Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ A DRAGONBALL HONEYMOON ❯ Passion and Pride ( Chapter 2 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

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A DRAGONBALL HONEYMOON © 2003 Darke Angelus
Chapter Two ~ PASSION and PRIDE




... it had all been a dream ...

Jerking awake with a gasp, Bulma sat straight up in her bed. She
cast the room a frantic glance, seeing only indistinguishable shapes in
the murky darkness of pre-dawn. She... she was back in her room at
Capsule Corporation. Everything had just been a dream: Vegeta's
'proposal', the months before the wedding, and finally the wedding
itself. None of it had ever happened-

"N-no," she whimpered. Groping round blindly in the dark, her
panicked fingers hit the lamp on the nightstand and knocked it over
with a heavy thump.

There was a low grumble directly beside her and she jerked away
with a tiny yelp of shock. It took some time for her mind to shake the
after affects of her dream (screw that- NIGHTMARE!) and when she
righted the lamp and turned it on, she was relieved to see that she was
right where she was supposed to be: the honeymoon suite of the Majestic
Regency Hotel. And she wasn't alone.

Lying on his right side facing her, Vegeta slumbered on,
oblivious to her little bout of panic. Half of his face was buried into
the pillow and his left hand was lying loosely near his chin. The sight
of that wedding band on his finger dissuaded the last of any residual
doubt and Bulma finally settled back down.

I love him so much, Bulma thought, snuggling close against
Vegeta's warm body and letting her teasing fingers trail lazy circles
over the smooth tanned skin at his side. Her touch eventually reached
his slender hip and frolicked there for a timeless moment while she
deliberated whether to wake him from his sound sleep or to remain
cuddled warmly next to him.

She brought her lips forward and lightly kissed his smooth brow
and brushed an errant strand of hair back from his forehead with a
delicate finger. It was mystifying the intensity of emotions that he
evoked in her. Her extended relationship with Yamcha had its up and
downs but nothing to equal the passions that Vegeta effortlessly
stirred. Her breathing began to speed up despite her mind telling her
to remain calm next to him, to let him rest after his hectic pace of
the night before.

Her breasts tingled with hedonistic expectation when he suddenly
stirred, burrowing his head further into her soft bosom. She could feel
his breathing on her sensitive aureolas, puckering them erect with
trembling anticipation. Her fully awake and yearning womanhood throbbed
out a primitive message to her whirling brain, clamoring incessantly at
the closeness of this naked man beside her. Following the summons from
her fiery center, she let her gentle fingers travel to the wide base of
his shaft, finally gripping the delightful hanging member, hefting the
smooth length in her small palm with almost ceremonial rite.

Vegeta came awake slowly, adjusting his fuzzy mind to the
pleasurable warmth of her body next to his and the slow, sensual
stroking of his rod. He inhaled her heady scent as he moved further
into the soft, yielding flesh of her bosom.

"Uhmm... Ready for more already?" he murmured, bringing a hand to
a weighty breast and directing the hard little nipple into his mouth.

"Only if you're up for it," she giggled; glad he was awake and
feeling life surge into his powerful tool. "How did you sleep?"

"Fine." He moved his hand to her thigh then back up to her hip
and over her smooth, taut belly. He let his fingers dally in the furry
pelt at the apex of her womanhood, feeling her pouting softness warm to
his gentle touch. Bulma spread her legs in delight at the feel of his
teasing fingers, letting him arouse her desire to a fever pitch as he
suckled at her breasts with tender lips.

"And just what you intend to do with this big thing?" she asked
cutely, trying to keep her voice steady as she squeezed and stroked his
now-hard member.

"I'll show you what I'm going to do with it!" he growled
playfully, rolling her onto her back and lying between her wide,
welcoming thighs. He marveled at the sight of her flushed, excited
features as he held himself up by his elbows and admired her softly
contoured breasts. "What a sight to wake up to," he murmured, plucking
a ripe nipple into his mouth and laving the erect nub with his tongue
for a brief moment, then doing the other in the same fashion; mouthing
it softly between his lips as he whipped it to a growing hotness.

"Oh God, I'm ready," she breathed, placing her hands at his sides
and urging him forward.

"Impatient, aren't you? I haven't even kissed you good morning
yet," he smirked.

She darted her tongue urgently across her lips and prepared to
meet his mouth with an eager passion. Instead of moving forward, Vegeta
continued to smile down at her, not moving, looking into her expectant
eyes for long seconds. Instead of meeting her mouth in lustful union,
he suddenly pulled up her knees and held them firmly against her
breasts. The act left her wide open to his greedy, hungry eyes and he
studied her glistening pink labia with solemn authority.

