Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ A DRAGONBALL HONEYMOON ❯ Epilogue ( Chapter 11 )

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

A DRAGONBALL HONEYMOON © 2006 Darke Angelus
Epilogue
------

"So, uh, Bulma," Krillin attempted again after getting nothing
more than an hour of tense silence from the livid Heiress. "Up until
the point that Vegeta stranded you on the Lookout, you were having a
good honeymoon?"

Bulma had her lower lips stuck out in a pout and she pulled out
of her foul mood long enough to mumble; "It was an adventure, that's
for sure."

"I read about some of it in the tabloids. That little stunt you
guys pulled at the Museum exhibit in London had me in serious hot water
with 18."

"What?" her eyes sharpened on his face. "Why?"

"She read about the size of the diamond that Vegeta gave you and
freaked out. I couldn't go back home until I brought back something
larger than one carat."

"And did you?"

The little monk's face screwed up in anguish. "Yeah, but I'm now
in hock up to my eyeballs, which at my height isn't saying much. 18
doesn't seem to understand that I can't compete with Vegeta. He's a
Prince, for crying out loud, and he's loaded-"

"He can also be a major jerk, Krillin. That's something you're
not. Wealth and status don't mean a damned thing if you haven't got the
personality to back it all up. You're a super sweet guy. 18 is a very
lucky lady, er... person to have you."

Encountering an air current that was a warm, pleasing
temperature, Krillin slowed his course back to the Western Capital and
regarded her seriously. "You're not having second thoughts about
marrying Vegeta, are you?"

Her blue eyes widened in disbelief. "Of course not! What gave you
an idea like that?"

"Well, when you called me, you were pretty upset," he said,
seriously downplaying the incident. After reacting to Bulma's slip of
the tongue, Vegeta had blasted away for a direct course home,
deliberately leaving her behind. At first she was a little grateful for
the time-out until it dawned on her that she didn't have any travel
capsules. Piccolo and the others were in Antarctica, Mr. Popo couldn't
fly, and Dende wasn't able to leave the Lookout. It was well beyond
Gohan's bedtime, and she sure as heck wasn't going to have Chi Chi or
her parents come and get her, so that left only one person.

In truth, Krillin was grateful to have the excuse to leave Master
Roshi's island. Android 18 was beginning to get carried away with the
idea of an approaching wedding and the monk was beginning to wonder if
the concept wasn't frying her circuits. She wanted to rent a huge
cathedral for the nuptials to take place, stating proudly that it could
seat almost a thousand guests. When Krillin explained that, between the
two of them, the most that they would have on the invitation list was
maybe twenty people, she flipped out. And when he worked up the nerve
to tell her that most of them probably wouldn't even be able to afford
a wedding present, she seriously flipped out.

"Why are all of your friends so poor?!" she started screaming.
Sitting in the corner quietly watching television, the turtle pulled
his head and flippers into his shell and tried to appear invisible.

"Whuh- well, Bulma isn't-"

"One person. One! How on Earth are we going to be able to furnish
our dream house with one decent present? You tell me that!"

Krillin wasn't able to tell her anything. His shell-shocked mind
began whirling around the words; "Dream house", and he was pretty sure
that she wasn't talking about the old shack of Roshi's they were
currently living in.

The argument was still raging on when Bulma's call came through
and poor Krillin, initially relieved at the timely intrusion, was
suddenly the sole target of another crazed female. "Wha-what's wrong,
Bulma-"

"Vegeta! That's what!" the tiny cell phone practically jumped in
Krillin's hand and he had to hold it at arms length. "That miserable,
monkey-humping son of bitch-"

The conversation had just gone downhill from there. So it came as
a surprise that she was looking at him now in astonishment when he had
asked the question if she might be regretting getting married to the
Saiyan. "Seriously, Krillin. I love Vegeta."

"You could have fooled me earlier."

"Oh, I was just blowing off some steam," she dismissed with a
wave. "It doesn't mean anything. Couples fight all the time."

"They do?"

"It can't always be hugs and kisses, Krillin. Sometimes you have
to let out a little steam or you'd explode. 18 is like that, I think.
Vegeta and I just do it more often than most people. We actually got
along great on the honeymoon. When we weren't screwing like bunnies, we
were off having amazing adventures together!"

Krillin immediately blushed. "Uh, thanks for sharing..."

"That's what a honeymoon is all about, silly!" she started to
smile at her friend's obvious distress. She knew that the little man
wasn't very knowledgeable about women and she suspected that he was
even still a virgin. She liked to tease him at the best of times and
this was the perfect opportunity. "For the first two days of it, we
barely made it out of bed. We tried all sorts of different positions,
and once, I even managed to talk him into-"

"Bulma!" the man's face was nearly purple. "Can we not talk about
THAT. Please?"

"Oh, poo- You're no fun," she playfully pinched his cheek,
giggling. "Fine, then. I'll tell you about what happened in the Bermuda
Triangle. How about that?"

"Fine, just keep it G-Rated for me, alright?"

"There wasn't any hanky panky. Vegeta was too tired and he
couldn't get it u-"

"Bulma!"

