Chapter 6 – I'll Make You Feel Pure by IAmParadoxia
The doctors ordered her to take the month off; faced with the prospect of how the old fart threatened to call her parents if she disobeyed, she gladly took the time off. What the hell, the world might be ending soon, what with the battles promised, a tale regaled by the boy from the future which seemed to be too absurd to be true, but alas, life enjoys doling out nasty surprises... why shouldn't she be able to die with at least feeling somewhat at peace?
The stabbing sensation in between her legs came and went, like nightmares that cross the threshold into the waking world solely to torment her even more... memories as dark as the one that woke her up in a fit, drenched in cold sweat and reaching for the Xanax flashed by in her mind. Damn him for having done this to her. Damn him and his self-depreciating bullshit that spilled over into the violence he directed at her; all she ever wanted to do was to love and be loved. Is that too much to ask for?
The doctor also told her that she needed to eat better food, start taking care of herself; the fainting spells were getting worse, and were happening more frequently. She had quit her 'herbal cigarettes', started drinking herbal tea instead, and begun to force herself to eat a selection of better foods; a glass of milk and dandelion honey, warmed up just nicely tucked in her hands in the very artistic souvenir cup her parents sent from Japan during one of their trips, the seasons passing with neither Vegeta nor Bulma breaking radio silence for what seemed forever...
She was smoking in the kitchen, watching the clouds loomed over the yard; Bunny called this morning to say that she and Professor had just caught a steal in the real estate market in this small European island that's a real fixer upper; they'll be travelling around Europe selecting art decor and skilled carpenters in the region to breathe life back into the old beauty... the photos sent looked more like a crumbling castle choked by invasive climbing weeds. More time to herself, thank God, she exhaled, sitting on the very same deck chair where the wounded soldier wandered out and she got to touch the man. She bit her lip, remembering how it felt, being that close to a body sculpted from steel, fire, stone, ice, and fuelled by the intensity of a raging storm that howled a bloodcurdling screech; raw power ebbed off of him, and she found herself rubbing her thighs together as she allowed her imagination extensive creative liberty.
What would he have looked like wearing a uniform? A police uniform, perhaps? Too sleek; it needed to be something that indicated skills, training, a keen eye... perhaps like that gorgeous blonde officer who came to her rescue that day she had a fainting spell at the parking lot near the organic food store. He wore a well-tailored linen Air Force uniform, his colourful collection of medals and badges catching her eye; it was the first thing she noticed when she woke up on the asphalt, the rain drizzling into her face, the handsome stranger bent over, concerned for her well being... all she could focus on then was how masculine his presence was, and how she felt desirable and wanton as well as helpless. It didn't take faking; her suffering health provided for the theatrics, the dizziness, the unintentional slumping into his chest, sampling his musk whilst the young officer brought her to her car.
If only it were Vegeta who caught her when she fainted; she remembered how aware she was of her wet clothes, how her dress seemed see through, how glaringly obvious her red undergarments seemed from under the wet cotton. She feigned innocence easily enough, while he tended to her, sending for help, calling the ambulance service... more often than once did she catch him staring at her when he thought she wasn't looking. She couldn't but help but wonder if Vegeta were like that as well; sly, sleek, smooth talking...
The memory of that autumn evening made her smile as she took another sip of her nourishing drink; it tasted sweet, floral and wild from the dandelion, and rich enough to fuel her energy requirements for a few hours. She even had her headphones attached to an all-in-one palm-sized gadget, her favourite music keeping her company as she admired the garden for the first time in a long time. The maids had prepared her a breakfast light enough for her rebellious appetite to cope with; one pan fried lamb sausage, 5 sticks of blanched green beans, and leftover turkey gravy from the dinner the night's before to sweeten the deal. The house attendants know to cook everything in super size; the unusual guest has been known to be very cranky to staff when he is deprived of sustenance; they've all learned to tolerate the abuse, they needed the job. It was too handsome a job to abandon, simply put; the pay alone was more than generous.
Just as she had finished breakfast, she attended to the local news gazette, and the front page screamed a head title that made her blood run cold; the blonde haired man on the front page, a budding soldier on the frontlines of war, struck down when he was stabbed by his current fiancé's jealous ex boyfriend. The same handsome face that tended to her as she remained on the wet asphalt, wishing that the screen would go black, only to let curiosity win over when she saw his piercing green eyes.
The cigarette was on her lips long before she could even think of denying herself her nicotine fix; it had become such an auto reflex, and before she could light it, fast as lightening, he was up close and in the flesh, grabbing the smoke away from her before she could set fire to it.
