Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ For Crying Out Loud! ❯ Grease Monkey ( Chapter 8 )

**A/N: I want to thank EVERYONE who has reviewed this little blurb of a story ^_^ I can't even remember how many times I've read, re-read, and re-re-read them over again. You guys make me feel so special. But, anywho... on with the chapter!

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Boredom is a bad thing. But when it comes to ME being bored... well, lets just say, you should duck and cover. I have a tendency, when driven mad with the never ending not-a-god-damn-thing-to-do syndrome, to get into as much trouble as possible. Idle hands people. I have idle hands.

I had considered taking that sweet ass car for a ride again, but I was positive Vegeta wouldn't get within a thousand feet of me if he saw me behind the wheel again. I couldn't really blame him. And come on, its just no fun to be a reckless driver if you have no one to scare the crap out of in the process. Still, I wanted to do something with the car, so I opted for a little wrenching.

Changing out of my clothes into a pair of jeans (which I promptly ripped the knees out and shredded the ankles of) and a simple tank top, I went on a hunt for an MP3 player. Good Lord was I happy to find out that at least the music hadn't changed in this world. (**yes yes, I know. It probably would, but hell... I need music when I work!) Soon, I was happily laying on a creeper, working on draining the oil pan, my foot tapping to the beat of "Paint It Black" by the Stones.

"Sheesh Layla. Is EVERYTHING you like have to do with the color black?"

I half smiled. Interesting connection she made there.

"Plus, is this really necessary? I never even really use this car anyway."

"Yes."

"How do you figure? There's nothing mechanically wrong with it."

"Bulma, when you have a car like this, how can you resist the temptation to wrench on it? Honestly girl, have you NO idea the sweetness of this vehicle?"

"Obviously not."

I sighed and continued working on the damn bolt. She obviously hadn't changed the oil since she got this car. I was now grunting under the force I was putting on it, hoping against hope that I wouldn't strip it. Without warning, I felt a hand clamp down around my ankle and tug me from under the car. I wheeled easily out, to find myself staring up at Vegeta. Why wasn't I surprised?

He was knelt over me, one knee to the ground, the other bent, my body between his legs. I tried to look angry, which I really was, honest, but something about this position made me tingly.

"What are you doing woman?"

I expected anger from him, but he asked in pure curiosity.

"Changing the oil."

Then it struck me. Stubborn bolt. Super strong Saiyan. I smile crept on my lips and he arched a brow at me.

"Whatever you're thinking, the answer is no."

I let my lips pout slightly and held the ratchet to my breast.

"Vegeta, would you do me a favor?"

"I already said no."

"You never know. You might enjoy it." I spoke slowly, in a silky voice, and let my tongue slip a little past my lips to wet them. But it didn't get the desired result. His face flashed with anger.

"You expect me to fall to your feet in desire? After you're shameless display with that imbecile."

Now I was really confused. What the hell was he talking about? There were so many people Vegeta considered to be imbeciles. Rolling my eyes, I tried to push myself back under the car, but his hand gripped my hip and held me in place.

"Look, all I wanted to know is if you would help me drain the oil pan."

"What's an oil pan? And what the hell are you working on this vehicle for? You're filthy." his words weren't filled with disgust. In fact, his hand reached up to my cheek, which was smeared with grease, and he let his finger slide down the line, spreading it even more. I smiled at him. Not my usual evil grin, but a true smile.

"Grab a creeper and I'll show you."

"A what?"

I giggled a little and pointed to a rolling platform identical to the one I was laying on already. Soon, he was laying next to me under the car and I handed him the ratchet.

"Ok, see that little bolt?"

"Yes."

"Just loosen it. But don't take it off, otherwise you'll get oil all over yourself."

He did as I instructed, a look of pure interest on his face.

"What is this vehicle called?"

"Its a Hemi Cuda 383."

"And this is good?"

"Sure is. Ok, stop. Move out of the way so I can let the oil drain."

I placed a pan under the flow of oil, slipped out from under the car, Vegeta following my lead. I popped the hood up and pulled out the dip stick. Without really caring, I cleaned it off on my jeans, again ignoring Bulma's screaming at me. I glanced out of the corner of my eye, and noticed Vegeta's wide eyes. Apparently, Bulma was never this dirty or careless with her clothing.

"Ok, hand me the filter wrench." I said, my body practically buried under the hood. I glanced over my shoulder. Vegeta was staring at me. But this stare didn't annoy the fuck out of me as it usually would. I had purposely bent myself so that he could get a classic view of my behind.

"Vegeta?"

"W-What?"

"Filter wrench."

He growled a little, angry at being caught in his ogling. He handed me the wrench in question, but I had a better idea.

"Come here. I want to show you how to do this."

"There's no need for me to know how to do anything with this vehicle."

"It may not be necessary, but it's a hell of a lot of fun. Now come here." I pleaded, knowing full well my car-chick attitude was showing through. I stepped sideways a bit so he could lean in and get a good look at what I was doing.