"Vegeta!" Bulma gasped incredulously, her suddenly exposed
clitoris throbbing wildly in this vulnerable position. With a sound
like a chuckle, he was full on her in a frightful, unexpected rush-
pressing his face hard against her flaming center.

"Oh my God!" she wailed, feeling his lips capture her hard clit
and stabbing it with a rapid frenzy with his stiff tongue. She squirmed
wildly for more, moving and twisting in erotic rapture. He nuzzled hard
against her quivering nub, knocking it from side to side, and then
darted his hot tongue deep into her moist folds.

Vegeta mouthed her for a few moments longer, then reared back on
his knees and made an elaborate show of dragging his forearm across his
mouth. "There! Now that," he boasted, "is a Saiyan's idea of a morning
kiss!"

"Ohhh... Wow," she panted wonderingly. "You can kiss me like that
every morning!"

"I just might," he said in a smug voice as he mounted her.
Nudging the broad head of his erection against the pouting lips of her
entrance, he began sliding the tip up and down the heavenly slit,
deliberately teasing her. She dug her fingernails into his back in
response and he continued to move slowly over her. Easing in just the
knob of his manhood, he cupped her face in his hands, forcing her to
look directly up into his eyes. "Do you want it?"

"Of course I want it," she panted. "I want all of you inside me.
As much as you can give."

It was what he wanted to hear. He lowered his head and kissed
her, darting his tongue between her moist lips as he slid his member
all the way into her quivering furnace with one, unending stroke.
Slowly, relishing each minute ripple of her velvet sheath, he began to
piston in and out of that tight warmth. This was against all the
dictates of his unique breeding; to be gentle, to take his time, to
actually care for another's pleasure before his own. Before Bulma, he
never would have bothered about anything, save his own quick release.
More times than not, he wouldn't have even bothered to learn his
conquest's name. So many things had changed over the years and perhaps
not all of them, as he so liked to brood about, were for the worst. The
time he spent with Bulma had served to make him a better lover.

Teasingly, he pulled out so that only the tip was concealed in
the throbbing furrow, then, with a guttural groan, he plunged in again
deeply. He moved in and out of her, increasing his tempo as he went,
and Bulma began to swing her pelvis back and forth in perfect rhythm to
his strokes. Moaning in pleasure, she pulled her legs up and wrapped
then around his back, eager to give him complete access to her
clutching channel. Lost in waves of exultant lust, she didn't notice
his reaction when the heel of her left foot connected with his tail
scar. Her eyes were squeezed shut as she moaned her way the exquisite
shudders of pleasure of a tender climax.

The instant he felt that rough contact on his tender flesh,
Vegeta released a pained snarl and dug his fingers deep into the
mattress. If he had been holding her at the time, his reflex reaction
would probably have severely injured her. The old wound always bothered
him, some days were worse than others. He had thought that he was
finally over the worst of it until their joyride on that pink, two-
wheeled monstrosity the day before. He had felt every single bump and
pothole concentrated in that inch-wide scar at the base of his spine.

Fortunately, the blaze of agony was brief and Bulma never noticed
the slight pause in his technique and he was plunging into her again,
faster than ever. A light sheen of perspiration clung to his olive-
colored skin and his entire body glistened in the soft glow of the
lamp's light. Every muscle moved with precision, his body tense and
alive with excitement as he pumped his hips back and forth. Bulma's
body was thrilled with wave upon wave of undulating ecstasy and she
moaned in utter delight, responding perfectly to his every lunging
stroke. She stared lovingly into his dark, slanted eyes, captivated to
have this muscular, powerful body all to herself. She grabbed a handful
of his thick hair and pulled his face down to give him a deep, hungry
kiss as her hands eagerly kneaded the knotted muscles of his broad back
and shoulders.

Gazing deeply into the dazzling pools of his wife's glittering
blue eyes, Vegeta was stunned to see the trust and love that radiated
from that innocent gaze. No one had ever looked at him like that
before. He knew fear, and recognized lust when he saw it but not
emotions like these- Trust. Love. He never figured that he'd ever be
the recipient.

I think that my lifetime of shitty luck has finally run its
course, he thought. Only a lucky man could be in my place right now.

Bulma's eyes widened in surprise and he knew that she had caught
the stray thought. When their bodies were joined this closely together
it wasn't uncommon for their minds to open up. Usually, he kept his
thoughts carefully guarded and only betrayed the odd word or image.
This was a rare admission for her to catch. Still, he didn't regret the
lapse; far from it.

