Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ A Dark Heart ❯ A Very Sexy Workout ( Chapter 20 )

Vegeta woke up several hours later only to find himself alone and disoriented on an empty bed. He yawned, frowning in confusion, quickly sitting up and scratching the back of his head distractedly as he looked around looking for his mate. It didn't take long to find her, and when he finally did, his eyes widened in shock at the sight he encountered…

There she was.

In front of the large TV placed in the small living room on the other side of the ship.

Bending over on all fours on top of a thin pink mat with her cute little ass up in the air.

`What the actual fuck?'

He finally left the massive bed, looking through the bundle of clothes he'd dropped on the floor the previous night. He grabbed the pants of his flying suit and clumsily put them on, still incapable of taking his starving eyes away from the woman and her bizarre activities, and feeling a strange but very familiar sensation in the pit of his stomach.

Desire…

Vegeta crossed his arms defensively, mentally preparing himself to deal with his mate once again as he walked towards her.

He truly couldn't recall having experienced the confusion and agitation he'd gone through ever since the beautiful woman had reentered his life, turning his world upside down once again. When the warrior had abandoned the Earth, he'd positively thought himself dead inside, masochistically basking in that old familiar state of detachment he knew oh so well. That emotional impassiveness had allowed him to survive this long in a world that had been, as far as he could remember, cold and unfriendly, a universe whose brutality had forged him into the ruthless bastard he now knew himself to be.

Even though Bulma had managed to open his eyes to a life of countless pleasurable experiences, his defeat after the Cell Games had changed him irreparably once again, numbing his mind and body from every good thing his mate had to offer.

Numbness, his lifetime close companion, was good, it meant control, it meant being able to distance himself from a puzzling situation and dissect it from a different, analytical perspective.

During Vegeta's last night on the blue planet, when he'd humbled himself in front of her, he'd held her naked body all night long, right until dawn, and even though he hadn't been stupid enough to ignore her ethereal, almost other worldly beauty, his emotions as he'd pressed her nude form against him had been almost pure, inundated by an indescribable sadness he hadn't really experienced in the past, not since his last few emotional attachments had been destroyed, together with his family, his planet and his race.     

Bulma's return had enraged and concerned him but, somehow, his old carnal desires towards her had been inexplicably kept at bay…

Until now.

Whether it had to do with the fact that he'd gradually been able to relax in her presence one more time, or perhaps due to the friendly, almost intimate conversation they'd held right before they'd finally gone to bed, he didn't know. All he knew was that, looking at her supple body, all tight little curves and ivory skin, was making him want to rip off her skimpy clothing and have his way with her.

Right.

Fucking.

Now.

The woman was making him feel, and he'd be damned if he allowed himself to lose his much-prized legendary control and give in to his preposterously shameful desires. It would only complicate things, intensifying their already unusually solid bond, and that was the last thing they needed under their current circumstances.

Vegeta kept walking towards her spot until he stood right behind her, and it quickly became apparent to him that Bulma hadn't even noticed his company yet. His mischievous mind briefly contemplated not letting his presence be known and enjoy the show just a little longer, but eventually, the few glimmers of rationality left in him warned him against such a dangerous idea, so he uncomfortably cleared his throat and finally asked…

“Woman, what the Hell are you doing?”  

Bulma didn't even flinch at the sound of his voice, making him secretly wonder whether she'd actually already known he'd woken up.

“The down dog,” she simply replied, her eyes still focused on the very chatty blonde instructor on the television.

“The down dog…” He muttered questioningly.

“Yup.”

“Am I supposed to know what that is?”

“Ah, right…” She said, quickly realizing the Saiyan probably had no idea what yoga was. “It's an asana, I'm doing yoga.”

The warrior remained silent, waiting arm-crossed for a further explanation on the matter, and inadvertently licking his now very dry lips at the sight of his little mate, slowly kneeling on the pink mat and laying on her stomach. She then raised her upper body, giving him a very generous view of her voluptuous breasts in the process.

“This one is called the cobra,” she explained again, tilting her head back and holding the position.

