Welcome to DBZ Love Garden

Little puffs of white my uneasy breath exhales. I'm so nervous I can hardly keep from fidgeting in my galoshes as I muster the nerve to knock on the side door of Capsule Corporation. I just need to pick up Goten, then I can leave...there's no reason I would even see him…

My hands are sweating through the bright red knit of my gloves and as my fist raises, I make a conscious effort not to tremble. The thin gold knocker resounds dully against the wooden door, causing me to flinch as it hits the surface and echoes back toward me. There's no response for what feels like absolute hours and then muffled curses and muted footsteps are heard coming from within the interior of the house. My heart skips a beat, stopping altogether as the brass knob turns. I can't see my little clouds any longer. I think that's because I've ceased to breathe…

A violent shiver zips a jolly path down my spine as the object of my adolescent fantasies wrenches open the door to stand scowling in the entryway. I open my mouth to speak, but all I manage is a lungful of icy Autumn air that flashes numbing pain into the front my skull. Instantly, I feel the beginnings of an ice cream headache. He arches an ebony brow at my silence, his taciturn nature refusing to speak until I do. Especially to me. He probably thinks I'm nothing but a child, even if I am stronger than he is.

"I-I came to pick up my brother." My cheeks blaze a brilliant crimson as I stutter out my lame excuse. I had jumped at the chance to come. Kaasan didn't even have to ask me twice; one word and my shoes and coat were on my body as through magically sketched in, one word and I was flying at a speed that made others wonder if I didn't know father's Instantaneous Movement. One word.

Vegeta.

I swear that his smirk is tainted by a smile as he responds. "Kakarott's not here." I laugh before I realize how familiar the sound can be, how intimate. Dammit, Gohan, stop torturing yourself! Why would the prince of Saiyans ever desire a brainy little half-breed like me?

He barely acknowledges me, but moves a step back from the door in an obvious gesture of invitation. I don't understand why people find him so abrasive. He just chooses to communicate with something other than cumbersome words…

My head is bent in embarrassment as I shuffle past him, my arm brushing his which are locked in front of his muscular chest. I think I'll die at the contact, my throat tightening painfully along with my groin. I thank Dende repeatedly for my bulky winter jacket; it comes down just below my waist, hiding my growing excitement.

Standing in the well-lit hallway, a sharp contrast to the dullness of outside, I close my eyes briefly, soaking in the thick, comfortable heat that makes going out in the cold a reward in itself. The cozy atmosphere is a welcome change to the chill November evening. The crisp days have already begun to shorten and I vaguely dread the fact that I will be flying Goten home in the dark.

Maintaining his silence, the confident prince walks by me into the living room beyond, calling over his shoulder as he strides. Unfortunately my eyes are mesmerized by the taunt black denim material that stretches seductively over his ass as he moves away from me and I miss most of his comment.

"...don't know when they'll be back." I jerk my staring eyes from his supple backside as he glances back. Obsidian voids narrow as he catches me watching him and I hastily cast my gaze down, fumbling with the silver zipper on my coat. I feel the searing heat from his eyes as he stares and I swallow hard, shifting my stance in an effort to relieve some of the mounting pressure below my waist.

"Why don't you take it off?" Warm breath chokes in my throat and my dark eyes widen to the size of small planets. Nani!? Did he just say...No, he couldn't mean…

"The jacket," he purrs teasingly at my immediate uncertainty, his sensuous eyes flickering like a lover's caress over my body before turning and sauntering into the other room.

I don't inhale again until his form is lost around the corner and I am left quivering in the aftermath of his intensity. Oh, Dende-sama give me strength.