"Ok, unscrew the filter." I said, handing him the wrench. He stared at the tool dumbly, totally confused as to what I was talking about. I smiled, grabbed his hand and guided it to the filter. We were very close in body, our shoulders touching. We could feel each other's breathing, smell each other's scent. His was musky, very masculine, now mixing with the smell of oil and grease. Strangely, these added smells seemed to make him even more alluring. I closed my eyes for a moment, taking it all in, imprinting it in my memory.

"Ok, now what?"

His voice brought me out of it, and I went to the far wall to retrieve a fresh filter. I stopped halfway, to turn up the music. "I wanna rock" by Twisted Sister had started, and come on people. Hair bands and cars just seem to fit.

I guided Vegeta through the rest of the process, and by the end, he really seemed to be enjoying himself. I shut the hood and leaned against the grill, crossing my arms and shooting him a smile. He looked as though he wanted to smile back, but he soon covered it with his usual determined scowl.

"Is there anything else that needs to be done to this car?" he sounded annoyed, but I caught a hint of hope in his voice.

"Well what do you know? Vegeta's a grease monkey!" I winked at him as I reached for a rag to clean my hands off with. I had expected anger from him, which was what I was going for, but no. He surprised me yet again when a smirk graced his lips at my little joke. I lifted to rag to my cheek in a vain attempt at cleanliness, but Vegeta's hand stopped me. He had placed his fingers over mine and stepped in very close. I could feel the heat from his body as he pulled the rag from my hand and gently placed his palm against my cheek. My natural instincts took hold and I leaned into his touch, my eyes closing for the smallest moment. When I opened them again, he was looking at me with the most wonderful amazement.

"You are so different from before woman. What has changed?"

All I wanted to do was tell him. Tell him who I really was. Tell him how much this time with him, working on this car, meant to me. How long it had been since another person had touched me.

As if on cue, "I'm so lonesome I could cry" started, and I had to fight my hardest not to reveal all. To quiet the words that were already rising in my throat, I leaned forward and kissed him, ever so lightly. It was just a brush of lips. I wasn't even certain I had made contact. But I put all the sweetness, tenderness, and passion I had held inside these past years into that breath of a touch.

I pulled away slightly too look into his eyes, knowing that I wouldn't see anything but those walls. His thumb brushed my cheek affectionately. As if that wasn't out of character enough, he bent down to capture me in another kiss. His was more forceful, but had the most incredible effect on me. I felt as though I had no mobility. I was numb. As if sensing my paralyses, Vegeta reached out and lifted my arms around his neck. We stayed like this for God knows how long, neither certain if we dared take the next step.

Thankfully, Vegeta found his confidence again. He put his hands on my hip and slid me up the hood of the car so his body was between my legs, and I felt how much he desired me. He was ready and heated, pressed between my thighs. I parted my lips the smallest amount; a silent plea.

And Gods he answered it.

His tongue was hot and slick in my mouth. It explored mercilessly. Testing and savoring each corner of me. I in turn slid my tongue against his, causing the softest sigh to escape him. Soon, grease covered fingers found their way down my arms to my waist, and snuck just barely under the bottom of my shirt. I moaned softly, driving him on.

And drive him it did. His actions came in haste, his hands going further up my shirt to cup my breasts, his erection pressed harder against me. My head was swimming. I was losing control. And Jesus did I want him. Each touch was like liquid fire on my skin. Covering ever inch of my being. I was burning up under him, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

Until he spoke.

"Bulma.."

His words were husky and laced with his lust.

"Bulma."

My eyes shot open. Immediately, that flame died. My skin chilled. My stomach fell. Without another word, I pushed away from him and slid off the side of the hood, taking off out of the garage and into the house. All I could think was that I had to hide. I had to collect myself. I needed to get away.

Slamming the door to Bulma's room, I ran to her bathroom and proceeded to empty the content of my stomach into the toilet. Shaking, I leaned my head against the rim.

"What the hell was that!? I thought you wanted to have sex with him!"

I couldn't speak.

I couldn't breath.

But most of all, I couldn't explain.

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Yamcha stared at Goku across the Son's kitchen table. His jaw was slack. His eyes looked almost dead.

"She's not gay."

"That's what she told me. I'm sorry Yamcha."

"You say she's been rather friendly with Vegeta."

"Ya. It's weird you know? I thought she hated him. Hey, where are you going?"

Yamcha didn't answer him as he stepped out of the kitchen and left the modest house. All he could think of was Bulma, and how she had destroyed him. Mostly, of how she was going after that bastard Prince. That evil, bitter creature. He didn't even see where he was walking anymore, his rage clouding his vision.

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**A/N: There we go. A new chapter. I really hope you guys like this one. I've been having the worst case of writer's block lately, and I'm not really sure what's causing it. But, I have the weekend off so HOPEFULLY that'll give me some time to work on this story and "Panthera Tigris Tigris" ^_^

Dang, can't you just see Vegeta as a car guy? I don't know why, but he just seems the type to me. Or that could just be my twisted little fantasy. Oh, and I'm sorry that the citrus didn't turn into a full blown lemon. But, if we had sex already, then this would be a very short story 8-Þ. So ya, look forward to some lovely angst next chapter! *thinks about Vegeta and herself doin' it on that car*........... Um... go on, go review... leave me to my devices... *smirk*

Toodles!