Vegeta kept watching, completely fascinated by her actions. He wasn't entirely sure what this yoga business was all about, but he guessed it had to do with balance and flexibility, at the very least. This wasn't the first time he'd seen Bulma working out either, since he could clearly recall catching glimpses of her, here and there, running through the Capsule Corp. compound, prancing around in sexy shorts and a wide variety of very suggestive sport bras, very similar to the one she was currently wearing. She had been as tempting back then as she was right now, and the Saiyan could only stand still, digging his fingers into his forearms in an effort to calm himself down until his woman was done with whatever it was she was doing.

Four asanas later, Bulma finally stood up slowly, now angrily talking to herself.

“Yeah, right…” She mumbled as she walked to the side of the TV and grabbed the remote control.

The annoyingly loquacious blonde kept babbling on screen.

“See? It's very easy! Just take a deep breath and…”

“I don't think so, yoga lady…” Bulma said, switching off the television and sitting on the couch, where she put on some tiny cotton socks as she muttered... “Very easy, my ass…”   

Vegeta couldn't help but chuckle at that. She really looked so damn adorable when she was fuming and pouting about not being able to follow the crazy teacher's directions. The unusual sound made Bulma turn to him.

“Oh? You're still here?” She asked, smiling at him and looking absolutely delicious with her slightly sweaty shimmering skin and rosy flushed cheeks. He just stared at her uncomfortably, not quite knowing what to say. It seemed pretty obvious by now that the awkward situation they'd gone through the previous night was long forgotten.

“I'm hungry,” he finally replied, feigning indifference.

Her smile widened at his words.

“Of course you are… I'll make us some breakfast,” she continued, standing from the couch and walking to the kitchenette, with a now increasingly aroused Saiyan following closely behind, unable to stop staring at the pert little bottom swaying temptingly right before his eyes.

“Take a sit, Your Highness…” Bulma said playfully, opening the large fridge and looking inside while Vegeta followed her orders, praying to whatever lenient Gods could hear him that his body wouldn't betray his longing for this woman…

“Fruit, eggs and bacon?” She asked, already knowing what the answer would be.

He simply grunted, and she smirked, knowing that in Vegeta-talk that meant his greedy appetite wanted all of it.

“Alright… You can start with the fruit while I cook the rest…” Bulma continued, grabbing a large colander, filling it up with an assortment of fresh fruits and washing them thoroughly in the sink before serving them to her mate on the table.

“Coffee?”

“Sure,” he grumbled, already attacking the highly appetizing fruits. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't missed the strange black concoction, both bitter and comforting at once and, so unusual, he'd never tasted anything like it in all his voyages.

Vegeta focused on his meal while the mouthwatering smell of scrambled eggs and bacon filled the small kitchen. Seeing Bulma cooking was a rare sight, given that the heiress usually relied on the chef bots to do all the cooking. However, she seemed to be in good spirits, humming a little song and moving through the kitchenette with practiced ease.

Every now and then, the warrior couldn't help but steal a glance at his mate, whose soft creamy skin was still lightly covered by a hint of perspiration. He knew most humans would find this view unattractive, and even unhygienic, but the wild Saiyan beast inside of him was secretly going mad by her delectable scent, warm, sweet and salty, and as time went by, it was getting harder and harder to keep his hands to himself.

“There you go…” Bulma said cheerfully, gently placing two large plates of scrambled eggs and bacon right in front of him and removing his now empty fruit dish. After also offering him coffee, two large bottles of orange juice, two more of milk and quite a few slices of toasted bread, she simply sat beside him with her own small breakfast, which she proceeded to devour immediately, stealing a knowing smirk from Vegeta's lips.

“You seem to have worked up quite an appetite, woman,” he said, hoping that some small talk would keep the woman happy and take his mind off his still very intense yearning towards her.

“Mmm… I guess…” She replied distractedly, voraciously smashing her food.

“I'd never seen you perform those exercises before,” he continued after a brief moment of silence.

“Yoga? Yeah… I actually got into it when I got pregnant with Trunks…” She said, taking a large gulp of her own glass of orange juice.