After I dispose of my mittens, tucking them safely into the depths of my coat pocket, and my shoes, I concentrate on the object of his flirting jest. The zipper and little metal buttons seem to thwart my every attempt to undo them and with a growl of frustration I end up ripping half of them off, watching them fly like tiny missiles across the room, dinging against the wall by the stairs and rolling away into the shadowy corners of the adjoining rooms. Biting my lip at my eagerness, I hang the torn garment on the iron coat rack beside the door. I don't know what I'm so excited about. I know that look couldn't have meant what I thought it did...though the thought of lust in Vegeta's eyes does nothing to ease the sweet ache of my arousal. But hope springs eternal, and I gather that small persistent flame to my breast as I walk after the prince into the next room.

I try not to openly admire him as I enter the room, but it's...harder than I ever thought possible...on all accounts. He's stretched out like a lazy feline on the couch, those impressively sculpted arms crossed behind his head, legs leisurely overlapping at the ankle and looking just as sexual and dangerous as the first time I ever laid eyes on him. Suppressing a groan, I thrust my hands into my pockets. I want him so badly it hurts.

"Where did you say they went?" I manage to squeak out, clearing my throat, face flushed and blushing all the while. His eyes, though I try like mad to avoid them, regard me with something akin to amusement though there is no physical representation of that emotion reflected on his face. Dende, I feel like such a child in his presence! Even relaxed he exudes masculine power and sexuality and the soft musky scent of him permeating the room, the whole damn house, is enough to make my knees quake.

The smirk returns as he watches me shift my weight, and I hope desperately that he won't smell my aroused state, notice that my pants are just a little too bloody tight across the front…

"I said," he replies, not bothering to move from his lounging position on the couch, "that the woman took both the brats out a little while ago. I don't know when they'll be back." I never realized how intricate the Briefs' plush carpeting was until this moment. I just can't bring myself to look at him. I sigh, gritting my teeth. Something's gotta give or I'm going to have more to explain than simply appearing uncomfortable.

Nodding dumbly I amble over to the blazing fireplace, putting my hands palm outward in a habitual motion for warmth. As though I need it. You could cook an entire fucking meal on my cheeks alone. I thought it would be better, this facing away from him, though once my back is turned, my mind focuses on what this position implies. I shudder hard at the thought of him behind me, his arms around me, his chest pressed against my back, his lips tracing trails of fire down my throat…

"Is there anything you want?" I close my eyes so tightly I see colourful starbursts explode behind my lids and bite my lip against the traitorous moan that pleads to be released. Oh, Dende, YES! I want you, you arrogant, self absorbed, sensual bastard! I've wanted you since I saw you blast Nappa into oblivion. Such a display of raw, unbridled Saiyan power had me harder than a Dende-damned diamond.

I shake my head at his question, though the motion is more for myself. It only takes time for fear to undergo the metamorphosis into desire. Didn't understand it then, but I do now. The truth is agonizingly clear. I am in love with Vegeta.

And it is love, not just this unrelenting lust. I am haunted by what he did when we fought Cell five years ago—apologized to me! I should have been begging forgiveness from him! A prince should never be humbled like that. I can't remember then number of times I wished he had been the one bathed in lightening, summoning an incomprehensible amount of power, pummeling Cell into something even he couldn't regenerate. That was his dream. It was never, never mine! I wish I could give him that power...Father thought I didn't know my own strength, but I knew. I just didn't want to damage my chances with the proud prince I have lusted after for the past ten years.

It's just a spark, but the idea is forming as I turn my head. The Saiyan prince has hardly moved an inch since the last I laid adoring eyes upon him. I smile softly, revolving fully, the carpet thick and soft beneath my feet. I didn't think that I had been silent for so long. He must have grown bored with my childish behavior.

"He's asleep..." My whisper is more of a slight exhale and I extend my senses outward to probe his unconscious form. I can't believe my luck as I take an eager step toward his body. Those deep, luxurious eyes are closed in a semblance of momentary serenity and his breathing is even, chest rising and falling rhythmically.

