He hadn't asked her to come, hadn't made her knock on his door.

"Because you're the only one I wanted to be with." She answered, lowering her eyes so that she could only see the carpet.

For some reason, that response made his anger ebb away, made his heart drop into his stomach. He was shocked by his response, shocked to find that he'd pulled her into his arms again. And this wasn't exactly the 'comfort' hug the other had been, she was a little too close, his hands were a little too low.

"You can tell me anything," He whispered into her hair, closing his eyes. "Anytime. All you have to do is trust me, Bra."

"I trust you with my life, Goten." She whispered, the sound of her words being blocked by his shoulder. "I just can't tell you this, it'd upset you. You'd hate me."

He rubbed his hands up and down her arms, shaking his head in the process. "There's nothing you could do that would make me hate you." He promised, stepping back a little and placing a hand under her chin, forcing her to look in his eyes. "Nothing, Bra."

"You promise?" She asked softly, her eyes full of fear.

"The most honest, solemn promise I've ever made. Nothing." He rubbed his thumb softly across her cheek as she sighed.

"I hope you mean that." She stated as if she were about to test his limits; and, as he opened his mouth to ask her why she'd said that, she leaned up on tip-toes and pressed her full lips against his.

He was too shocked to move at first, as she moved against him, and he merely stood there like an idiot. Then he realized that she was kissing him, that her mouth was moving over his, slowly and with more passion than he'd ever felt before, and he responded. Not by pushing her away, as he knew he was supposed to, but by drawing her up against him and taking the kiss into his own control.

He literally swept her up, off her feet, as he pressed closer to her, his tongue finding her own in an artful dance. Her arms laced around his neck and he forgot everything in the midst of holding her.

It wasn't until her hands slid down his neck, past his torso, and under his shirt that he remembered. This was Bra Briefs, daughter of the Saiyan Prince. And he was Goten, Goten Son who'd done something incredibly stupid the other day. Something that hadn't seemed stupid until this very moment. He pulled his head back, pushing her away slowly, softly, as they caught their breath.

"Bra-"

"Don't, Goten, don't you dare ask me what's gotten into me. I'll scream if you do. I know you felt that, I certainly did. And I won't tell you I'm sorry, Paris or no Paris, I've wanted to do that for years."

"Bra, you don't understand," He tried, jumping in the second she paused because she'd been talking so fast he was sure she'd never stop. His breath still wasn't back to normal, but he had to say this.

"I thought that was amazing," The 'amazing' came out a little stronger than he'd planned as his eyes made contact with hers. She looked surprised, and thrilled, as she blushed. "But-"

"No, don't follow that with a 'but' anything. Nothing else has to matter. I want you."

He groaned, never knowing that simple words could have such an effect on him. He drew in a deep breath, trying to fight with reason as his body screamed at him to pull her back into his arms.

"I've always wanted you, Goten. I belong to you and I don't give a damn about Paris."

He groaned again, closing his eyes as if he were in physical pain. "You've got to stop saying stuff like that to me, Bra, or I'll never be able to tell you. And then you'll hate me."

"I don't want you to tell me whatever it is you're going to say. And I could never hate you, not really. If you only knew how much I lo-"

"Bra, please let me say this. And then you can tell me anything you want to. Everything you want to. But I can pretty much assure you that you won't want to finish that statement when I'm through." His eyes had widened, his head spinning with panic and confusion.

How had this happened? Yesterday, he was certain about everything in his life, and today he didn't know anything. Today she had him questioning everything, right down to what he really wanted. Who he really wanted. He was beginning to think the answer was her.

But that couldn't be. Especially not after he told her what he was about to. She'd want to kill him, she'd certainly hate him when he told her. He sighed and opened his mouth, wanting, more than anything, for the words he was about to tell her to be a lie. Wishing they weren't true.

"I asked Paris to marry me yesterday. She said yes. We're engaged, Bra, and I'm going to marry her." He stressed the last part to make sure she understood that, no matter what, he wouldn't change his mind. Having Bra's love or not having her love wouldn't make a difference.

She stood silent, motionless, for a few moments, her mouth hanging open. Then she closed her eyes, as if in great pain, and turned around. She didn't say anything to him as her shoulders sagged, simply walked until she found the door handle, turned it, and walked right out of his room. He had a feeling she'd just walked out of his life and the mere thought made him feel as if a million pounds of weight had been pressed onto his chest.

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. He didn't dare consider what had just happened and what it meant. All he knew was this was probably it. He'd probably just pushed her away from him forever and he couldn't blame her. But how was he supposed to know how much he meant to her yesterday? Yesterday when he didn't even know she meant this much to him? He couldn't go against his word to Paris now.

Not on a spur-of-the-moment emotion. He'd loved Paris for the longer half of his life, they'd shared everything together, and he wasn't going to drop her for one moment of incredibly intense passion. He was sure about Paris, had always been sure of her, and nothing had ever shaken that before. Until now. He was sure it would pass, whatever he'd just felt for Bra, and then he and Paris could live their lives.

He hated that Bra had been hurt in the process. But he couldn't just turn on everything he knew for sure because of this one incident. That would make him crazy, thoughtless, inconsiderate. Besides, what he'd just felt was nothing but shock and sympathy. Maybe Bra would understand that one day, maybe one day she wouldn't hate him.

Maybe one day he wouldn't wonder what might have happened tonight if there was no Paris.

To be continued...

sidenote: since ff.net wasn't working, the update's a day late. Sorry but there was nothing I could do about it. Also, if you don't like the "R" rating of my story, don't read it. If my story gets reported, if my account gets deleted, I am not going to repost on ff.net. It's simply not worth all the trouble, much as I love you guys (besides the fact that my stories don't violate the "R" rating) I just won't do it. Thanks!