By QueenSaiyajin
Rating: This chapter is rated NC-17 for some sexual
content.
Do not read if you are under 17!
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z or any of its characters, and am writing this fanfic purely for entertainment purposes.
TIMELINE: This story takes place immediately after the first Brolly movie, during the ten days before the Cell Games begin.
Chapter
Five---Recuperation
“Bulma!!!”
The sun had dawned on a new day, and night had fallen once more, and he had missed it. That awful serum his father-in-law had concocted had put him out for almost a day, and he had awoken to find himself alone.
And hungry.
“Bulma!!!”
Trunks popped his head hesitantly in the room. “Dad? Mom said to tell you she’ll be in in a minute. She’s just putting down Baby—uh—me,” he said awkwardly.
Vegeta grunted, then looked at his son more closely. “I hear your blood brought me out of that blasted fever. I suppose I should thank you.”
The young man nodded. “I guess being half human comes in handy after all.”
“Yes,” Vegeta said absently, wondering if his mother had told him how many times he had referred to his infant son as being a half-breed. It wasn’t something he was particularly proud of at the moment, as with many things he had said and done.
Trunks seemed to hesitate as if there were something he wanted to say, and Vegeta thought of how the boy seemed almost intimidated by him at times. He didn’t like that much either. “Was there…something else you wanted to say?” he asked in the least obnoxious tone he was capable of.
The boy took a deep breath. “I’m going to the Lookout, to spend the next day in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber training. I’m hoping I can get stronger in a year—“
“Trunks,” his father interrupted him. Gods, this was difficult, more difficult than battle. “I said many things to you…I regret.”
“That’s okay, Dad. I understand,” he said quickly, although Vegeta could tell that his half-assed apology had meant something to the boy.
“On the planet, too. I called you a coward.” In his mind, that had been the worst, for no fever had yet taken over his brain. “It was wrong. I was wrong.” Vegeta looked down, not before seeing the look of astonishment that turned into a smile on his son’s face.
“Thanks, Dad,” he said gratefully. “I’ll see you at the Cell Games.”
Vegeta knew he was turning to leave and he stopped him. “Wait. Trunks.” There were so many things he wanted to say, but he knew that he could never do it. Yet the mere fact that the Games approached, that they might all die, and that even if they didn’t, this son of his would go back to his own time and be gone forever…all these things gave Vegeta the impetus to speak aloud.
“You do great honor to the Royal House of Vegeta-sei,” he said solemnly, then added softly, “And to me. You are a true Saiyan Elite.”
He could see his son struggling not to break out into a little boy’s grin, but rather to take the compliment with the dignity he thought his father would expect. Trunks nodded his thanks to his father, then said boldly with pride, “My father is the Prince of all Saiyans. I have a lot to live up to.”
Vegeta wondered just when and where he had earned the respect and admiration his son seemed to have for him. “You’ve done that and more,” he said quietly.
And when Trunks was gone, he thought of Baby Trunks lying in his crib. He would have many years to make up to that Trunks all the years that he and his older son had missed. He was going to try his damnedest to do just that.
He was drifting off into dreams of second chances when Bulma slipped into the room, her hair still wet and sweetly perfumed, her body wrapped in a fluffy towel. She smiled at him when she saw that he was awake, and sat down on the bed to look at him. “Hey, how do you feel? I came in before, but you’d fallen back asleep.”
“Except for the fact that you’re starving me to death, I’m fine,” he grumbled.
She touched his forehead, then his cheek, her warm hand seeming to send a pulse of heat throughout his body. “Well, your fever’s gone. I think you had it the worst of all. Except maybe for Goku.”
He was silent for a moment as the memory of all that had happened flashed in front of him once more. The jealous rage that the fever had engendered was gone, but the mention of that baka’s name still evoked anger. To think that he had tried to…
“He’s gone,” Bulma said softly, reassuring him. Her fingers still caressed his cheek, beginning once more to work their calming magic on him. “And he doesn’t remember a thing.”
“Are you serious?” he asked, putting his hand over hers. “I know he’s not that sharp, but how could he forget everything?”
“He was delirious,” she told him. “Once the fever broke, he didn’t even know why he was here. Or,” she added, “how he broke two ribs.”
“I hope you told him I did it,” he said mischievously.
“All he knows is that the two of you went mad and started fighting. I didn’t really want to tell him why. I’m just glad he forgot.”
He could see that she was truly relieved, and in a way he was as well. Why should that idiot be able to savor the memory of having kissed his wife? “Why am I lucky enough to remember everything?” he asked dryly.
“I guess that’s my fault,” she said apologetically. Of course. Through their bond he had seen everything as she had, and her memories had supplanted his own fading ones. “I’m sorry, Vegeta. If I could make you forget—“
“I wouldn’t want you to,” he said softly. “I’ve learned too much about what’s important in my life.”
She smiled brightly at him, and he wondered how the fever had ever prevented
him from seeing the love in her eyes.
“Is the baby better?” he asked, still feeling a pang of guilt for having infected his infant son.
She nodded. “It didn’t hit him as badly as the rest of you. And by the way—I don’t know what you said to our older Trunks, but he was absolutely beaming when he left to go train.”
“Just some things a father should tell a son,” he said simply, knowing that if she wanted details she could sift it out of his brain anyway.
I wouldn’t do that, she chastised him silently, and he chuckled. Then, as he thought again of the boy, his face grew dark.
“He’s had a difficult life. It pains me to think that I was not there for him…and his mother,” he said, looking into her eyes. Then, almost whispering as if he didn’t want to say it aloud, he added, “I would not want that to happen to you and our baby.”