I clench my hands into sweaty fists in my pockets as I quietly approach him. I don't know what I'm doing, what I'm thinking—I'm hypnotized by the gentle sound of his breath, the picturesque quality that he holds with such little effort. I surprise myself when suddenly I'm kneeling beside him, eye level with rich raven hair that flares upward in defiance of all natural law. I want to touch him so badly I'm shaking with the effort it takes not to respond to my craving. The seam of my pants is rubbing hatefully between my legs and it seems that everything I do is a reaction to my body. If breathing required thought I'd be dead at the floor by his feet.

My hands are somehow out of my pants and pressed against the upholstered cushion by his bent arm. Oh, how I long to caress the muscles in those limbs, feel them tighten around me…

I jerk backward as I finally take control of my senses. My fingers are poised just above his bronze forearm and I'm leaning so far over him my shadow covers his chiseled features completely. With a gasp I fall back onto my heels. What the hell am I doing?? This is Vegeta! He'd kill me in an instant if he suspected that I…

Not even daring to breathe in the face of my brazen act, I focus my gaze on the floral design on the couch, wondering how in the hell I ever became so bold, because I know that to look at him again is to completely surrender. And with Bulma and the kids due back at any time…

I should leave. That's it, get up and go. That way Vegeta will never have to know and I can pine away the rest of my pitiful existence with the knowledge that he never knew how pathetic I really am.

A firm nod of resolution and I push gently into the couch to propel myself up, eyes sweeping longingly along his tightly clad body as I do—small feet that peek out from beneath the hem of denim jeans that are a tad bit too long for his compact frame....up thickly muscled thighs—I shudder, the ache between my legs on fire with the vision of those beautiful thighs...slender hips, up the brass buttons that form a barrier between myself and the hidden treasure nestled below his waist...a solid abdomen that I knew from experience could take a punch that left the offender's knuckles sore for days...I want to rip the black shirt from his chest and my hands tighten reflexively in the material of the couch. I've paused, crouching beside him and I want to move...really, I do...Oh, that neck, that graceful, kissable neck...sharp jaw and angled chin...obsidian eyes…

Oh, shit.

There is no way under heaven to explain my presence by his side. All the studying and training in the world hasn't prepared me for this singular instant. It's like Guldo all over again, time has stopped and I am unable to move any of my amazingly tense limbs, even blinking and breathing have taken a back seat to the immediate terror that courses like icy liquid nitrogen through my veins. And like the incident with Guldo, Vegeta is still the only one who can save me.

Oh, Dende speak, swear, punch me, beat me, kill me, but please don't just sit there and stare at me! I can't do anything—even when I fought Cell I didn't feel this powerless. But I have no reserves to drawn upon, nothing concealed within my anguished teenage body that could possibly aid me in this unbelievable situation.

He still remains motionless, as though he is waiting for the pounding in my chest to dull to a minimum so that he can speak uninterrupted, dark eyes locked on mine, not allowing me the freedom of even that simple movement. My brow shoots up as my mind finally decides to register an interesting point. His energy still reads as though he were asleep. The bastard was faking it!

He actually chuckles at the indignant expression that seeps into my pale features, pink tongue curling over his sensuous lips and as I growl in overwhelming embarrassment. I can't believe—the asshole!

Fine! If he wants to play games...His smirk falters as my own slips on and before he can pull away my moist palms are on his warm cheeks, my fingers tangled in his course hair and I'm kissing him.

His lips are easily the softest things I've ever felt and I crush them against my own in a fit of wild abandon. Part of me knows that this instinctual desire, this need, this bold animal lust has nothing to do with rational thought. But it's not loud enough to pervade the sickening thump of my heart. Some strange hybrid sound, caught between a growl and a purr resonates from his sleek chest and I gasp at the feeling of his long, grasping fingers on the back of my neck, pulling me tighter against his mouth. His tongue flickers and dances on my swollen lips, driving me insane with its teasing. A guttural noise that I don't even associate with myself escapes my throat as his slick tongue dives between my lips and I'm gripping his black hair in a shaking grasp, overcome with the immediate desire to give into this fury of Saiyan passion.