Vegeta couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at that.

“You performed those movements during your pregnancy?” He inquired again, unable to hide the shock and concern from his voice.

Bulma looked at him, and she soon remembered Vegeta hadn't been by her side throughout her entire pregnancy, only returning to Earth when she was about eight months pregnant and ready to pop.

“Well, not towards the end, of course… I did a milder version of it and only for the first few months. I guess I wanted to stay active without doing the same kind of high impact workouts I used to do before,” she explained patiently.

The warrior carefully listened to his woman's words as he kept inhaling his breakfast, and he couldn't help but feel a tinge of guilt about the fact that he hadn't really been around while Bulma was carrying his son. He hadn't even asked her about what the entire experience had been like, but now he could tell that the little genius had certainly been taking care of her and their child's health. Why she'd chosen to keep the child of a killer remained a mystery to him, but he didn't dare ask in case he only made things worse somehow.

“So, now that the child has already been born, why haven't you gone back to the types of exercises you used to do before?” He finally asked again.

The woman kept staring at him, slightly confused about the amount of attention Vegeta was paying to her and her health struggles, so she decided to keep indulging him, giving answer to his many doubts.

“Trunks' delivery was really hard on my body. The doctors wouldn't even let me move around too much for the first couple of months, so when I was finally allowed to exercise again, I chose to do something moderate at first before I could go back to my old routine.”

Vegeta stopped chewing at her words, swallowing with difficulty.

So, that's what it was…

Unbeknownst to Bulma and her family, the warrior had actually been present during his child's delivery, as much as standing arm-crossed on one side of the balcony of the future mother's hospital room could be called `being present'. He'd felt her weak ki fluctuate for what felt like interminable hours as she struggled to bring their son into this world, and he'd come dangerously close on more than one occasion to simply burst into the room and force those damned doctors to remove the blasted child from his mate's body.

After the birth, he hadn't paid much attention to Bulma or Trunks, choosing to spend every last minute available, before those obscure androids would show up, locked inside the gravity room. He'd known though, that his woman hadn't come out of her room, where she'd also placed the boy's crib, very often, but he hadn't really considered how much of a toll Trunks' birth had taken on her body, even months after the event itself.

Bulma, once more, seemed to be able to read him like an open book, and could surprisingly notice a hint of apprehension in her mate's face, so she smiled warmly at him.

“It's okay though, I'm fine now,” she said in an effort to appease him.

Vegeta grumbled, unconvinced.

“I told you to have the damn brat removed from your body as soon as possible, did I not?”   

“Yes,” she replied calmly. “And I told you I didn't want to risk our child's life unnecessarily. I thought we'd already gone through this.”

“The boy was Saiyan, woman. He would have been perfectly fine.”

“Maybe you're right, but I didn't wanna risk it, that's all.” The heiress continued, suddenly feeling a very familiar sense of déjà vu. They'd already had this conversation a million times before.

The Saiyan closed his eyes, putting his fork down and exhaling loudly through his nose.

“He could have killed you, Bulma,” he said looking into her bright blue eyes with an unusually calm intensity that made her furiously blush immediately, something that wasn't lost on Vegeta.

“Well, he didn't,” she finally said. “I always knew that Trunks and I would be fine.”

The Saiyan kept staring at her, now frowning in confusion.

“And how the Hell could you have possibly known that, woman?” He asked sharply.

Unable to withstand the ferocity of those dark eyes, Bulma shrugged shyly and turned her eyes back to her almost finished meal.

“I don't know…” She murmured. “I just did…”

Not really knowing whether the woman had had a sixth sense or whether she'd simply turned out to be the luckiest human female on Earth, the Saiyan finally imitated her actions, turning his attention back to his copious breakfast as they both continued eating in silence.

Once she was done with her scrambled eggs, Bulma finished her juice and stood up, removing her plate, glass and utensils from the table and placing them in the kitchen sink.

“Do you mind if I take a shower while you finish or would you like to go first?” She kindly asked.

He grunted, polishing his second bottle of milk.