She rolled her eyes. "You are such a prude!" she cried, and
proceeded to give him a clean, abridged, kindergarten version of some
of their more noteworthy adventures. The storytelling lasted until they
reached the Western Capital and by the time Krillin set her down in the
courtyard of the Headquarters building, she was calm again. Retelling
the events had made her realize that perhaps Vegeta had good reason to
be angry with her. All along she had assured him that the wish making
was to be his affair and she had stolen the thunder right out from
under his nose (even if it had been an accident).

Speaking of thunder...

There were a series of hollow 'booms' that echoed in the night
air and Krillin followed Bulma around to the back yard. The Gravity
Simulator was rocking on its struts and the crimson portals were
flashing as if muted explosions were going on inside of the circular
chamber. In a twisted sort of way, Bulma supposed that there were.
Vegeta was having a temper tantrum of epic proportions and, at first,
she figured that it just might be best if he let off some steam where
he couldn't hurt anybody. Then she saw the simulator shudder followed
by several rivets popping out of the hull and she realized if she
didn't interfere, and soon, he was going to breech the walls of the
training device and hurt himself. Again.

Bulma's parents were sitting at the patio, enjoying a cup of
lemonade, and just carrying on chatting as if it were just like any
other day. Trunks was mutilating his newest stuffed toy nearby and when
he caught sight of his mother, he leapt immediately to his feet and
raced towards her-

Thwangg! The boy was suddenly knocked off of his feet as the
steel cable that Dr. Briefs had attached to his harness became taut. It
had originally started out as a harness for his cat, but the old man
had redesigned it to stop the boy from his incessant climbing,
sprinting and getting into everything that could be potentially
damaging to the baby. When Bulma went over to sooth the crying boy, she
noticed that it looked as if her parents had aged ten years.

"You're back!" her mother gushed. "Why, when I saw Vegeta return
early I just knew that you would be home soon. It's wonderful to have
you back. Juh- just wonderful!" Tears began leaking out of the corners
of her eyes and, beside her, Dr. Briefs took off his coke-bottle
glasses and scrubbed his eyes with a hankie. Bulma wasn't sure if it
was relief in having them back, or relief that their babysitting tenure
was finally over.

"Momma!" Trunks grabbed hold of her arm and began shaking it (and
shaking the rest of her, he was getting so strong!) "I can do hunnert
numbers! I Can! Lissen momma! Lissen: Wontoothreefoor-"

Yeah, probably the latter.

There was another resounding boom, and Bulma turned in time to
see the Gravity Simulator wobble in its frame. "Just a moment, sweetie.
Your mother has to go do something first."

"NoNoNOOO-" the boy's cry became as feral wail as he strained
against the steel cable, arms waving for his mother who was running
across the yard. The cable was attached to a steel bracket screwed into
the side of the Headquarters building. As the little hybrid lunged
against the restraint again, Dr. Briefs barely had the time to duck as
the bracket, and a good-sized chunk of concrete, went sailing over his
head. Now free, Trunks streaked off in pursuit of his mother.

Bulma, meanwhile, had ducked under the rocking training dome and
popped open a service hatch. Reaching inside to a depth of her
shoulder, she groped around blindly for a moment before she seized
something and hauled it out with a yank. In her hand was a bunch of
sputtering wires. Two seconds later, the simulator began to power down.

Three seconds after THAT, the simulator door slammed open and
Vegeta stuck his head out, bellowing: "Woman! What the fuck did you
do?"

"Fukfukfukfukfuk" Trunks began parroting happily. Mrs. Briefs
tried to cover his mouth and he bit her finger. She started running
around the yard, screaming in agony.

Standing a fair distance on the sidelines, Krillin watched the
show, his round face expressionless with shock. Bulma and Vegeta were
in each other's face yelling things that didn't make any sense. Trunks
was trying to get their attention and crying at the top of his lungs.
Mrs. Briefs was still screaming like a fire bell. It didn't take long
for a police cruiser to show up, its lights flashing and siren wailing.
Two policemen approached the warring family members and were trying to
tell them to keep it down, neighbors were complaining about the noise.
Immediately assuming the role of a united couple, both Vegeta and Bulma
told the civil servants exactly where they could go. The cops retreated
back to their cruiser threatening to call for back up. In the
background of it all, Dr. Briefs sat back down and took his face in his
hands. It looked like he was weeping.

"This is nuts," Krillin muttered under his breath and took to the
sky, suddenly eager to get back to his peaceful island. And he had
actually been complaining? Confronting one harried, bitchy fiancé was
certainly better than staying at the insane asylum that was now the
Capsule Corporation headquarters building!

Speeding a swift course out over the Pacific Ocean, he resolved
that he would never complain about 18 ever again.

>>>>>

Nobody in the entire Briefs household had gotten more than an
hour's sleep that entire night. The cops made good with their threat
and called for assistance. They were well aware that Vegeta posed more
of a threat than they were prepared to deal with (the fact that he had
been a contestant at the Cell Games was public knowledge) and damned if
the SWAT Team didn't arrive decked out in full riot gear. All they
would have needed to make it complete was the portable camera unit from
"COPS". Upon further investigation, Mrs. Briefs' theatrics were
revealed to be over something quite serious; Trunks had almost bitten
through the bone of her little finger. An ambulance was called and she
was rushed off to the hospital with her husband fretting by her side.

