Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ If Only For a Moment ❯ Chapter 3

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

A/N: WARNING this chappie is full of SMUT, so if your sensitive or just don't like that then stop reading NOW. As ever please do enjoy, read and please REVIEW!!!

Well so much for orderly, Bulma's room could now be classified as a complete and total disaster area, all it lacked was that neon yellow crime scene tape and a large sign on the door that declared it a quarantined zone, highly dangerous to the unwary. It occurred to her that this might have qualified her for that emergency relief fund thing for hurricane victims. Really now, how was she to have known those damn capsules really held THAT many items. She'd known they could hold a great amount according to the show. But *this* this was just downright disturbing, and some how so very wrong against the natural laws of physics. It'd also been part of the reason for her verbal assault of anything and everything she suddenly deemed offensive. Of course she'd held her tongue most the morning, her poor braining screaming in the dark recess of her mind. She only openly expressed herself in this way whenever she was alone and no one could hear or in extreme cases of bitchiness and the other person really deserved a proper tongue lashing.

Until she'd spotted 'those' things, all she could see was red, a suddenly inescapable urge to throw them out the window had come over her completely. It had almost been liberating, the tears streaming down her face, the slightly insane giddy giggles as she threw tubetop after tubetop and several undignified pairs of hot pants to the breeze, watching with morbid fascination as they drifted and fell away. A strong and bold declaration on her lips, "Take that you gaudy sons of bitches." It hadn't stopped there of course, more colorful phrases just seemed to leak from her mouth as a parting to each new piece that found its way to oblivion. It was snowing putridly designed yards of cloth and it left her with such a warm and fuzzy feeling inside, it did seem to match the nice crater that Vegeta had made. Just the thought of him though had set her mouth to watering again, had pooled the heat between her legs and wound her up tighter than a kite on parade. To say she was flustered was an understatement, she'd never been this turned on in the whole of her life that she could recall. She could just see Yoli's amused grin, the blonde pointing a finger accusingly at her and rolling in fits of hysterics.

"Laugh it up, bitch," she grumbled running her fingers through her now straight hair, a nervous habit she'd long ago adopted after seeing her own mother do it many a time. She was at least thankful that there had been suitable products in the too nauseatingly pink bathroom to suit her immediate needs. She'd had to admit that the hair straightening products of this world worked better than that ancient technique of ironing ones tresses flat or even those horrid chemical treatments. The oddity of her situation had dawned on her as she reached for her toothbrush, yet it wasn't her toothbrush. The sheer idea of using someone else's left a bad taste in her mouth, but it was the only one there. Should she even use it considering it wasn't hers, her mind swam and fluttered over the stupidity of the subject. It was 'her' toothbrush, she was Bulma after all. "You are Bulma," she'd repeated over and over to herself, the phrase coming out slurred and sloppy as she muttered it through even the brushing to keep her mind off the fact that she wasn't entirely sure she shouldn't change brushes just encase. Besides Vegeta wouldn't want to kiss a girl with breath that smelled like old fish or something. Mmmm, the minty goodness.

Soon she stood in the middle of a torrential storm of assorted apparel in nothing but a soft fluffy towel between her goodies and the rest of the world, nothing had appeased her or appealed to her senses. But she'd found hope in the form of a tiny capsule hidden in a drawer in the back of the closet labeled in small bold red type EMO. She was feeling giddy again at the revelation that Bulma had indeed been normal enough to go through a 'blue' period. It'd crossed her mind to wonder if suddenly she were an animated character in the concepts of the show or flesh and blood like in her own world, she was unusually perky even for being a hairs breath away from the object of her most haunting desires. Images of her cartoon self skittered across her brainpan, full out anime style wearing next to nothing, dipped down to reveal the large jiggly orbs of her breasts, the too full and pouty lips proclaiming, "I'm not bad, I'm just drawn that way." The idea made her laugh, but it was only a momentary distraction, because in the same breath she could imagine the Saiyi-jin Prince just as she'd always seen him on the screen, his muscles bulging and cording, that powerful body moving with such raw animalistic passion. She couldn't tell what concepts of reality this might have been, it all just looked normal to her.