I never want this kiss to end, this frozen moment when the world is meaningless save the erotic sensation of his lips and tongue, his strong fingers kneading into my neck, encouraging the butterflies in my stomach to resume their sadistic tango. He can have it all—my passion, my hunger, my breath…

We're both panting as the seal is broken and I'm looking—down? Nani? When did I move and how the hell am I lying on Vegeta?

Oh, Dende-sama…

His body is stretched out enticingly beneath me, his hand slipping from my nape to the small of my back, rubbing soothing circles over my spine. My pounding heart takes a detour to my throat as I take in my position; I'm straddling those awesome thighs, fingers still buried in his thick Saiyan mane and his bottomless eyes are only inches from my own. Hot breath against my face makes me realize exactly how close we are and I panic, trying to pull back, to take control of my body…

But his hands are back on my shoulders, keeping me down and his lips are brushing against mine in such a way that makes me wonder if he'll even have to touch me to give me what I desire.

Oh, but I want him to, have wanted this for years!

"Vegeta..." I am a worshipper at his temple, a knight at his feet, and the whimper barely goes beyond my parted lips. He purrs quietly in response, fingers following the curve of my back to the waist of my jeans. I marvel at his gentle touch as he slips beneath the bottom of my beige sweater and my back arches in time to the growl in my throat as his tender caress surmounts the fabric obstacle to stroke the sensitive skin on my sides. Dende, I think I'm going to die as my eyes flutter closed, forehead falling to rest on his chin, fingertips clutching at his shoulders. Hands that should have been callused from years of fighting are like velvet on my skin. Then again, it's a rare time to find Vegeta in anything but a spandex body suit complete with white, protective gloves.

I mew desperately as he plays my body like a well-oiled instrument—I just can't seem to gain control over my reactions to his touch! Growling, I raise myself up to look down into his eyes...ebony eyes that are narrowed in unashamed lust. My courage dissolves as I witness his carefully concealed desire flicker like a falling star in his gaze. And then his lips are pressed with bruising force to my own, my breath ripped blessedly from my lungs and I'm moaning into his heated mouth as his hands run passionately over my writhing body. I don't know which one of us leaned forward, and which rose to meet the other, only that we're devouring one another like we've never tasted the sweet flavour of passion.

Powerful hands wrap around my waist and I know I'm pressing him into the couch with the weight of my body, the length of my form covering his as though I'm trying to become a part of his hard, powerful figure.

A crimson tide rushes over my cheeks; I'm so turned on I can smell my own excitement. Dende knows that he can. But, after a moment, I find that the scent of his arousal is strong in my nose as well and that his hips are meeting mine with only slightly more control. I moan quietly as those hands around my waist push me to the side, his body slipping out from under me and suddenly I'm looking up at him, loosing myself again in his fathomless eyes, fingers still embedded in his ebony locks. He's kneeling above me, one leg between my own and as he speaks, he punctuates his words with an unexpected pressure to my groin.

"It's about time you came around, boy," The simple sound of his silky voice causes an involuntary buck of my hips against his thigh and I groan, glazed eyes searching his own in confusion.

"Nani? Y-you knew t-that I..." I've never seen such hunger in one man's eyes as I see in his when he looks down my body and I shudder hard beneath him. His smirk deepens into something more seductive as he leans down to lick at my breathless mouth.

"You are so obvious, boy...I've known for years. I was just waiting for you to get the balls to do something about it." My dark eyes widen considerably as his hand fondles me through my pants and he chuckles as his grip tightens pleasurably. "Looks like you finally managed to find some." Shamefully, my hips disobey my frantic command, and I'm thrusting up toward him. My fingers fist in his hair and he hisses in pain, then attacks my mouth with the impassioned fury I see him invoke in battle.

I can hardly admit to myself that this is more than another fantasy, that my hands are really in his hair, that my leg is indeed around his hip, and that the sensation I feel against me is more than my right hand…

The only other person I've ever kissed was Videl and I blush at my efforts to keep up with his more experienced probing. But he doesn't seem to mind. He actually moans when my teeth catch the sensitive skin at his lower lip and the rush I feel at the sudden coppery taste of his blood heightens my awareness of the barrage on each individual sense.

