Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Girl Next Door ❯ 09 Needed Me ( Chapter 10 )

NB: Based on chapter 2, occurring after `Just for One Night', up to and including `Jaded', of the “Girl Next Door” comic by stupidoomdoodles, which can be found on smackjeeves and p atreon. This is all mostly Dooms' headcanon, I've just come in to reverently flesh it out a little. ;)

Very NSFW

Girl Next Door

09 - Needed Me

The warmth of Bulma's hand seeped past his fingerless gloves. She was pulling him along the hallway by his hand, and wordlessly, he followed. He couldn't stop looking at their entwined hands. The paleness of her skin and the soft perfection of it stood in stark contrast to his own fingers, tanned and scarred, knuckles swollen from mashing into countless faces and bodies over the years. They were so opposite, her and him, even down to their hands. They shouldn't have had anything in common, their worlds should never have crossed. Everything about them existing together was counterintuitive. Yet here they were, hand in hand, her invitation to spend the night still buzzing in his head. Vegeta willingly followed at her heels, hoping that somehow Bulma could alleviate the bleakness inside him, the same way her hand warmed his cold fingers. He was aware of a hollow emptiness clawing at his soul. And fuck, it had been there for years, but not until Bulma came along, and tore off the scab concealing it had he become aware of it, and of how miserable his life really was. He needed something to take away the numbing emptiness swallowing him, to lose himself entirely in something that wasn't roiling self-pity and hatred. He needed her.

They emerged back into the main space of the house.

“Vegeta is going to spend the night,” Bulma announced to the room.

“Where?” the short one, Krillin, asked, sounding skeptical. Distrustful. Good. At least someone around here was thinking soundly.

The kid's head popped up from behind his book. “He could use the room I'm in,” he suggested. “I can sleep on the sofa.”

“That's okay, Gohan. Vegeta is going to stay with me.” Bulma smiled at the boy, then glanced at Vegeta for confirmation. Squeezing his hand. He swallowed, and finally tightened his own fingers over hers. Silently agreeing.

“Oh, lovely, with the kid here and everything,” Krillin grumbled under his breath, looking disgusted.

Bulma shot Krillin a death glare.

Krillin rolled his eyes, throwing his hands in the air, but didn't make any further complaints as to the sleeping arrangements.

Ignoring him, Bulma turned her attention back to Vegeta. “You hungry?”

He shook his head. He supposed he should be hungry. When had he last eaten? Oh yeah, right before he killed Nappa. That felt like forever ago, but Vegeta couldn't find his appetite. “Just tired,” he said, his voice gruff.

Bulma nodded, giving his hand another squeeze and she started leading them away, down towards the side room he had seen her take the dragon balls. “Alright then. We'll be going to bed. Good night, everyone!”

“Shout if you need any help!” Roshi called after them, in a very suggestive tone.

Bulma flipped Roshi the bird before pulling Vegeta inside the room. She shut the door, locking it for good measure. She didn't turn on the lights. The glow from outside illuminated the room enough to see each other by. They were finally alone.

“Sorry about them,” Bulma apologized, giving Vegeta a soft smile. She still held his hand, and he was starting to feel awkward about it. Shouldn't she have let go by now? But at the same time, he was glad that she hadn't. It felt like she was the only thing anchoring him to his sanity at this point.

“So,” she said, stepping in. He felt his heart start thumping in response. His body reacted to her nearness, aching to feel her against him, to touch her, to press his nose into her hair, or maybe against the crook of her throat. Memories from their last session on her couch flooded him. Grinding hips, clinging hands, an intense undoing… He wanted that again, wanted to shut out the reality of the world and lose himself in her, but he didn't know how to initiate, frozen in his own body. Caged.

Bulma was less so. She pulled her fingers from his, and for a humiliating second he panicked. But then she took his hand and placed it on her hip. Oh. Fuck. He hoped she hadn't seen his reaction. He swallowed, cautiously placing his fingers on her tiny hip. She gave an encouraging smile, resting her palms on his chest. “Where were we?”

His chest swelled at her touch. He wished he wasn't wearing such a thick goddamn sweater so he could feel her better. Swallowing, his fingers tightened further over her hip, but he didn't have the guts to pull her in. Fuck, why was this so friggin' difficult? Was he supposed to say something?

She saved him from figuring out what to do as she stepped in and pressed up against him. His whole body came awake at her warmth, like a coiled snake unfurling in the sun. Bit by bit he felt the hollow void inside him start to fill with something light and comforting.