Vegeta had a serious hate-on for firearms ever since his
Installation 15 ordeal and it took a great deal of coaxing for Bulma to
get him into the house before things got really nasty. He reluctantly
agreed, dragging his son along behind him by the steel cable like an
inexperienced pet owner trying to walk a stubborn dog. Now on her own,
Bulma put on the charm. She was able to reason with the infuriated
officials, but not before offering to buy any and all of the
policeman's ball tickets, promotional calendars, and raffle tickets
that they owned. It wasn't quite a bribe but it served its purpose, and
by midnight, the last police cruiser had left the compound.

She wasn't alone, though. Not by a long shot.

It had been common knowledge that the pair weren't due to return
for two more days, but there were members of the Paparazzi who had
decided to camp out in the vacant lot across the street anyway,
suspecting that the short-tempered couple just might cut the Honeymoon
short. They were rewarded for their patience by the story of the year.
For the next hour, Bulma fielded their questions and even did a few
short interviews, figuring at this point that the Briefs name could use
some positive exposure.

She was starting to lose her voice by the time the media hounds
released her and she wearily entered the house. All she wanted to do
was get Trunks settled, wrap her arms around her husband, and go to
bed. What she found when she entered the living room was almost enough
to make her run screaming back out into the courtyard.

The entire living area of the headquarters building was a
shambles. There were dents in the walls, the wallpaper was ripped and
torn, the ceiling fan was partially ripped out of its fixture and had a
serious lean. The bookcases along the far wall were all upset and there
were piles of shredded paper and ripped books littering the carpet,
which had a number of suspicious stains that Bulma had never seen
before. The lamps were all broken and the plasma screen TV was hanging
crookedly on the wall, dripping what looked like pudding from one
corner.

The furniture looked battered and worn with several gouges in the
rich fabric that were oozing puffs of stuffing. The reason was clear
when she watched Trunks force himself against the backrest of the
loveseat and catapult over to the sofa. Back and forth he went,
gradually gaining altitude with each bounce.

"Vegeta, what's he doing?" she asked the Saiyan. His head was
ticking back and forth like a spectator at a tennis game as he watched
the boy.

"I think he's trying to fly," he answered.

"How-how old were you when you..."

"Four years," he said, locking eyes with her and raising his
eyebrows. "For some reason, he's developed the instinct early. Probably
because we were separated from him." He looked around the demolished
living room in amazement before something else caught his eye and he
wandered away.

"You wanted to come and join mommy and daddy on their vacation,
did you?" Bulma asked sweetly, catching the boy in one of his leaps and
spinning him around until he was releasing shrill giggles of pure glee.
"You DO realize that this will all be coming out of your allowance,
don't you Trunks?"

"What the hell-?" she heard Vegeta choke out and turned to look
over at him.

He was investigating the 55-gallon freshwater aquarium that she
had bought for him last year. She had read in her psychiatric journals
that fish tanks were supposed to be calming to highly stressed people
and had tried it on a lark, not figuring that he would have anything to
do with it. Not only had the Saiyan taken to the hobby, he was fast
becoming an enthusiast and there were several even larger tanks spread
out in key locations around the Headquarters building. He was starting
to experiment with salt water and coral reef tanks but this first one
was his favorite. "What happen to my fish?" he asked no one in
particular. The water was curiously empty.

"Fishys- YUM!" Trunks gurgled.

"You ate them?!" Vegeta screamed.

"Uh, I think it's bedtime for you, young man," Bulma said,
quickly heading for the stairs.

"I paid over a hundred thousand zeni for that albino Arowana, and
that little brat ate it!" he bellowed after the two. "And my two
Luohans were a breeding pair. She was getting ready to spawn – AGH! And
my platinum Cross back-!"

"You are in sooo much trouble," Bulma muttered while below, in
the living room, the Saiyan continued his inconsolable raving.

Trying to get the baby settled was an exercise in frustration. He
was too excited about his parents' return and not even a bath and a
story was enough to calm him down (it wouldn't be until the next day,
when her mother returned from the hospital, that Bulma found out the
boy had eaten a gallon of coffee ice cream after supper). He finally
settled into a twitchy doze at about four in the morning and Bulma
walked out of the room on her tiptoes in hopes of not waking him.

Then, from the bedroom: "DAMN IT! He ate these too!"

"MOMMAAAH!" Trunks wailed.

"SHIT!" Bulma cried in the hallway, wrapping her hands in her
hair and almost pulling it out in frustration. This situation was
starting to make their suffering in Antarctica look appealing. She
stomped into the bedroom and found Vegeta fretting over his newest
acquisitions; only two yellow Tangs were left and one had a bite mark
out of its dorsal fin. "That little bastard-"

"I just got him settled and you woke him up!" Bulma yelled at
him.

"But-" He started frantically gesturing at his salt-water tank.

"Screw the fish! I'm exhausted and he's hyper and mom's hurt and
the house is a wreak and you're mad and-and-" Without warning she burst
into tears and flew into him arms, sobbing inconsolably. Down the hall,
Trunks' screaming was assuming an almost hysterical pitch.

Vegeta's arms tightened around his bride while he stared at his
decimated fish tank in dismay. "Some welcome home THIS was," he
grumbled under his breath, all traces of the incident at Dende's
Lookout completely forgotten.

