Author's Note: I guess I'll have to start apologizing for the length of time the rewrite is demanding for each chapter. Originally this was a scant, vapid seven pages. I'm much happier with it now, but damn it takes ages to get it right. Thank You All, for sticking with me. Especially those of you who not only read but review consistently… Pitkat, Heiress, Warrior… Thanks Again.
Happy Birthday Vegeta
Chapter Eleven : Something Wicked This Way Comes….Vegeta!
Gohan was amazed, at the hostility that bloomed in him, a hateful red tide that surged when he spotted his childhood home from the air. The thought of being interrogated by his (bitch) of a well-meaning mother, or being followed Pied-Piper style by his irrepressibly cute younger brother caused him to snarl angrily and spawned graphic visions of pain-filled ways of shutting them up. With a sickly smile he thought it might be better if he avoided them altogether. He sneered, kicked on the afterburner and blew low over the roof. The sonic boom in his wake emptied every shelf in the house, sending knickknacks and foodstuffs flying, smashing dishes and rattling those heavy damn pans of hers.
He headed for his favorite retreat, reasonably certain that he would not be disturbed. Not one person knew about it, and anyone capable of tracking him…they would simply never find him. He'd learned to suppress his ki as well as the next monster. Maybe better.
He monitored the fluctuating energy of his place, clearing it for miles around before allowing himself to land. His mood was volatile, agitated when he finally set foot on the broad bank of the river. A scowl drew his brow tight, haunted black eyes scanned the vista that ordinarily brought him great pleasure.
White capped water laughed and sparkled as it crashed over boulders recklessly, joyfully changing the face of the Earth. Sunlight threw javelins of gold through thick foliage, heating the forest and warming the breeze that tickled his nose with sharp pine sap and ripe juniper berries. Sun and scented wind caressed the tension from his face. Fluttering bird wings, the rustling and grazing of small living things played a quiet symphony in his ears. Almost instantly his heartbeat slowed until it was just one more pulse in the natural rhythm of things. He marveled at the physical relief brought to him by this place, and he spoke quiet words of gratitude to the Gods as another fragment of his personal agony melted away.
He glanced at the boulders misted wet from the rapids where he often sat in the heat of the day, and opted for something less savage, and a little drier. He found himself a sunbeam in the space between wood and water, where trees tried to escape the forest by stretching roots and limbs into the sandy river banks. Here was purple lichen, glistening sand and warmth. Being well trained in the art, it took scarcely a moment to settle into a deep meditative state. His soft ebon hair and dark clothing absorbed the radiant sunshine until his whole body floated, weightless, thoughtless, a dust mote in a sun-invoked lassitude.
"So, Gohan." He began a conversation with himself. "Things to think about…the effects of temporarily losing my ki, losing my virginity, and Hey! Getting to know the Saiyan in me…" He quipped in his goofy announcers voice. "Well, maybe not in that order…Oh! Lets not forget nearly getting Bulma killed, or…does that go in the Loss of Virginity chapter?"
He levitated cross-legged in the manner of his sensei, blessedly detached from the chaos of the last several days. "Regardless, Son Gohan has been a very busy little boy--No, wait. The little boy ceased to be when Mav growled at me. Really! What the hell was that about?" He baked in the sun and reflected on the animal impulses she aroused with that low sound. It had reverberated though him in an undeniable frisson of pleasure, triggering something most definitely Saiyan in him. But, if he was brutally honest, it hadn't been her growl that set him off. It had been her scent, rife with her desire and illusions of control that had infuriated him. Even now, a growl grumbled in his chest, anger seared his gut and flashed in a shower of red sparks behind his eyes.
The fool bitch had ordered Bulma dead, and honestly thought she had control, of anything, let alone of him ! His fingers curled reflexively, he was appalled by his need to smash her stupid skull with his hands! Oh….but she had wanted him, the very thing she feared….she had wanted. To be taken and broken and he had obliged.
He made a noise of disgust, jolted from his meditation, frustration exploding around him in a jagged red-gold aura. He stormed the woods and riverside in SuperSaiyan form trying desperately to burn the tangle of emotions from his body. He ran a length of his river, sending sheets of water hissing into the atmosphere. He followed the moisture high into the deepening sky until it evaporated, and then higher still, where the remaining oxygen was cold and thin. Then he let himself fall, a meteor, a single-minded streak, plunging to the Earth. With the friction of his descent sparking at the edges of his power and the wind an unholy howl in his ears, he waited until the very last possible second, before slowing his return. A demonstration of his skill, his control. A smirk flashed across his lips. He had drawn information necessary for his survival from a part of his brain he hadn't previously had access to.