“Right. A night with no talking,” she mumbled against his mouth. “To be honest, I'm not sure I can uphold that. I've been told I'm a talker.”

He huffed a laugh, caught off guard by her comment. No shit she was a talker.

Her grin widened, delighted to have amused him. “Oh, so you can smile.”

Real fucking cute. He grimaced, which only made her laugh, and far more freely than he had done, the sound of her voice soft and inviting. And a little breathless. Her face was only inches from his, her tiny body in his hands. He noticed the pink in her cheeks. Her dilated eyes. The rapid rise and fall of her chest. Oh fuck… she was excited.

Something clicked in his brain, something primal, almost forgotten from lack of use. Bulma was turned on, because of him. Vegeta grabbed her tighter and pulled her into his hips. She yelped, before a salacious grin took over her face. Approving. It was all that was needed to cross that final line.

She pressed her mouth to his in a kiss. The hot caress of her lips on his was glorious. His dam of hesitation broke, and he kissed her back, leaning eagerly into her. Pulling her snuggly against him by the hollow of her back, and slipping one hand into her hair to hold her close. It was nothing like the coy kisses they had shared before. This was full of hunger. Lust. Need. Her slender arms wrapped about his neck and pulled him in. He devoured her with a desperation he didn't know he could possess. If this was the last time he would hold her, he wanted to drink up everything she had.

Her fingers hooked into the neck of his hoodie, tugging on the loose fabric, pulling him closer still. As if they could get closer, already mashed together like those goddamn macarons. She moaned into the kiss. It was doing something to his brain, devastating his rational thought until all that was left was the need to have her. He put weight into his hand at the small of her back, and she arched against him, far too eager. She started to grind against him. Sweet fuck did he want to be inside of her. But things were spinning out of control, traveling down a frantic path that was going to have him blow his load in about three minutes flat. Like he wanted a repeat of that again. Not when this was going to be the only night they got together…

Her fingers snuck up the hem of his hoodie. He let out a hiss as she touched his bare belly, dragging her fingers through the hair that trailed down beneath his jeans. His cock twitched hard at the promise. Fffuck…

“Bulma,” he groaned, trying to get her attention.

“Like that?” she asked, her eyes hooded. “You're gonna love this-”

“Wait.”

She paused, still breathing hard from their kissing. Her fingers hovered at the waist of his pants. She gave him a questioning look, searching his face. “What's wrong?”

His brow furrowed with consternation. He looked away. His heart was about to explode from his chest. He struggled to find the words.

When he couldn't spit them out, she placed her hand on his cheek. Her head dipped to the side, trying to catch his eyes. “What is it, tough guy?” she asked, her voice soft and understanding. Her nickname for him felt like a punch to the gut.

“Let's just… take this slower… please?” he grit out.

Bulma's eyes widened, reeling back. “Oh… Oh yeah. Oh my god, of course! I'm sorry, I'm rushing, aren't I?” she apologized. “I just got so excited… It's been so long since I've… I mean, I haven't slept with anyone, since we've met, haha… You just felt so good, and I couldn't stop myself because it was like all the fantasies I've been having about you for so long, and…” her babbling trailed off, and she looked up at him from under her bangs, her eyes dark with lust.

Vegeta very nearly came in his pants. Again. Fuck, why did she have such a powerful goddamn effect over him? Hearing that she felt the same way, that she hadn't been with anyone else, that she had been fantasizing about him… Wait, she had fantasized about him how? What exactly went on in that clever little mind of hers? His cock throbbed just considering the possibilities. If only he dared to ask, but he wasn't sure he could handle the answers right now without creaming himself.

Her hands smoothed down his hoodie. She gave him a soft kiss on his cheek. “I'm sorry,” she said again, calmer this time, collected. “I didn't mean to pressure you.” She gave him a gentle look. “You're a virgin, right? I kind of figured, after last time. It's okay, I promise I'll take good care of you.”

His mouth pressed into a thin line. Something uneasy weighed on his chest. “No, that's not it.” He looked at her, her blue eyes watching him expectantly. Oh shit… He glanced away. “You're just… the first woman I haven't had to pay to get into.”

The silence was deafening. Crushing.

“…Oh…” She finally managed.

Vegeta frowned, his throat dry. Shame was not a feeling he was familiar with, but being around Bulma certainly had him getting better acquainted with all sorts of new feelings, didn't it? He had never felt guilty about fucking whores before. It was just how things were done in his crew; fucking whores meant no attachments. But Bulma's reaction to his confession gave birth to a slithering uncomfortableness that Vegeta was beginning to think felt an awful lot like shame.

