Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ On Set ❯ 03 - Practice ( Chapter 3 )

On Set

-03 Practice-

Vegeta wore a permanent scowl on his face, glaring at anything and everything that entered his vicinity. Why the ever loving fuck had he agreed to come back here? Goddamn that woman.

Speaking of which, Bulma was off chatting it up again with the blond from yesterday, leaving Vegeta to stand awkwardly in the studio with nothing better to do than hate on the universe as the crew started lighting one of the sets.

“Hey, Vegeta,” Bulma called to him, bringing over the blond. “This is Eighteen. Eighteen, Vegeta. She's been telling me a little about the biz.”

“Great,” Vegeta snarked, eyeing the woman over dubiously. Eighteen was attractive by conventional standards, but Vegeta saw the sharp look in her narrowed eyes and the confident tilt of her hips, and knew he would commit murder if it meant never having to deal with the likes of her. She had `praying mantis' written all over her — that's what the boys had often referred to women who were as dangerous as they were sexually alluring. Vegeta wanted none of it, and the fact that Bulma was chumming it up with the likes of her made him even more irritable.

“Bulma says you have some concerns,” Eighteen said, her eyes latched onto Vegeta, her icy blue stare ruthless. He narrowed his own eyes at her, cursing Bulma as he did.

Concerns? That didn't even begin to touch on the mess of doubts he harbored for this line of `work'. He looked at Bulma, but she just gave him a guilty smile.

“You should be fine,” Eighteen continued in an arrogant drawl. “You're buff enough that it'll make up for the lack of height.”

“The fuck did you-”

“Eighteen, honey, we're almost ready,” someone called, cutting him off. Eighteen smirked and slipped away to get ready for the shoot.

“What the hell did you tell her?!” Vegeta snapped at Bulma as soon as Eighteen was gone.

“Nothing! I swear, I was only asking for myself!” Bulma said, holding up her hands defensively, looking just as surprised by Eighteen's comments as he had been.

“Fucking bitch,” he grumbled after Eighteen, scowling harder and tightening his arms across his chest. “I don't trust her. You're taking her advice? I wouldn't take a goddamn piece of gum from her.”

Bulma nudged his side, trying to hide a smile. “Please. You're just intimidated by strong women.”

“That's no woman, that's a goddamn man-destroying machine,” Vegeta sniped back.

The grin she gave him was brilliant, lighting up her whole face. “Yeah, I knew there was a reason I liked her.”

“Tch.”

They watched the finishing touches being put into places to get the set finalized for the shoot. One of the crew ushered Vegeta and Bulma to a safe place where they could watch from a distance without getting in anyone's way. Vegeta was glad to have an excuse to be as far from the action as possible. A glance to his side found Bulma wide-eyed with wonder as she watched, her fingers over her mouth in anticipation. It totally baffled him that she could be so into this. He hadn't seen her this enthusiastic since, well… ever? Sure, he had seen her worked up, usually when they squabbled, or made fun of TV characters, people at the grocery store, and sometimes each other. But all that was very innocent. Safe. They didn't really talk about personal things or their passions. After all, what did they currently have in their lives to be passionate about? Debt? Imminent poverty? Who got the last beer? As far as he could recall, he had never seen Bulma really, genuinely excited. Not like this.

“Oh my god, it's starting,” she whispered, barely able to contain herself as the cameras began to roll.

It was as awful as he had feared it would be. A clichéd set up with clichéd lines, but he supposed no one really cared. Who was watching this shit for the story anyway?

He heard Bulma snort next to him. “I can't believe this dialog,” she said.

He relaxed, smirking, glad she wasn't so enraptured by this porn thing to have lost all sense of herself. That was comforting to know. It suddenly felt like any other night, just the two of them watching TV together, making snide remarks about the show. “Hn. Ten bucks says she calls him a big boy.”

“You don't have ten bucks,” Bulma replied, her eyes never leaving the set.

“Privilege to the last beer then.”

“No way… Anyway, how do you know what she'll say? I thought you didn't watch porn?”

He shrugged. “Don't need to watch porn to know all the clichés that whores use.”

“Adult film actress,” she corrected him.

“Tch, please.”

“…Oh wow,” Bulma breathed, ignoring him as the male actor came into view.

The guy was big, dark skinned, and well built. He wore a serious expression and a wife-beater with POSTBOY written on it. He oozed great stage presence. Vegeta had him sized up in a matter of seconds. He figured that if push came to shove, he could take the taller man. Then again, Vegeta thought that about most people.