He let himself drop gently to the ground. SuperSaiyan energy banked, body trembling with exertion. He struggled with the realization that he didn't know who he was. And just maybe, he was afraid to find out.
He knew he was capable of thoughts and actions his father would be ashamed of. But his father, was an unreliable source (idiot). Shaking his head ruefully at the blaspheme, he wondered what other things were hiding in the Saiyan portion of his soul.
'Truth. And strength such as you've only begun to imagine.' The fervent words were an eloquent whisper in the confusion of his mind. They resonated with such familiar significance that tears flooded his eyes. He didn't recognize the voice, but some part of him recognized truth in the statement.
Then like a deer alerted to the presence of a hunter, he tilted his head to the side and listened. "Fuck." Unsuppressed ki rolled over him like the drone of a thousand bees, loud and insistent, indescribably angry. Only one person in the entire universe had ki like that. Saiyan, Royal, Arrogant, the impressions swarmed at him, demanding his attention, his respect, his…death? "What the hell?" He glared at the purpling sky searching for the owner of that ki. It didn't take long for it to find him.
"Son of Kakkarot! Come! Face your Prince." The arctic gravel of Vegeta's command ground over him. He realized regretfully, that his frustrated temper fit had not been in any way concealed. His stomach lurched sickeningly as his instincts clashed. Impulses both Saiyan and Human twisted his insides. His respect for his Prince was absolute, unquestioned. It was followed by a fear almost as absolute wrapped in red hot anger that seethed and boiled; anger at his failure, anger at his fear, anger at his stupidity for letting his frustration give him away. Never mind that parts of him stirred in restless anticipation of this confrontation, or the fucked up voice in his head declaring that IF he survived this encounter it was BECAUSE he was Saiyan.
Gohan swallowed nervously as Vegeta touched down lightly a few feet in front of him. His instinctive response forced him to drop slowly to one knee, his hand covered his pounding heart, his head bowed in honor.
"Too little, too late, Brat. A scrap of respect can not save you this time. Stand and face me." Vegeta's tone hinted at the terrible personal crimes Gohan knew he had committed. His trial for failing to protect Bulma was about to commence, ending, (if collective memory served him well) with his death. Resigned, he rose before the Prince, who was, not surprisingly, dressed in full battle armor. From the tips of his dress-white gauntlets, to the gleam of his gold tipped boots, Vegeta was every inch a wrathful Saiyan warrior, a God betrayed. Black hair flamed above a face chiseled from slate and about as expressive. His eyes, obsidian like Gohan's own, drew him companionably in, but there was madness within, scarcely contained and frankly frightening.
Vegeta moved with the grim determination of an executioner, stalking toward him, brushing against him like some large predatory cat. Fragilely sculpted nostrils flared as he sought specific information and found it, disregarding all else. Ki surged out in an invisible slap, shoving Gohan away forcefully. Gohan watched restraint flee the madness in Vegeta's eyes…but when he spoke, he sounded almost ordinary.
"You have…one….opportunity to explain why you smell of female. Specifically, mine."
"What?" He choked back a stunned laugh. Of the all the possible scenarios Gohan had envisioned, this had somehow missed the list, and his response was less than pleasing to his Prince.
In fact, death stirred in the No Ouiji's bleak eyes, casting graveyard shadows over the angles of his face. His words when he spoke again, were heavily laden with accusation. "Your actions, have dishonored your family, your friends, and Your Prince."
He approached Kakkarot's brat menacingly, armored hands clenched in hard fists, until they were face to face. Twin sets of dark eyes blazed into one another, similar noses flared processing the scents of the encounter, one mouth a thin, firm unforgiving line, the other a sly growing smile that would not be hidden.
"You have no idea what it costs me to treat you like the human trash you are, and give you an 'opportunity to explain', when you stand before me like a Saiyan laughing in the face of death. You should be dead!" This time the point blank ki blast caught Gohan in the face, driving him to the ground.
The metallic tang of his blood burst against his tongue and teeth and brought a growl of irritation rumbling from somewhere in his chest. Blotting the crimson from the corner of his mouth with a steady hand, Gohan picked himself up, and settled into a defensive stance, excitement curling in his stomach like holiday ribbon.
"What exactly, is your problem Vegeta-sama?" Gohan demanded. If he was going to die at the hands of his Prince he would hear his charges first. Vegeta's eyes widened. "I owe you no explanation!" he snarled furiously. He rushed Gohan with a series of single-minded kicks and powerful punches, each one neatly blocked; all but the roundhouse that rammed squarely into his gut, folded him like a paper sack and left him sprawled and spitting dirt.