Why the fuck did you tell her that?

Why the fuck did he tell her anything? It was like there was another part of him actively out to sabotage himself. Trying to put her off with his brute honesty. Testing her. Seeing what it would take for her to turn from him in disgust, because seriously, what the fuck would it take at this point? Why wasn't she disgusted with him yet? And why was he so desperately hoping she would put up with it?

What the fuck was wrong with him?

“So,” Bulma broke the silence, bringing him back to the present. “…Then I take it you've never been with anyone… genuinely?”

He looked at her warily, uncertain of her meaning. “…They all seemed pretty genuinely interested in the money I paid.”

“Riiight. That's… that's really lovely, Vegeta,” Bulma replied sarcastically. He felt his mouth turn down, along with his confidence. He didn't know what to say. He wanted to curl away and hide this part of himself he had unwittingly bared to her. “That's not what I meant,” Bulma added before he could spiral down further in self-deprecation. “You've had sex, but, you've never, uh, for lack of a better term, `made love'?”

He lifted his head to give her an incredulous look, one brow winging up cynically. Him? Make love? Who the shit did she think she was talking to?

Bulma gave him a wry, half smile, taking his disbelief as her answer. “Yeah, that's what I thought.” Leaning in, she looped her arms about his neck, pinning her slender weight against him. Her smile stretched smugly as she caught his gaze. He hoped his vulnerability wasn't written as clearly across his face as it felt like it might be. Her breath teased his lips, their noses almost touching.

“So you are a virgin.”

“Tch.” Heat rose to his face, of what little he could spare that hadn't already headed south. His interest in her hadn't waned, and neither, it appeared, had hers in him.

“Don't leave, okay? I'll be right back,” she told him, and kissed the corner of his mouth. His fingers flinched, wanting to hold on to her, suddenly nervous about her leaving. But he didn't keep her. He had no right to cling to her. She must have seen the doubt in his eyes, for she paused to explain. “I'm going to see if I can steal one of Roshii's condoms.”

Oh. Oh.

A thought struck him. Reaching into his back pocket, Vegeta extracted his wallet. He could feel Bulma's eyes on him as he opened it. He searched inside. A frown took over his brow when, instead of the condom that should have been there, he found a little yellow piece of folded paper.

He pulled it out, opening the note.

“What's that?” Bulma asked.

Hey V. Owe you one. Thnx, -R.

Fucking great.

“Well, it's not a goddamn condom,” Vegeta huffed, annoyed. “…I'll kill him.” Oh wait, Raditz was already dead. Goddamn it. Vegeta shoved his wallet away, irritated by Raditz's thievery, and his own inability to exact revenge. When had the little bastard even taken it? Vegeta hadn't exactly needed a latex in a long goddamn while so it could have happened months ago. But now that he did need it, of course Raditz had to muck the whole thing up for him. Even in death the useless moron still screwed him over.

Bulma's brows rose. “You carry a condom on you?”

“I thought I did,” Vegeta grouched. “Frieza's rules.” Frieza didn't want the headache of his men coming down with venereal diseases, or a bad case of Sudden Parenthood. Those caught with either were severely reprimanded. Besides, protection was just common sense; like hell Vegeta was going to stick his dick in something he didn't trust.

Does that mean you trust her?

I…

“Then you've always worn protection?” Bulma asked, cocking her head. He blinked. Her hands came up to toy with the hair at the back of his neck. It was making it hard to concentrate.

“Yes..?” he answered. It was a question, curious as to why she cared.

She tightened her hold, drawing them together. His hands rose on their own accord to grip her waist. Her lithe, warm body melted against him. Fuck it felt right to hold her like this.

“Then you're clean?” she said.

Oh, so that was it. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Encouraging.”

What did she want, a fucking blood test? “Tch. And you?” he deflected.

“All clear,” she reassured him with a smile. “I got tested when I found out my last boyfriend cheated on me.”

He shouldn't have cared, but he found himself annoyed. What kind of moron would cheat on someone like her? A fucking idiot. “Sounds like an ass,” he grouched.

Bulma laughed. “Yeah, I suppose. But I'm more interested in your ass right now. And you touching mine,” she suggested with a grin. She gave him a coy kiss, and he felt his walls crumbling away. “That is, if you feel comfortable with that,” she husked.

He did, more than comfortable, and grateful that he somehow hadn't fucking ruined the mood. Vegeta grabbed the swell of her ass in both hands. He lifted her up easily; she weighed nothing. Bulma let out a breathless, delighted squeal. He felt the corners of his mouth hook up.