The male lead barely spoke, but he didn't need to. Soon enough the two actors were doing what they were paid to do: fuck. Eighteen lavished the man's cock with her mouth. Vegeta tried to make a joke about it, but Bulma barely acknowledged him, too busy ogling the action. He huffed and gave up. But not being able to poke fun at the scene meant he could only watch it. Soon enough the man was on top of the blond, pumping into her ruthlessly as the cameraman circled them, zooming in and out of the action. Eighteen fisted the couch, arching back and putting on a good show, moaning loudly. Vegeta swallowed and looked away, but he couldn't shut out the sounds as easily as he could the sight, and somehow only hearing it was worse.

He rubbed sweaty palms on his sides, uncomfortable.

Fingers pushed between his own. Startled, he gave Bulma a questioning look. She looked back at him, her cheeks flushed prettily, her bottom lip plump from where she had been biting it. Something tightened in his chest at the sight of her. Everything else was instantly forgotten, fading away; it was just him and her, standing hand in hand, looking at each other. She didn't say anything, just smiled at him, and it was impossible to miss the want, dancing in her eyes. She squeezed his fingers, and his heart stopped. He had nearly worked up the nerve to squeeze back when her hand slipped from his, and he lost her as she turned her attention back to the set. Reality reawakened around them, and once again they were two amongst many.

Something shattered inside of Vegeta, and he knew. He knew she was going to do it. And fucking hell, he knew he was going to support her, in any way that he could.

Goddamn her.

~xox~

“And Eighteen said there's a way to put on make up, and to use wigs so that people will be less likely to recognize you,” she told Vegeta. He sat next to her on the bus home, his chin on his fist, staring out the window, his attention elsewhere. “And all their staff need to be tested at least every two weeks so it's really safe…” Still no response. Bulma pursed her lips together, watching Vegeta's face in the reflection of the glass. She was pretty sure he wasn't listening. “…And then Eighteen ate me out and made me cum five times.”

Nothing.

Bulma sighed. “Hey,” she said, giving him a shove.

His brow hit the glass and he brought a hand up to rub his head, giving her a nasty scowl. “The fuck is your problem?”

“You, apparently,” Bulma snapped back. “You haven't said a goddamn word since the shooting.”

“What the hell do you want me to say, Bulma?” he asked angrily. “I had a really fun time watching two strangers fuck in front of us? Let's do it again sometime?!”

She scowled at his sarcastic response. Why was it that all the men in her life had the emotional maturity of eight year-olds? “You know what, never mind. I forget you're incapable of expressing a genuine opinion without being a total asshat.”

“Tch.”

They sat in silence, the gentle rocking of the bus nudging them together.

Vegeta was the one to finally break the silence. “You're going to do it whether I approve or not, so what the fuck does it matter what I say?”

She gave him a surprised look. Was he actually trying to communicate with her? Wow. Wonders never did cease to amaze. “It matters because you're my friend, asshole. And I'm doing this for us.”

“Don't try to pin this on me,” he huffed, his cheeks going pink as he looked away.

“So you think it's a bad idea then?” she pressed, a sinking feeling in her stomach. She was just as baffled as he was as to why his opinion mattered to her, but it did. Perhaps because for the last month it had been just the two of them, struggling to survive, and she had come to rely on him in a way she hadn't relied on anyone else. She didn't want to contact any of her old friends or family, not when she was barely staying afloat, not wanting to have to tell anyone that she, Bulma Briefs, was a total and utter failure. And she certainly wasn't going to tell them she was considering doing porn, especially as it wasn't out of pure desperation, but because the idea kind of fascinated her. There weren't too many people who would get that. But she could tell Vegeta. For some reason, she didn't mind baring herself to him. Perhaps it was because he got understood. He was in the same shitty place that she was, both literally and metaphorically. And somehow, in some way, she wanted his support.

Vegeta sighed and turned in the seat, leveling her with a serious, piercing stare. “Bulma. If this is something you want to do, then I think you should fucking do it, and to hell with what anyone else thinks.”

That was… Wow. Unexpected. She stared into his eyes, stunned speechless, if only for a moment. “…But what do you think?”

He grit his teeth. “I just told you that doesn't matter!”

“And I just told you that it does!”

His face twisted in comical fury. “Goddamnit, woman, you are so insufferable!”

She laughed, relieved that they could still banter like this, that he wasn't totally disgusted with her. She leaned forward, pressing a finger against his chest, leaning right up into his face. “C'mon. Tell me you weren't a little turned on today, or that you didn't think about what you would do if you were on that set?”