"You really shouldn't," grumbled the grumpy alien; it was the first time in weeks that he had spoken but a word to her, and the sudden grating of his voice in her spine made her jump, in a twisted sort of pleasant way. Her keen nose smelled the musk off his warm skin as it filled the air between them; they were within close proximity, the kitchen was warm, and the smell of dinner and firewood and blood was in the air.
"Lovely perfume you're wearing, my prince," she chimed casually, without really thinking about it first. He was fresh out the shower, toasty dry, and thanks to her ditzy mother's obsession with high end household products, even the guest rooms were stocked with every month's latest products. In spring, the house smelled like roses, geraniums, and the colognes will reflect the floral breeze; in summer, citrus and a hint of mint. Autumn brings earthy tones, like cinnamon, cloves and anise seed, all very well for warming the blood up as the days grow shorter. This winter, the theme was cocoa, coffee, cinnamon, cardamoms and surprisingly, toasted coconuts; the smell of coconuts on Vegeta's skin brought a flooding of fresh saliva in her mouth, and she smacked her lips, pretending not to notice anything... as keen eyes watched her every move.
"Your mother keeps stocking on these luxurious bath items; only fitting, since you are honoured with my royal presence," he nonchalantly replied, to which she did not respond to, as she used to do on Namek, fiery in her temperament, passionate in her argument, alive as lively gets. No; this time, she barely cracked a smile before returning to her reading.
It wasn't like the prince to be furious at such a thing; usually, they would end up in a heated debate, and though he confessed the wickedness of his obtuse sort of humour, he simply couldn't help but draw her out like one would a scared animal with food. Or in cat's case, a playful treat. He didn't understand the pangs he felt when she inadvertently gave him the cold shoulder.
After a bout of silence, just when he was sure that she wasn't going to say anything at all, she said "I wish they would just kill me now. Those androids; destroy it all with the snap of a finger, and then maybe we can have peace."
He went about putting a plate for breakfast together; there was his buffet of breakfast beef, cured fowl breast, fancy bacon, and the sort; he confessed that he enjoyed being spoiled this way; at times he felt like he didn't deserve even a scrap of it, but to know that there was someone out there who would take him in and shelter him... it made the wait and the training for ascension a bit more bearable.
To see her broken down and frail made him feel uneasy; she looked as though she had already given up, as her face sunk in and paled with each passing season and her fire slowly dimmed, her skin as pale as ash. And there was also the look in her eye; resigned to fate, uncaring with the remainder of what short time they have left... it rippled through his body and soul like an electric jolt, and before he knew it, he was holding her by her arms, staring a smouldering look into her eyes, whirlpools of blue ashened eyes. It was a test, at first; that kiss, that hesitant, darting of his eyes between her mouth and eyes, the sudden first touching of the lips that sent that bold he had pent up behind his chest into her, so to speak, her lips slowly responding...
It wasn't long before the heavy petting started; at first his hands moved from her arm down to her elbows, so delicate, his stomach a slithering pit of snakes at the thought of how easily he could have torn her small and helpless hand and arm from her shoulders; he knew with great awareness that inside, she was just like everybody else; flesh and blood. Breathing in, he focused on the fact that this woman was a living being, a person whose soul seemed to glow in the dark amidst the darkness once upon a time, but has slowly diminished. She had a name, and her name was-
"Bulma" he uttered thoughtlessly. The instant he said her name was when her eyes came back to life, as though the fire in her soul is slowly being rekindled. She had soul piercing eyes, and she stared into him unintendedly...
Before they knew it, they were tounging one another with abandon; they were cautiously slow at first, but as they continued with the sinuous dance, they continued to feed off one another's emboldment, hands wandering, clutching, squeezing...
(told from Bulma's point of view...)
You could tell by the way he squeezes my ass cheeks with both hands on either side that he works out; all the displaced blood as a result of the squeezing and the grinding brought a sultry heat creeping between my legs, begging to be tended to... it's hard enough to breathe when you're kissing someone; but when you're lips on with the almighty Prince of all Saiyans whose body felt so warm and heated, firmly pressed up against my delicate curves and bumps.
Our lips part and we're both glazed over with pure, unadulterated lust that's just begging to be set free. I could die just then and there, pressed against the dark oak counters, legs parted, raw male muscle and vein, hands and cock, eyes and mouth, primed for the killing blow... just thinking of how many he's killed, what's he's capable of and so on. Being helplessly human and sickly, I am unable to resist him; I feel the river flow as though a dam had blown open deep inside me, that part of my soul that I had cast in concrete, slowly coming back to life.
His grating hips and stiffening bulge draw my attention, but when I look up at his face, he looks hesitant, despite the body's betraying movements. Recognizing this fight within him, for pride and for honour, I cast my tattered pride to the winds first and spoke gently into his ear.