Carrying her the short distance to the bed, he laid her down, careful to cradle her head, easing it on the pillow. Bulma pulled him down with her to crush their mouths together. For a while they made out on the bed, pressed hotly together, exploring each other's mouths and enjoying the slow grind of their bodies.

“I want to feel your skin on me,” she gasped against his mouth, tugging at his hoodie.

Fuck yes, that sounded good. He sat up, removing his hoodie and shirt together in one clean gesture. Beneath him, Bulma shimmied out of her own top. She looked so endearing, wriggling around, trying to take off the tight shirt while trapped under his thighs. He caught himself smiling. Offering his help, Vegeta slipped her shirt over her delicate arms, revealing her creamy body. Her bra was simple, a cute teal, and that was all the time he got to admire it before she had it unhooked and thrown off the side of the bed. He might have berated her for not taking it slow if he wasn't so appeased by the sight of her breasts. Fuck, they were… they were fucking perfect.

Holy shit.

This was really happening.

He was really going to fuck her.

A tight ball of anxiety formed his belly, and for a few heart beats Vegeta froze, staring down at her, not knowing what to do. God fucking damn it, she was right. He had no idea how to be with a woman he wasn't planning just to fuck for his own gratification.

He must have been an open goddamn book too, because her expression softened. She gave him a sympathetic smile. “Hey tough guy, don't leave me waiting,” she gently coaxed. Her hands brushed his cheeks, down to his neck. “You okay?”

He nodded stiffly, not knowing what else to do. His mind in turmoil.

Her thumbs rubbed the tension in his neck and shoulders. “It's alright if you're not okay, you know.”

Oh. Okay, good. Because fffuuck…

“I just want to feel you against me,” she whispered. Tempting. Her eyes were dark, a blue as deep as the sea, and he wanted to drown in them. “Is there anything you want to do to me?”

Fuck. What didn't he want to do to her? He wanted to eat her up, ravish her. He wanted to bury himself in her in every way that he could until he forgot about her deceit and his miserable fucked up life and soon-to-be-probable-death. Until all that was left was them, just them, stripped bare of everything else; honest, raw, and panting for each other.

His gaze fell again to her soft breasts, her pink nipples painfully erect. He could start with those, and he wanted to. He lowered on to his forearms, watching her face carefully, schooling his own lest he give away too much. “I want to put your nipple in my mouth,” he said, meaning to sound matter-of-fact, but his voice came out deeper, huskier than usual.

Her fingers tightened at his suggestion and the tone of his voice. She wet her lips and gave a quick nod, her voice coming out breathless. “Yeah. Y-you should do that.”

He moved his arms, scooping up her back into his palms. She gasped. He raised a brow, glancing at her. Her cheeks were flushed, her breathing accelerated. Fuck, she was needy. It sent something electric through his nerves, his fingers curling possessively against her shoulder blades. She wanted him. The knowledge was a goddamn drug in his veins, the best kind of ego boost, and he was ready to be swept up by it.

Her nipples were so pert and rosy, tempting him, teasing him. Vegeta took one in his mouth. Bulma bit back a whimper, arching up. Her breathy sounds filled the room, and he closed his eyes to better enjoy her cries. He ran his tongue against her nipple, her tiny body undulating under him in response. It made him want to press into her, hold her down, overpower her. His cock throbbed in his pants, heavy and aching. Vegeta gave in, settling on top of her, his thighs either side hers, luxuriating in trapping her small form between his body and the bed. He drew her nipple further into his hungry mouth, sucking fervently on the tight bud, knowing she couldn't escape.

“Ah~!” she gasped wretchedly. Her fingers pushed up into his hair, tugging at his roots. In pleasure or discomfort Vegeta wasn't sure, so he reluctantly let her nipple go with a wet pop to check her reaction. She looked drunk, flushed, desperate. It made his blood pound to see her that way. “O-oh why?” she moaned, a small whine in her voice. “Why did you stop?”

Vegeta felt the hint of a smirk play at his mouth. She liked that, huh? “Your nipple isn't the only thing I want in my mouth,” he told her truthfully. His hands slipped down, thumbs suggestively brushing over her jutting hip bones. He wanted all of her, to take everything from her, the way she had stripped everything from him.

Bulma sucked in a tight breath, her brows rising. “…Oh my god, Vegeta, I'm going to cum right now if you keep saying things like that.”