His Adam's apple bobbed, and the flush on his cheeks only darkened. “…Don't press your luck, Bulma,” he warned her, narrowing his eyes.

Her grin widened, but she sat back in her seat, letting him off the hook. Her smile faded as her mind went over the implications of what it would mean if she actually did porn. “…It would just be the once,” she tried to reassure him, and maybe herself.

“Hn.”

“Just to help with the bills,” she insisted.

“…”

“And to, you know, do something wild before I get old and boring. I would have a crazy story to tell my grandkids one day, and they would never believe me, but it's okay, I would know the truth of it.”

“…”

“I mean, how friggin' hard could it be? It's just like a one night stand, right? Only you're getting paid for it, so even if the sex is bad, at least there's that…”

Vegeta still said nothing.

Bulma glanced at him, nearly yelping when she found he was watching her intently. She recovered with a bashful smile. “Th-think I can do it?”

His voice was resolute, his gaze unwavering. “Yes.”

His confidence in her helped bolster her own. Some inner tension inside her relaxed, and she smiled, nodding. “Of course I can. I'm Bulma friggin' Briefs. I can do anything!”

“Don't I know it,” he lamented.

She punched him in the side.

~xox~

Vegeta sat on the couch, one hand over his face, the other clutching a cushion to his lap as he prayed for death. “Bulma. Please, stop,” he begged.

“Stop complaining, you'll give me a complex,” she replied. “This is the last pair, I swear.”

Fuck her all the way to Hades. “No, fuck this! Go put some damn clothes on!”

“Please, Vegeta, it's important!” she whined, kicking his foot.

He grit his teeth, his hand fisting on the cushion. Damning himself and her, he reluctantly pulled his hand away and looked. She was standing in front of him, totally naked except for a pair of pink lacy underwear and matching bra that melted over her skin becomingly. She turned around, giving him a good look all around. Fucking hell… She was perfect, everything a woman should be in his opinion: slender frame, curvy hips, smooth skin that looked good enough to run his hands all over… Her lacy lingerie barely covered her breasts and ass, teasing him with what lay beneath. Vegeta drank in the sight before swallowing, screwing his eyes shut and pressing the heel of his palm against his eyes. “Great,” he grit out hoarsely. “Now go get dressed.”

“Great what?” she insisted, and from the sound of her voice she wasn't leaving to go put on clothes like he wished. “Do you think this looks better or worse than the others? Does it fit me okay? Does anything look weird? Is it a good color? Vegeta, you can tell me, I'd rather hear it from you than find out about it later when it's on camera.”

“Are you even going to be wearing it long enough to matter?” he asked her, incredulous, and desperate to have her not standing there in front of him in only her goddamn lingerie.

“Oh, yeah…”

Vegeta sighed, relieved.

“…Should I take it off?”

It felt like something broke in his brain. Vegeta opened his eyes, giving her a pained, horrified look.

She smirked back at him, arms crossed smugly.

Oh, she thought she was real fucking cute. “You bitch.”

She shrugged a shoulder and walked off towards the bathroom. “Hey, if I can't get a rise out of you, what hope do I have in the porn industry?”

He let his head drop back against the couch, finally free of her. He shifted the cushion in his lap, trying to subtly adjust the effect her little fashion show had had on him.

A minute later he heard her feet on the floor, and he slit his eyes open, taking a wary peek. He was relieved to see she had dressed in an oversized sleep shirt and some shorts. The hint of pink under her white shirt bespoke of the lingerie she still wore beneath. Bulma flopped down on the couch next to him, and he closed his eyes.

“Hey,” she said.

He grunted.

“I have a favor to ask.”

“Another one?” he replied, incredulous. Like suffering through her underwear parade wasn't enough?

“As if you have anything better to do.”

He huffed, defeated. “What is it?”

“What makes for a good blow job?”

He fisted the cushion on his lap, his face contorting in fury. Or was it agony? At this point he was having trouble telling those two apart. He leveled Bulma with his most incredulous look yet, but she was oblivious, already plowing on.

“I mean, I get the general idea, and I've never had any complaints, but this is different. This will be on film. With professionals. I don't want to make a fool of myself.” She looked at him expectantly.

“G-go ask that goddamn Sixteen or Seventeen or whatever-number lady!” Vegeta choked back.

“I did!” Bulma replied with an odd look in her eye. “Eighteen said the best `trick' was practice.” She continued looking at him, her gaze serious, pinning him to the couch.