He shivers against me as I suckle the tiny incision, the reins of his practiced control slipping through unwary fingers. Grinning, I jerk him tighter against me. So...he gets off on pain, ne? I can oblige that…

To say he is surprised would be an understatement. After all, I don't think the prince of all Saiyans was expecting to be rolled off the couch and pinned to the living room floor by a hormonal teenager. But now I have him beneath me again and before his wide, glittering eyes can even think to protest, I've nudged his face aside and bitten deeply into his throat. His entire body stills, fingers convulsing around the tops of my thighs as he sucks in a shallow breath. And then his head snaps backward and he arches his body up against me as I begin to lap and lick at the mark I have created. His sensual hands have abandoned my thighs in favour of my ass, which he molds with the ease of an expert artisan.

I didn't even know Saiyans had the ability to purr, but we're both proving me wrong as the sound vibrates between us, chest to chest and hip to hip…

Oh, Dende, the scent of his blood and the musk of the man is making my head spin in psychedelic circles—I'm so dizzy I could just as easily pass out as continue. But I've wanted this entirely too long to do anything that childish.

The steady river of red that flows across my tongue slows gradually until there is little more than the occasional bright droplet that forms against the bronze backdrop of his skin. He's purring and growling softly, hips conformed to mine in a dance that shoots electric waves of pleasure through our bodies.

When I pull away from his neck I half expect him to be angry, indignant, even though I did it all for him...all for the pleasure I knew he would receive…

I lick my lips at the sight that greets me. His midnight eyes are half-lidded with a reflection of the desire slicing through every nerve ending in my body and his high cheeks are touched with a brush stroke of light scarlet. But as he sees me rise, he discards his almost submissive air and adopts that maniacal grin that makes me press myself harder against him, though we're already melded at the hip.

His regained confidence unnerves me; I didn't realize that being forced to submit was so sexually stimulating for him, though the feral gleam in his onyx eyes warns me a single moment before—

"Now you've done it, boy," he whispers an instant before my back hits the floor, the air fleeing my lungs and deserting me as his smaller figure descends upon me.

"Little more Saiyan in you than I thought," he murmurs, face hovering above my own. I swallow my instinctual whimper, waiting for him to act. So he's surprised by my aggression? I take a certain satisfaction in that. Maybe it's a result of the glimmer of pride I see in his dark eyes, or the intensified desire I have summoned from within him.

His head lowers to nuzzle gently at my neck, pushing my head upward. My fingers claw at the carpet as apprehension coils in my gut. Is he going to bite me? Oh, hell, what have I gotten myself into?

My unruly panic is tempered by the melodic timbre of his voice and my trembling breath releases in a sigh. "I don't know if you're brave or just stupid," his tongue slithers tauntingly up the ridge of my ear and I shiver violently at the stab of unexpected pleasure. I hardly comprehend his words as his tongue swirls and exploits the sensitivity of my ear. What the hell is he talking about? My nerves are on edge as I try to decipher the meaning of his words—his face, I wish I could see his expression...his eyes have always told me so much more than his words...But his tongue will not relinquish the damnable task of tearing moan after high-pitched moan from my aching throat and I can't see beyond the obsidian wall of his hair.

"What made you think you could claim a Saiyan prince, boy?" Oh, Dende, I don't know if the dangerous tone in his voice makes me want to run away screaming, or rip off the layers of clothing that separate us. He thrills me, terrifies me, Dende, I don't know what to do…

And then his tongue is licking long succulent paths over my throat and it doesn't matter anymore. He could rip out my throat right here on his living room floor and I would prefer it to breaking our passionate contact. And then his straight, beautiful teeth skim over the hypersensitive area of my neck and I thrust my hips upward, hands clasping mindlessly over his flexing biceps. His hips respond in kind, pelvis striking up a fast paced rhythm that has me seeing fireworks of colour against the onyx background of his thick hair. His purr of pleasure reverberates against my chest, hardening my nipples and I arch my back painfully to reach his solid body, growling as they rub against the rough material of my sweater. Dende, it's just too hot in here, I'm hyperventilating, I can't breath, I—

Scream as he strikes like a viper, drawing blood and there's nothing I can do but lay beneath him and cry as the pain tears down the pleasurable mist that envelops me.