Finally, he allowed himself to smirk. He looked down at her body, pressing his lips to her sternum, and slowly kissed down the soft flat of her abdomen. Her skin prickled at his touch, and he licked and bit at her flesh, just to hear her reactions. Her breathing hitched when he kissed her lower belly, just above her pants. Slowly he undid her button and fly, revealing cotton underwear. He placed a kiss on them too and inhaled. He could smell her, something warm, sweet and feminine. It was a goddamn aphrodisiac, making his blood roar and pool hotly in his throbbing cock. He could barely control himself as he slipped her pants down her slender legs and off the bed. Once at her ankle, he kissed his way up her long, pale leg, gently pushing her limbs apart until he could kiss his way to her inner thigh, mapping every inch of her with his mouth. She trembled and sighed, her fingers fisting in the sheets, her tiny hips lifting in restless need.

He was back at her panties. Her underwear spoke `everyday'. She hadn't been wearing anything special, hadn't been planning on getting fucked. Yet here they were. She was letting him fuck her. It wasn't premeditated, and somehow that made it all the better. Something possessive curled inside of him, thick and heavy with the need to claim her.

He hooked his fingers under the waistline of her panties.

“H-oh god,” she whimpered.

He glanced up to make sure she was okay. Her hands were over her face, her breathing ragged. She didn't stop him. He continued, slowly, ever so slowly pulling the flimsy fabric over the swell of her hips, revealing soft blue fuzz. As he pulled the panties off, a wet, sticky string came with them. Her pretty pink lips glistened with the evidence of how badly she wanted this. Fuck she was wet. Soaked, for him.

He was fucking done for.

A small sound escaped his throat, something caught between a groan and a growl. He tore her panties off the rest of the way before grabbing her thighs, spreading her wider. She gasped, right before he ran his tongue against her lips, licking up the shining wetness. She squealed and bucked. Oh fuck, she tasted good, unbearably good. Did all women taste this way? Whatever, who the fuck cared about other women, only she mattered, only her and this goddamn taste on his tongue. He needed more of it, all of it.

He slipped his tongue along her, running it between her lips, against her tiny, fluttering hole. Bulma wailed, her hips jerking upwards. He had to push her back down, an easy feat given how small she was. He moved his mouth, pressing his lips to her, eating up all that he could get as Bulma sobbed and babbled. Her hands fisted in his hair, tugging him fervently.

“Oh fuck, please, Vegeta, I-I'm gonna cum if you d-don't stop-!”

Selfishly he growled, a lusty moan that reverberated from deep within his chest. He pushed his tongue inside her and grabbed her tightly, lifting her hips to taste deeper inside.

Bulma cried out, the sound echoing in the room. No doubt heard throughout the house. He should have been embarrassed. Instead he hoped they all heard, hoped they all knew that Bulma was his.

“Vegeta~! Ah~h!” Bulma wailed, arching back as she came on his mouth. He gripped her pale thighs, holding her as she shuddered. He ate up everything she had to give him, his eyes locked to her face, drinking in the sight, burning her expressions to his memory. Finally, he eased back his attentions, licking her gently as her hips stopped bucking and she sagged back into the bed. She panted hard, struggling for air, her tiny frame wracked with tremors.

He wiped his mouth with his thumb, compelled to place a last kiss on her inner thigh. She was sated, but he was intoxicated, burning with hunger, barely held together, a molten creature of swelling need. He was drunk on the sight of her, the sound of her voice in his ears, the taste of her in his mouth. She was the most perfect, pure thing he had ever encountered, and like all things in his life, especially the good ones, he felt compelled to ruin her.

He crawled up the bed, sheltering her limp body with his own hard physique. Overwhelmed with the need to protect her from the world. He took her tiny face in his palms and watched as she struggled for normalcy. Her cheeks were flushed, burning hot, her eyes drunk and barely able to find him in the dark, her lashes dotted with tears. Her pink lips curled into a soft smile. “Vegeta-”

He kissed her, stopping her words. Words couldn't express what this was, they paled next to the tumultuous feelings stirring inside him. He didn't want any more lies, or any false promises neither of them could keep. He just wanted her, in all her raw sincerity. Whatever scrap of tenderness he could muster from his blackened heart, he wanted to give it to her, now, in this kiss.

Perhaps she understood. She kissed him back just as hungrily, her fingers pushing into the hair at his temples, her legs wrapping up about his waist. It occurred to him that she could taste herself on his mouth, and that made his cock ache all the more. He barely let them gasp for air, diving right back in for fear that if he stopped, the spell of whatever this was would break.