>>>>>

"THE HONEYMOON IS OVER": That was the glaring headline of the
Western Capital's main paper, the Clarion, above a photo of the
newlyweds facing off against the police. Even taking his poor eyesight
into account, Vegeta didn't have to hold that at arms length to read
it, not that he wanted to anyway. He wordlessly passed it across the
table to his bride and went back to eating his breakfast, privately
nursing a throbbing headache.

Bulma had her head propped up on one arm as she ate her cereal
and didn't even give it a glance, slapping it facedown on the table.
"Can you pass the butter?" she asked, her voice painfully hoarse, and
he nudged the container in her direction without comment.

Beside them, Trunks was dozing in his high chair with Cheerios
drying on his round cheeks. He was still clutching onto a spoon with a
death grip in his right hand, and holding onto his empty bowl with the
other. It was the first time that he had been quiet since they had
returned and, as if sharing the same thought, both parents looked over
and passed the boy a resentful glare.

Mrs. Briefs flounced into the dining room, her left arm in a
sling, and picked up the discarded paper. "Oh dear, I don't think that
this will go in the scrapbook," she remarked gravely, reading the
headline.

Bulma raised her head. "Mother, why didn't you tell me-"

"Us, tell us," Vegeta corrected forcibly.

"-'Us' that Trunks was completely out of control? We would have
rushed right back."

The blonde looked at her as if she didn't understand the
question. "And interrupt your honeymoon? Not a chance! Trunks was just
an adorable little baby! Maybe just a tad hyper, but nothing we
couldn't handle."

"'Couldn't handle'? The doctor said that dad is on the verge of a
nervous breakdown! He wants to keep him in the hospital for the rest of
the week!"

"Well, Trunks was a bit too much for him to handle. He is getting
on in years, Bulma. I'm sure that the rest will do him some good. As
for the house, the damage is minor-"

"Minor-" Vegeta half rose out of his chair and Bulma had to grab
onto his arm and haul him back down.

As if she hadn't been interrupted, her mother babbled on; "-and
besides, the living room could use a much needed makeover anyway.
Perhaps that adorable Ty Pennington from that popular television show
could give me some pointers. He called two days ago, you know-"

Bulma looked at her sharply. "He- What? Are you serious?"

"Who?" Vegeta asked, frowning.

"Absolutely! What a wonderful person! He offered to do up a
newlywed suite for you and Vegeta for free! And some fellow named Mr.
Burnett wants to talk about a possible reality show starring the two of
you. Isn't that just incredible? Also, Oprah called, and Dr. Phil, and
Tyra Banks, what a sweet woman-"

"Who?!" Vegeta asked again.

"You two are famous!" Mrs. Briefs gushed, as she began clearing
away the table with her one good arm. "The phone has been ringing off
of the hook ever since the day you left. Every news station, talk show,
newspaper, magazine, fan club, and interest group is trying to get an
exclusive interview with you two."

"You hear that, stud?" Bulma elbowed her husband. "You have
fans!"

"Uhm," he muttered, snatching a piece of toast from a plate
before Mrs. Briefs made off with the dishes into the kitchen.

When the blonde returned, she brought back armload of letters and
dropped them in front of her daughter. "These are for you, dear," she
said and returned to the kitchen.

"Wow! They love me, they all love me!" Bulma cried, tearing
through the letters like a maniac.

Mrs. Briefs came back wrestling with a full garbage bag. "And
Vegeta sweetie, these are all for you, dear!" she said and emptied the
bag full of letters, manila envelopes, postcards, gifts, and trinkets
on the table in front of him. She kissed his cheek and danced off into
the living room, starting to clean up the mess of broken pottery and
ripped paper while humming happily to herself.

Bulma glanced over at the huge pile and then to her husband. He
looked back, adding his trademark cocky smirk. "Oh, shut up," she
mumbled, slumping back into her seat, all previous enthusiasm gone.

>>>>>

The newlyweds were swiftly absorbed back into their various
routines that they'd had prior to the wedding, although they had to
make more than a few concessions. Vegeta could no longer enjoy his
morning runs in the nearby park without being hassled by reporters and
camera crews and had to fly out to the country to be left alone. He
also assumed full responsibility for keeping a firm eye on Trunks and
resuming his role as trainer and disciplinarian (as far as being a
'loving father' was concerned: Fuck that. He was still too pissed about
his fish). His days were spent with the boy (much to Bulma's parents'
inconceivable relief) and after supper, he returned to the simulator
with a vengeance, eager to make up for twelve days of roaming around
the planet. As charming as a diversion that the sightseeing and rutting
had been, it had done little for his gravity training and he had to
actively work himself back up to his previous limits.

Bulma was unprepared for the surge of popularity in Capsule
Corporation products and she was hip-deep in paperwork from the moment
she resumed the role as President. Ever the opportunist, she would have
been insane not to take advantage of the renewed attention and her days
were spent with marketing executives, fashion designers, automobile
companies, and giving interviews. It initially ticked her off that
people had more interest in Vegeta than her, and were often
disappointed when they discovered that she was the only one who would
talk to them. She supposed that she could understand. The Saiyan was a
complete mystery and if there was any diversion that all humans shared,
it was the desire to solve a mystery. By being uncooperative, Vegeta
was actually doing the company a favor and inadvertently prolonging the
interest.