And then he's licking like a kitten, purring quietly, and if I didn't know better, trying to soothe me. My dark eyes dry as I squeeze out the last salty tear, hands moving up over his shoulders to clutch him tightly as his oral ministrations begin to have a positive effect on my body. The soft, yet sandpaper texture of his tongue against the bite on my neck sends a shock to my groin and my whimpers transform into passionate growls as he presses down deliberately into my hips.

"Vegeta," I'm moaning his name now as I have in every fantasy I've imagined since I was eight years old. The feel of his name on my lips is an aphrodisiac to us both, for he begins to suckle harder as I vocalize, as though extracting the sound from my mouth by the power of his lips alone. My leg tightens around his hip as he moves from my throat and I lick my lips to see him panting above me, sucking my blood from his lower lip. Swallowing, I muster the nerve to run my fingers through his raven hair, following the sweeping flame upward. His back arches delightfully, though he never releases my eyes and he mouths my name, a soft whisper on his lips that is lost in the flurry of pants and groans that leave our throats.

I can feel him as I never have before—the complexity of his emotions, the need and base desire that ravages his tormented form, a parallel to the burning conflagration I sense building up within me. Dende, I need him, and he wants me and I'm tired of waiting!

My arms joined around his neck and my leg entwined with his make it relatively easy to flip him over again. Straddling his hips, I snatch the material of his shirt in my hands and slash it down the middle, incinerating any of the offending fabric with well-focused energy from my palm. He chuckles at my eagerness, though I do nothing but blush, having felt the evidence of his own desire growing readily beneath my seated bottom.

I don't even recognize this brash, confident figure that bends down to lick teasingly at Vegeta's chest, holding his heavy-lidded ebony eyes in a seductive gaze. I can tell that I'm getting through to him—I can feel our twin fires blazing, side by side and it makes me desire him even more. I need to join with him, every ounce of my being demands it. I can sense his heart pulsing through the mark on my neck, his life force, and something primal and ancient knows what ritual we have performed. Me out of instinct, him out of choice.

There's no thought to halt, no hesitation as my hands yank impatiently at the metal buckle of his belt. There's nothing human about our actions; we're growling, purring, snapping and cursing as I fumble, and at last, that obstacle is removed. Somewhere in the single-minded haze of our desire, my sweater goes the way of his shirt. I don't know how he managed it—my lips never left his chest, my hands his waist.

Buttons, buttons, why the fuck do I always get stuck on the buttons?! Growling, my black hair falling forward in my eyes, my fingers tug insistently at the circular silver objects, the only things that stand between me and my prize. Snarling and glaring at his quiet laughter I free the last one from its hold on the denim material and bend my face to his abdomen. His chuckle fades into a moan as my lips worship the muscles on his stomach, trailing down into the ebony curls that lead my mouth to the opening in his pants. His strong hands are in my hair and on the back of my neck and his eyes are almost closed due to the pleasure I send coursing through his system.

His hips raise in coordination with my hands, allowing me to slip the jeans from the lower half of his body and I toss them absently over my shoulder before bending to plunder his mouth with my hungry tongue. His muscular arms and legs wrap around me; I'm lost in his masculine taste and his heady scent and the rumbling moans that vibrate within the confines of our kiss make me want to ravage his willing satin form.

When I open my eyes I'm on my back again and my trembling arms are wrapped in a vice grip around his neck. He sits gracefully up on my thighs, my hands falling down to his waist as he massages the area around my waistline. Heading rolling to the side, I lick my lips and caress the naked flesh of his thighs. My hand continues downward, but he flicks it away with a swift movement of his wrist, fingers fiddling with the zipper on my pants. He's more agile than I am and before I can form coherent thought my hips are lifting obediently and he's peeling the pants from my longer legs.