“Pants!” Bulma finally gasped. It was odd enough to make him pause, glancing at her with a questioning brow. “Take off your pants,” she clarified. “I want you in me.”

He had never shucked clothing off so quickly in his goddamn life, not even when Raditz had caught him on fire that one time. Vegeta's boxer briefs were damp with precum. He had to peel them off his swollen cock to toss them aside. Naked, at last. He paused when he saw her sit up on her elbows, looking at him, her bangs over her eyes as she took him in.

For a heartbeat, Vegeta felt uncertain. His body was strong, he knew that, perfectly hardened for murder and mayhem. And scarred, quite horribly in some places. Bulma had never appeared bothered by any of it before, but he was exposed to her now in a way that left him feeling very vulnerable, his cock jutting up eagerly between them. Did she… approve?

Bulma's eyes lingered on his bobbing length, sucking in her bottom lip. “H-oh my god, it's perfect,” she breathed. “I want it inside me right now.”

Something warm and tight unfurled in his chest. He came back towards her. Bulma parted her legs willingly. The gesture alone ignited a need to accept what she offered. Right. Fucking. Now.

He settled on top of her, their hips together. His cock found her easily, drawn to her cunt like a goddamn star to a blackhole, inescapable. She was still so wet. The hot slide against her slippery lips felt incredible. If only he could have died then, like this, in her arms.

“H-oh Vegeta, please, I can't stand it, please just fuck me already, please!” she begged brokenly.

Vegeta hated taking orders, begrudged every million and one he had ever had to follow in his life. But not this one. This request he was only too happy to fulfill.

He took his cock to get the angle right before pushing the head inside her. Sweet fuck, she was so incredibly warm and wet. It felt like heaven. He couldn't remember any of the whores he had been with ever feeling this good. They didn't even compare. Nothing could.

There was a moment where she struggled to adjust. She whimpered and he stilled, his heart in his throat at having hurt her. Then he felt her relax as she eased out a breath, and his worry eased with her. She gave way, and he gently rocked inside her, feeling her loosen up and envelop him. “Oooh yessss… mmm, god, yes, Vegeta…” she purred happily.

He buried his face against the crook of her neck, feeling too raw, too good, needing to just… take a goddamn moment to process everything. To smother himself in her. Bulma wrapped her arms about him and held him close as he slowly fucked her, getting to know her from the inside out. It was amazing, feeling each individual stroke, feeling the way she arched each time he breached her, hearing the way she gasped and moaned. He wanted it all, more. He was a drowning man, a dying man, and she was his salvation.

He grabbed her close and started moving more powerfully. She stroked his confidence, her moans and breathy `yes's, `more's and `oh fuck's telling him he was doing it right.

He wanted it to last forever, or at least most of the night. But he had been eager from the very start, had wanted to bury himself inside her sweet cunt ever since she offered that evening. Fuck, ever since he had fucking met her, if he was being brutally honest.

“Vegeta~! Harder~!” she sobbed, her nails raking his shoulders and arms. She made tiny, pathetic mewls, and he raised his head to watch her face as he fucked her. He hit inside her, roughly now, unrestrained, yet she took it and begged for more. She was incredible. Her brow was furrowed, her pretty bow mouth gasping for air. He couldn't look away, enraptured. He could feel his balls tightening, his dick pulsing, but it was inconsequential to watching Bulma come apart.

Her eyes slit open, and he was caught in pull of her gaze. “You gonna cum in me, tough guy?” she moaned.

He lost it. With a desperate thrust he spilled himself inside. Bulma groaned and slipped a hand between them, touching her clit as she followed him down the same path for a second time. Feeling her constrict and milk his cock was beautiful, and it dragged out his pleasure.

He finally collapsed over her, shaking and sweaty, barely keeping himself up on his forearms. She coaxed him down, taking all his weight against her body, wrapping her thighs over his hips, still grinding against him, eking out her own climax.

He didn't notice his eyes had fluttered closed until she wiped her fingers over his damp forehead. He blinked and looked up at her, seeing her sweaty blue bangs stuck to her brow. He pushed them back, and stroked her face.

She smiled up at him beatifically. “Good job.”

He continued petting her face. “You too.”

She laughed, softly, breathlessly. “You're really amazing, you know that? I can't believe I used to be scared of you.”

“You were?” She was? It was honestly surprising. Bulma never seemed fazed by much. Certainly not by him, or so it had always felt.

“Just a little,” she admitted, scrunching her nose cutely.