"Too tired to defend yourself Brat?" Vegeta taunted. "She could be exhausting for someone less…experienced." He finished bitterly.
With a mental 'click' Gohan understood. He was not being punished for his inability to protect Bulma, he was being punished because Vegeta thought..…he smirked, a feral flash of white teeth, an aggressive gleam in his eyes.
If the Saiyan Prince wasn't Saiyan enough to tell his mate's scent from that of another, who was he to enlighten him? Just the half-breed brat of a third-class idiot. He'd heard it once too often.
"She's ALWAYS exhausting, but very, creative." He retorted with a suggestive leer and braced himself for sudden death. The impact, Gods! Was that a flash of surprise and pain before Vegeta's eyes hardened to shiny onyx and he attacked? Gohan ducked and lunged, plowing his shoulder in the royal solar plexus, then while the Prince was gasping for air like a flopping fish, he landed a crashing blow on His Majesties' back. Sending him to his knees in the soft sand, briefly.
They stood, neither man breathing heavily, reconsidering one another as opponents. Battle lust glinted in Gohan's eyes, a grin sat mockingly on his slowly bleeding lip.
Vegeta was instantly suspicious. Gohan seemed all too ready for this clash, too Saiyan in his responses. 'When the hell had he started showing his lineage and why couldn't he have started with someone else's mate?' His scarred heart bled like the boy's lip, a slow leeching away of the few good things he had come to know.
"What is wrong" he began calmly, "is that YOU FUCKING SMELL LIKE MY MATE!" He roared at the whelp. "You smell like my mate, who has been conveniently gone on a two day work conference--for which she didn't take any of her work things. From which, she returns with a new look, and a new scent. YOURS. Deny it Brat." The last came with a lethal softness that gave Gohan pause. Underneath the surface hostility, there was a very real plea, for an explanation that would fix this. So this, was his one opportunity.
Gohan's vision filled with a thousand images from their ordeal; Bulma collapsing into the arms of the enemy guard, the bruises on her soft flesh where the ropes had pinched in their restraint. The careless brutality with which the Queen had ordered her death, the endless waterfall of blue that had been hacked from her unwilling head, the sound of the guards discussing keeping her for themselves. Her raw keening agony as she tried to rock the pain away in the med bay. Gohan knew he was guilty of allowing these things to occur even if Vegeta-sama did not. He shook his head solemnly, and unflinchingly met the eyes of his Prince. "I can not."
Though it was the shriek of the banshee foretelling his own imminent doom, Gohan wished Bulma could have been there to hear the Prince's cry of rage and despair as he let the SuperSaiyan energy engulf him. How could she think he doesn't care? It's all right there…
Gohan shrugged, dismissing their paltry relationship issues for the action at hand. He stepped into the flow of his own power, it tore through and exploded around him, vital, electric, golden fire. For a single moment he reveled, intoxicated by the potential held within his cells… And just that quick he was teetering on the edge. The vortex of energy drew him inescapably, like scrap metal to an electromagnet. It beckoned, teasing him with seductive flares of fire and light and the promise…of an existence without boundaries.
Vegeta stayed his attack with the ease of a master, and turned to watch the Brat ascend with keen eyes. There was a some indeterminate difference in Son Gohan's energy, something that he had caught just the hint of once or twice before. During the battle with Cell, and the pointless death of his brainless father…. there was that same flicker of 'change' and a flash of power, that had no equal anywhere. Vegeta scowled. Because it called to him. That kind of power could take ownership of any damn thing it pleased. Just as well the Brat was slated to die here and now, he was untrained for dealing with power of that scope, untrained and a danger to them all. "Enough dawdling Brat! Time to die!" Reluctantly Son Gohan turned away from the lure, and went to his well deserved death.
The glowing warriors faced off, shimmering like frantic fireflies in the late evening air, then Vegeta advanced. Hands and feet and body a blur of skilled motion, every strike designed to inflict maximum pain. He hammered Son Gohan with precise blasts of ki driven by gloved fingers that exploded upon impact, the fury of the attack taking Gohan prisoner from the first blow.
Vegeta poured everything into the rage that fed the killing machine, this dishonor could not, would not be slighted. Even if meant there was nothing left when he was done. There was nothing left anyway. Not if this was real, and it felt as real as any of the rest of his nightmare of a life. He thought of the blue-haired woman, and confusion joined the melee in his head.
'How could she? I am the Saiyan Prince! I can never be 'affectionate' like that baka Kakkarot, but I am still ON this Kami-forsaken planet…I gave her Trunks….and she KNOWS that I feel things for her that I wish I did not. So Why? And for Kami's sake, why Son Gohan?' He phased behind said enemy pinning his arms behind his back with a snarl. "Why YOU Gohan? I don't understand this at all…but that least of all! WHY YOU?"