“It won’t,” she told him with certainty. “The Androids aren’t a threat anymore. That Vegeta was killed by them—“
“But Cell is a threat,” he reminded her, then added with guilt, “And I am to blame for that. If I had destroyed him when I’d had the chance—“
“Shhhhhhhhh. Forget about that now,” she said, running her fingers through his hair. “You guys are gonna win. I know that.”
She truly did believe it, he knew, and yet he wasn’t sure that any of them could live up to her expectations. “Bulma, I just want you to know…If we do defeat Cell—“
“Not if, but when,” she corrected him.
He sat up to face her, taking her face in his hands. “I vow
to you that I will never leave you and our son again. Never. Until I draw my
last breath, woman, I will be by your side. I swear it.” He could see tears
beginning to pool in her eyes, and he feared his own emotions would overtake
him if he said another word. He kissed her gently on the lips, relishing her
warmth and drinking in the soft scent that was her. I love you, Bulma…
he told her silently. I love you.
For the first time, Bulma didn’t need to hear those words aloud. He had poured out his heart to her, promising her the rest of their lives. He had seen her doubts and insecurities, and assuaged them, and she knew that she would never have to question his devotion to her again. That in itself made the nightmare of the last few days worthwhile. He kissed her tenderly, pulling her down on the bed next to him, and she wondered if he was still starving. She didn’t feel much like getting up to cook at the moment.
“I’m only hungry for you right now,” he said huskily, having read her thoughts. His breath was hot as he tasted her skin, burying himself in her hair. “You smell so good…” he whispered. She could hear him thinking, At least the scent of that bastard Kakarot is gone… and she giggled.
“What is it?” he asked looking into her eyes. Then he realized that she had caught his thoughts and grew crimson.
“I made sure to take a long shower before coming to you for that very reason,” she told him. “Not that I could smell it myself, but the thought was kind of icky.”
Vegeta smirked. “You know that you deprived me of my right as your husband, by Saiyan law, to personally scrub every inch of your body to remove the objectionable scent of another man.”
She looked at him slyly. “You made that up.”
“Perhaps. But it would have been fun, don’t you think?” He smiled at her wickedly. “I should at least have the right to examine you closely myself just to make sure…”
Bulma smiled seductively at him, lying on her back. “Go ahead. Far be it from me to question a Saiyan tradition.”
He began with a kiss, slow and deep, leaving her breathless as his lips brushed gently to her neck, soft kisses that left heat in their wake. His breath was hot as he nibbled at her ear, and whispered, “So far, so good…”
Lost in the pleasure of it, for a moment she’d forgotten their game. His fingers began to trace a path down her neck, slipping under the towel to peel it away, exposing her completely to him. His hands were hot as he cupped her breasts, his caresses sending waves of arousal through her body. “I hope you know no one’s been there but you,” she breathed, as his mouth made its own exploration. In response he twirled his tongue around her already hardened bud, tasting for himself.
Just making sure… he replied wordlessly. He was taking his
time with this torturous pleasure, burying himself in her mounds of flesh,
reveling in the taste of her skin… I want to taste every inch of you…
Even as the
glorious sensations deepened her need for him, she was suddenly aware of his
own growing arousal. Through their bond she could feel him struggling to
restrain his escalating need to be inside her, just long enough to complete the
task he had set out to do, to explore and cherish every inch of her… And as
their desires became intertwined, the passion drawing them towards fulfillment
intensified a hundred-fold…
Vegeta, please… she begged him, unable to speak, as his
lips trailed downward, lingering over her quivering abdomen.
I’m not done yet,
woman… he responded, teasing her
with his kisses. I just need to
make sure no one has touched what is mine…
She gasped out loud as his mouth found its destination, tasting her desire, teasing the source of her pleasure with his tongue until she felt she would…
“Oh!” In an explosion she came, even as he continued to play at her pulsing core.
She was weak from her passion, and closed her eyes, swimming in the sea of warm completion, stroking his hair lovingly as he rested his head on her stomach. But even as he began kissing his way back up her body, the sense of his own urgent arousal made her want him again…
His lips met hers in a tender kiss, and she reached for him, caressing him until he seemed to tremble in her hands. I want you, woman… she could hear him say, and she slowly guided him into her warmth, not wanting to make him wait any longer…
And as their bodies melded into one, Bulma could feel the essence of his being interlacing with hers, until neither of them existed except as part of the other. The swirl of emotions that were his became once more indelibly imprinted on her soul, as everything she had ever known and felt became a part of him. “I love you…” was the only conscious thought, but neither knew whose thought it was, as though they had said it in unison.
Clinging to each other as their physical bodies strained towards completion, their passion was one…
And as one, they exploded in a burst of ecstasy…
Vegeta held her tightly, possessively, not wanting to separate from her just yet. Her warmth was still pulsing around him, and he was afraid that any break in physical contact would dissipate the emotional bond that had intensified during their lovemaking. He couldn’t bear to lose that. He couldn’t bear to lose the sense of her, and of her love for him, that had wrapped itself around his soul.
You’ll never lose it. And you’ll never lose me.
He looked into her eyes, smiling brightly at him, and knew that it was true. After all he had lost in his lifetime—his family, his world, his race—he would never lose her. And all that he had striven for in his life, all he had desired, seemed to pale in comparison to what he had found on this small world. And he knew that he would never again seek power and strength for any reason greater than to protect the wife and child he loved more than he had ever imagined possible.
“I love you, Bulma,” he whispered tenderly.
And for the first time, he said it with no effort at all.
It felt good.
QueenSaiyajin
www.geocities.com/queensaiyajin2003