That made him feel better, to know she hadn't been entirely immune to his intimidation tactics. And then it made him feel a whole lot worse, because it brought back memories he would rather not think of right now.

He pushed up, and pulled out of her.

“Oh, no…” she bemoaned, pouting over him leaving her.

“Bathroom?” he asked, ignoring her whining.

She gave him directions. He left to wash up, not bothering to dress. The house was silent in sleep, or pretended to be at any rate. He doubted he would need clothes. He cleaned off the worst of the mess, then rinsed his face in the sink. He stared at his reflection in the mirror. `Amazing', she had called him.

The face of a very un-amazing murderer stared back.

Grimacing, Vegeta turned off the light and returned to her room. He slipped back into bed. She stirred, already having drifted off, scooting closer to him. “You came back,” she mumbled sleepily, happily.

He barely grunted in reply.

She didn't seem to mind, falling back asleep (if she had ever really woken up in the first place), her breathing evening out. He lay still, toying between the notion of sleep, of holding her, or the need to leave if he was to keep to his plan.

Time ticked by, counted by the soft rise and fall of her breathing.

~~oxo~~

It was quiet. Snow fell gently on the other side of the window. A soft glow from outside filtered into the room, light reflecting off the white blanketed world. It felt as if the whole city slept and was still. Everyone, except him.

The afterglow of sex had long since worn off, as cold now as the wet spots on the bed.

Vegeta didn't know how long he had been watching her sleep. It was the only thing keeping him together at this point. And that was the problem. She was the problem.

She meant everything to him. Fuck, she was all that he had left. He had given everything else up, maybe not for her exactly, but it still didn't change the fact that she was the one thing in his miserable life he hadn't destroyed yet. And he was clinging to her. Like he needed her. Dependent.

And he barely knew a thing about her, had no idea who the fuck she was. Neighbor? Lover? Liar?

You'll never be able to move on with her holding you back.

His fingers twitched, his face scowling against his own thoughts.

You used to be a monster. The thing people feared that lurked in the night. Now fucking look at you, mooning over a goddamn woman.

Shit, it was true. Here he was, laying in a strange bed, in a strange house, having thrown all caution to the fucking wind, all his plans aside, just to get between her legs. You never cared about a fuck this much before. No, but then, Bulma wasn't just any fuck. There was no way he could compare what they had done tonight to the meaningless sex he had paid for in his past. Even Vegeta, as broken and jaded as he was, knew that what they had done hadn't just been sex. She had even said as much. What had she called it? `Making love'? Fuck… Fuck. Thinking about their night together made Vegeta's chest ache, his groin tightening with the memory.

Bulma still rested across from him, sleeping peacefully at his side, unguarded. Her face was serene, relaxed in sleep. Her hair, disheveled from their activities. She was turned ever so slightly towards him, her hand resting by the pillow between them. Even in sleep she reached for him, still seeking to be connected to him. The sheet was pulled down, exposing her two soft, round breasts. She was the prettiest, most perfect thing he had ever seen. Watching her, Vegeta could almost imagine what it might be like to have her, every night. To fall asleep to. To wake up to. To come home to…

Next you'll be wanting a white picket fence.

Something dark grew in his gut. It was all wishful thinking. Useless. A waste of fucking time. That life wasn't meant for him, for monsters, it was not his fate. And he had never fucking wanted it either, so what the fuck was he doing, thinking about it now?

And what of her? What did Bulma want? Did she dream of a happy life, removed from crime, married with kids in a large house? Did he fit into those dreams? Did she think she could somehow tame the murderer, transform the cold-blooded savage, humanize him, domesticate him? Fuck that. And fuck her. That wasn't who he was, and they both fucking knew it.

Whatever they had, this goddamn fairytale evening had come to an end. Not the ending told to little children to coddle them. No, this was how the real stories ended, filled with darkness, warning, and woe.

The bad guys won. The good guys died. And two-faced, lying little girls were eaten…

“H-oh, Vegeta~” The memory of her breathless voice, tight with pleasure, brushed at the edges of his senses. It beckoned him to leave his dark thoughts, to follow her down, down into the depths of their night together, down where he could happily drown in her sighs and pants and soft body…

She'll destroy you.

He knew that, with certainty. She had already broken him, had already torn him apart, leaving pieces of what remained of his former self scattered about them. Waiting to be reformed, but into what, he didn't know. Didn't care to. He never wanted to change at all, but the choice had been taken from him. Now he was left to face the ugly question of what, who, he would be. It was unfamiliar territory. And that made him uncomfortable.