With an answering growl Gohan struggled to keep Vegeta from ripping his arms from their sockets.
"Baka Ouiji! Smell Again." He panted.
"What?" Came the outraged reply.
Gasping for air now himself Gohan forced the words out between ragged attempts to fill his lungs.
"Smell…AGAIN Vegeta….it is NOT what you think."
Vegeta slid his fingers into short Son hair made coarse and vertical by the effluence of golden energy. He gripped tightly, yanked Gohan's head to one side and rested his glowing cheek against the exposed curve. Breathing deeply, he sorted through sweat and dirt to the scentual impressions of relatively recent sex and the undeniable scent of his blue-haired mate. Then, there was the nose-wrinkling twang of another female and…the musty gory scent of fresh kill. What cause could the Brat have for killing anything?
He drew another breath and the appealing, unexpected scent of a Saiyan male in his prime filled his unsuspecting nose. Reflexively Vegeta snorted, puffing warm moist air against the back of Gohan's neck. Gohan bit back a moan, tried to suppress the reactive shiver that rippled down and out but failed.
So. Kakkarot's half-breed was going through a rut of some sort. With a pithy curse Vegeta flew them straight down, releasing Gohan abruptly who plummeted the last 30 feet and cratered the ground where he landed. After a long moment, Vegeta powered down and followed the Brat's descent, his glittering eyes implacable. The rut was without a doubt the Brat's excuse, but he didn't have to like it. He might just have to die any damn way. It made sense of the power fluctuations he'd sensed though. The physically mature body is able to harness greater energy…simply because of its greater size… The Saiyan Prince crouched beside the newly formed crater and considered blasting Son Gohan as he struggled up the wall like an ant caught in an antlion trap.
Gohan scrambled out of the pit, and to Vegeta's amazement, stood for half a second before his knees buckled beneath the weight of his body. Blood wept from what appeared to be every inch of his skin. Doubled over, Gohan braced shaking hands against his thighs and gasped for air that hurt to breathe. His smile when it formed was still wolfish, mocking.
"Got it that time did you?" His voice scratched hoarsely from behind wounded vocal chords.
Steel grey flecks of murder glimmered in the Prince's eyes, his voice was glacial. "Your new Saiyan attitude is going to get you dead. No one speaks to me like that. Who did you fuck…" his eyes flicked to Gohan's bare hands…" and whose blood stains your hands?"
Gohan got to his feet, gingerly brushed sand from his hands and body, and willed trembling legs to hold him upright.
"Who I fuck is not your concern, Ouiji-Sama." A brutish smile accompanied the scornful words.
Vegeta was thinking it was about to become his concern if the stupid brat had killed some woman during his rut. The Ningen authorities would for damn sure be 'concerned.' He stifled a sigh.
Vegeta just stared at him with impossibly intense eyes finally rending a frustrated growl from Son Gohan.
"I am not sleeping with Bulma-san! I can't even talk about sex with her, let alone have it with her." Gohan flushed hotly, embarrassed. The Saiyan Prince snorted at the half-breed's genuine discomfort, and the pain in his chest eased the tiniest bit. He arched one black winged brow in question.
"So. Why do you smell like Bulma?"
"She…fell asleep and I carried her back to the jet." He lied through his handsome teeth.
"Why where you with her in the first place?" Hissed a testy Vegeta.
"I was protecting her baka! Satisfied?" He asked a stunned Prince. "She doesn't like going new places alone and she couldn't very well ask the Saiyan Prince to accompany her now could she? Interrupt your training for some baka weakness every time she has to go away?"
Vegeta's gloved hands clamped around the column of Gohan's throat. He drew the Brat's face to his, black eyes blazing coldly, growling possessively.
"If I find this is a lie, you will die without question. It is MY responsibility to protect her…not yours. Stay. Away. From my mate." He spoke loudly and decisively in case Kakkarot's stupidity had been inherited. He pried reluctant fingers from the Brat's neck.
Gohan nodded painfully at Vegeta who turned to leave, and then glanced back and asked casually, "Did you mark her?"
"Who?"
"The woman you slept with." He replied blithely.
"Define 'mark'." Gohan hedged in genuine confusion.
Vegeta growled lowly in disgust. He had hated that Kakkarot remembered nothing of the Saiyan culture, and now his son is captive to an alien physiology however dilute that he knows nothing about. A resigned sigh escaped the Prince as he stood there, gauntleted hands resting on slim hips, knowing he couldn't walk away and leave the only adolescent Saiyan in existence to deal with his first rut alone. Fucking Noble Obligation.
