Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Accidental Redemption ❯ CROSSING THE LINES ( Chapter 8 )

ACCIDENTAL REDEMPTION

By Evil Saint

VIII. CROSSING THE LINES

*I'm going under

Drowning in you

I'm falling forever

I've got to break through

I'm going under

A blanket of petrified silence had settled over the forest. It was as though the wind itself was holding its breath, fearful of the indomitable predator tearing a path through the undergrowth. His pupils were dilated from the endorphins coursing through his veins, sharpening his senses; his instincts zeroed on the single-minded goal of tracking and devouring his quarry.

The hunter paused in his prowling and the ancient hardwoods seemed to shrink in fright as he raised his nose to sniff the stagnant air, laden with the inebriating flavours of blood, sweat and adrenaline. Mouth watering, his tongue lathed over pronounced canines and razor-sharp incisors ~ a tribute to his carnivorous ancestors ~ as he caught scent of his prey. The primeval rhythm of his heartbeat drummed against his sternum as he bounded through the thickets, driving ever deeper into the jungle. His would-be victim's scent was growing stronger and with every powerful stride the sweltering need in his loins grew as well...

After what felt like hours of sprinting he tasted her salty skin on the air and the beast between his thighs twitched in anticipation. The atmosphere was still sultry with her terror, but she was near enough now that he could define the faint perfume of arousal intermingled with the other aromas drifting off her flesh.

The inhibiting, "civilized" side of her was telling her to panic and flee from him, but there was another side of her persona that only the two of them knew existed. An darker, more sordid face that she locked away in the deepest chasms of her subconscious, hidden from the judgments of the world and it was that side that enjoyed being hunted like an animal; that side that was getting excited at the prospect of being taken by her stalker and it was that side that he was going to liberate once he found her…

Suddenly, a flock of brightly feathered birds erupted from the canopy, alarmed by his roar of feral joy as he broke through another cluster of bushes and spotted the nimble creature dashing along a narrow gazelle's trail only a few metres ahead of him. At the sight of her his carnal compulsion completely overwhelmed him, numbing him to everything but the need to possess his prize. He pounced with catlike precision, tackling her from behind and pushed her down into the mossy grove.

Although the ground was cushioned with vegetation, the fall knocked the oxygen from her lungs and robbed her of the breath to shriek as he ripped off her clothes, already shredded by the thorny shrubs fencing the path she'd travelled. He didn't remember stripping, yet their bare hides, hot and doused with sweat, slid together deliciously as he trapped her squirming frame beneath the rock solid weight of his torso. His tail looped around her waist to hoist her hips while a hand wrapped in her cyan locks. His clasp on her hair wasn't so tight as to be painful, nor was it gentle as he coerced her head back to feast on the exposed column of her throat. A purring sound resonated from his chest, the vibrations tickling her back as he lapped at the cuts where thorns had ripped her skin, sampling the ambrosia of her blood.

She, on the other hand, was swearing, bucking madly to throw him off, but her own flesh belied her protest, the smell of fear diminishing as the sweet fragrance of her desire permeated the air instead. He grunted lowly when her struggling caused her bottom to rub enticingly against his weeping erection, sending a fresh rush of blood surging into his already pulsing member.

For a second time her breath was stolen, quieting her diatribe as he ploughed into her from behind with a single, vicious jerk of his hips. She gasped, eyes wide at the unexpected intrusion that filled her to bursting. He immediately began rocking his pelvis against her, making them both hiss as he rammed deeply into her sorely stretched passage. Crying out, her fingers gaffed into the soft soil, her hair ripping from her scalp as her head thrashed against his unrelenting grip. But at long last, tears of agonising pleasure swelled in her eyes and she stilled in surrender, succumbing to the exquisite friction of his engorged shaft gliding mercilessly in and out of her yielding folds. She let out a sobbing moan and the dulcet sound sent a tremor of lust rattling through him. He stifled his own passion filled groans by nipping and sucking on her neck and shoulders, his energy level rising with his pleasure, not only to stretch his stamina and prolong his bliss, but also to heighten his control so he wouldn't injure the fragile being writhing underneath him.

It was so absurd that his catch's health mattered to him, but his concern stemmed from a force far more binding than logic ~ an age-old instinct he could not name nor dared defy...

Without slowing his pace, the predator reached below his trembling captive to explore every satiny contour of her form. His digits took a moment to play in the damp tuft of blue curls at the apex of her thighs before wandering to caress her belly in lazy, placating circles, contrasting the ferocious strokes of his phallus so very deep inside her. Gradually his hand roamed higher, ghosting over her ribs to seize a supple breast in his palm. He massaged the tender globe leisurely, teasing her with a light brush of his thumb over the dusky pink summit, making her whimper. His fingers untangled from her hair and her moist brow dropped onto her scraped and muddy forearms, exertion leaving her too weary to hold her own head up as he cupped her neglected mound. Her nipples puckered against his groping hands and she moaned, involuntarily arching into his touch while he delicately pinched the tiny nubs between his thumbs and forefingers, washing away the pain in her centre in streams of fiery rapture…

Minutes later, they were panting and howling like a pair of rabid dogs as their groins slammed together with dizzying vigour, bringing them closer to paradise with every brutal thrust of his hips. Small sparks danced on the hunter's bronze skin as he fed off his energy to sustain control ~ craving release from the coiling in his gut, but unwilling to forfeit the delights that same tension brought.

