Undisclosed Desires chapter 7 by IAmParadoxia

This happened again the next day. I was having a drink in the kitchen, and we ended up kissing, sneaking off; this time, into his bedroom. To be taken out of my zone of comfort and into his lair was a ridiculously erotic prospect that had me stumbling over my own bunny slippers. After the sliding doors, we stumbled into the hallway and stole a kiss, feeling as though time was fleeting, we're running, and the finishing promises plenty of reward, towards which we are running. Hands wandered, and he hauled me over shoulder, opened the door to his room and walked in. The next few hours of that morning was spent under the covers, skin on skin, mouth on heated flesh, with leaking sexual fluids staining the fine cotton sheets.

I awoke late noon to his hands groping me under the sheets; his rough, warm and calloused hands skimmed my belly, the underside of my breasts, between and around my thighs, uncaring if I were awake or asleep; he was enjoying my body with his hands, and when I do stir awake, he nips at my neck and whispers to me...

"Good morning, mademoiselle..."he crooned. I arched my brow and wondered where he learned how to speak French; but before I could speak, he responded as though he caught wind of the question on my mind and proceeded by saying "your films collection is impressively vast; particularly the foreign films section. I sometimes sneak a few films when I can't sleep."

Of course; people would be having sleeping problems at this point in time, especially for those who knew of the advent androids who bring with them death and destruction, and I suppose even Saiyans are sometimes no exception to the rule.

These aliens, they're uncanny, I tell you; their learning abilities are astounding, to say the least. They learn languages quickly, their memory severely accurate, it was unnerving to know. Especially when you're an instrument of pleasure, and he's rocking you like a saxophone, or electric guitar; every touch elicits a noise that rings in the cool morning air, music that makes him rock his hips against mine, pressing all the right buttons and reaching all the secret places that make me shudder and writhe, a concerto that ends with fireworks and heart wrenching crescendo when the climax of the piece washes through. We were in his quarter which was housed in its own complex, adjoined with a hangar that housed his precious GR machine; a building in the midst of the other hangars that stored various equipment and prototypes of all kinds. He didn't mind that my screaming and moaning echoed off the walls; he seemed to enjoy it, if anything. There was a smile in his eyes, just as I cried when his pleasurable assault on me ended with a wave of bliss, washing me head to toe, and I feel like I'm on fire for a moment before realizing how warm my cheeks felt against my cooler fingertips. After snuggling into the sheets with his arms around me, sleep claimed me; mostly, it was peaceful and calm. Secure, even.

Sunlight rained in through the open blinds, and the central heater is on minimum to conserve energy; an oddly precautious step, considering our 'imminent demise.' But taking more than you needed in terms of fuel resources was a sin that I just couldn't bear. And really, at the moment, I was plenty warm; the strong body of molten muscle was keeping me toasty warm under the tick duvets.

"Good morning, my prince." I know it's blatantly a stroke to his ego, but calling him that thrills me somehow; like all this death, danger, sex and violence that's been in the air, and how it taints every moment with that anxiety and a sense of helplessness. But right now was the perfect place and time to be helpless; I cannot escape this bed if I wanted to. His highness enjoys in-bed treats, and I happen to always be on the menu, it seems. His possessive hands and calm, assertive raw energy keeping me warm and safe, come what may...

He's obviously feeling frisky this afternoon, because he grabbed my hips and pulled me towards him; I was still slick at the apex of my thighs, and the smell of sex and skin and sweat was making me feel awake, wanting more. So I turned around, climbed on top and decided that it was my turn to have the top spot.

I never thought I'd ever crave for seconds, thirds and more helpings of sweet love with this alien being, but there we were, spending long hours in his room, exploring each other, open, unclothed, bare and raw, every inch of skin kissed and caressed, every scar tenderly lathered with a tongue and lovingly smothered with kisses. He had more, of course, but he found mine more interesting, it seemed. The barely noticeable scars on my knees, from when I fell from my bike and skinned it on the asphalt of the roadside, the stitches I have on my forearm from that work accident that involved a broken glass panel... the very faint scar on my brow from where I received three stitches after Yamcha slugged me.

His thumb traced my cheek, and I can't help but melt into the moment, my limbs relaxed like I was a puddle of melted wax...

Time passed slowly, but all too fast, because as I recalled, that was more than a week ago that he touched me like that.

We recalled each other's scars, his too many to tell, one or two he explained with casual factuality, with an edged grind in his baritone voice, grumbling in his chest. He looked smug, relaxed, and I can't help but feel like I've died and gone to heaven. Every time I recall that evening, my toes curl, and I can't bear to leave my feet cold.

A few days after that last time he held me, Goku paid a visit; he came by to say hello, and to spar with Vegeta. He was cheerful as always, and somehow unaffected by android's advent. After he left, however, Vegeta turned sullen and quiet again, and he rarely showed his face around the house. The food still disappears, so he's definitely around.