I wrapped my legs around him, grabbed him by the collar and went in for a deep kiss; it felt like diving in warm, luxurious water that you can breathe in. His energy crept over my skin, and I felt like I could do anything in the world with this man by my side. Or, at the present moment, inside; inside me, like before, that time in his quarters, where I was spread eagle, gloriously naked, witnessing as he bowed my body and held my head as he plundered my hive... that concentrated look on his face, like a man off the leash, hungrily grinding his hips...
Smelling him in close proximity and getting to taste him again and to actually share a tender moment, I felt a surge of doubt, like before, how men seem to take advantage of it. But this one was above all that; his strong hands touch my skin tenderly, firmly, warmly, I felt myself opening up like a flower in the sun after a long winter's wait. Deciding to end his torment of ego versus lust, I licked his lips and gave him a deep kiss, remembering that time we fucked like animals, hoping to Gods that he recognizes this want that I've been carrying around for a long time and fuck me to withing an inch of my life, if only to make me feel alive again for one more night.
It took a minute of soft caresses up his neck and shoulders as well as necking him in a way that reminded me of teenage sluts back in high school; the ones openly making out with their boyfriend in open air on school ground. Now, I got to play that role, aware that any minute now, a maid could come by to do their routine chores...
Before long, we were sneaking off to an empty guest room, locking the doors, tearing each other's clothes off, grabbing at one another in a mindless sexual frenzy. He held my legs apart the way he did the first time, but instead of getting straight to the point of it, he decided to stretch things agonizingly long. Well, it felt drawn out; I was impatient to have in me again, and his calm visage tells me that I need to relax.
He kisses the inside of my thighs, and I swear, I felt like bolts of molten, liquid heat sliding down into me. I can feel the damp heat building up, my body no longer under my own control, as he kissed and sucked almost every part of me. My breasts, my waist, my back, my neck and shoulders... it felt like forever that he teased my skin with his delicate kisses and stubbled jaw before he touched me where I sorely needed to be touched.
It was as though the whole of me had just lost power; the second he put his hands on my clit, my knees limped, my torso stiffened, my hands and elbows jellied out, his strong hands holding me to his firm chest as he fondles me while raining kisses at the base of my nape and ear.
There happened to be a vanity mirror facing our way, and the prince in him, I guess, feeling vain, decided to take the show to the edge of the bed, facing the ornamental mirror I remembered purchasing in Venice, the days when I travelled through Europe 'in search of herself.' The pewter frame was simple save for the magnificent silver vein that held it up. Seeing myself in such a compromising position, wantonly open, weeping at both ends, held down by pure muscle and power, I couldn't help but twitch with excitement. I happened to be wearing a floral skirt with a warm sweater, which is now on the floor, followed by my kitsch leopard tank top. Everything fell to the floor as he gently, deliberately took pleasure in undressing me, letting his eye roam... he didn't try to hide it alright. When he shifted his vision from what his hand was doing between my legs to looking up into the mirror; for a brief our eyes met.
I could have died right then and there, happy as a sailor off to sea when our eyes locked; it was electric, to say the least, and I swear, the aching heat felt a tad more unbearable. I kept grinding my ass onto his crotch, more than happy to be used, but he took his sweet time; like this were a meal that was to be savoured with patience and great appreciation. The black lace knickers I wore slid down my hips as he pulled them down with one hand, and the slimy trail down my thighs made everything feel all too real.
This man is a killer, monster, a beast who kills with no mercy... and he is currently taking off the last piece of clothing that I happened to be wearing. His rough and calloused hands were a delight when they gently palmed my nipples; he was tender all the way, and the more I ground my hips onto his thighs, the more he gives me.
Before long, I was held hostage in front of the mirror, as I hear him lying behind me, our crotch up on reflection, joined lewdly and clearly, an image that will stay with me and keep me awake for many future nights, I'm sure. He took his sweet time stuffing me with his stiff cock, and by the time he got all of him in me, he held me by the waist and my arms behind my back, him holding onto them like he was taking the rein to his chariot.
The dance we danced, the things I witness in the mirror that night... I remember screaming and groaning, wanting MORE, MORE, MORE, MY PRINCE, being a prima donna spoiled slut when he took his cock away from my cunt and sung praises to him in delirious slut talk as he drilled me. He drilled me hard, and he drilled me well.
The next thing I remember is being back in my own bed, tucked in a warm cocoon, him holding me from behind, and it was daylight. I didn't want to spoil the moment, so I took my time, enjoying having his arms around me, his warmth soothing me, our skin hot and sticky and sweet and salty all at once, it was magnificent. I remember falling into a deep and sleepless dream after that.
END
Not many good reviews you guys giving me... the generic praise and plz continue is not exactly confidence building or useful in any way. :0 I give you this, and you repay me with little to no reviews?! CRUEL!