For the next two weeks straight, the pair rarely saw one another
during the day, if at all. And at night, one was usually asleep in the
bed before the other one appeared, too exhausted to do anything more...

At the beginning of the third week, Vegeta exited his gravity
simulator at about four in the afternoon with a towel slung over one
shoulder and Trunks slung over the other. The boy had forgotten most of
his kata while his parents had been on their honeymoon and Vegeta had
to teach him all over again. Each day, he showed the boy new steps and
today was the first day the youth had executed the complete routine,
not once but twice. The baby was completely exhausted and that was
exactly how Vegeta wanted him to be. Even Bulma's parents could hardly
believe the turnabout in Trunks' behavior; no more wanton destruction
of the house, no more bratty outbursts, and a much calmer demeanor. Up
until the honeymoon, her parents had thought all of the training to be
excessively harsh to such a small child but now they realized that the
Saiyan hybrid actually craved the activity.

Standing in the shade of the simulator, Vegeta closed his eyes
and savored the warmth of the still air and the quite lull of afternoon
traffic. He stayed that way for several minutes before his battle sense
picked up something small rapidly approaching and he snatched a capsule
out of the air even before he had opened his eyes.

"Nice catch," Bulma remarked, walking across the lawn towards him
in her bare feet. She was wearing her dress skirt and blouse, with her
blazer casually slung over one shoulder and her shoes dangling from her
hand. "It looked like you were half asleep."

"And beaning me side of the head with a capsule was how you
intended to wake me up?" he asked her, half miffed and half joking.

"Oh, I knew you'd catch it," she dismissed, pulling Trunks off of
his shoulder to hold him. The boy didn't even rouse. "Pop it open and
take a look."

"What is it?"

"Your jeep, silly. I had the garage repair it."

He pressed the lever and threw it to the side and when the smoke
cleared, he said, "That is NOT my jeep."

"I let the boys pimp your ride," she said happily. "Everything
under the hood is still the same. They just went wild on the styling,
is all."

Vegeta's shoulders sagged with more than just weariness and he
had to actually squint as the late afternoon's suns rays reflected off
of the highly polished chrome which was, it seemed, everywhere; The
bumpers, the rims, the roll bar, around the windows. They had taken all
of the dents out, which the Saiyan thought added character to the old
vehicle, and painted it dark blue with elaborate gold and white pin
striping along the sides. The interior had been replaced with white
leather and there was a sound system installed in the dash that
appeared, when really cranked up, to be able to broadcast to Mars. The
only thing that he ever used it for was to get the weather.

When the Saiyan's silence stretched on, Bulma asked tentatively,
"Don't you like it?"

"It's fine," he sighed. At the very worst, he supposed, it could
have been painted yellow like everything else at Capsule Corporation.

"I knew you'd like it," she said. "I cleared my schedule for
tonight. You can take me for a ride."

"No, I'm training tonight."

"Really?" she stuck her bottom lip out in a pout as she sashayed
up beside him. "We both have been sooo busy-"

"I like being busy."

"But it's not the really fun way of being busy. All we've been
doing is working, or training, and... I'm lonely, Vegeta."

"Woman, you're surrounded by people all bloody day long."

"I work with them, sure, but I don't-" she checked to see if
Trunks was awake, or dozing, and silently mouthed a word that
immediately caught Vegeta's attention, "-them. I only want to-" she
mouthed that word again, "-you. I want to feel your thick, hard-" her
lips moved deliberately around the harsh consonant, "-deep in my wet-"
her tongue peeked out as she teased him with that forbidden word, "and
I want to feel that tonight."

"...What time?" Vegeta found himself asking, his voice sounded
very different from its usual blunt tone.

"After supper."

He gave her an absent nod, his mind still filling in the gaps of
her description and exciting him more with every variation he came up
with. When she gave him a grateful kiss, her tongue slipped into his
mouth like a playful snake, and he began reaching for her until she
slipped away.

"Tonight," she said, carrying Trunks into the house. "I promise."

Blinking dully like a man coming out of a dream, he absently
wondered how the woman managed to manipulate him so easily. He was
still puzzling over it when he turned and ran straight into Mrs.
Briefs. She had been doing yard work all afternoon and was meticulously
tending to her roses.

She raised her floppy hat in greeting and spouted out; "Hello
Vegeta. My goodness! Is that a weed-whacker in your pocket or are you
just happy to see me?"

Looking down, Vegeta realized that Bulma's dirty whispered
innuendos had given him a raging hard-on; plainly visible in the tight
spandex shorts he wore. He immediately flushed bright crimson, unable
to even come up with a retort, and phased out of sight in a desperate
retreat.

Mrs. Briefs continued on her way as if she had never even been
interrupted, sighing, "If only I were ten years younger..."

>>>>>

Despite an elaborate main course of lamb chops and sautéed
Chinese vegetables, Vegeta hardly tasted the meal as he kept his gaze
trained solely on his bride. Bulma was seated across the table from him
wearing one of her micro-mini skirts, that enough was to drive him
wild, but she was also wearing a sheer silk blouse that left little to
the imagination. Because her parents were also at the table, she had a
shawl around her shoulders, but the Saiyan, from his vantage point,
could plainly see that she wasn't wearing a bra. Her strutted nipples
were practically poking him in the face.