I was beginning to worry, so on one fateful evening, I decided to check on him. I walked towards his quarters, relishing every step reminiscing of times spent behind closed doors with this mysterious being. I was already in the hallway at his door, about to knock when I heard a loud BANG that came from the GR area. Heading towards the source, I feel vibrations in the floor; when I reached the peep window, I peered inside.

He looked so angry, frustrated even; I can only imagine it's because of his failure to ascend into the Legendary form that he so coveted, and yet was earned with no effort at all by a lower class soldier. Three training robots lay scattered around the room, their electronic viscera mangled and torn beyond repair, by the looks of it. I was too distracted by the damage, thinking about the extra work I'll have to do to repair all this, when he opened the hatch and stepped through, muttering what sounds like curses under his breath.

He saw me, and rolled his eyes, his shoulders slumping, his posture that of a defeated man; such a contrast it was how he carried himself at that moment to what I've seen when we're rutting like animals. I felt like holding him, loving him, but that look he gave me as I took one step towards him scared me. It was as though his soul was black with hate, anger, roiling with frustration, and there's nothing he can do to relieve the tension.

We're all about to die anyway; if he kills me now, it'll be a small mercy. What the hell; I threw caution to the wind and continued moving towards him. I reached out, placed a hand on his shoulder – suddenly, he grabbed my wrist, twisted it behind my back and shoved me up against the wall.

"What do you want from me, wench?!" He sounded so angry, and he held me against the wall so forcefully, it hurt; I started to feel fear. For the first time, I was painfully aware of his strength; sure, it hurt when we were in the throes of it, but he was always careful. This was different; my arm feels like it might snap off, and my arm hurts where he's holding me. If Yamcha played rough, Vegeta was something else.

I never thought of Vegeta as someone who would hurt a woman, but I guess he's about to prove me wrong; his grip tightened, and I cried. "Vegeta, please, you're hurting me..."

Roughly, he turned me around and pinned me against the wall, his fingers digging into the flesh of my arm. It wasn't the pain that had my attention, though; it was the malevolent storm in his eyes and that snarl on his face that held me captive. What darkness fuels that storm, I wonder? My tears fall without me realizing, until I felt it drip down my chin and onto my chest.

[Vegeta's POV]

The damned bots aren't sentient, I know, but I can't help but curse that from now on they'll learn not to fuck with me. I know that the woman would lecture me about how much work it would take to replace all the broken parts. I'd rather not be here in closed space right now; opening the hatch, I step out, growling. I felt like destroying the next thing I laid my hands on; maybe one of those small islands that no one will miss. Not that it'll solve anything.

I smelled her before I saw her; there she was, on the left, peering into the port window of the GR. Perfect; just what I need at the moment. I love her, I hate her, I love how delectable her body is, and I am disgusted with myself for falling into temptation. She moves towards me, probably to 'comfort me'. My pride is unable to handle anymore of this humiliation; I'll show her just who I really am. I glare at her, and she pauses for but a moment before resuming towards me.

I pin her towards the wall, her arm behind her back. ...I want to see her eyes; so I turned her around to face me. I hold her tight, tighter than what I know is comfortable for her; need to let her know that I am not one with whom to trifle with. I am worthy of strength, dammit; it is my royal birthright! Her eyes are wide with fear, and I relish the thought that I am the one responsible for this. She says something, but I can't hear clearly; blood is rushing though my veins, and I can hear my pulse. She sheds a tear, and I follow its trail down to her chest. If only she knew how easily it would be for me to scoop her heart out of her chest; if only she knew that these hands are capable of making her life sheer misery. But that tear, the look on her face, the fear... I felt angry at myself.

She can't cry; she deserves more than this. She deserves more than a prince of a dead race with nothing at all to his name, not even the achievement of ascension. I feel sick to my stomach...

I let go of her arms, which show early signs of deep bruising, I'm shameful to say, and back away. Why would she even allow me in her home, into her bed, even?

"I can't be around you, Bulma. You make me feel weak; you make me feel vulnerable." It was all I said as I turned around and headed towards the hangar bay in the adjoining building. I'll take one of the space capsules with a fitted GR into space and train there; no distractions. Not even her.

She ran up behind me and hugged me as tight as she could manage; her strength felt so pitiful, I struggle not to think of how easily I could destroy her by tearing her flesh apart, limb from limb...

"Don't go. Please." It's like she read my mind.

My pride refused to allow me to feel anything; so I hardened my heart, turned myself into stone and shrugged her off. I can feel her energy wane; I didn't have to turn around to know that she was crying. If anything, I don't want to turn around; I know that if I look back at her, into those beautiful eyes, I'd change my mind immediately. No; it has to be this way.

I busied myself the next few hours and prepared the capsule for launch; by the time I had taken off, the sun had set. I have a couple of years to waste, and in this black empty vastness of space is where I choose to spend my time. As best as I could, I reminded myself of how it was the right thing, though deep inside, I know that she would not be happy with me.

Can't think of her right now; I have training to do. I crank up the gravity, and begun my warm up; thus began my long torturous journey of solitary training.

End chapter 7

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