Gleaming with perspiration, he reared into a kneeling position for deeper penetration and sped up his frantic rhythm. He shuddered from the intense pleasure, breathing in dry gasps and with a rattling cry he drew on what remained of his power, desperately clinging to the glorious sublimity he derived from their coupling. His hips snapped forth and when the tip of his manhood kissed the mouth of her womb, tiny blue thunderbolts burst free from his very shaft, striking her core.

Undreamed of sensations laced through her boneless frame, infusing her muscles with new strength and she gasped in ecstasy, rising to all fours, her head lolling back on her shoulders as her entire body quaked in orgasmic spasms. Her inner walls closed around him like a gauntlet of silk, effectively snapping his iron control. An almighty roar fled his throat and he drove into her one last time as his spheres contracted, anointing her with his rich, warm essence…

Suddenly a misplaced artificial sound spliced through the lust filled cries and the crumpling of foliage and the captive's eyelids fluttered open, her breath puffing heavily against soft, warm bedding as her stormy eyes raked her surroundings. For a moment she didn't recognise anything, but then her brain whirled to life, informing her that she was safely in her own room and that the whole ordeal in the glade had merely been an intensely savage ~ yet equally enjoyable ~ episode in her series of "Vegeta-dreams."

"Well, almost the whole ordeal." She thought groggily, for the slickness coating her thighs and the soreness in her muscles were very real indeed. Her head felt odd as well. The sensation wasn't pain per se, but it was a close cousin, like the tension just before a skull-splitting migraine sets in. Her mind was muddled and cloudy as if the chemicals in her brain had been diluted somehow and couldn't properly conduct the nerve impulses between her synapses. She hadn't a clue how long she'd slept, but it didn't seem to matter as she was still exhausted and all she wanted to do was rest. She yawned inelegantly against her pillow and her eyelids drooped, her hand moving automatically to the snooze button on her clock-radio to silence the melodic guitar cords that were supposed to serve as her alarm, intent on going back to sleep for a little while longer.

*Ding Dong… Ding Dong… Ding Dong*

The noise that had pulled her from her captor's embrace rang up incessantly and Bulma's eyes shot open once more. Whoever was at the door had evidently gotten tired and had taken to leaning against the doorbell to hold himself up.

"Who in blazes…?" She murmured woozily, shifting her clock-radio to see what time it was.

It was 10:56 a.m.

"Shit!" Bulma exclaimed, catapulting upright. She'd overslept completely and the shock was enough to clear the fog from her head. The young executive's mind raced as she mentally checked the day's schedule, trying to estimate how many people were going to be up in arms the moment she entered the office, demanding that she "please explain" her absence from her post. The woman startled when the almost forgotten doorbell chimed again and quickly wiped her thighs with the sheet before leaping out of bed. She grabbed her robe in mid-stride as she trotted out the door, the lack of a bra making running decidedly uncomfortable.

"Geez buddy, keep your shirt on!" She mumbled, carefully descending the staircase as the imposing visitor abandoned the bell to rap loudly on the door itself, making it rattle against the frame. She reached the foyer and glanced at the overhead security screen, surprised to be greeted by the sight of a very antsy baseball pro glowering back at her.

"Hello Yamcha, what are you…" She began as she opened the door, but was silenced when he dove forward and embraced her, muttering the phrase "Thank Kami" over and over.

"Yamcha, what's going on?" Bulma asked worriedly, her words muffled against his shoulder as she automatically wrapped her arms around him in return. His alarmed demeanour was making her fearful that something horrendous had come to pass while she slept. Yamcha slackened his hold slightly and his chocolate brown eyes, filled with love and warmth, peered into her bewildered blue ones as he softly caressed her sleep mussed hair.

"I wanted to have lunch with you, but your cell was off, so I called your office, but your secretary said you hadn't come in to work and that no one knew where you were. Then I called here and when you didn't answer… Kami Bulma, I'm so glad you're alright!" He said, running his hand over her tangled tresses before pushing her head down onto his shoulder, hugging her tightly.

Bulma sighed with relief, thankful that Yamcha's worry wasn't due to some bloodthirsty alien attacking the planet as she'd automatically assumed.

"I can't believe I slept through my alarm andthe phone! That was some dream…."

The woman had to give herself a little shake to wrench her mind out of slumber land, hoping that the flesh and blood male in her arms wouldn't notice her burning cheeks. Then a thought occurred to her and she smiled, cocking her head to look up at her boyfriend with a curious frown creasing her brow. She appreciated his concern, but failed to see why her not showing up for work would cause him of all people such distress.

"I'm fine Yamcha…" She assured him with a laugh "… but why wouldn't I be? This place has better security than Fort Knox. And besides, even if the locks and alarms and guard-bots gave out, I'm pretty sure Vegeta would jump at an opportunity to rip someone apart if they tried to break in here." She teased, belatedly realising her mistake as the concern leeched from the all-star's face to be replaced by a far more sinister emotion.

"That… alien is precisely what had me worried! And he doesn't need to break in to get to you. He knows all the security codes better than I do." Bulma rolled her eyes and stepped out of her boyfriend's embrace, crossing her arms in an unconscious imitation of the Saiyan under discussion.