Vegeta's stomach clenched with dawning horror. “…No.” She was not suggesting what he thought she was suggesting.

She pouted. “Why not?”

“No!” He said again, more firmly this time, scooting up on the couch to back away from her, the cushion still desperately over his lap. “The fuck is WRONG with you?”

“Wow, thanks,” Bulma replied sarcastically, folding her arms in front of her chest. “I'm so glad the thought of me sucking you off disgusts you so much.”

“That's not the fucking point, Bulma, don't give me that shit!” he shouted back at her. “We're roommates! You don't think that would make things a little fucking weird?”

She pouted, shrugging a shoulder. “I don't see why. I'm practicing for my job and you get a blow job. It doesn't mean anything.”

He struggled to think of a counter argument, but the only words circulating in his mind were a variation of Fuck and No. “I'm goddamn serious, Bulma. I'm not letting you suck my dick.” It was far too personal, made him feel too vulnerable to just put the most sensitive part of him into someone's mouth.

Bulma wasn't about to give up though. “What about a hand job then?”

He hesitated, just for a moment, and she saw. She zeroed in on his weakness like a goddamn cat on an injured mouse. She snuck her hand under his cushion, resting her fingers on his thigh, and he sucked in a sharp breath.

“C'mon. It'll be fun,” she murmured, slipping up next to his side. The warmth of her body seeped into his arm. The soft cotton of her shirt rubbed against his skin, and he felt her breast against his arm. “Please please please?” she begged, giving him the biggest blue puppy-eyes, setting his teeth on edge.

He side-eyed her, trying to think of a reason why he should say no, but one head was starting to outweigh the other. “…Your goddamn hands better be warm,” he growled, relenting.

She beamed, pulling her hands up to breathe on them, rubbing them together to circulate warmth. “You bet, buddy.”

He scowled at her and looked away. “So… How do you want to do this?” he asked, feeling more awkward than he could ever remember being.

“Here's fine, if you're comfortable?”

He didn't think he could be any less comfortable, but moving wasn't going to change that. Vegeta nodded his head, shifting on the couch, sliding down so he could try relaxing. He stared forward, not daring to look at her.

“Um, the cushion?” Bulma prodded gently, and he glanced at his lap, seeing he still had a stranglehold over the damn thing.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly. “Right.” He moved the cushion to the side, trying not to feel embarrassed about how hard he already was. It was only natural, after everything she had put him through tonight. He cleared his throat. “Do you need me to…?”

Bulma seemed to understand he was offering his help. “No, you just relax. Let me take care of you.”

O-okay…fuck…

He was still gripping the cushion in one hand off the side of his lap, his other arm he moved to hug the back of the couch, out of her way. She took the space he made, wriggling in closer, her lithe warmth melting against his side, her nearness awakening all his senses. She smelt nice, like vanilla, and something soft and feminine that was her. Her warm breath teased his neck. She trailed a hand down his belly, making his stomach clench and his fingers tightened in the cushion. Fuck, he was so painfully hard already. This was going to end embarrassingly fast.

He tipped his head back, releasing the couch to press his fingers into his closed eyes. He tried thinking of something else, anything else to calm the fuck down so he didn't cum right there in his pants. He sucked in air through his nose and imagined Dodoria.

Ugh. That did it.

Well, for half a second it killed his enthusiasm, but then Bulma's fingers found him, gently cupping his cock through his pants, and Dodoria was now the last thing on his mind. Ffffuck that felt good.

“Wow, Vegeta,” she breathed appreciatively as she felt his length. “Nice.”

He mashed his hand over his face, gritting his teeth. “D-don't do that.”

“Do what?” she asked innocently, continuing to finger his length. As if he needed it. He was as hard as a goddamn rock.

“The fake dirty talk,” he said. He meant to sound upset, but his voice came out weak, almost pleading. Her fingers were trailing up and down his length, quickly undoing him.

She chuckled. “Shy, are we?”

“Bulma-”

“Well it wasn't fake. I really am impressed. Are you sure you won't do porn?”

“Don't start that again.”

“Okay, big guy, you got it.”

He opened an eye to glare at her, give her a piece of his mind, but the words stopped short. She was watching his face with a wicked little smile. He swallowed, heat flooding to his face, and he felt very put on the spot. “Why are you watching me?”

“To see your reactions,” she said as if it should have been obvious. “You're not very verbal so I have to figure out if I'm doing this right one way or another.” Her eyes trailed down, watching her hand knead his solid length. Her grin widened, Cheshire-like, and she looked up at him from under long lashes. “I'd say I get a passing grade at least.”