For what seemed like an eternity, the meal went on until Bulma
finally put her fork down and wiped her mouth with a napkin. "That was
incredible, mom. What's for dessert?"

"You are," Vegeta said, jumping to his feet. He walked swiftly
around the table and pulled Bulma to her feet. "Let's get going."

"Wow! Somebody's impatient tonight," Bulma giggled as she tried
to keep up with the anxious Saiyan. She waved good-bye to Trunks and
her stunned parents. "Have a good night, every-" her words were cut off
as Vegeta slammed the front door.

Mr. And Mrs. Briefs shared an astonished blink of surprise and
then turned a fearful gaze over to Trunks. It was the first time that
they had been left alone with the baby since his parents' return.

As if sensing the attention, the boy stopped eating long enough
to flash them a cunning grin.

"Oh no," Dr. Briefs groaned, clutching his napkin. "Not again..."

>>>>>

"You do know that it drives me nuts when you pull that
cockteasing routine of yours," Vegeta grated from between clenched
teeth as he drove them out of the city limits.

"I know," she said with a small smile.

"Then why the hell do you do it?"

"Because you like it."

He whipped his head around to stare at her. "I do NOT enjoy
struggling to keep my dick in my pants when your parents are seated
right next to me. Are you crazy?" He passed her an impatient wave.
"Don't answer that. I already know the answer."

"Hey!"

"Where are we going anyway?"

She crossed her arms. "It's not far, just a ways up the mountain.
I'll tell you where to go," she said, flashing him a sidelong glare.

"Uhm," he grunted, returning the look.

The jeep easily navigated the twists and turns of the steep slope
and, at her instruction; he pulled off and drove down a dirt road not
easily seen from the paved highway. From there, he turned onto a
woodlot trail that went deep into the thick forest. "Damn it, woman!"
he cursed, putting the jeep into 4-wheel drive to navigate the muddy
ruts and heavy brush that had grown over the rarely used path. "Will
you tell me where the hell we're going?"

"You'll know when we get there," she just said mysteriously,
smiling.

He drove until he came to a fallen tree that completely blocked
their path. When he started to get out to move it, she pulled out a
blanket from the backseat and touched his arm. "Don't bother. We're
almost there. We can walk the rest of the way."

"Walk where?" he almost shouted.

"It's not far," was all she would say and turned on a flashlight,
walking purposely away.

He didn't like this and spared the foreboding timber an unsettled
glance. He had never been comfortable in places he didn't know and
Bulma's strange behavior was wearing on his already strained nerves.
The black trees loomed over him and there were unseen creatures lurking
in the depths, far beyond his vision. He could sense their presence and
unknown agenda. There was the furtive snapping of brush nearby and
some...thing with glowing eyes settled on a branch overhead and hooted,
startling him.

No, he didn't like this one little bit, but despite his
misgivings he followed after Bulma just the same.

"We're here!" Bulma announced as they stepped out of the thick
woods into a small, grassy clearing. The tree line ended on either side
giving them a perfect, unobstructed view of the valley from where they
could see the shining lights of the Western Capital.

"You had me drive you all the way out here when we could have
gone to a hotel or someplace comfortable?" Vegeta couldn't believe it.

"You can be more appreciative. I spent the last two weeks looking
for a perfect spot before I finally found this one. It's all about the
view. Look over there!" she pointed to the right and there he finally
saw it, struggling to rise as if it were pulling itself free from the
ocean depths itself.

The moon.

It was the wish that Bulma had made at Dende's Lookout. The thing
that she missed the most; the object of ancient worship by druids and
that most sought-after of romantic icons by couples and lovers
worldwide. Tonight the moon was full and bloated, looking enormous on
the horizon and tinged slightly by nature's orange brush.

"Oh," Vegeta said in surprise. He had seen the holographic
projections that the Capital used to project every night, it had been
nothing spectacular and his body could tell it was an imposter even
before his eyes confirmed it. These last two weeks he had noted the
difference as the restored moon ran slowly through its phases. There
had been many a time when he had exited the gravity simulator late at
night and just stared at it with deep longing. His was a shape changing
were-race that had a secret pact with the moon that went deeper than
blood and bones. It used to be a celebration of the night that the
Saiyans would enjoy no matter which world they were on; changing into
Oozarus to destroy, murder, and breed.

This was the first time that he stood under the Earth's full moon
without his tail, but he could still feel its power. He had to close
his eyes as his entire body was seized by a shiver that raced up his
spine and throughout his limbs like an electric shock, making his
entire body break out in sweat and excited goose-flesh. His heart
practically leapt from his chest and began beating rapidly. He gripped
his head and released a strangled growl.

"Vegeta?" Bulma asked timidly.

"I... can feel it," he managed to say, trying to get his rapid
breathing under control. "I can't turn Oozaru without my tail, but I
can still feel the light. It-it's everywhere!" he turned to look at her
and she released a cry of shock, taking a fearful step back.

