Need

Chpt 3. Hungry

Weeks. It had been weeks since ChiChi had last seen Vejita. So long that she was beginning to think that that afternoon had simply been a working of her overly fertile imagination and raging libido. She knew it wasn\'t—she could still see the vaguest of marks where the Prince of All Saiyan\'s hand had been on her bottom, and her rectum had been more than a little sore for several days after.

But it felt like a dream.

She had contemplated going to Capsule Corp to drop Goten off to play with Trunks, but knew that would have smacked of desperation and been highly suspicious. She and Bulma rarely talked anymore—not because of any dislike, but simply because they were so busy. She with her inventions, and ChiChi with her boys.

She didn\'t want to be infatuated with her best friend\'s husband. Or, not quite husband, but technically still together partner. But Vejita....

It was torture seeing those burning eyes, that impassive face in her dreams...of thinking what those strong hands could do to her...

“Mom, are you ok? You smell kind of funny.”

ChiChi turned from her dishes and looked down as her youngest son moved closer, sniffed, and buried himself in her crotch (which was—convenient for him—head level) in lightning speed. Thanked the gods that Gohan was there and yanked the chibi nearly faster than she could follow, tucking him safely under the arm while he hissed and screamed about “stupid big brothers.” Wanted to break down and cry as her teenage son patted her on the arm knowingly.

“I\'m sure dad will be home soon, mom.”

Really wanted to break down and cry, and then vaguely thought that he was a bit knowing for a sixteen-year old. Decided to have a little chat with that Videl girl he had been seeing.

“Thanks, Gohan.”

This is hopeless...

Cleaned the dishes and got the laundry—told the boys to be careful as Goten went for a sleepover at Capsule Corp and Gohan went to train with Piccolo. Normal, everyday demi-Saiyan stuff.

Normal. Everyday.

She hated her life.

Went outside and broke down and cried until she thought that she redefined the word—rocking herself into an uneasy sleep on the ground underneath only-to-be-dirtied-again laundry. Images of her husband glowing in Super Saiyan righteousness, his weight straining the bed, his thighs parting her own, and his...

“Please...”

“Hn.”

Woke up to the dark. It was dark. And windy. Or rather, it was nighttime and she—they were flying. She and...was it really him? Moved her fingers. They were real. Used real fingers to brush back real spiky hair. He was real. Pinched him just in case and started at the low rumbling growl of desire. Gasped as he lowered her just enough to feel the erection straining against her bottom before he touched down—where had he taken her?

“Vejita?”

***

“Your little brat has gone camping with my son. Your bigger brat is out sparring with Piccolo. I don\'t expect either to be back for several days.”

He decided to answer her questions before they were asked—proud that he had deactivated harpy mode before it started.

No harpy.

Not tonight.

“And Bulma?”

“Bulma?” Slightly worried that he may have underestimated harpy mode. Frowns slightly and slows down a little walking through the house with the onna in his arms.

“Yes, Bulma. What about her?”

“Who knows. Probably off fucking Yamcha.”

Watches onna\'s eyes grow to eight times their size. Smirks a little at her shock.

“Relax, onna. We\'re both done with each other. There are no secrets to reveal.”

The onna relaxed a bit, and then tensed again. Vejita scanned the area looking for anything to stuff in her mouth lest harpy mode initiates, and then smirked at what was readily available below his waist.

“So why am I...?”

“We never finished what we started.”

“What do you mean...?!”

Predatory glare and exposing of fangs. A Saiyan woman would know the signs. She would start the chase that would end in her claiming.

ChiChi hiccuped.

“I\'m hungry.”

***

Really was. Wasn\'t just saying that for dramatic sexual effect, though it very neatly went with everything else. Dropped the woman on her feet in the kitchen and then sat down at the island, watching her. Hoped she got the point.

She did.

“Oh. Right. What was it...?”

“Spaghetti.”

“Yes, um...spaghetti.”

Watched her face fall as she tied an apron around her waist and set to work in the unfamiliar kitchen. He hadn\'t gone through all those lengths to get the brats out of the house and the woman to Yamcha\'s just to have her feed him. At least not feed him with food...

“And peas.”

“Yes, of course. Peas...”

...but if she didn\'t get it from earlier, he wasn\'t about to tell her that.

Watched as the little robot mask slipped on, buried the hurt in her face. Made a mental note to destroy that little robot mask into little tiny pieces that she\'d never piece together again.

After he ate, of course.

Watched as the former-harpy-now-onna moved with precision and ease despite the unfamiliar surroundings. Counted the time—less than twenty minutes before three heaping bowls of spaghetti and one steaming pot of peas was presented along with something called “iced tea” and little soft loaf called “garlic bread.” Pushed back the parmesean as she presented it. Pulled her in instead.

“Did I forget something?”

Asked innocently and a bit brokenly. Remembered that he hated that broken sound. Felt heart constrict and feels a pang of...guilt? Yes, guilt. Decides he doesn\'t like it at all.

“Yes.”

Little alarms going off in head. Guilt mixed with kindness never ends well. Scoops her onto lap gently, anyway. Turns broken face towards him.

“Eat.”

“I\'m not hungry.”

“I didn\'t ask.”

Twirls spaghetti and forces first bite down the lovely, unwilling throat. Watches the slight chewing, the dark eyes watching him. Purrs deeply as she swallows—Kami, she needs to swallow other things...

“I guess I\'m a little hungry...”

Purrs again and lifts a heaping forkful into his own mouth, never wavering the intense stare to her face, and then feeds her again. Alternates until they\'re both full and food has completely disappeared.

“Thank you.”

Starts a bit. The onna was thanking him? For what?

“It\'s been a lovely evening.”

Sure, absolutely freaking wonderful that the former arch-enemy-turned-best-friend of your child husband kidnaps you to cook at his home and then feeds you on his lap.

Considers how bright the onna is and is not.

Shifts her on his lap again for her to remember the point.

“Oh.”

Soft gasp, deep blush, and a single hand come up giving her that “oh-but-I-really-didn\'t-know” virgin look. Decides he likes it. Decides it\'s time for food of a different sort.

“I told you, onna...”

Blood boils. Everything is hot, too bright. Sweat already beading sticks in salty leaden drops—itchy, unbearable...Clothing is constricting, actually hurts to keep on...

Grasps onto right buttock that was claimed in the name of the Prince of All Saiyans. Claims the left buttock so it won\'t feel left out. Squeezes until the onna squeaks, looks at him with pleading, awe-struck eyes. Tight, tight, tight...tension is building, coiling, looping, and circling in heavy balls and leaden dick screaming for release....

“...I\'m hungry.”

Hiccup.

Tension finally snaps.

A/N: Wow, I\'m not certain how many chappies I have of this, but there are definitely a few more. Enter Kakkarot soon...Read and review to find out!