“Go shower, woman. I'll wait,” he replied, never taking his eyes off the table and inwardly thanking the Gods that his mate was finally going to wash off that powerfully tantalizing scent of her body.

“Alright…” She said, already walking out of the kitchenette. She stopped all of a sudden, turning back to him before she enquired in an almost pleading manner...

“Will you let me take a look at your wounds after you take your shower?”

Vegeta sighed in frustration, nervous at the thought of feeling the woman's hands on his skin when he was in this condition, but knowing that if he said no he'd never hear the end of it and his mate's worries wouldn't go away.

“Yes, woman. Now go shower and let me finish my food in peace,” he mumbled, chewing on a piece of bacon a bit harder than usual.

`Please, go away…'

“Great!” She said again, offering him one of those unnervingly kindhearted smiles of hers before she finally disappeared, entering the bathroom and closing the door behind her.

Vegeta sighed in relief, standing up from his chair and reaching for the coffee jar, pouring himself another cup of the warm beverage and dreading the moment his little temptress would walk out of the bathroom, torturing him with her alluring presence one more time.

He could almost picture her in the shower, standing underneath the hot spray, rivulets of water running across her skin, which he knew, due to the few moments he'd been able to hold her in these past couple of days, was as smooth and silky as ever.

The Saiyan couldn't help but wonder if she was thinking of him right now.

He recalled his little minx's stories whenever he came back to Capsule Corp. after having spent a few days here and there in complete isolation, away from everything and everyone. She'd press her delicious body against his, holding him tight and whispering indecent stories in his ear. Naughty tales describing, in great detail, what lonely human females did when their men were away from home, home, she'd said, and they had to resort to using their small hands and wicked imagination to pleasure themselves in their absence, trying to put down the fire their mate's loss had ignited. Of course, she'd promised, it was never as satisfying as the touch of a man's hands, and, by the time she was done with her vivid descriptions, the Prince was always more than ready to prove to his woman that no one in the entire universe could pleasure her as he could.

Or so he'd secretly hoped…

He'd always known that those moments were probably very well-crafted fabrications Bulma would make up just to turn him on, something she could achieve, to his shame, every single time without fail, and yet, the image of this beautiful woman missing him, needing him, was oddly much more comforting than he dared to admit, and he privately hoped she'd truly felt his absence whenever he'd been away from her.

Vegeta took another sip of his comforting drink, closing his eyes and enjoying the soothing sounds of the running water in the next room. At some point, he must have dozed off a little, since he awoke startled to the sound of Bulma's voice.

“I'm done!” She yelled. “You can go now if you like!”

He didn't reply, sitting still in his chair as he listened to the faint sounds of his mate's bare feet on the ship's metallic floors. Once he finally heard the door of one of the small cabins close behind her, he got up and walked to the bathroom.

The tiny space was now filled with steam, and the so very familiar scents of Bulma and her favorite soaps and shampoos lingered heavily in the suffocating air.

Just as he was about to take off his pants, he noticed there were no more clean towels available.  

`Fucking great…'

He left the room, looking through the closets of the two small empty cabins near the one where he felt Bulma's presence.

Nothing.

Now he had to ask the woman…

He knocked at the door, waiting patiently outside for an invitation.

“Yes?” A curious voice enquired.

“Woman, there are no towels in the bathroom,” he asked uneasily.

“Ah… Right… Come in!”

Vegeta finally opened the door, and his eyes widened almost comically when he took a look at what awaited him behind it.

Bulma was sitting on the single-sized bed, clad only in a black lacy bra and matching panties, her bountiful pale breasts almost spilling out of her very raunchy lingerie. She was holding a bottle of vanilla-scented lotion in one hand, rubbing it on one of her lovely long legs distractedly with the other one.

“There are clean towels in that closet,” she said, pointing with her head towards a small door in the corner, her eyes never leaving her own body.

The Saiyan just stood there with both arms hanging uncomfortably at his sides. He could feel his face burning and a muscle in his left cheek twitching nervously. Bulma seemed to be so at ease, so comfortable, not only in her own skin, but she appeared to show no qualms about being semi-naked right in front of him either. After a couple of minutes of awkward silence, she finally looked at him, blinking with interest.

