Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Mine ❯ Mine ( One-Shot )

Title: Mine

Rating: NC-17 for sexual content

Warnings: This story contains Lemon

Author: Shi-Saiyan

E-Mail: videl3402@hotmail.com

Feedback, Please!

Bulma narrowed blue eyes and glared at the screen in front of her. For once, she understood Vegeta's need to destroy things that annoyed him. She'd like to put her fist through the monitor. The formula she was working on just wouldn't add up and she was frustrated beyond belief. She felt strong hands slide around her shoulders and begin to massage them. With a sigh, she leaned back and looked up at Yamcha. Her boyfriend grinned that happy-go-lucky grin that made him look so young and innocent. Young and innocent my ass, she though to herself. Yamcha had introduced her to a lot of things, like drinking at the bar, dirty dancing and sex. While she enjoyed doing those things with him, she couldn't help but think that something was missing. She had fun with Yamcha, but she wasn't deliriously happy, like her friend Chi-Chi was with her husband Goku. Then there was that whole thing about Yamcha's fear of commitment. Chi-Chi said she should leave Yamcha and look for someone else, someone who wanted a permanent relationship, marriage and a family. Family was everything to Chi-Chi. She and Goku had a small son called Gohan and she doted on him, to both his and his father's chagrin. Sure, a marriage minded guy would be great, but explaining her friends, the Z Fighters to him and the fact that she had a permanent male houseguest who also happened to be an alien, a jerk and a gorgeous man to boot would probably send any sane man running. Therefore, she was with Yamcha.

"You gonna be done soon, baby?" he asked. She sighed and stood up. "I'm done now. I need to leave before I destroy my computer." Yamcha chuckled and led her out of the room. "Why don't you go change so we can go out to dinner?" he suggested, giving her a nudge in the general direction of her room. She grabbed his hand and gave him a cheeky grin. "Why don't you come help me decide what to wear?" Catching on to her barely veiled suggestion, he followed her eagerly to her bedroom, locking the door behind him.

Bulma sighed as Yamcha rolled off her and collapsed on the pillow beside her. He was breathing hard, sated. She, however was restless. It hadn't been one of those lucky times when she actually climaxed. As usual, it had been slightly rushed, Yamcha's mouth wet and sloppy on her skin, his hands rough and unskilled. Bulma got out of bed and went into the bathroom to shower. There had to be more to sex than this!

Yamcha sat down at the table and Bulma paused before sliding into the chair on the other side. "I'll be right back. I need to go to the ladies' room," she said, moving toward the restrooms. Yamcha nodded.

Bulma took a deep breath as she left the bathroom. She'd been thinking since they'd left the house. She could handle it if the sex wasn't that great. Yamcha was fun and she knew him and he knew all about the Z Fighters and Vegeta and he was still with her! She'd firmly concluded that she was going to stay with him when she rounded the corner to the dining room and saw Yamcha standing by the bar, talking to a leggy blond woman. As she watched, the blond leaned very close to him and whispered something and Bulma steeled herself to go over and start chewing the skank out. Then, to her horror, Yamcha blushed and laughed and raised his hand to stroke the woman's arm in far too familiar a manner for them to have just met. Her indignation slowly turned to hurt, then to anger. Yamcha looked away from the bimbo in time to see her narrow her eyes and set her jaw. His eyes widened and he started toward her, but she was already out the door and walking toward home.

She cursed as she opened the door to the house. That jerk hadn't even followed her and asked her to let him explain! Fuming, she stalked into the house and up the stairs, to her room. Not bothering to close the door, Vegeta's in the gravity room anyway, she stripped off the slinky black dress she had worn and let it pool on the floor around her ankles. In a pair of black thong panties, she bent at the waist to unbuckle her shoes, but she didn't get that far. In just her shoes and her abbreviated underwear, she started to shake and it wasn't from the cold. Her anger had gotten her this far, but now it was melting away, revealing the pain she had been keeping at bay. Tears slipped from her eyes and she leaned against the post of her canopy bed and cried.