His eyes had transformed into two glowing silver disks and his
hair had finally, completely, grown back to its prior, flame-styled
length. He was breathing quickly, his breath coming out in swift pants,
and she could see that his canines had grown, just enough to be
noticeable. "You – Vegeta, you're changing-"

"No more than this," he told her quickly. "I have it under
control," he closed his eyes for a few seconds and when he stared at
her again, they had lost their supernatural luster. "It just... caught
me by surprise. You should have warned me that this was what you had
planned."

"I didn't know you would react so strongly to it," she confessed
in a small voice.

"I didn't either," he responded honestly, inspecting his hands.
He could have sworn that his nails had grown. "I'm a Saiyan, but
tonight was the first time in a very long while that I've actually felt
like one." He actually smiled over at her and she realized that he
wasn't angry with her; it was just the opposite. Her slip of the tongue
on Dende's Lookout had given him a very special gift, one that he
wouldn't have thought to communicate to Shenron.

Relieved, Bulma laid out the blanket and the pair sat down to
watch the moon rise, its luster gaining brilliance as it began its
inexorable ascent. Snuggling close to the Saiyan, she detected a change
in his scent that went deeper than deodorant, soap or shampoo. There
was a musky, rangy undertone to it that was not entirely unpleasant,
reminding her of some wild animal; a leftover of his reaction to the
moonlight. Gradually, she began to search for more of that heady scent,
unbuttoning his shirt while tracing her tongue along his neck and
shoulder, drinking up the combination of his smell intermingled with
her saliva.

Initially transfixed by the sight of the moon, Bulma's efforts
were beginning to rekindle his earlier lust. He felt slightly light-
headed, almost drunk from the light shining overhead, and he finally
turned to the sole creature fortunate enough to be sharing this very
special night with him. Who, in fact, was responsible for all of it.

Enormously grateful, he parted the buttons of her blouse and
kissed her chest tantalizingly close to her nipples. He knew from the
first time they had lied together how sensitive her breasts were and he
drew each of the erect little buds slowly into his mouth in turn,
sucking on them and then biting them, hard enough to provoke a spasm of
pleasure through her without being too painful.

She moaned and sighed as he unselfishly brought her pleasure,
giving him gentle nips of encouragement along his neck and collarbone
as she guided his hand down between her legs. He groaned at what his
fingers found; her panties were soaked with readiness. Tugging the
fabric aside, he slid one finger into her opening, then two, rubbing
them against her vibrating button, causing her to buck and churn
against him.

When he could stand no more, he leaned her back on the blanket,
urgently fumbling with his belt and finally tugging his pants down over
his hips, freeing his straining member. Running his hands over the
sensual curves of her thighs, he positioned himself between them
missionary style. Her legs parted fully as she drew them slightly up,
bent, allowing him full access to the parted lips of her womanhood.
Gasping, she felt the wide head of his shaft tenderly probe her warmth,
teasing her with its size, and she arched her back, communicating her
readiness with impatient whimpers.

He leaned over her on his hands, and slid easily into her just as
nature intended, as if they were designed for each other, relishing the
face-to-face intimacy. With his shirt open he got to feel her hard
little nipples spearing his muscular chest. She raised her knees
higher, passed her hands up under the back of his shirt and pulled him
down to meet her open mouth, her strong, white teeth slowly nibbling at
the tip of his tongue.

Her clothes were a total mess, her panties dangling around her
ankle, her skirt bunched up around her waist, blouse tangled under her
back, her hair in her face, but she was magical in the moonlight,
swollen with femininity just like the moon: the roundness of her
breasts and face, the softness of her cheeks and lips, clinging to him
like shadow, biting his lips and begging him to do it harder, faster.

He rose up to get more leverage and was over her on his knees and
forearms, resting on his elbows. He saw that look on her face, heard
the desperation in her voice and felt those sharp nails digging into
his back. Responding to that wanton need, he squeezed her breasts in
his hands, smothering her face with his kisses and sucking the cries
from her mouth as his hips rose and fell like a jack hammer, spearing
his bloated lance into her, overcome with love and lust.

Bulma's hands went from his face to his back to gripping his
arms, impatient with growing urgency when she suddenly said, "Wait
Vegeta! Stop!"

With a surprised grunt, he reared up on his arms and looked
around, thinking she'd seen someone. He saw nothing but moonlit
surroundings, all tinged with silver and blue. She put her hands on his
face, her eyes catching the light overhead and transforming them into
glowing jewels. Smiling broadly, she pointed up to the full moon that
hung perfectly over them, the only witness to this act of lovemaking.
"Isn't it beautiful?" she asked breathlessly. "It wasn't a wasted wish,
was it? The moon?"

Hesitating, Vegeta considered her words with far more control
than the situation called for. He was levered up over her, sinking even
deeper into the throbbing wetness of her womanhood, her knees up
against his ribs, surrounded by the quiet of the moonlit night, the
stars above and the crickets in the bushes. This was all so
overwhelming; far beyond his experiences that only involved periods of
mind-numbing violence, sadism and torture, and the extreme boredom of
patrolling the empty expanse of space. It seemed such a simple question
on the surface but she was asking for so much more; seeking approval,
an assurance that he had no lingering animosity over having the wish
usurped.