“What's the matter?”

Vegeta huffed, crossing his arms defensively and looking to the side.

“You're indecent, woman. That's the matter,” he said angrily.

The heiress just stared at him for a second, noticing the hint of a blush on the Prince's bronzed cheeks before she rolled her eyes playfully at him.

“Really, Vegeta? Are we going to pretend we've never seen each other naked?”

The warrior closed his eyes, muttering something unintelligible about shameless human women under his breath.

Bulma shrugged, simulating indifference but, deep down, finding the whole situation completely and absolutely hilarious.

“I mean… We've even done naughty things together, Vegeta…” She went on, teasing him mercilessly as she wiggled her eyebrows at him.

That did it.

Vegeta groaned, stomping towards the closet and aggressively grabbing a towel, trying to ignore the way Bulma kept running her hands all over those perfect curves of hers while she rubbed her body lotion.

“Veeeeery naughty things, Vegeta… Remember that time when…?”

Before she could finish her sentence the incensed Saiyan made his escape, slamming the door behind him before his genius mate could see the now very suspicious bulge protruding from his increasingly tight pants. He locked the bathroom door behind him and undressed angrily, getting in the shower, turning up the temperature and standing underneath the scalding spray of water, allowing it to run though his body as he pressed his head against the cold shower tiles, hissing through his nose.

Vegeta grabbed a bar of soap and a washing cloth, but just as he was about to lather it up, he brought it close to his nose, sniffing it suspiciously and tossing it immediately as if it were poisoned as soon as he detected Bulma's potent scent still all over it.

`Fantastic…'

Not only did it look like he couldn't elude the woman's presence in his life, he wasn't even sure anymore that he'd ever really want to anyway.

He chose to lather up his hands instead, slowly soaping up his still sore muscles, unable to ignore the painful erection that now throbbed between his strong thighs and briefly wondering what he should do about it.

A part of him was truly shocked about the fact that, after having spent less than forty-eight hours together in a closed space with Bulma, the woman had been able to set his body on fire with such ease. After all, he'd suffered from a complete lack of sexual desire ever since before he'd abandoned the Earth, with the very few exceptions of the small number of dreams where his stunning mate had been the main protagonist, and most of them hadn't even been of a sexual nature anyway.

After a few excruciatingly long minutes, where Vegeta fought his own internal battle, the Saiyan finally sighed in defeat, tilting his head back under the water and running his hands through his wild mane before he finally decided to give in to his carnal urges.

He wrapped his rough fingers around his thick shaft, lazily stroking it up and down as he closed his eyes and thought of his delicate woman. He kept telling himself that he should be proud, proud of having been able to resist his impulses around his little enchantress, running around in her skimpy yoga outfits and sexy lingerie, unknowingly seducing him with her enticing feminine charms, and yet, as his hand increased his pace and he felt his climax approach, all he could feel was shame, the shame of not being brave enough to give his woman and their relationship a real chance.

Vegeta let out a ragged breath when he finally spilt himself in his hand, his legs trembling by the force of his orgasm. He squeezed his eyes shut, slowing down his movements in an effort to languidly prolong his pleasure, gradually coming down from his high. He pressed his other hand on the white tiles, with such force that he felt them crack slightly by the pressure of the colossal strength of his fingertips.

He suddenly heard the faint sounds of Bulma walking around outside, probably cleaning up in the kitchen and, hopefully, finally dressed. Her near presence brought him back to reality one more time.

He truly was pathetic, wasn't he?

Vegeta, Prince of All Saiyans, newly self-proclaimed Evil Overlord of All the Galaxies, had just jerked off in the shower.

Alone.

While the most dazzling creature he'd ever come across had been primping and pampering herself in the room next door.  

A few minutes later, he finally proceeded to clean himself up once again, wondering what Bulma was thinking of in this very moment about their previous moment together. Had she spotted his desire towards her? She'd certainly been utterly lively and coquettish when she'd dealt with him, playfully teasing him, almost mocking him about his sudden prudish attitude towards her almost nude body.