His throat felt dry. He couldn't do this, have her watching him as she made him come undone. Vegeta brought the cushion up to his face and smothered himself, hiding from her view. “Goddamnit, are you ever going to start, or are you just going to keep fucking with me?”

“Boy, Vegeta, I don't know how you keep all the ladies at bay with that silver tongue of yours,” she teased him, even as her fingers continued slowly jerking him through his pants. It was goddamn maddening. Was this her plan all along? To string him along until he was ready to fucking beg for it? He breathed heavily into the cushion, his fingers twisted in it. God it felt good to have someone else doing this for once, but Vegeta wasn't going to cave, stubbornly refusing to move his hips or give any other signs (other than the obvious one in his pants) that he was enjoying this.

Then her weight shifted and her fingers slipped away. He barely refrained from making a sound of frustration. But soon the button at his pants was undone, then the next, followed by the fly, slowly being pulled down. He felt the cool air on his boxer briefs, his shorts already wet with precum. Fuck, he was desperate. He struggled to think when the last time was that he had jerked off. A few days ago? Shit, why hadn't he made time for it this morning?

“Vegeta, you're supposed to be helping me,” Bulma murmured, her voice soft and cajoling. “Let me know if I can do anything better, okay?”

He was about to rip the goddamn cushion in half in desperation, needing to feel her hands on him right fucking now. But he wasn't going to say that. “You're taking too long,” he growled, his voice muffled into the pillow.

“I can't hear you with that thing over your face.”

He swore and threw the cushion off, just in time for her to find the opening in his briefs and wrap her clever little fingers about him, pulling him out. Oh shit. She made an appreciative sound, and he glanced at her, suspicious, but also a little grateful. She was looking at his cock with darkened eyes. A slender finger ran over his pinkened head, down the length of his erect cock, smoothing out the precum that glistened on the tip. He hissed as she did, his cock jumping at her touch, leaking more. “D-don't play it with it, for fuck's sake,” he stammered.

“Oh?” she purred, sounding so fucking cocksure, and for good reason. He was about to blow his load and she had barely even started. Fuck. “What should I do then?”

Oh god… “Just… fucking… do it already.”

“Like this?” she asked as she wrapped her hand about him and started stroking. No hesitation, no awkwardness. She knew what she was doing. Holy shit, she didn't need practice, but Vegeta wasn't about to tell her to stop at his point. He watched, mesmerized, as her hand jerked him off, and he couldn't believe this was actually happening, only it very obviously was. He could feel the edges of his control starting to fray, wanting to lay back and just fuck her pretty hand until he shattered, but a part of him couldn't let go, couldn't acknowledge how much he wanted this. It wasn't supposed to mean anything after all.

But fuck, she was watching him again. Goddamn that was really unnerving. He looked away, leaning his head back and putting an arm over his eyes to blot her out.

“Does it feel good?” she asked, her voice soft yet impossible to ignore, creeping into his mind, echoing inside his head, wrapping about his thoughts. Comforting. He swallowed, his senses overwrought as she stroked his dick's silken skin, up and down, in smooth motions.

“Hn,” was all he could manage.

“Faster? Slower? Tighter?” she pressed.

Did it matter? It felt fucking incredible. But she wouldn't let the matter drop, so Vegeta lowered his arm and wrapped his hand over hers, showing her just how he liked it. Her hand was tiny under his, her skin so much paler, softer. And her fingers were sticky with his precum. He glanced at her. She was watching their hands as he guided her. Then their eyes met, and she smiled, lowering her head just enough that her bangs fell over her eyes.

“Are you sure you don't want me to suck you off?”

He nearly fucking came. Vegeta grit his teeth and stopped her hand, squeezing down, barely holding back a climax with a grunt. She knew it too, pressing her advantage, leaning in so close their heads almost bunted.

“Please? Just the tip? I swear it'll be good.”

Of fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck…

Before he could find the strength to refuse she was already slipping down the couch, between his legs. She gave his cock a hungry look, her hand still held in place by his.

She appeared so small and pretty on her knees before him. Her eyes met his, waiting. Something about her eyes always made him feel like he was being cut up by shards of glass, those blues eyes breaking him down, little by little, in ways he couldn't defend against. “Can I?” she asked eagerly.

Like he had any capacity to refuse. He nodded pitifully, retracting his hand to let her have free reign.