Vegeta paused at the foot of the stairs. He heard crying. Bulma. She was in her room, he could see the open doorway. Slowly, he went up the stairs and, not sure why, he passed his own door and went to hers, as if the sound of her sobs had called him. The sight that met his eyes was not entirely sad. It was also damned erotic. She was standing by the bed, holding onto a post, her head down. Her azure hair hung down her back, to her waist, caressing her skin like blue silk. She looked like something out of one of Master Roche's dirty magazines. Her breasts were pale and full, her waist slender, her bottom perfectly curved to fit a man's hands, that secret place he suddenly needed to see very much barely hidden by a scrap of black satin. Her long, shapely legs ended in small feet, still encased in strappy black sandals, with two-inch heels. He was suddenly having trouble breathing and his blue shorts were getting rather uncomfortable.

She must have heard him somehow, because she looked up. She gave no thought to her nudity, just stared at him, her blue eyes full of pain. "Vegeta," she said, hoarsely. He said nothing, just looked at her. She took a step toward him, then was there, her arms flung around his neck, her face buried in his throat, fresh sobs shaking her shoulders anew. Hesitantly, he put his hands on her waist. She relaxed at his touch, her crying starting to subside. Not knowing what else to do with a mostly naked woman in his hands, and really not wanting to do anything else, Vegeta leaned his head down and kissed the side of Bulma's throat. She went still and he froze as well, waiting for her to shove him away and scream and rant at him about taking advantage of her pain. Instead, her fingers twined in his black hair and she kissed his chest, her small mouth slightly open, her tongue lightly brushing over his skin. An involuntary shudder rippled through him and he slid his hand into her hair, holding the back of her head with one large hand and tilting her face up to him. She looked out at him from under heavy-lidded blue eyes. Her lips were parted, blood red and inviting. He bent to kiss her. As their lips touched, their mouths fused together, Bulma's heart soared. This was it! This was what had been missing with Yamcha. She had never felt such a feeling when she kissed him. That it was the once evil Saiyan Prince, cold, heartless, unfeeling, untouchable Vegeta that was making her feel it was beyond her comprehension, but it didn't matter. She didn't need to understand this. She just needed to feel it. She needed more of him. Her hands slid to his chest, where her breasts were crushed against a solid wall of muscle. Her fingers explored the hard planes of his torso, deftly finding and tracing small scars of battles long past, trailing lower, until she reached his navel. She circled it once, twice, then found the waistband of his shorts.

While she made her slow journey south, Vegeta was doing some exploring toward the southern regions himself. His fingers slid through the silken length of her hair, down her back, over her bottom, cupping it in his hands. He flexed his fingers and squeezed and she instinctively rose on her tip toes, then wrapped her legs around his waist, his powerful hands on her butt holding her flush against his stomach. Never allowing their mouths to separate, she pulled him down with her when he laid her on the bed. He knelt between her thighs, his hands on the small of her back now, until she allowed him to break the kiss. As soon as his mouth left hers, she stifled a whimper, feeling an unreal sense of loss, until his lips touched her throat, her ear, the side of her neck, leaving a trail of fire over her collarbone. His tongue traced the side of her breast, over the velvety underside, circled her areola twice, before finally closing his hot mouth over her diamond hard nipple. She cried out and arched, her hands gripping his hair. He suckled at one breast, then repeated the slow, torturous, wonderful process on the other one, until her breath was coming in short gasps and her thighs were shaking. Taking his time, Vegeta kissed and nuzzled the place between her breasts, before creating a trail of kisses down her belly. His tongue dipped into her navel, briefly, then his lips found the top of her panties. Gently pushing her thighs apart with one hand, he ran one finger over the crotch of her thong underwear, finding the material already wet. His hands slid under the sides of her panties and he gave a frustrated growl. To get them off, he was going to have to move from between her legs. No, that wasn't acceptable. Without effort, he pulled his hands apart and tore away the material, baring her to his touch. Bulma whimpered when he slid one finger into her slick folds. Vegeta gave a soft chuckle and kissed her lower belly before moving his head lower.

Bulma felt his mouth kiss her below her belly button and raised her head. He was moving lower. What was he going to- "Aah!" The word came out sharply and her hips arched, reflexively, as his tongue touched the center of her. He dipped into her slightly, tasting her, then trailed up to a small bundle of nerves she had begun to think didn't really exist, since Yamcha had never seemed to be able to find it before. Her orgasm was almost instantaneous and left her shaking from head to toe, her breath unsteady. Vegeta slowly kissed his way up her suddenly boneless body, until he reached her mouth. Seeing her state of astonishment, he frowned. Had that moron never pleasured her? "What's wrong?" he asked, in an uncharacteristically soft voice, resisting the urge to demand if Yamcha was as much of an idiot as he suspected. She took a breath. "I didn't know it could be like that," she whispered. He slid his arms under her and held her, his weight comfortable and warm on top of her. As her breathing became steady and her pulse went back to a rate that wasn't going to cause heart failure any moment, she became aware that he was still wearing his shorts. She suddenly realized he had gotten no pleasure from what they had done. Inwardly, she shook her head. Yamcha had never thought of only her. He wanted his release as soon as possible and good luck to her to find just the right motion to get her own. Vegeta had taken her to heights she had never even imagined and taken nothing for himself. No, that just wouldn't do.