-Remember what you heard, mri Bulma-tik'o, he told her honestly.
When we're finished, I'll be back to my old, prickish self. He chuckled
against the soft flesh of her neck while she marveled over what he had
confessed in his rare thought.

-I love you so much! she projected with her mind as hard as she
could, hoping that he would be receptive to it. Almost immediately, she
heard him chuckle again and felt his lips against her cheek as he
whispered, "I know."

It was enough to propel her over the brink. Clutching at his
bulging muscles, she was rocked with pulsing hot passion and her fiery
center blazed with orgasmic release. "OOHHH!" she shrieked, thrashing
madly beneath him. "Oh- GOD! That's IT! YESSS!!"

Watching her climax, he knew that even if he stopped his frantic
stroking he would come. Nothing would prevent the escape of the hot
semen that had been building in his balls since the moment her hand had
touched him. His orgasm was almost painful in its intensity, and he
felt Bulma's body jerk with each spurt of his seed into her spasming
womanhood. The sensation was overwhelming and he arched his back and
released a roar of savage accomplishment that was echoed by Bulma's
shrill peals of pleasure.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of rapturous bliss,
their passion passed its peak. The intensity of their lovemaking
diminished until finally, Vegeta lay exhausted, sprawled on top of
Bulma's voluptuous body. For a long moment, there was only the sound of
their rapid breathing until, with a groan, he rolled off of her and
stared at the ceiling with heavy eyes. "I know just the perfect thing
that would compliment this moment," he murmured lazily.

She raised her head and stared at him. "You do? What is it?" she
asked eagerly.

"A great big steak. Why don't you go order up some room service?"

She should have known.

>>>>>

The Majestic Regency was known worldwide for its spectacular
seaside panoramic perspective, but the only view that the newlyweds
were interested in were for each other. Vegeta and Bulma spent the
entire day frolicking nude around the suite and dividing their hours up
between intermittent bouts of eating, catching naps, and screwing their
mutual brains out. Both were insatiable with their desire for one
another and it wasn't until early evening when Bulma finally had the
wits to call home and talk to her mother.

"Finally!" her mother screeched into the receiver. "Do you
realize that I've been constantly trying to call you ever since you
left yesterday?"

"Sorry, mom. I forgot that my phone was turned off," Bulma lied
smoothly as she laid back in the recliner and drank some champagne from
one fluted crystal glass. She was currently sporting a nice mellow buzz
from the bubbly liquid and nothing, not even her harried mother, could
upset her present contentment. Opposite her, sprawled on the couch,
Vegeta was snoring away with that endearing purr-like quality of his.
In his present insensate state, she could use him as a footstool and he
wouldn't stir: A combination of exhaustion and the result of downing
two full bottles of champagne. It was such a rare sight to see him in a
relaxed state that Bulma found that she couldn't take her eyes off of
him for longer than a minute.

"Um mm, a likely story," her mother responded but, fortunately,
that was about as long as she stayed miffed. "So tell me everything!
How was your drive? What did you see? Where is that handsome son-in-law
of mine?"

Bulma burst out laughing at the endearing reference and Vegeta
muttered something in his sleep, shifted position, and came
precariously close to falling off of the narrow sofa. Positioning her
foot against his bare hip, she pushed him back from the edge and this
time he rolled over in the opposite direction without waking up. She
almost started braying laughter again at the sight. "He's right here,
just catching up on some sleep."

"But Bulma, it's barely six o'clock. Isn't that a little early-
... oooh. OH! I get it," the blonde tittered like a pre-school girl who
had just heard her first naughty word. "You two have been... busy."

"That's one word for it," Bulma said smugly. "How're Trunks and
dad?"

There was a frustrated exhale of breath on the other end and
Bulma knew that her mother wanted to hear all of the juicy details and
didn't appreciate the change of topic. "Trunks is adorable as ever but
he misses you and Vegeta terribly. He's started this annoying habit of
biting people. Why, just this afternoon he bit your father on the ankle
and now he won't stop chasing after the cat!"

"He's just testing you. When he does something wrong, just do
what Vegeta does; take him by the scruff of the neck and give him a
firm shake."

"Bulma! He's not a pet!"

"I know that mom, but just telling him 'no' won't work. He's
half-Saiyan and needs discipline to control those aggressive
tendencies. You're going to have to make him mind."