"Yamcha, we've been through this a million times…" She began, but trailed off when she noticed the strangely resolute look that had settled on the man's features. His jaw was set and his eyes hard as if he'd just reached a pivotal milestone in his mind.

"Then we'll go through it a million and one!"

~*~*~*~

Vegeta sat up in bed, panting. He was sticky with a mixture of sweat and genetics and he felt physically and mentally drained, despite having slept for ten hours straight. To make matters worse, his temperature was higher than normal, his whole body prickled with heightened sensitivity and several of his muscles were twitching under the strain of unfounded nervous tension ~ all the telltale symptoms of an oncoming rut…

He groaned in disbelief, pinching the bridge of his nose and shook his head in useless denial. He'd already suffered through seven fevers in the last eight months, which was more than he'd had in the preceding eight years. It made no sense. The forsaken hellhole he was hauled up on didn't even have a moon, for Kami's sake!

Was this what he'd heard the humans refer to as karma; the Universe's cruel and unusual method of punishing him for his crimes?

And if things weren't bad enough, he just had to dream about her, making his torment that much more excruciating. The thrill of stalking prey had always been sufficient to distract him during ruts and to some extent palliated his reproductive drives until they subsided, but now his own physiology had conspired against him and robbed him of his only diversion. He'd never be able to concentrate on the hunt with images of her as his quarry prancing through his head!

The blue-haired harpy was among the most alluring females he'd laid eyes on in recent years. He supposed it was natural for his biology to resort to visions of her naked physique to bait him after ignoring his instincts for so long, but the downright eerie realism of the illusion disturbed him. Normally his wet dreams were fragmented and hazy, much like memories from when he was still learning how to keep his mind in Oozaru form, and the images never enthralled him beyond daybreak.

But this…

"Ugh, this is ridiculous." Vegeta scolded himself, rubbing his temples with his eyes shut and teeth gnashing as unbidden figments of the dream flashed before his mind's eye, exhilarating his manhood once more.

Kami only knew, if he had any sense left, he'd have his way with the bitch and kill her, take the pod and demolish the planet from space. Even Super Saiyans needed to breathe and Kakkarot would die with his world before he could lift a finger to stop him...

The fantasy helped to vent his frustration somewhat, but beyond that it was pointless speculation. The last thing Vegeta wanted was a coward's victory over his rival and no matter how much Bulma infuriated him, he could never intentionally harm her after everything she'd done to pull him from the desolate hell his life had been before.

When the young heiress invited him to live at Capsule Corp. with the Nameks and her family, he'd written her off as a pampered little slut with her head in the clouds and wind between her ears. Why else would she extend a hand of welcome to a being that only a few short months prior, attempted to annihilate every member of her species and succeeded in killing several of her comrades?

He was going to turn her down. In fact, the contemptuous rejection was on the tip of his tongue when he realised that woman's invitation really was the best option he had at his disposal. Like countless other times in his existence the inescapable theme of choicelessness resurfaced, and it was with gross resentment that he subdued his pride and accepted her offer. It galled him so much then; that he, the Prince of Vegeta, the most fearsome of the Saiyan elites, was stranded on a pathetic little planet, forced to submit to the whims of what he presumed to be a stupid, weak little female whose culture condemned everything he stood for…

Thinking back on it now, it was scary how poorly he'd judged her character after their initial acquaintance. He'd been taught from birth that underestimating an opponent was as dangerous as fighting blind without any armour on. He was lucky that the woman didn't consider him her enemy or she would've had no trouble getting the drop on him back then ~ and at times he wasn't certain how much had really changed. He'd spent hours analysing her, trying to understand what made her tick, yet the minute he thought he had her figured out she'd do something contradictory to all his theories, stumping and intriguing him all over again.

Take their exchange on Umi no Hi for example. Their interactions of before had always adhered to a comfortingly predictable formula: One would demand something of the other, a series of barbs and threats would be thrown back and forth, followed by the losing party storming off with as much bravado as possible ~ usually to comply with the other's request. Their conversation in the kitchen had changed all that, however, setting a precedent that had slowly dragged them away from their tried and tested style of communication into uncharted and horribly confusing territory. The prince didn't know what possessed him to be so… so "nice" to her that day and he wasn't entirely certain why he continued to buy into the new civility that had crept into his dealings with the wench. Nonetheless, despite knowing it had to be there, he hadn't found fault with it yet. As much as he enjoyed bashing it out with her in verbal sparring matches, he discovered that it was also bizarrely pleasant to just sit with her and exchange neutral banter about regen-tank development or the new prototype drone Bulma was assembling for him.

After the holiday's turn of events he'd managed to avoid her for three more days before boredom finally got the better of him. Shadowboxing tends to become a bit stale after a few days and so at last Bulma was informed of the training drones' inefficiency. Her reaction had been strangely gleeful ~ a sharp deviation from what he'd come to expect. The regen-tank blueprints had proven to her that he was just as capable of advancing her inventions as he was of destroying them, opening her eyes to a whole new world of possibilities. Thus, instead of calling the prince an ingrate and yelling at him to practice restraint, she offered to come up with a brand new line of robots, specifically tailored to his needs. She pointed out that since he was always complaining about the battle-bots' unsatisfactory performance, it would be quite productive if he could give some input on improving the designs. That way she might finally invent something that was up to his impossibly high standards while he might just begin to appreciate all the work that went into his "toys."