With a gentle shove, she rolled him off her. Still holding her, he took her with him, so she was lying on top of him. That was fine with her. Straddling his hips, Bulma sat up and looked down at him, her hair hanging over her shoulders, giving tantalizing glimpses of her nipples through the smooth locks. Not realizing how sexy she looked, not even aware that she still wore her high-heels, she leaned down and began exploring his chest in detail. She kissed, touched and tasted every inch of him, her fingertips and tongue branding him. She put her mouth over the flat discs of his nipples and suckled, much as he had done to her and an involuntary gasp escaped him. Smiling against his skin, she wiggled down his legs, so she could get to his shorts, peeling them down his legs and discarding them. She grinned when she found nothing underneath them but smooth, hard male flesh. His erection sprang free from the confines of the shorts and her eyes widened a little. Fascinated, her fingers touched the tip of him, circled the head and then trailed down the length of him, before her hand closed around him. He was much larger than Yamcha, thicker, longer and harder. She squeezed, gently and it jumped in her hand like a living thing. She glanced up at Vegeta. He was watching her, his black eyes smoldering. Looking back at the root of his manhood, hot and pulsing, in her hand, she remembered what he had done to her. Yamcha had tried to get her to do that to him, often, but it never seemed right to her and she hated it. Now, however, looking at Vegeta, she felt the incredible urge to taste him as he had tasted her, to run her tongue over the velvety length of him and see if it did the same thing to him as it did to her. Briefly running her tongue over her lips, she lowered her head.

Vegeta's sharply indrawn breath went unnoticed. He leaned his head back, his eyes closed, his lips parted, as she took him into the hot haven of her mouth. With innocent guile, she explored him with her tongue, her teeth lightly grazing him, causing him to shiver. Every muscle in his body was rigid, tense, as he fought for control. Finally, he could stand no more. "Enough," he growled, grasping her shoulders and pulling her away. She looked up at him, startled, then started to lean back down to do it again. "No," he ordered, "I want to come inside you." Understanding dawned and she smiled, realizing she had accomplished her goal. Her ministrations had affected him as she had been affected. She slid her body up his, her breasts brushing over his chest. He grabbed her and rolled her beneath him. She went willingly, wrapping her legs around his hips, delighting in the feeling of his erection pressing against the slick length of her. "Look at me," he demanded. She did, her eyes meeting his, as he deftly positioned himself to enter her. She felt the blunt tip of him pressing against her opening and gripped his shoulders. Without looking away from her blue gaze, Vegeta inched inside her. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened as her body stretched to take him. He went slowly, giving her time to adjust to him, but Bulma arched against him, eager for the feeling of him. With one final sharp thrust, he slid home, buried to the hilt in her molten silk, her body tight around him, holding him perfectly, taking the full length of him, something no other had ever been able to do. He searched her expression for some sign of pain, but found only a delicious sensuality, as her hips moved slightly, eager to begin the ancient dance of love making. Satisfied that he hadn't hurt her, he slid almost all the way out of her, then thrust back inside, causing her to gasp and cling to his shoulders, her body arching into him. Watching her face, her eyes, he began to rock, sliding in and out of her wet heat, in a steady, intense rhythm. He knew when she began to feel the pressure building and watched her eyes change from warmly welcoming to nearly frantic as she reached for her release.

Bulma was flying. Vegeta was taking her higher and higher with every thrust. He filled her completely, as if her body had been made for him and only him. Cradling his hips in her thighs, feeling his muscles flex as he drove into her, she started finding it harder and harder to breathe. Her heart was beating frantically, trying to escape the confines of her chest, as they left the atmosphere of Earth and entered into space. She could almost see the stars in the perfect blackness of his eyes. Black as the dark side of midnight, she thought to herself, before another thrust tore away all sensibilities. Without warning, there was a blinding explosion, she touched the sun, and she faintly heard Vegeta cry out her name and knew he had followed her into the fire. He collapsed onto her, his arms like steel bands around her, holding her to his chest. Both of them were breathing raggedly, holding each other, their eyes shut. Briefly, Vegeta wondered if he were dead, then decided it didn't matter. If this was death, he should have succumbed to it long ago. He fell asleep to the pounding of her heart beneath his head.