Bulma knew that she might as well have tried reasoning with the
wall. Too gentle to even swat at a fly, her mother would never raise
her voice in protest against Trunks' actions, let alone attempt to
discipline him. "We'll get along fine until you come home, dear," the
blond said and her daughter had to submerge a groan. In two weeks time,
Trunks would be completely spoiled rotten by his grandparents and
impossible to manage. She and Vegeta were going to have their hands
full when they got back. It was fortunate that the Saiyan didn't mind
playing the villain when it came to laying down the law (after all, it
came so naturally to him), allowing Bulma to console the boy and remain
the hero. It was surprising how their varied views on parenting
actually stitched together: Vegeta left the mothering to her, and Bulma
let him be the disciplinarian. It was enough of a shared balance to
create an environment where Trunks' unique heritage could thrive.

Unfortunately, no one else seemed to understand that. "Mother..."
Bulma sighed, feeling her pleasant buzz beginning to slide. "Just do
your best with him, okay?" she said in surrender, not wanting a fight
with her vacuous, well-intentioned mother to ruin her mood. To get the
woman off-topic, Bulma told her about the previous day's problems with
traffic and having to travel on Daisy. Mrs. Briefs laughed so hard that
Bulma had to hold the receiver away from her ear but it left the woman
in high spirits when she was finally able to hang up. Right after that,
she shut off her phone again. Just in case.

Refilling her glass in an attempt to reclaim her buzz, Bulma
fetched her laptop and began charting their next destination as she
calibrated the Dragonball radar. The next one nearest them was
somewhere in the Caribbean and, after confirming the latitude and
longitude coordinates, her brow furrowed in worry. It was hard to
settle old superstitions, especially on a planet with so many
conflicting myths and fantasies running around. This place in
particular had a dubious reputation.

Then again, she thought as her eyes fell on the slumbering alien
on the couch, so did he. With Vegeta by her side there was nothing on
Earth that could come close to harming her. That knowledge offered her
comfort and served to relax her. Smiling, she went back to scanning her
computer for some nearby tourist attractions that they might want to
see (well, let's be honest here... attractions that SHE would want to
see and would have to drag Vegeta along for the ride). A couple of
hours north would take them into the Arid Wastes; a desert of sagebrush
and barren rock formations where Vegeta had faced off against Gokou in
their first confrontation. For some reason, Bulma found herself
dwelling over the name as her finger tapped idly on the arm of the
recliner. Tourists flocked to the site year around and the fissures and
blast holes also attracted film crews. Why did that all sound so
familiar to her? The explanation was on the tip of her tongue but she
couldn't quite grasp it. After a few frustrating moments, she finally
gave up and forced herself to search through her luggage for her lost
capsule packet.

Dimly, as if his ears were stuffed with cotton, Vegeta pulled
slowly out of his heavy doze to the sounds of luggage being unpacked,
rifled through, and then encapsulated again. The sound was irritating
and he tried to block out Bulma's frustrated cursing by wrapping his
arm around one side of his head while forcing the other side deeper
into the pillow. He was in, what Bulma had affectionately labeled as,
his 'Badman' mode; he had gotten laid, his stomach was full, he was
half in the bag, and all he wanted to do was get some uninterrupted
sleep. He'd never admit it aloud, even under the threat of torture, but
the truth was that Bulma was literally wearing him out with her
voracious sex drive. He never would have believed it was even possible
before today.

Slip a gaudy piece of jewelry on the woman's finger and she turns
into a succubus, he thought and betrayed a faint smile. He absently
wondered how Krillin and Android 18's honeymoon would turn out (if it
ever happened, the pair hadn't even set a wedding date yet) and figured
that the little runt better pack a body bag for himself. He released a
snort at the mental picture of them together. And people that that he
and Bulma were an odd pair-?!

There was an excited shout of, "I found it!" from the bedroom and
Bulma rushed into the living room and stood beside the couch. "Are you
still asleep?"

"Yes."

"Too bad," she said and climbed on top of him, straddling his
waist as if he were Daisy. He half expected her to scream out 'Giddy-
up' but instead she held up her capsule packet. "I found my spare
capsules. It figures that it was in the last bag I checked. Now we
don't have to drive around on that moped anymore."

Pulling his arm away, he looked up and was greeted to the sight
of a very naked Bulma leaning over him. He laced his fingers behind his
head and appreciated the view of her perfect breasts as he yawned, "If
you hadn't found it, we could have just stolen a car. No big deal."

She thought he was joking at first, and then she considered the
source. "We couldn't do something like that."

"Why not? It'd be fun."

That certainly wasn't a word that came up in his vocabulary very
often. She looked at him carefully and was surprised to see him staring
up at her with a crafty expression on his face. "You've done it before,
haven't you?" she realized.

