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Moments

By: Robyn
folder Dragon Ball Z › Yaoi - Male/Male
Rating: Adult ++
Chapters: 11
Views: 5,747
Reviews: 14
Recommended: 0
Currently Reading: 0
Disclaimer: I do not own DragonballZ, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.I am making no profit from this.
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Regrets

Disclaimer: I don’t own DB/Z/GT or any of the characters found in this fic. They are the property of TOEI ANIMATION in Japan and FUNimation in the U.S.A.

Rated – PG
Warnings – Angst, OOC, lime-ish (M/M)
Pairing – Gh/V


Regrets


Nothing about Vegeta ever invited this sort of closeness. I really had no idea how the fight ended up with me pressing the older sayian up against the cliff wall. Both of us breathing hard, the scent of our exertions quickly filling up the area we stood in.

After an initial moment of tension, his body relaxed marginally. I did the one thing my hormone driven senses wanted me to do. I pressed up against him, one leg between his thighs and dipped my head down to the crook of his neck.

I stayed there, knowing this would once again turn into a fight if I pressed this opportunity too fast.

My waiting was rewarded by Vegeta taking in my scent consciously. He whined, a small needy noise, something I wouldn’t have heard if I hadn’t been this close, “You’re not him.”

I shook a little, with regret and jealousy, “I know.”

His head snapped back, trying to get a better view of me, but I refused to give up my hold and the cliff blocked his head from going back far enough. “Why are you trying to be him?” he growled.

I answered honestly, “I am not.”

The body pinned by mine started to shake, “Stop reminding me he is gone!”

I almost sobbed, “I can’t,” I whispered regretfully into his ear. My very existence was based on the fact he had lived. I couldn’t help who I was or what I looked like. I had even let my hair grow long once again to try to separate me from the other.

I was shoved violently away then. What little had remained of the shoulders of my gi coming off in shreds as his hands betrayed what his arms were doing. The orange fabric clutched in his grasp as he fell to his knees with his eyes closed.

Raising his face towards the sky he howled his confusion, rage and despair, although he didn’t release any tears.

His tears had dried up long ago. I felt the howling was somewhat of an improvement for him.

He hadn’t let go like this since the day my father and his son had died.

Me? I was and still am too human. I may have been distracted marginally from the situations life threw at me, but my tears have never really left.

Just most of the time, I am too distracted by his needs to delve in my own.



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