A faint moan escaped her lips as she sat down upon the bed, her legs catching the downy feel of the towel and pressing it in a more than pleasant manner against her aching mound. Rubbing her thighs together in the aspirations of easing some of the pressure, her fingers curled around and clutched the small pill-like container like it was the only thing keeping her whole. Chiding herself she forced her grip to ease, not wanting her hand to suddenly explode if she should trigger the release of the capsule. Teeth had sunk in to her bottom lip enough to leave it puckered and slightly bruised as another moan threatened to crawl from her throat as she squeezed her thighs shut. It sent a ripple of sensation through her groin and a wave of dizzying heat to creep slowly up her spine, drawing the caramel tips of her full and luscious breasts into high tight peaks.

"I can't be bad," but her voice was weak and tiny, no strength of resolve behind it, "I shan't be bad." But she didn't truly believe herself as the ache became a pulse, steadily building the pressure low in her stomach and causing the tiny hairs across her body to raise in attention of the erotic tingling that caressed her skin like a lover. Slipping back across the bed she half leaned against the wall for support, the pristine white towel gaping open, disturbed with her rearrangement. A blush was quickly setting into her cheeks, flooding across the bridge of her nose in abashment at what she was about to do. "I'm such a naughty creature," she intoned as she spread her legs, the smooth lengths whispering across the cotton sheets beneath her. As if to not bare witness to her own misdeed she turned her head away, resting her cheek against the cool wall, clinched her eyes shut. Delicate lockes of hair fell in around her face, clung wetly to her cheeks and obscured those closed orbs.

If I can't see it then that means it isn't happening, she'd tried to convince herself, tried to reassure herself of her pure and shining innocence even as she drew up one leg bending it at the knee and solidly rested her foot flat against the bed. The other leg she veed out away from her, leaving the damp aqua colored curls between her thighs glistening in the late morning light, but it wasn't the clinging moisture of her shower that lingered over her nether lips, it was the evidence of her own arousal. Her tiny slit had parted of its own accord like a hungry mouth waiting to be filled, her soft pink folds slowly dripping as the cravings twisted torturously decadent knots deeper into her core. Lazily she traced a hand down over the smooth expanse of her stomach, relishing the softness of those baby fine curls against each digit. A very faint shudder set her breasts to swaying, her fingertips leaving a trail of warmth and sporadically electric sensations dancing in their wake. She was fevered, she could feel it, scalding her from the inside out and it was centered between her legs, emanating its incandescence and filtering through her nerve-endings to indefinite proportions. If she didn't find relief soon surely she felt as if the whole of her being would be consumed, incinerated until there was nothing left, no existence, no want, no need, nothing.

To Hell with that......

* * *

He hadn't understood his abrupt urgings to grab a piece of the closest detestable colored top and launch himself into the air and toward her waiting balcony. It was like an itch he just couldn't scratch, nagging at his flesh and driving him to greater distraction, even worse than the erection he'd been forced to painfully dissuade earlier. He thought he'd already made up his mind to meet her at breakfast and blatantly ignore her while flaunting the firm masculine lines of his body to her, to drive her to want him. But here he was setting down silently on her terrace, cloth clutched in angry fist. Maybe he'd wanted to demand an answer from her for her behavior, maybe he'd wanted to play out what had come across his mind earlier. He'd learned to follow his instincts because sometimes thats the only thing that had kept him alive. And his gut was telling him to confront that woman right now, to shake some damn sense into her at her apparent foolishness and to get the fuck out of his mind and go back to be the annoying prat of a scientist she was.

But none of that seemed to matter now as he froze just outside her doors, the blue curtains parted enough for him to catch sight of the onna on the bed, her effeminate flower splayed so teasingly for him to see. The strength that would have driven him forward seemed to sink into the pit of his stomach like a ton of bricks and glued his feet to the very spot just there outside that fragile portal of glass and gauze. It'd given him pause as obsidian eyes came to rest on a delicate hand fingering her own feathery curls. He should have pushed through the door at that moment, should have buried his face between those damp thighs and made her arch and scream his name has he ravaged her with his mouth and tongue, it was a primal reasoning, a bestial calling as a low growl reverberated through his chest. His breath hitched as his Oozaru swept through his already dark eyes, it moved under his skin and he wanted to scream because he no longer had the means to release it properly, all the more shame. Damn Kakarot and those other incompetent bakas for taking that from him.