His faint smile broadened.

"Ohmigod, you have!"

"Not on Earth," he told her. "Not for a long time. Nappa,
Radditz, and I were occasionally assigned scouting or reconnaissance
missions instead of the usual purgings. The inactivity used to drive us
crazy with boredom."

"So you stole cars?"

"Well, not just any cars- if that was what you could even call
them. The vehicles varied from planet to planet. But they were always
owned by the local law enforcement. That was the whole point. We were
allowed to battle if we were threatened by an authority figure. That
usually happened after a couple of hours of joyriding. By then, they'd
start shooting at us so we were allowed to retaliate."

She knew what that meant. "How old were you?"

"Early teens."

She burst out laughing. "You juvenile delinquent!" she howled,
punching his shoulder playfully. It should have bothered her that he
had used such antics as justification for killing people but the
admission was just so unexpected that it caught her off guard.

"I don't see what's so funny," he mumbled, self-consciously
crossing his arms.

"Don't you get it? This is what this whole trip is about. I
hardly know anything about your life before you came to Earth. Now I
know that you stole cars when you were a kid- It makes you more human
in my eyes."

"Whatever floats your boat. Do you want to do it or not?"

"NO!"

"Bah, you're no fun," he pouted, closing his eyes and pretending
to fall back asleep.

"I'm not, huh?" Bulma stayed where she was and began to rock her
hips back and forth along his hard stomach. Vegeta tried to ignore her
but he was betrayed by another part of his anatomy that was eagerly
responding to the close proximity of her womanhood.

When he felt her hand guide him into her tight entrance, he
mumbled out, "Wake me when you're done."

She had to laugh, even as she eased herself down on that
exquisite length until he was completely imbedded within her.
Deliberately, she began to flex her inner thighs and internal muscles
around his rod as her body remained perfectly still. She had been
practicing her Kegel exercises during their three weeks apart as a
treat for their honeymoon. Now, Vegeta's eyes snapped open as he felt
her inner palpitations; squeezing, letting go, squeezing harder-

"What the hell-?" his voice actually broke in surprise.

"I thought you'd like it," she purred, raking her fingernails
lightly across his hard chest. She started adding a counter-clockwise
motion to her hips while her sex muscles continued their loving
contractions. Underneath of her, Vegeta grappled for control before he
came too soon but he was fighting a losing battle and they both knew
it. Gritting his teeth, he grabbed her hips and began thrusting up into
her with little grunts of effort. His fingers dug into her tender flesh
with almost painful force but Bulma was too distracted too notice as
she writhed atop of him, working her hips around his member with savage
gyrations.

Never in her life had she ever felt so free with her sexuality.
It thrilled her to know that Vegeta would be receptive to just about
any whispered suggestion she brought into their relationship, and more
than prepared to add a few suggestions of his own. She knew that he'd
had more than his share of liaisons in his past, experiencing all
manner of positions and perversions. It had served to have gotten it
all out of his system and he was finally ready to settle down, willing
to share his knowledge only with her. All that Bulma really knew about
sex were from romance novels, magazines, and her disappointing on-
again-off-again romance with-

"Yamcha!" she cried out, just as Vegeta was about to climax.

With a livid curse, he pushed her off of him and she fell
backwards into the arm of the sofa, dazed and shocked. "Wha- Vegeta?"

"You're screwing me and you're thinking about him?!" he bellowed,
eyeing her in disbelief.

"I just remembered something that I was thinking about earlier-"

"Shut up! I told you never to say that fucker's name while we
were together!"

"It was an accident!" she said sincerely, knowing that the mere
mention of her past lover was always guaranteed to enrage the Saiyan
and she had spoken his name at possibly the worst moment imaginable.
"He's got a part in a movie that being filmed in the Arid Wastes and
that's only a few hours away from here. I was wondering why the name of
the place sounded so familiar-"

Shaking his head, Vegeta leapt from the sofa and stalked to the
bathroom, slamming the door shut. Giving chase she heard him lock the
door and, following that, heard the shower come on. "Vegeta!" she
yelled, bringing a fist down on the door. "Talk to me, dammit! Don't
shut me out." She could imagine him standing under the spray, scrubbing
off the scent of her, and purposely ignoring her impassioned pleas.

I hurt him, she realized with genuine concern. He knows that I
once loved Yamcha with all of my heart and soul and wonders to this day
if I still privately yearn for him. I did more than just hurt him, I
wounded his pride.