Swallowing hard, I gasp as his length presses against mine, parting my thighs wide beneath him. His breath comes in short, shallow huffs, desire apparent in the way that he kneels between my legs, stroking my chest and stomach with tantalizing touches.

Oh, Dende, my mind is on overload with the agonizing clarity of sensation. I can't believe this is happening! Oh, and it is, his hands and his lips on mine, our fingers entwining to lie on the carpet beside my head. Oh, Dende-sama…

I can feel his sex throbbing against me, rubbing with delicious friction that makes me buck and growl in the jointure of our devouring lips. My head is spinning as he steals my breath. Vegeta, you can have it! Take it all...take me…

My eyes snap open as I feel him retreat and I realize in disbelief that he's about to do just that, take me right here on the living room floor.

"Vegeta— " my breath exhales his name and his dark, sensual eyes meet mine in a lusty gaze. "B-Bulma—the kids..." He stops my stuttering words with an affectionate nuzzle, warm breath on my ear.

"We have time, Gohan..." Oh, when he says my name...I moan in spite of all contrary efforts, fisting his hair in my hands and pulling him into the most passionate kiss I've ever imagined in my deepest, wildest fantasies.

I'm not done with him, not ready to let him take me completely. I need to give him a little more of a fight first. It's in my blood.

Snarling, baring my teeth, I throw him onto his back, snapping at his throat. Something dark and dangerous flashes lightening in his obsidian eyes as I pin his arms to his sides, thrusting his legs apart. He growls animalistically in return, battling my strength. I smirk down at him, nipping the tip of his nose as he thrashes beneath me.

"You little Saiyan shit," he purrs, jerking his hips up to unbalance me. But somehow I know that he's more aroused by this action than he has been about any of my previous complacency and I laugh, delighted by his reaction.

"Yes, Vegeta?" The excitement's mirrored in his eyes, though his lips are drawn in a severe scowl. I can sense the desire rolling off him in waves, smell the thick scent in the air, underlying the smoky fragrance of the fire to our right.

He goes lax in my grip and I should see it coming, but I don't. As I move to kiss his submissive form, I'm flipped over forcefully, landing hard on my back.

"Mine." His soft declaration inducing sparks of pleasure that make me want to submit…

But I remember the lust in his eyes when I fought him and I swiftly power up, hair flashing gold, blue eyes laughing at his surprise as I look down at his sneering figure.

I lose my breath as his raven hair bleeds to blonde, dark forbidding eyes blinking to a crystalline sapphire. It's my fault he gets the upper hand this time; I'm too lost in his transformation to notice that he's above me, grinning like the royal bastard he is.

But I do acknowledge his hand on my sex, arching my back painfully into his body as he caresses me to incredible heights of pleasure.

"Oh, damn, Vegeta...Yes!" But one more, just one…

We're rolling across the carpet, licking and snapping at each other like animals. He growls sharply once and then I'm spread out on my back under him. Taking my lips in a wonderfully terrible embrace, he thrusts his hips forward, not allowing me the time to think, to ponder, to worry...only to tense, losing the scream in his throat.

Burning—tears, the reason for my lost virginity, his lips on my mouth…

And then the beginnings of pleasure as he wraps his hand around my member, pulling and stroking the pain to a dull ache. He licks the drying tears from my cheeks as he sets a gentle rhythm with his hips.

My long legs are looped loosely around his slender waist, aiding his movement. Oh, Dende...my eyes go wide as I feel him touch something marvelous and secret deep inside me.

"Vegeta!" Moaning and growling beside my ear, licking and nipping feverishly at my throat, he pumps his hips harder into my bucking body.