Reaching out he grabbed hold of one of the sconces on one side of the door and an unfortunate door knob with the other, the scrape of material lost somewhere along the way. He was better than this, he had to be better than this. The metal creaked with the pressure of his clinching fists but gave no further than that as he forced himself to calm. But he could not turn his eyes away, the need to watch her was stronger and he knew at least that would appease the Oozaru for a while, it'd been held in check for far too long. He'd almost forgotten that part of himself, even though it'd always shadowed him, it was part of being a Saiyi-jin, accepting the monster with the man. His lips drew into tight lines, his body tensing each and every muscles held taut, as he skirted that fine line between mortal comprehension and the brutish craze to just take what his body clearly needed.... release. He could feel it pulsing along his nerves, throbbing unsatisfied in the stiffening member now stretching the black spandex shorts uncomfortably tight.

"Do it," his voice was little more than a throaty growl as he watched the slow path of that hand lingering in hesitation of going further, "DO IT," he breathed out through tersed lips, carefully keeping his voice no higher than a low and deadly whisper. It was accented by the giving of metal again, that soft crunch as it crumpled in his tensed hands.

* * *

She was lost to the oblivion of her own need, the fevered dream of carnal flesh, yet she felt compelled to see it through to defer no longer to her denials and shame at giving herself over to such lewd actions as fingering herself. "To Hell with you all," she moaned out, her body shuddering as her fingers found the bundle of nerves just at the opening of her vaginal passage. Her body bucked, shook from its foundation as her fingers slid across the hardening bud, it was too much, it was too sensitive for direct contact at the moment. Retreating only slightly she let her hand apply pressure to the hood of skin that protected that little kernel and began to work the flesh in increasing rhythm. There was a little more dignity in this, bringing herself without penetration, even if it was only a half-baked lie, it helped to spur her toward her goal. Back arching she increased her pace, cupping her mound with the palm of her hand, her delicate fingers splayed on either side of her weeping folds, they seemed to mourn the neglect of being filled as she squeezed them between frenzied fingers forcing her fluids to leak all the faster from her womanly opening.

Without even thought to how it might look, only bending to the sensations of pleasure it might bring her that free hand roamed up along her body snatching upon a rounded breast, kneading the ample flesh with a resounding moan. Her features contorted, taking on a feral visage, all hints of innocence swept clean away with the deliciously wet sound of flesh being noisily pulled apart as her downward stroke pried her fingers apart revealing the soddenly wet velvety folds. Rolling a nipple between two fingers, her hips instinctively rose to meet another descending stroke of her palm crushing her clit through a curtain of flesh and downy curls. She was drowning in the heat, was it skittered through her body and over her skin, the pressure was too much, an unbearable torture building steadily sharper, tighter, more persistent with each almost rough caress of her hand. Her thigh quivered, the muscles revolting against the tension of her body, held taut and stretched for too long beyond its normal limits.

* * *

Her labored breaths were a melodic cadence to his ears, each moan spiking a deeply seeded response in the whole of his trembling form, held barely on the edge of discipline. From somewhere distant another low and deadly growl emerged between gritted teeth, lips drawn back and away in a bestial expression, making the slightly more sharpened eye point teeth all the more clear. She was doing it wrong, he wanted to see her bury her fingers inside that slick opening, penetrating and laying siege to her own cunt. *CRUNCH* The sound of metal being crushed this time was unmistakable as his fingers dug harder into the surfaces of each griped object, hoping he'd find some grounding in the feel of solid object in his hands. But it wasn't helping, he wanted to punch his fist through the paltry glass and show her just the RIGHT way to use her hands to heighten her pleasures. Why didn't she see him, why couldn't she hear the crisp and obviously loud clamor he was causing. Another part of him wanted to slam his face head first into a solid brick wall, wanted some semblance of mundane logic to filter back through his haze perceptions clouded with the musk of sex and cupidity.