"Vegeta, I'm sorry!" she pleaded when she heard the shower shut
off. She wrapped her hand around the doorknob to try pulling on it and
was relieved to hear it become unlocked. Vegeta stepped out, rubbing a
towel back and forth through his thick hair. He sidestepped her and
went directly into the bedroom to start getting dressed.

Bulma understood that he was getting ready to leave. "Shit,
Vegeta! I said I was sorry. What else do you want me to say?"

Pulling on a shirt, he directed one of his cold gazes in her
direction and she sucked in breath at the amount of hatred that she saw
in those raven depths. "Goodbye," he said as his answer and pulled the
ring off of his finger and threw it on the bed.

In a rare moment as she was lost for words, Bulma watched him
finish dressing and then turn to the balcony in preparation to fly
away. With as calm a voice as she could manage, Bulma said levelly,
"Run away if you have to. It's one of the things you do best."

He came to a halt as if he had run into a wall. The muscles
across his shoulders and back rippled beneath the material of his shirt
as he tensened up in preparation for a fight. "I've never run away from
a battle in my entire life," he told her with a low snarl.

"This isn't a battle, it's a relationship," she reasoned. "That's
something you have no experience in dealing with. Need I remind you
that you swore to an oath? How easily it is for you to throw that
promise aside when it suits you!"

He turned around slowly and glared at her. "You call out the name
of your ex-lover while we're having sex and you have the gall to make
me the scoundrel?"

"I said I was sorry and I meant it," she said in that same
measured, level voice. If she lost her temper now and started shouting
at him, he would bolt for sure. She had been in the wrong and she knew
it, she had to try and find some way to repair the damage.

It was clear that he had been expecting some manner of frenzied
tirade instead of this calm approach. A muscle jumped in the angle of
his jawline as he looked to the escape that the balcony offered and
back to Bulma. Finally, his eyes settled on a neutral sight and he
glowered at the far wall, crossing his arms and visibly at a loss in
which direction to go.

"I've told you before that Yamcha wasn't that great in bed,"
Bulma told him. "I was just thinking about how experienced you are when
his name just popped into my head."

He released a sour snort. "Is that supposed to make me feel
better?"

"It's not for the reason you think. I never told Yamcha about our
engagement. At the hospital while Chi Chi was in labor, do you know
what he said about you? He said that you'd never marry me- That you
didn't care for me as much as he did. And never would."

Vegeta's mouth twitched in response to her words but that was
about it. She decided to press on, "Think about his reaction if we paid
him a surprise visit and told him the news together."

There was a scheming look on her face that he immediately
recognized. The only difference was that it wasn't his reflection. "You
malicious wench," he said in a surprised tone. "Are you actually
suggesting what I think you are?"

"He broke us up, got you fired, beat you up, almost got you
killed when he led that doctor back to you in Ivory City. It's about
time that we finally put him in his place once and for all."

Vegeta understood that Bulma was talking about revenge, something
that definitely appealed to his twisted nature. His finger casually
tapped his bicep while he considered the idea; it was actually quite
brilliant and didn't even involve any combat. He could clearly picture
the expression on the idiot's face as they groped one another right in
front of him. A gratified smirk threatened to pull up the corner of his
mouth but he quenched it as he leveled his gaze at her, "It should
bother me that you want to visit your idiot ex-lover on our honeymoon."

"It's a pretty good opportunity, don't you think?"

"Hnh," he grunted, still considering the idea. She decided to
walk over to him and was grateful when he didn't pull away from her.

"I've opened my mind to you, Vegeta. You know that you're the
only man for me," she told him, caressing his cheek. "You're a prince,
you're powerful, and you're fantastic in bed. No human male can compare
to any of that! Nobody else can even come close to how much I love
you."

The Saiyan was always vulnerable to a little well-placed ego
stroking and this moment was no different. Bulma was relieved when the
tension in his shoulders finally eased and he dropped his arms to allow
her to cuddle in closer. Her arms wrapped tenderly around his waist and
she looked into his eyes and whispered, "This was our first serious
fight as a married couple. Do you know what that means?"

He looked at her a little warily. "...No."

"Make-up sex," she said with a smile and kissed him.

Two hours later, Vegeta was sleeping again and this time Bulma
decided that she would let him get the rest that he needed. She was
starting to get a little weary herself and more than a little sore in
all of the wrong places. She drew a bath for herself and slid
gratefully into the blissful depths of the whirlpool tub, smiling in
contentment. Things had been tense a short while ago but their love for
one another had finally won out. Bulma knew that there was nothing else
that could place their union in jeopardy with this last hurdle behind
them.