"Gohan..." It's more of a curse than my name, but it's said with such reckless passion I curl my fingers around his shoulders, gripping the rippling muscles on his back with as much force as I can gather. And the pleasure, the feeling of him inside, every single movement felt by each cell in my body. He's my pleasure, my pain, my power…

"Dende, Vegeta..." Arching my spine like a cat, trying with all my Saiyan might to melt into his thrusting form. It's so hot; I can't remember feeling this fevered. The scent of his sweaty musk assaults my nostrils, fills my senses, drives my desire higher and higher, I'm going to explode, I'm going to die, I'm going to scream—

"Vegeta!"

My body's caught in mind-blowing convulsions as I lose myself in the moans and grunts of the man above me. I feel his warm release within my body as I tense and he's groaning my name in my ear as he emphasizes and spikes our mutual ecstasy with firm, full thrusts.

He tries, I know he does, but those strong, corded arms that have vanquished numerous foes refuse to support him in the aftermath of his climax. His weight is nothing for me to bear. Our haggard breaths are harmonic to the music of the crackling fire beside us and I realize just how close to it we must have come in our frenzied play for dominance.

I sigh softly, lifting a trembling hand to his raven hair and close my eyes. His panting breath is hot on the skin of my shoulder and I cradle his compact figure to my chest. I love him so much...Dende, I can't believe...we just...damn…

When I open them, he has managed to prop himself up on one elbow, and he's watching me with those eyes of ebony and midnight. I swallow uncertainly. Shit, where do we go from here? Was this just a fling for him? Is he going to tell me to leave? Dende, please...speak…

His succulent lips are still amazingly silky against mine.

"Hn. Guess I'm stuck with you now, kid," he whispers breathlessly against my mouth, fingers smoothing over the flesh of my heaving chest, up my collar and toward my neck. I gasp in pleasure as he brushes over the bruising mark on my throat. Nani? How—what—

I'm thankful for the amusement in his look as he pulls away from my wide-eyed expression. At least this moment won't be my last.

I can't suppress the cringe that flares in my face as I move to stand. Dende, but I'm sore...His eyes are unusually compassionate as he tugs the denim over his beautifully sculpted ass. I'm still in love with that…

"First time?" I nod, averting my gaze, the heat rising unbidden to my cheeks. The course material is somewhat painful against the sensitive area of my stretched backside, but I revel in the fleeting agony that serves as a reminder for the inconceivable event that has just taken place. I don't appreciate how unsteady I am until I try to button my pants. I just can't seem to get it through the blasted little hole...dammit!

My hands are covered with a set infinitely more confident then my own and they're doing the simple action that I cannot. My eyes follow the bronze forearms, up his bare chest, settling on his obsidian eyes. My throat is tight as I meet his commanding gaze. I've never seen him look as...vulnerable, as possessively affectionate as he does tonight. I have no idea what to do now…

"Vegeta..." I falter, not knowing what to say, what I mean to say, what I can possibly say to him that he doesn't already know. His smirk slips as easily into place as one of father's goofy smiles and I'm grateful for the gift he gives me of his lips. They calm the erratic thumping of my pulse, the sporadic pattern of my breathing.

"Wh...what do we do now?" He arches a brow at my innocent question. And when he smiles, I mean really smiles, it puts my whole mind to rest.

"I had forgotten how insatiable teenagers are." I blush, my fingers still held within his own slender digits.

"That's not what I meant!" I insist though my blood begins to stir at the seductive grin he flashes my way. "You're worse than I am!" I wrench my fingers free, punching him playfully on one sturdy bicep. His reflexes are remarkable and he catches my fist before it connects, pulling me taunt against his body. Even though I'm looking down at him, I feel like I'm gazing up into his ebony eyes.

"Are you sure, Gohan?" He purrs sensuously, hands sliding around to cup my backside. Oh, Dende-sama...I swallow hard. There's no way I can hide my growing arousal and as I sink to the carpet with his lips pressed to mine, I silently praise my Saiyan heritage, my youthful stamina, and Bulma's blessedly absent mind.