He was drowning in her scent, he couldn't breath without taking in more of the heady perfume of her body escaping so lasciviously as her own fingers pulled those fleshy lips apart time and again, releasing more and more of the sweet nectar of her womanhood to glisten across her fingers and even staining the once pristine towel beneath her undulating hindquarters. By the smell alone he could tell she was very near to going over the edge of her limits of extasy, the aroma of that final release of cum was more potent than the personal lubrications that seeped to enticingly now with her ministrations. His eyes shadowed each abrupt fondle, now worked in a shallow brisk movement steadily rubbing repetitively. His body jerked, fully aware of the feelings such illicit caresses could garner. Like fur drawn across silk, his beast moved within him, a blessed mix of torment and bliss, sending his cock to pulsating with the tempo of the onna's magnifying orgasm.

* * *

As if they'd been dancing together, of one mind and one soul their bodies too aligned in that last final moment of deliverance. Her breath hitched, a high whine falling away from her parted lips, her head thrown back in utter abandoned as the spasms began to overcome her small form. "VEGETAaaaaa.....", the name itself fell to worship from her mouth, echoed through the scope of her visions and heightened the episode of her self loving. If only he'd been the one to bring her such delightful joys. Her frame convulsed filled to brimming in thick lazy waves of fire through her very core, springing sharply that pressure that had bound itself so tightly in her womb. She allowed herself to thrash about upon the bed, her hand clamped tight over the still thundering pulse of nerves sent to sparking with over sensitivity. Each new jolt pushed her further, the feel of the soft fuzzy towel beneath an electric current to an already over stimulated system. "Ooooo... Vegeta," she moaned out once again her hand falling away and brought up to the scrutiny of her own blue gaze. A slow and lethargic smile curled her lips as she brought the two coated fingers to her mouth and sucked them clean. A sound outside the door drew her attentions, made her grab for the towel and cover herself in modesty.

* * *

Oh GOD, was all he could think, watching her writhe across the bed and then preen her fingers after the fact. Gratification, pure and scorching flooded through his being. He'd cum with little effort on his own part, been carried along by his voyeuristic intentions, his seed spilling white hot into his shorts, much to his chagrin. It clung hot and thick to the spandex, but the air would soon enough make it a cool and uncomfortable stain against the dark material. It hadn't been her own orgasm that had stirred his flesh to discharge, but the calling of his own name at the height of it. The idea that she'd been picturing him the whole of the time while she'd plundered her own mound. Somewhere in all the excitement the sconce and the doorknob had come free in his grip, been crushed beneath the strength of his fists in his abandon. The sound echoed in his ears too loudly and he distinctly saw her head begin to turn. It was little more than a though that took him into the air, rushed him away from that spot that had held him captive to her exhibitions. He wasn't fleeing, he was making a strategic withdrawal, he'd have his moment soon enough, he'd get his retribution somehow for the weakness she'd caused him.

* * *

She rushed to the door, towel gripped in trembling hand. Had someone been there? Had someone bared witness to her moment of weakness? A blush worse than before rose over her suddenly timid frame. Hesitantly she pushed at the doors, but they wouldn't give, she tried to push harder but the second knob refused to turn. Her breath was wild, her eyes too wide as she turned them down to spy what was left of the metal knob, it was little more than a small ball forgotten atop one of her ill forgotten tube tops. Oh shit, was all she could muster at the sight, had Vegeta been outside her door? Had he seen her finger herself, and worse yet what did this mean for her now? Kicking out, her foot connected with the wooden frame, jolting the door forward but not enough to pry it loose. "Son of a bitch," she cried as pain shot up her leg, her eyes frantically looked about for the Prince but she saw nothing else. Maybe she'd just imagined she's heard something, no her door wasn't in ruins just now, yes the door was faulty that was it. She let out a heavy sigh, tripping through the mess about the room, her thoughts swirling violently. Maybe she could turn this to her advantage, if he had seen. Just maybe.