Relaxing in the hot water, Bulma thought craftily, Tomorrow,
Yamcha, you are going to get the shock of your life.

>>>>>

"CUT!" the director yelled and rubbed his aching temple. "Who the
hell ever said that this bozo could act?" he muttered to his assistant.

"You know darn well who," she reminded him in a cautious voice.

"Thanks for reminding me," he said peevishly and jumped off of
his chair and walked around the cameras onto the elaborate set. It was
early morning in the 'Wastes and the film crew and actors were taking
advantage of the coolness of the desert before the sun could climb and
make the heat unbearable. A small shanty village had been built at the
base of one gigantic mesa where nearby, brooding spires of harsh rock
poked out of the arid dirt like the ribs of some long dead prehistoric
giant. It was the perfect setting for a post-nuclear holocaust film
called "Land of Yesterday" where the hero of a primitive tribe searched
the desert for ancient weapons to defeat an evil warlord.

It was strictly a "B" movie with a limited budget and the
director was cutting any corners that he could. It hadn't mattered (at
least not at first) that one of the film's extras couldn't act worth a
damn; he displayed some rather fantastic powers that served to cut down
on the budget allocated for pyrotechnics. If the director had had his
way, the guy would have just been stuck on sidelines until they needed
an explosion, but he was currently the leading lady's boytoy. The
actress was fronting a significant amount of her own money to finance
what she hoped would be her comeback to Hollywood. She had promised her
lover a part and by damned, he was going to get a part! Not even the
director was brave enough to butt heads with that Amazon bitch.

"Yamcha," the man said as he stepped up to the fighter. "It's
really very simple. All you have to do is shield your eyes like you're
scanning the horizon and shout out; 'There's dust on the horizon! The
attackers are coming to the village!' Got it?"

"Sorry Mitch," Yamcha said humbly. He was dressed only in a
loincloth and tattered leather boots and his muscles flexed nervously
under a layer of sweat brought on by the rising humidity. He hadn't
been allowed to shave for the part and several days' stubble coated his
lower jaw. Adding his unruly hair to the look and Mitch figured that
the guy was definitely handsome- he just couldn't frigging act! "I'll
get it right this time, I promise."

"Uh huh," Mitch said unconvincingly as he wandered back to his
seat. "That's what you've said for the last eleven takes," he mumbled
under his breath.

"Scene forty-seven, take twelve," one crew hand shouted.

"Awright people, we're wasting morning light," the director
called out. "Action!"

Stepping out from behind one ripped tent flap, Yamcha (listed in
the credits as Expendable Tribesman Three) walked a short distance to
the edge of the camp and scouted the horizon, his face drawn and
serious. Raising one hand to shield his eyes, his face assumed an
expression of curiosity and then fear. "Oh no!" he shouted out,
"There's rust on the horiz-"

"CUT!" Mitch bawled out and took his face in his hands.

"Did I say rust? Heh, sorry about that," Yamcha chuckled,
scratching the back of his neck with an absent hand.

"Scene forty-seven, take thirteen," the crewmember called out.

Mitch sighed, bracing himself for the inevitable. "Action," he
muttered, quickly losing his enthusiasm.

Emerging again from the ruined tent, Yamcha walked to the edge of
the camp and scanned the desert. "Oh no!" he shouted out, pointing to
the east. "There's dust on the horizon! The villagers are attacking!"

"CUT!" Mitch screamed. "That's not the friggin' line! It's 'The
attackers are coming to the village!' How much trouble is that to
remember?!"

"I can't concentrate! This stupid loincloth is making me itchy!"
Yamcha groused back, adjusting his crotch.

"This is going to look great on the blooper reel," Mitch's
assistant giggled.

"Shut up, Penny," he snapped back, fixing her with a sour look.
"Where the hell is our 'Village Priestess' anyway? Maybe she can talk
some sense into lover-boy here."

"Still getting 'into the role' in her trailer," Penny told him.
"You know the rules; don't disturb her while she gets into character.
She'll be here soon enough."

Rolling his eyes, Mitch nodded to the crew hand who immediately
called out, "Scene forty-seven, take fourteen."

Gripping the armrests of his chair, Mitch Jerkins said, "Action!"

Knowing that this was possibly his last chance, Yamcha left the
tent for what he prayed would be the last time and walked over the edge
of the camp. He held a hand over his eyes as he looked around and then
called out, "There's dust on the horizon! The attackers are approaching
the village!" he backed up and ran into the encampment.

Mitch blinked in surprise. That was actually perfect. "Fan-
frigging-tastic! Cut and print!"