Don't fool yourself, asshole. You haven't changed as much as you would like to think.

I could just leave…

You have to kill her.

…

You want to kill her.

…

That's who you are, who you've always been, always will be. That's why you came here, remember? Besides, if you can't kill one bitch, what fucking hope do you have with Frieza?

…

She will get you killed.

She lied to you. Used you.

Do it, you fucking pussy.

Do it.

DO IT.

You've murdered people your WHOLE FUCKING, MISERABLE LIFE. Do it, you pathetic fuck. DO IT.

Vegeta sat up carefully, his stomach roiling. He glanced warily to his side, seeing she hadn't woken. Deep asleep. Trusting.

She wouldn't feel a thing.

His heart rate picked up, beating in a way that left him feeling light headed, sweaty. He watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest. Her skin was soaked in the glow of the winter night, cast in an ethereal, dream-like quality. She was splayed before him. Given over to him, an offering. A sacrifice.

He swallowed. Allowing himself one last gentle touch, he committed her to memory, running the backs of his fingers over her perfect cheek in reverence. In apology.

It had to be done. He would never be free of her. She represented every good thing he should never have been allowed to have. Every temptation, every weakness, every change in him could all be pinpointed to her. Letting her live was tantamount to his own destruction.

It's necessary. She knew what she was getting herself into when she got wrapped up with you. Better her than you. Kill her before she ruins you completely.

His hand trailed down to her throat. His fingers wrapped snugly about her neck, just as they had done to hundreds of people before. He knew exactly how much pressure it would take - hardly any, for a tiny thing like her. Would he be able to snap her neck before she woke, or would her eyes startle open as he choked her? Would he be able to look her in the eye as he took her life? Would she cry? Would she fight him?

Would he go to her funeral after?

Would he keep a photo of her? Fuck, he didn't even have one. They had never taken one together. How was he going to remember how blue her eyes were without one?

Oh no…

His chest tightened, stealing the air from his lungs. How many times had he lost himself in her blue eyes? Her pretty gaze, dancing with amusement, with understanding, with forgiveness. The same eyes that had been locked with his own just that evening, dilated with pleasure, fluttering half-closed as he had moved inside of her, as he listened to her beg for him, feeling the honesty of her words as her body clung to him until he broke, and her with him.

Oh god, this is wrong…

Vegeta's fingers wouldn't close.

He didn't want to hurt her. He wanted to protect her…

Do it, you fucking asshole. Do it. Do it… C'mon, you're a bad guy. You're a goddamn assassin. A killer. It'll be over in seconds, and then you'll be free of whatever fucking curse she has put on you. Do it, you piece of shit. It doesn't matter that she was nice to you, that she fed you, took care of you, saved your life, talked to you like a human and not a useless peon, or that despite all your fucking faults, she likes you and made love to-

Oh shit. Oh shit, I can't. I fucking CAN'T!

He jerked his hand back, releasing her. Her lips parted as if sighing in relief, but she didn't wake.

Vegeta stared down at his hand in concern. He didn't know himself. Who the fuck was he? This hand had killed many. Hurt even more. Many of whom had been innocent, undeserving. That had never mattered to him before, and it still didn't. But she did.

Fuck. She mattered.

He couldn't do it.

What did that mean?

Fuck. Get out. Get out NOW.

His gaze slid to the right, over to where the briefcase rested on the cupboard. He got up, slipping out of the bed to approach the case, knowing that seven little balls of whatever-the-fuck rested inside. Maybe they granted some kind immortality or second life, like the woman had said. Maybe they didn't. He didn't really care. But Frieza did, and fucking Frieza over was all that mattered. It was all he could bring himself to care about. He was a monster after all, monsters didn't care about others, and others certainly didn't care about him…

He gave Bulma one last look. She hadn't moved. As if he hadn't been there at all. …It was for the best.

Vegeta slipped back into his clothes, and scooped up the case along with the shattered pieces of himself, and left. If Frieza wanted the dragon balls so badly, he was going to have to pay for them in blood.

He didn't look back as he walked out on her for good.

~~ox0xo~~

AN: Beta-read by the amazing Artephile / Marcella-Duchamp.

DBZ owned by Akira Toriyama. This AU is stupidoomdoodle's idea. I'm just playing in their sandboxes, very graciously by Dooms too I might add. Stupidoomdoodles and LadyVegeets can be found on twitter, tumblr and p atreon. Girl Next Door comic can also be found on smackjeeves. Read it, love it, comment on it, be haunted by it, like I am.

~Lady Vegeets