The woman made a compelling argument, or at least he assumed she did. She was attending a party with scar face later that evening to celebrate the Titans victory over some other worthless team and she was wearing a sparkling, blue gown ~ Vegeta's favourite of the royal colours ~ which hugged her figure in all the right places. The prince was too attuned to the way the luxurious material flowed over her curves as she paced in front of him to hear much of what was said. Either way he ignored the nagging voice in his head that insisted he keep his distance from the tempting bitch and agreed to give her his cooperation. He was sure he'd live to regret the decision eventually, but for the time being he was happy to take whatever benefits he could derive from their unlikely partnership and a new set of drones was nothing to scoff at…

His groin throbbed again at memory of Bulma in that dress and he swiftly banished thoughts of all things female to the furthest reaches of his mind and slid out of bed, hoping to salvage what was left of this exceedingly shitty morning. Several joints cracked, popping back in place as he stumbled to the dresser in search of something to cover himself with on route to the bathroom. His naturally high body temperature made it uncomfortable for him to sleep with clothes against his skin during Japan's humid summer months and so he simply went without them. In his present state he didn't feel like dressing at all, but he could sense two energy signatures in close proximity, one of which belonged to Bulma, and the notion of bumping into her dressed in his birthday suit was even less appealing.

"Hang on…" Vegeta stopped in his rummaging and blinked as he fixed his attention on the pools of light pouring in through the drapes. It had to be near noon. The woman was supposed to be at the office hours ago. Why the hell was she still at the dome?

Bulma's life-force was so familiar to him by now that despite being the weaker of the two, it was more prevalent to his senses than the other energy signature he'd picked up and Vegeta's upper lip curled in disgust when he realised who it belonged to. He should've known that whiny human filth would be to blame for disrupting her routine.

He resumed his digging through the drawer, finally finding a suitable pair of cotton boxers and pulled them on before exiting the sanctuary of his room. He could hear the raised voices of the woman and her mate coming from downstairs as he made his way down the corridor to the opulent bathroom. The humans were obviously fighting again. Normally though, the arguments took place somewhere other than the mansion and Vegeta's only clue to their fallouts would be Bulma's foul mood upon her return ~ as had often been the case of late. The Saiyan wondered vaguely what they were screaming about without really caring. With his finely tuned ears he could easily make out the words if he wanted, but he purposefully blocked out the sounds, closing the bathroom door behind him.

He was sufficiently irritable already without having to listen to the idiotic fighter's balking. The human had been grating on his nerves since his revival and Vegeta was steadily getting sick of it. He couldn't be sure that he wouldn't march downstairs and rip the bastard's spine out simply to shut him up if he listened too intently to the oral battle raging on the ground floor and he knew Bulma well enough to wager that murdering her mate right in front of her would be grounds for getting oneself pummelled by Kakkarot in her opinion.

Sooner than later though, the worm would have to be taught his place.

"Preferably without any witnesses…" The prince thought, smirking deviously as he stepped out of his underwear and into the shower, yelping involuntarily as the first steaming drops pelted down on his tingling skin.

~*~*~*~

"Don't walk away from me!" Yamcha yelled peevishly, following his equally miffed girlfriend into the kitchen.

"In case you haven't noticed, I've just woken up and I generally like to take a cup of coffee with the first fight of the day!" She sniped sarcastically, stomping to the automated coffee maker and chipping the mug she'd snatched from the bottom cupboard as she slammed it down on the counter to be filled.

"I don't want to fight with you!" He barked irritably at her back, following her movements from under furrowed eyebrows.

"Your tone suggests otherwise!" She snapped over her shoulder after taking a long draught of the strong black brew. Several strands of turquoise hair were left clinging to her lips, moist from the bitter fluid that had just passed over them. Yamcha flinched at the hostility in her bearing, marvelling inwardly at this woman's ability to be intimidating even when sporting wrinkled sleepwear with no makeup and ruffled hair.

"Kami, she's hot."

"Dammit Bulma…!" He screamed, but stopped to take a deep breath before continuing in a slightly calmer pitch. He wasn't sure at that precise moment if he was angrier with himself for his insubordinate thoughts or with her and her obstinacy regarding Vegeta, but he wanted to get her on his side and loosing his cool this early in the game wasn't the best scoring tactic.

"… I'm worried because I care about you, Babe. Can't you see that? I mean, how would you feel if I had a known psycho-killer lurking around in my apartment?"

Bulma sighed as some of the fight drained out of her and emptied her mug in three quick gulps before setting it down, leaning her back against the counter to face her boyfriend.

"I understand, love. I really do, but you have to start seeing the big picture here. According to my scanners this Koola guy is nastier than anything the Special Forces has ever fought."

"I get that, but…"

"I don't think you do." She interjected calmly, cutting off his objection with a raised palm, before explaining the allegation.

"…If you truly appreciated how dangerous Koola is, you wouldn't keep hassling me about my arrangement with Vegeta. I'm not kidding, Yamcha. This time, Goku won't be able to save the day by his lonesome. Vegeta knows more about Icelings than anybody and he's one of the toughest warriors in the whole Universe. We really do need him if we wanna live past this attack, but no more than he needs us. Trust me, he'd never jeopardise his chances of ascending to Super Saiyan by doing anything to me."