"No can do," one of the cameraman told him. "The scene has to be
done over."

"What the hell for?"

"There's a hovercar in the background of the shot."

"SHIT!" Mitch brought his fist down on the chair's arm in
frustration. He got to his feet to stand next to the nearest cameraman
and, sure enough, there was a huge plum of dust from an approaching
hovercar. Sunlight reflected off of the windshield in bright flashes
and the director didn't need to be told that it would be impossible to
edit that out of the film. It looked like there was going to be a take
fifteen, after all.

Yamcha came jogging back. "Hey, Mitch, how was that? Pretty good,
eh?" It dawned on him that everyone had turned to watch a car drive
across the sun-singed desert towards the set. His eyesight was sharper
than most and it didn't take long to notice the telltale sight of sea-
foam colored hair. "I'll be damned. It's Bulma!"

"Who?" a fellow cast mate asked, coming up along side of him.

"Bulma Briefs, my ex-girlfriend," Yamcha said happily until he
noticed that she wasn't alone. His face dropped as well as his voice,
"... and Vegeta."

"Who?" the extra asked again.

Ignoring him, Yamcha walked over to the edge of the set as the
convertible slowed down and finally pulled up near the cast and crew.
Bulma was in the drivers seat, radiant in a red sundress and scarf
around her neck. Lounging in the passenger's seat, Vegeta took one look
at what Yamcha was wearing and laughed out loud.

"Surprise!" Bulma said cheerfully, waving her arms. "Happy to see
us?"

"You, yes," Yamcha muttered, fixing the Saiyan with a spiteful
glare. "What brings the two of you all the way out here?"

"We have some wonderful news!" she gushed, wrapping her arms
around Vegeta's neck. The Saiyan's eyes bulged behind the sunglasses he
wore and he squirmed in her grip with a low growl. "You're not going to
believe it!"

Mitch had seen enough and he turned to Penny. "Call for some
security. This is a closed set."

"I don't think that would be a very good idea."

"Why not?"

"I recognize her; that's Bulma Briefs. You know, of Capsule
Corporation?"

"So?"

Penny huffed out an irritated breath and explained, "We're
running into the red and the film is only half completed. It just might
be in your best interest to give the grand tour to a woman who's worth
billions."

Swallowing, the director blinked at her for a few stunned seconds
and then turned in the direction where the heiress and her companion
had gotten out of the car and were talking to Yamcha. A slow smile
spread across Mitch's weary face and he looked like a man who had found
salvation at long last. "Penny, you're a genius."

"That's what you pay me the big bucks for, boss," the red head
responded sourly.

Flipping her the finger behind his back, Mitch sauntered over to
where the three were standing. "Ms. Briefs! Welcome to the set of 'Land
of Yesterday'. I'm the director, Mitch Jerkins." He took her hand and
shook it with two brisk pumps and then turned to Vegeta. "Hello there,
sir. I'm Mitch-"

"I heard you the first time," Vegeta sniffed. He took one look at
the director's outstretched hand and sneered, "And I don't shake
hands."

More than used to dealing with rudeness from vain actors and the
like, Mitch shrugged off the incident as he studied Vegeta curiously.
"Have I seen you before? You look awfully familiar."

"So, Bulma, what's the news?" Yamcha cut in desperately, before
the director clued in that Vegeta had been broadcast during the Cell
games. "I'm really on a tight schedule here and we're shooting a very
complicated scene."

Mitch flashed him an incredulous look, and Yamcha grinned at him
as if to say; Cut me some slack here, would ya? I'm trying to impress
my ex!

Bulma smiled and passed Vegeta a sly look. "Should I tell him
now?"

"You've been practicing it the entire way here," the Saiyan said
in a smug tone of voice. "I think he's as ready as he'll ever be."

Taking a deep breath, Bulma wrapped an arm around his waist and
declared, "Vegeta and I have gotten m-"

"-Well, well, well," commented a husky female voice from the
sidelines. "Who do we have here?"

Bulma released an angry snort at the interruption and cast an
unfriendly glare at the woman standing beside them. Her entire body
went cold with immediate recognition. Mitch brightened as he rushed
over to the leading actresses' side. "Everyone, I'd like you to meet
the star of the movie herself, D-"

"No need for formalities, Jerkins. We've all met before," the
tall woman said as she fixed her raven stare solely on the stunned
couple.

"Haven't we, Vegeta?" Dorothy Pereaux added with a grin.




**************************************************
Chapter Three: It's mayhem on the movie set while the cameras are
rolling!