"No," he managed to say. "It wasn't wasted." His passion just
exploded inside of him like a bomb and he fell on top of her, kissing
and licking her sweat-streaked face, overwhelmed with feelings that he
was unable to articulate. It was a perfect wish, he wanted to say. And
yes, it's beautiful: the moon, the night, you, your pussy, your tits,
everything I feel tonight. All perfect because of you!

But words failed him, not that he could have said any of that to
her anyway, because at that point he was just too desperate to lose
himself inside of her, to let himself explode, let his oceans flow and
flood her moonlit fields. She was clinging to him and telling him to
give it to her, to let her have it, every drop, because on this special
night she was particularly vocal. Her orgasms came like contractions,
minutes, if not seconds apart; with each she screamed though clenched
teeth, then panted for breath before yet another, more violent quake
rolled though her. He kept himself jammed to the hilt inside of her as
he held her and then spurted out his shuddering release deep into her
darkness while his entire being was seized with those whole-body spasms
of ejaculatory release.

When the orgasmic frenzy finally passed, he hovered over her, his
muscular chest heaving and his abs rippling with his heavy breathing.
Beads of sweat dripped off his forehead. Slowly, he drew himself up her
lithe body, hands uncurling gently from about her thighs, feeling her
body still quivering from the aftermath of her own pleasure. Her hands
came up under his jaw line, and with softened low whimpers, she drew
him close to kiss him sweetly, lovingly, while her hands fluttered
around his neck and shoulders like the wings of a dove.

The moon continued its journey across the sky, and still the
lovers remained joined together. They each should have felt oddly
exposed lying out doors and having the warm night air touch their bare
flesh, but there was something that felt vaguely familiar about it too,
as if they'd both done this in another lifetime or dimension. The field
around them shimmered under that magical buttery light and the lights
of the Capital below seemed surreal.

Bulma nuzzled her husband's firm chest and felt his arms tighten
around her in response. She felt deliriously happy and content, as if
all the decisions and actions of the last thirty-five years of her life
had driven her to experience this one precise moment. The weather, the
timing, the location; all perfect. She didn't want it to end, she
wanted this moment to last forever, but it was unrealistic. Even the
moon had to move on, eventually.

In the silence, she could feel the pulse of her lover's heavy
thoughts and she studied his face very carefully. "What are you
thinking about, Vegeta?"

He seemed absorbed in watching the Capital and didn't answer her
right away. Finally, he pulled back a little to stare down at her; his
eyes were piercing and mysterious.

"Before we were interrupted by your loser friends in the
rainforest," he said to her, his voice a soft purr in the night, "I was
trying to describe how you made me feel. The words still fail me, but
I've realized that there are other ways to tell you..." Usually, he
kept his thoughts guarded from her, allowing only the odd word or image
to escape but in this moment, he finally dropped the wall and she
caught a glimpse of what lied beyond. It was intended only for her.

"Oh!" she gasped in surprise.

It was a gift more amazing than even the diamond he had given
her; more beautiful than anything she had ever seen or done. She was
seeing herself from Vegeta's perspective: The first time on Namek while
she had been cheering on Zarbon (and yes, he was deliberately drawing
the battle out while thinking that she was a spitfire and gorgeous to
boot... for a human). The sight of her face as he hauled himself from
the ruins of a destroyed gravity simulator (she was brilliantly pissed
off and- damn! – if it didn't always please him when he managed to get
a rise out of her). When she had rushed to his side after he collapsed
from the V'Nhar, there had been a halo around her head that night (like
those angel-creatures humans liked to talk about. Is that what she
really is?). Dying in her arms in a crowded airport, her face tear-
streaked and inconsolable (tears, and for me no less... I think I'll
actually miss her). Finally, the sight of her in her wedding dress as
she stepped up to the dais where he stood with the minister. She had
been... perfection (lover, soul mate, best friend, wife. None of these
words are worthy of her. She makes me feel alive. She is my life. How
do I put that to words she can understand?).

"You don't have to say anything," she whispered, tears filling
her eyes. "I understand everything. I think I always have from the
moment I first laid eyes on you."

He passed her a bewildered shake of the head. "I don't know how
that's possible."

"Possible or not, it's happened, Vegeta. Don't try to puzzle it
out. Fate, destiny, love... There are forces at work here that are
bigger than the both of us and you can't ignore the result: We're
together-"

-Until death do us part, she heard him whisper in the back of his
mind.

"Precisely," she murmured, and leaned into him again, kissing him
urgently.

Passing aloft overhead in its eternal chase of the sun, the full
moon regarded the lovers with its single, impassive eye. It had
witnessed the creation of the world, species emerging and becoming
extinct, civilizations rising and falling, and- on this very special
night- the union of two very unique people bonding under its ancient,
magical light. It would continue to regard the two, as the days turned
to months and eventually to years, shining over a couple that would
stay united while overcoming all manner of obstacles and forces that
would seek to drive them apart. It would observe that not even death
itself would be able to separate them.

But right now, the moon moved along on its relentless voyage,
well aware of a pact that it now shared with a certain Saiyan prince:
Both saved from the depths of darkness and oblivion by single human
woman.

Both saved by her love.


__________________________________________________________________

~THE END.
Thanks to all of the Readers who stood faithfully by this story
(you know who you are). I hope that I didn't let you down!