"Well let's consider that, shall we?" Yamcha countered with a hint of condescension, deciding to play the field from a different angle. Bulma was notoriously protective of her family and friends and she would never knowingly endanger them. Although he felt uneasy about exploiting her devotion to her loved ones to manipulate her, the ends justified the means as far as he was concerned. He'd had enough of that mother fucking ape for once and for all and he was going to say whatever it took to get rid of the bastard. He didn't trust the Saiyan and he didn't want him in the same solar system ~ never mind the same house ~ as his girlfriend, regardless of his intentions if he ever did fulfil the Legend. To hell with the greater good!

"…What if one of these fine days he does become a Super Saiyan, huh Babe? You haven't got a clue what he's capable of. For all you know, he's gonna join forces with Koola the minute he lands and help him to destroy us. It's a good thing we'll all be dead, `cause I don't know how you'd live with yourself knowing you paved the way for him."

Bulma's bright blue eyes narrowed to slits as her blood pressure started to climb. She'd dared to think that they could have a civil conversation for once, discussing their issues like adults, but Yamcha's less than subtle accusation proved how futile a hope that was.

"You're the one who hasn't got a clue! The Icelings enslaved him and destroyed his planet, for Kami's sake. He'd never side with them in a million years!" She snarled, offence at his implication sharpening her cadence, but Yamcha wasn't backing down.

"That may be, but it doesn't change what he is! He's murdered enough people to fill the Earth a thousand times over, Bulma. That's not something a man like him just walks away from. This guy is evil to the core. He likes killing! He gets off on it! Sure he's on his best behaviour now, but don't forget that he came here to slaughter everyone on the planet. I and Tien and Chao Tsu and Piccolo have all died once already because of him and if he does become stronger than Goku ~ Kami forbid ~ there'll be nothing to stop him from finishing what he started! Doesn't any of this matter to you?!"

Unbeknownst to Yamcha, Bulma had been doing a lot of tossing and turning over the subject of Vegeta's aspirations after he ascended. She trusted the Saiyan's word that he would help them defend the Earth and she doubted that he would vow to protect the human race if he still planned to decimate them; however his fanatic competition with Goku did have her worried. Vegeta had never clearly vocalised what he meant to do with the other pureblood if he ever surpassed him in strength, but Bulma was certain that it wouldn't be pleasant. The fact remained that the Special Forces needed all the Saiyan warriors in top form if anyone was going to survive beyond Koola's invasion and the fate of the world had to take precedence over her fears for her friend. It was a choice that weighed heavily on her conscience and she didn't need her short-sighted boyfriend to make it any harder on her.

"Stop trying to lay a guilt trip on me!" She thundered, lightning flashing in her tempestuous eyes.

"… I know his record isn't spotless, but every bad thing he did, he did for fear of Frieza and that monster is dead now. On his own he's not nearly as bad you're making him sound and I can't believe you're being such a hypocrite about this."

"'Hypocrite?!' What the hell are you talking about?!"

"I'm not as naïve as you apparently think! I know about you and that slut, Kasumi and I know you only did it to spite me, but I forgave you! You got a second chance, but you wanna deny other people the same courtesy. That's called hypocrisy, Yamcha."

"OK fine, I admit it! I fucked your Dad's assistant. Big deal. Vegeta has murdered planets full of people in cold blood, Babe! There's no comparison. I gave my life to protect everyone on Earth ~ including you ~ from that maniac and his lackeys. If anything, I earned a second chance. Just what has he done to deserve it?" He finished by folding his arms over his chest, staring confidently down at her as if daring her to oppose him ~ which of course she did.

"For your information, Vegeta has done plenty." She refuted and started recounting the prince's redeeming deeds to make her point. Bulma had never wanted to be so insensitive as to vaunt the Saiyan in Yamcha's presence, but the man's indifference to his indiscretion had stung painfully and she wanted to get even.

"… None of us would've made it off Namek if it weren't for him. He helped Goku when he got hurt, he helped Krillin and Gohan fight Frieza while Goku healed and he died in that battle, so I'm afraid you don't own the monopoly on noble sacrifices! He hasn't harmed a soul since his resurrection and last month he gave me the designs to build a regen-tank so…"

"Oh, how could I forget?" Yamcha interrupted her speech, unable to listen to another word. He was getting thoroughly upset by her adamant defence of the bastard. What the Saiyan did and didn't do was fast becoming irrelevant, the only issue of consequence ~ to Yamcha anyway ~ being that his girlfriend was advocating another man's case against him and he resented her for it.

"… After all, that contraption was so fucking amazing you couldn't help but throw yourself at him!"

Bulma rolled her eyes and threw her hands up in exasperation.

"So once again this is what it all boils down to, mmm? You and your ever so fragile ego. You're not really concerned about me or Goku or anyone on the Kami-damned planet aside from yourself! Those blueprints are going to change the face of modern medicine. Shit, it's the greatest medical advancement since penicillin and you're having a tantrum because I gave a peck on the cheek to the guy who made it possible! How can you be so self-centred?!"