Bulma woke to the feeling of a heavy, warm weight settled on top of her. She smiled as the memories of the night before came rushing back. Vegeta. Opening her eyes, she saw him watching her, his eyes searching her face for something. Regret, maybe. Not a chance. She'd finally found it, that something that had been missing and it didn't matter who Vegeta had been before. As of last night, he was hers, the rest of the world be damned.

He read the thoughts as easily as if she had spoken them out loud. She had a very expressive face and that smile had a distinct meaning. Mine, it read. It was a feeling he knew very well. She belonged to him now, Kami help the man who tried to say otherwise. There would be no help for the man who tried to prove otherwise or take her from him. "I love you," he heard her say, quietly. He stared at her. Finally, he said, equally softly, just as tenderly, "You are mine." Bulma smiled and framed his face in her small hands. "Show me," she told him. He did. Twice.

It was late in the day when the two of them finally made it out of bed. "I need to shower quickly and get to the gravity room," he said, actually sounding reluctant about training for once. She bit back a grin and slid her arms around his neck, kissing him deeply, before releasing him and patting his bare butt as he walked out of the room, to shower in his own bathroom. Almost skipping, humming to herself, she went into her bathroom and turned on the shower. Stepping under the hot water, she sighed and leaned her head back to thoroughly wet her hair down, a smile still plastered all over her face. Her nipples were sensitive under the spray of the shower, no doubt from Vegeta's gentle, maddening ministrations with teeth and tongue. She moved and found she was deliciously sore between her legs, her body not yet accustomed to Vegeta's size. As she soaped her skin to a lather, she found herself remembering Vegeta's powerful hands on her body and she shuddered. Her thoughts centered thusly, she barely heard the bathroom door open and screamed when the door of the shower slid open. Yamcha stepped into the stall, stark naked. She screamed again. "Get the hell out!" she yelled, moving as far away from him as the small stall would allow. "Look, Bulma, I know you're mad, but I swear, she was no one to me! I didn't even know her! She just came up and started talking to me and I wanted to be nice and not hurt her feelings," he said, stepping toward her. She pressed up against the wall. "Yamcha get out of here! Vegeta!" she screamed. Yamcha moved quickly toward her. "He can't hear you, he's in that stupid gravity room, as usual and why would you want to call him anyway? This is between us." His voice was oily, slick, she realized, not charming. This was the tone he used to get what he wanted and right now, he obviously wanted make-up sex. His hands clamped onto her arms, his arousal brushing her thigh. Bulma cried out again and closed her eyes, turning her head away from his face, as he tried to kiss her. Then he was gone and she opened her eyes with a gasp. Vegeta stood in the bathroom, holding Yamcha by the throat, against the wall. Bulma stared, her mouth open. With his free hand, Vegeta grasped the robe that was lying on the counter and tossed it to her. "Cover yourself," he said, shortly, before turning to Yamcha. "I should kill you," he said, calmly, but his eyes were burning with barely contained rage. "This doesn't concern you," Yamcha gasped, both hands scrabbling at Vegeta's one. "Anything that concerns my woman concerns me," Vegeta corrected. Yamcha's eyes widened and even in his perilous position, he glanced from Bulma to Vegeta and back. "You slept with him! You slut!" Bulma's eyes widened and she stepped back, involuntarily. A growl was the only warning Yamcha had before Vegeta pulled him away from the wall and slammed him back again. Yamcha's head bounced off the tile and he was unconscious. When it looked like Vegeta would slam him again, Bulma rushed forward and grabbed his arm. "No. You'll kill him." "So?" Vegeta looked like that sounded good to him. "You can't, Vegeta. No matter what he's done, he used to be a friend. Besides, you can't just kill people anymore. You know that." "I know no such thing. He was going to take you from me," Vegeta reasoned. Shaking her head at his primitive, though effective Saiyan logic, Bulma turned his head to face her. "No one could take me from you." Slowly, her words registered and he lowered Yamcha to the ground. "Let me get rid of this trash and you can show me you are mine," he said. She suddenly smiled. Sounded like a plan to her!