"Did you bite her, on the neck, during sex?" Was Vegeta's disgruntled reply.
"Oh. No. I…wanted to….knew just where to bite…I can still feel her pulse in my mouth." Gohan answered softly licking his lips. "Vegeta-sama, this interest in blood…it is normal for Saiyans…right?"
"Hn. You did…not…bite her?" Vegeta clarified.
Gohan shook his head in a quick negative motion. A glint of something akin to respect moved in Vegeta's eyes. Adolescence is a volatile time for any species, probably more so for this demi-Saiyan brat. For a Saiyan to not bite during his first encounter was not unheard of, but very rare. It hinted at tremendous control.
"Not someone you plan to bring home to meet Chichi then?" Vegeta snickered cruelly when Gohan blushed to the tips of his ears and looked away snarling angrily. "The mark is a bond shared between life mates. That you were more interested in the taste of her blood than in creating that link, speaks for itself."
Surprise and caution moved in Gohan's eyes. He hadn't expected civil conversation from Vegeta following their confrontation. Of course, he hadn't expected to live. "Wow. A whole sentence without a death threat." He groused.
"Don't get too familiar Brat." The infamous scowl darkened Vegeta's features and aggravation colored his speech. "I don't have to be here. You can go through your first rut ignorant as I can only assume your baka father did." He shuddered at the thought.
"Rut?" Gohan inquired.
Casually, Vegeta removed one glove and combed his fingers through the widow's peak and upsweep of his hair. "A rut, is a biologically…driven…need to mate. Your first rut signals the body's sexual maturity and your availability. Similar to your human puberty."
"Similar?" Gohan latched onto that very important caveat. 'Similar' meaning 'very different', Gohan would stake his life on it.
Vegeta threw a sympathetic sideways glance at Kakkarot's son before continuing. "The need to mate, will preclude eating, sleeping…even schoolwork. In fact, when it fully starts, you will have little or no conscious control over it at all. I strongly suggest you take your woman and lock yourself away for about a week."
"A week?" Gohan's jaw dropped, and then he snapped his mouth shut as the import of what Vegeta was saying sank in. He'd nearly killed the first woman he slept with because he had no control over the energy it generated. He tried to wrap his mind around the idea of a whole week of energy of that magnitude…and no control. He turned wide, horrified eyes on Vegeta. He had to be wrong. "What makes you think I'm having my first rut?" He demanded harshly.
Vegeta frowned. "Your scent, is unmistakable." He wasn't sure what reaction he'd expected from his rival's offspring, but panic wasn't it. "And you're exhibiting very Saiyan attributes. Aggression, blood lust, mood and power fluctuations, you may find your sense of smell particularly keen, or perhaps your sense of taste. Some of it varies depending on the person."
Gohan's head spun as he recalled how very sensitive his sense of smell had been in the last few days, from the scent of decay in the jungle, to Mav's desire and Bulma's grief…he was fucked. Literally. Fear lodged in his gut stone cold and sickening.
"What can I do to stop it?" Dread colored his words.
"Not a damn thing Brat. You shouldn't want to. We're talking a week of uninterrupted sex…this is not a bad thing." Vegeta laughed lowly. "Besides, the general consensus on the ship was that if you resist it, it just takes longer to run it's course. What, is your concern?"
'Breathe Gohan. Breathe. Think. You are not the first Saiyan to go through this! There has to be a way to restrain-' Gohan went rigid when he realized what his answer was. 'You, need to see Bulma. She probably already has something …she's mated to your Prince stupid! No one is as strong as Vegeta. No one. Of course she has some type of ki restraint. He breathed a mental sigh of relief and resolved to speak to Bulma the next night, at Vegeta's birthday dinner.
"What do you do Vegeta?"
Vegeta's smirk surpassed Gohan's earlier one in wicked quality, but was short lived. "The Woman and I go away… sometimes we stay at Capsule Corp, sometimes, we take to the woods…it depends on my mood at the time." His eyes warmed with obviously pleasant memories, his lips curved sensually. When the steam cleared, he saw Gohan's look of dismay and took pity on him.
"It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks Brat. This is part of who we are, it's part of you now… and the people you call 'friends', most have already been through this before with your father…and myself."
Gohan felt like he was coming down off an incredible high, leaving him mentally and emotionally spent. "What next?" He questioned his Prince.
The Saiyan No Ouiji let a genuine smile, a slow, sexy smile cross his face.
"Get your woman friend and tell her she's in for the ride of her life." Gohan forced a thin curve in return and wondered if Vegeta knew exactly how close to the truth that was.