"I'm being self-centred?! Kami dammit, Bulma! Would it kill you to show me the slightest bit of consideration in this relationship?!" Yamcha chided.

"…Goku and Vegeta aren't the only people who are gonna be out on that battlefield when Koola shows! I'm training my ass off too, but you're always too busy fussing over your precious pet alien to notice! You say we need all the help we can get, but how about sending a few of your inventions this way for a change?"

"You really haven't got an inkling of what we're up against, do you?" She cried, sounding more dismayed than angry.

"…Get real Yamcha! You didn't want to fight Frieza because you knew you'd be no match for him and Koola is at least ten times more powerful than his brother was. A combined effort from the Saiyans and maybe Piccolo is our only hope of taking that snake down. It doesn't matter how hard you train; if it comes down to it, no human will be able to tip the scales in the Earth's favour!"

Yamcha paled as the bitter reality was shoved down his throat, though it wasn't the facts themselves that jarred him. He'd always known that he didn't have a lot to contribute in the coming war, but the knowledge that Bulma knew it too cut into his heart like a thousand hot knives. Once upon a time he'd been her knight on a white charger, but his armour had become tarnished along the way. He was still among the strongest people on the planet, but he was no longer invincible in her eyes and the notion that another had taken his place as her hero sent him spiralling into a jealous rage.

"I'm just completely useless to you now that you've got the big, strong `Prince of all Bad Boys' to take care of you, aren't I? Not to worry though, maybe I'll get killed again and the two of you can fly into the sunset and fuck happily ever after!"

Bulma's eyes widened in shock, her hackles rising in fury as her boyfriend's flippancy pounded on her eardrums.

"How can you even think that?!" She spat through gritted teeth, her hands balled into white-knuckled fists at her sides.

"Just what am I supposed to think?! You're always prepared to jump when he gives the order, but everyone else has to get in line. You're alone with him every fucking night, yet it's too much trouble to spend a few lousy hours a week with me! You told me yourself that you're having erotic dreams about him, yet you're still making me beg for a goodnight kiss!"

Bulma cringed at the ring of truth in his words, but she'd die before admitting as much. She mentally slapped herself for ever telling Yamcha about the innocent "kissing-dream" she'd had about Vegeta. She was only jerking his chain and at the time she wrote it off as a fluke. How was she supposed to know that it was the beginning of an escalating trend?

"I am not having `erotic dreams' about Vegeta! I had one little dream…One…Where he kissed me, nothing more!" She lied, blushing profusely, and even though she knew it was silly to feel guilty about a product of her subconscious, she wasn't able to meet his eyes as she spoke.

"Well, why the hell would you have a dream like that anyway? For all I know you've been fantasising about him. Kami, for all I know you could be been crawling into his bed every night, living the fantasy. I know you spent several nights in his room when he was `recovering' from his little mishap!" Yamcha's speech was thick with emotion as he finally voiced what had been eating away at him since he learned of Bulma's willingness to provide Vegeta with free room and board.

"…Is that why his room is close to yours? Easy access!" He yelled, inflating his own fears.

"… Time to fess up, Bulma! Are you sleeping with him?!" The man concluded, breathing heavily, his face flushed in scorn and eyes darkened with despair.

Bulma nearly choked on his brashness.

"After everything I've had to put up with, he has the nerve to accuseme of cheating on him?!"

How dare you?! You are such a perv… " At that instant her tirade was intersected by the low timbre of an all too familiar male voice emanating from the entrance, and it was only then that she heeded the persistent tingling at her nape that always accompanied the change in atmosphere when that unmistakable dark aura engulfed a room…

"Relax Human. I assure you I would never soil my bed with a female native to this dirt clod. However, I do find it disturbing that any woman would waste her energies on a gutless parasite like you." Vegeta's voice was hardly above the rustle of an arctic breeze, yet it slit through the room with the smooth efficiency of a surgeon's blade.

The two Earthlings merely gaped at the Saiyan as he pushed off the doorframe and stalked across the kitchen, heading out in the direction of the GT-pod, but not before shouldering Yamcha out of the way with enough force to send him sprawling to the floor.

"Holy crap, why isn't he training?! How much did he overhear?" Bulma thought in horror, peering at the newly unhinged door the prince had just slammed shut behind him. She didn't have much time to dwell on it, though.

"Did you see that?!" Yamcha screeched as he bolted to his feet.

"…Did you see what that psycho did to me?"

"You insulted him! I'm surprised shoving you is all he did."

"The guy is a fucking maniac, Bulma! You don't owe him anything. So if you value our relationship in the least, you'll get rid of him."

"Are you threatening to break up with me for letting Vegeta stay here?!"

"Either he goes or I go. It's your choice."

"OK, that's it! Yamcha, get your head out of your ass for five seconds, and listen good! I guarantee you that Vegeta won't hurt me or anyone else. I swear I have never, nor will I ever sleep with him. You have nothing to freak out over and there is no way I'm chucking a person out on the street just to appease someone else's neurosis! Is that perfectly clear?!"

"So you're choosing him then?!"

"I'm not `choosing' anything, Kami dammit!"

"Are you gonna throw him out?!"

"No!!"

"Then I know where I stand!!" And with that Yamcha stormed out of the kitchen, disappearing into the living room and she heard the front door slam a moment later, ripped from the frame by the sound of it.

"Mother fucking asshole." She growled venomously, and marched to the servo-bot control panel, taking a deep breath to regain her poise as she issued a pair of house drones to mend the broken doors. She wasn't overly concerned about Yamcha's flippant retraction from their relationship. Over the years, many of their quarrels had ended with one of them threatening to leave if their ultimatums weren't met. Admittedly, the tactic hadn't been used since the incident involving the coquettish FHM reporter, but Yamcha could be tenaciously childish when incensed. He would see the error of his ways as soon as his temper cooled and it would only be a couple of days before he came crawling back to beg forgiveness.

"This time it's gonna cost him… a diamond necklace at the very least!" She brooded, guiltily worrying her bottom lip upon noticing Scratch's empty food bowl in the corner of the room. She hadn't seen the little fuzz ball at all after her rude awakening. The poor feline must have given up on waiting for his mistress to feed him and was likely out in the yard, refining his hunting skills.

"… Speaking of hunters…" Bulma's thoughts floated to the corporeal incarnation of her phantom lover as she retrieved the cat pellets from the pantry. She'd been pleading fruitlessly with Vegeta for ages to establish a balance between training and rest. She should've known he was simply waiting for the most inopportune time conceivable to follow her advice.

Yamcha's imputations were truly awful, but the notion that the Saiyan may have been privy to her own utterances disconcerted her as well. Her housemate was egotistical enough without knowing about her boyfriend's envy or her admiration and he was probably going to drive her mad with his gloating in the months to come. Then again, he might never to speak to her again. The climate of their alliance had recently shifted from frosty tolerance to something a little warmer, but Vegeta remained reticent as ever. He clung to his distrust like a protective shield, which was why she had no idea how he would interpret anything she'd said ~ especially that horribly embarrassing admission about her dream.

She couldn't access the damage without knowing how much he'd overheard though, and there was only one way to find out. She would have to swallow her pride and ask him directly. She'd already missed the morning's shareholder's conference. Another few minutes' absconding wouldn't make any difference to her professional fate, so she might as well get it over with. Besides, after butting heads with Vegeta so many times in the past, interrogating him was a far less daunting prospect than facing the gang of agitated managing directors no doubt awaiting her in her father's office. The Saiyan might humiliate her mercilessly, but at least he wouldn't call up her daddy and have her fired.

With her plan of action decided and Scratch's dish filled, Bulma squared her shoulders and headed upstairs to change into more appropriate attire before confronting the prince…

~*~*~*~

Vegeta was sweating away at the gravity simulator's maximum setting of 400 Gs, sparring against a new set of his old battle bots. For once he was thankful for the lacking challenge they posed as it freed his mind to dwell on the Earthlings' argument. It came as no surprise that the weakling felt threatened by him, as he should be. The woman's attraction wasn't exactly breaking news either, but the revelation that his psyche wasn't the only one conjuring phantasms of them together did pique his interest.

"So we're dreaming about each other, are we? And in an intimate fashion no less…"

Recalling his earliest education, Vegeta remembered that dreams were an important part of the Saiyan mating ritual and shared dreams were supposed to be indicative of a subconscious mind meld ~ the second stage of a developing Bond. Planet Vegeta's tribes had evolved from a violent bunch of cannibalistic wereapes and contact between individuals was rare beyond combat. Thus, the first phase of the Bond was designed to overcome Saiyans' instinctive fear of interaction through a gradual change in hormone levels that would heighten a pair's need for physical closeness.

Which in males meant that the Unrak Nagul would occur independently of the lunar cycle…

"No!!" He howled, deflecting a stray energy sphere back at its mechanical originator. Even if it were theoretically possible for Saiyans to Bond to humans, the idea of him and the woman was absolutely preposterous. That morning's dream was odd indeed, but there was no evidence that Bulma had shared it. The small amount of detail he'd overheard was enough to indicate that the dream she'd had was completely separate from his ~ a conjuring of her own, overly sentimental subconscious, just as his was a mere figment of his hormone driven imagination. He was training hard and she'd frequently been working late during the previous week, so the fact that they'd both overslept was merely coincidence.

As for his erratic mating cycle… his whole life had been screwed up since coming to Earth, why should he expect his ruts to be any different?

*External override initiated… Simulation shutting down… Drones deactivating.* The computer's hollow voice announced suddenly and Vegeta adjusted his equilibrium just in time to keep from launching through the roof as the gravity dropped to normal. Her scent, sweet and spicy like wildflowers and cinnamon, filled the air even before she'd fully entered the pod and the fragrance sent chills running down his spine. He pulled his tail into a painfully tight loop around his waist, wary of what it would betray if he allowed it to relax even slightly. The treacherous limb tended to act with a mind of its own during his fevers and he wanted dearly to ward off any embarrassment it was bound to cause if he let it go astray.

"Where do you get off eavesdropping on my conversation with Yamcha?!" She bellowed up at him, her screech exploding in his ears, resounding through his skull like a ricocheting bullet.

"So the little female still has some fight left, does she?" The Saiyan mused, torn between elation and trepidation as he drank in the sight of her dressed in a low cut red blouse, with a black business jacket and matching skirt. It was an ensemble he knew well. "Her battle gear" was what she called it.

He didn't answer immediately, but folded his arms over his chest and commenced a purposely slow descent, watching the annoyance play over her features as she stood with her hands on her hips, impatiently tapping the ground with her foot. He did fancy a good scrimmage and maybe pushing the female's buttons would work toward venting some of his sexual tension.

"… Bring it on, Woman, bring it on…"

"Don't flatter yourself. If I cared any less about your pointless bickering with that ass leech, the ensuing vacuum would cause a black hole. Just do me a favour: Next time you're `conversing' about your private affairs, don't broadcast it over a loud speaker. I really don't wanna hear anything you and pencil dick have to say to each other." Bulma winced slightly at the obscenities, but decided to let it slide. Yamcha wasn't her favourite person at the moment and she didn't feel like standing up for him.

"How much did you overhear?" She spat, failing miserably in her attempt to sound nonchalant.

"Well now, let me see. I know that your pansy of a mate is dying for a pissing contest, but lacks the equipment to challenge me upfront. Very unfortunate indeed. And then there's the little matter of your understandably unsatisfactory mating habits, which explains why you'd be having 'inappropriate' musings about yours truly…" Vegeta smirked wickedly for effect as he mentally ticked off the list of compromising confessions he'd been privy to.

"Enough to know that your mate's a neurotic ass wipe, but that's not exactly privileged information." He responded, savouring the look of discontentment on her face.

"What do you mean?" She snapped, tossing pretence to the wind. She was upset already and she didn't have time for the stupid cat-and-mouse game he was playing.

"Why are you so worked up about this? If I didn't know better I'd think you're trying to hide something from me." He remarked innocently, deliberately avoiding her question.

"Of course I'm not, you narcissistic prick!" She shrieked, betraying more emotions than intended.

"Mmhmm. Whatever you say, Woman." Vegeta said in a knowing tone, delighting in the sight of her struggling to keep her frustration at bay.

Bulma wanted to strangle him. He was deliberately keeping her in the dark about the extent of her revelation, simply for the love of watching her squirm. His evasive responses made it painfully clear that he was planning to milk her predicament for all it was worth; and that after she defended his character and refused to toss him out in the cold!

"So much for gratitude. Then again I guess the joke's on me for expecting as much from inconsiderate, egotistical men!" Bulma fumed as she recalled the events that gave rise to her present debacle and suddenly found herself subscribing wholeheartedly to the extreme sentiments of feminism.

"My name is Bul-ma, not `Woman'! It's not that hard! Or can't the poor little monkey remember names with more than one syllable?" The moment the words left her lips she regretted uttering them. Vegeta's grin vanished instantly to be replaced by a very ugly expression. Her face blanched as he advanced on her like an angry tiger, his fists clenched at his sides and his energy flaring murderously. The fur of his tail bristled with ire as it left his waist to sweep threateningly behind him, punctuating the image of a jungle cat closing in for the kill. The woman's legs acted with a mind of their own; carrying her backward until she hit the wall. Then he pounced, drowning out her scream of terror with a roar of outrage as he slammed his fist into the wall behind her, leaving a huge dent chillingly close to her head.

"You will never call me that again. Do you understand?" His voice was eerily calm as he spoke and his eyes flamed with an aching fury that Bulma had never witnessed before. Clearly she had crossed the line with her insult and she was stricken mute with fear, unable to do anything but nod gingerly to convey her comprehension.

"Get out!" He growled vehemently, pointing at the craft's open hatchway. Bulma didn't wait to be asked twice and immediately darted out the door as fast as her trembling lower limbs would carry her, silently giving praise to Kami for letting her survive that blunder.

"Just fucking terrific!" The woman thought as she heard the sibilant sound of the hatch sealing behind her. If Shenron were to appear that instant and offered to grant her any wish, she would've asked to crawl back into bed. She hadn't even been awake for two full hours, yet she'd already managed to alienate two of the men closest to her and the third was soon to follow if the messages on her cell phone's voicemail were any indication. It had to be some kind of a record.

Her heart thumped loudly in her ears as she strolled dejectedly to the front of the estate and decapsulated her car. She'd called her assistant, Hiroe, to make an excuse for her tardiness before speaking with Vegeta and from the sound of it Bulma Briefs wasn't the most popular name on the Capsule Corp. payroll at present. With the company's CEO missing in action, the shareholder's meeting had to be rescheduled, making a poor impression on several of the longstanding investors. Needless to say, those conniving bastards on the board wasted no time in alerting Dr. Briefs of his daughter's absenteeism and her dear old dad was anything but lenient when it came to running his beloved business. Some serious brownnosing would be in order if she wanted to keep her position.

"…This has gotta be the worst day in Briefs family history." Bulma concluded as she got behind the steering wheel, feeling like a lamb on route to the lions' den. She turned the key with a desultory sigh and listened to the engine spinning to life, ready to transport her to a bloodthirsty pack of corporate carnivores and her third face-off of the day.

_______________________________________________________________ _______

* `Going Under' by Evanescence

Next Chapter: More rude awakenings for Bulma.

By the by, if anyone would like to be notified of updates, email me at evilsaint243@hotmail.com and give me an email address where I can contact you. Plus I'd really appreciate some input from you guys on plot development, so don't forget to review!