Bulma smiled, wide and beatific. She inched forward, licking her lips, and his cock throbbed just at the sight. Vegeta knew he was damned, always had been, but he felt doubly damned for what he was about to let happen. She licked the head, lapping up the mess he was making with a hot swipe of her tongue. His breath caught. Again, Bulma ran her tongue around the fat head of his cock, before popping it entirely inside her mouth. She was warm, wet, and it felt fucking heavenly. Dear God was it amazing. A small, appreciative moan left her lips, and he really wished he knew if it was genuine. A tiny, fragile part of his ego really hoped it was.

Vegeta watched her, his eyes glued to the sight of her: pink, pouty lips wrapped around his girth, her face flushed, her eyes fluttered closed. His cock bobbed in and out of her perfect mouth as she kept true to her word, just working the tip. Her wicked tongue pressed up against the crease in the head. He grit his teeth to stop a groan, but failed. “…A-nng…” She noticed, of course, and mercilessly laved that spot over and over until he dropped back against the couch, pressing his palms over his face and into his hair as she tore away at his control. Every fiber of his being wanted to thrust up into the wet cave of her mouth, to grab her soft blue hair and pull her all the way down until he was buried as deeply inside her as he could get. He grabbed large fistfuls of his own hair instead, his body trembling as he struggled to breathe.

She was toying with him, torturing him, keeping her mouth wet and teasingly loose. He could feel himself start to crescendo. He shuddered, trying to hold back, realizing he didn't know what to do. They hadn't talked about how this was going to end, if he should… politely pull her off or not before finishing. A selfish part of him didn't want it to stop, because fuck, this was the best thing he had experienced in a long fucking time. She also kind of deserved to get a mouthful, seeing as this had all been her damn idea to begin with. He was close, too fucking close, and she kept pressing her tongue into that spot at the underside of his cock and fffuuuck he was going to cum in her mouth-

But he couldn't, feeling bad at the last minute. “S-stop, fuck. Cumming,” he tried to warn her.

She ignored his warning. With a hum, Bulma sank him further into the slick confines of her mouth, pumping him with her hand, and suckled. It was too much. He was already precariously on edge, unable to take the extra stimulation.

“H-oh fuck!” He arched back and came. His fingers fisted desperately in his hair as he shot his load into her mouth. Her hand and mouth milked him, easing him through his fall until he had nothing left to give. Even then she continued to bring him down from his high.

He finally unwound his hands from his hair, reaching out to stop her before he became over sensitive. He brushed his fingers lightly over her hand, and she understood the gesture. She swallowed, sucking along the length of his cock before letting him plop free.

She had swallowed. She had fucking swallowed his cum. All off it. Holy fucking shit.

Panting to catch his breath, Vegeta couldn't get his brain to function, overwrought, fried. He was not prepared for this, wasn't nearly prepared or drunk enough for this… He looked at her at, catching Bulma in the act of licking her lips. He felt raw in a way that he wasn't used to. He tucked himself back into his pants, ignoring the fact that he was still wet from her mouth. He just needed to be less exposed.

Her goddamn blue eyes were on him again. As was her Cheshire-cat smile. “So?” she asked, flexing her fingers on his thighs, giving him an expectant look. “How was it?”

Only the best fucking head of his life. He grunted. “You didn't get very far,” he criticized.

Her smiled widened, and she gave a knowing hum. “You came before I could take you all the way in.”

Shit.

“Then I guess you've got nothing to worry about. You're a goddamn pro. What do you want from me, a fucking play-by-play?” he asked hotly.

Something clouded over in her eyes. She sat back, the smile on her face wilting. “Well, any constructive criticism would be nice. As would an actual compliment.”

Oh. “…I came, didn't I?”

She gave him a pained look, then glanced away. “Forget it. You're such an ass, I don't know why I bother.”

She got up and slumped into the couch seat next to him, frowning, and turned on the TV with the remote. He tried to get into a more comfortable sitting position.

The sound of the television show filled the awkward silence between them.

Vegeta's mind was a mess, still coming down from his orgasm and now struggling to reconcile… whatever the fuck this was that was going on between them. He glanced at her, seeing her scowl at the TV. He looked back at the show, not watching whatever was on the screen, and he suspected neither did she.

“…That was the first time.”

She looked at him. “Your first blow job?” the surprise was evident in her tone.

He kept staring straight ahead. “No. The first time I came from one.”

Silence.

He dared a glance at her from the corner of his eye, and she had that stupid smile on her face, the one that was achingly warm and made his stomach churn in an uncomfortable way.

“I was that good, huh?” she asked, smug.

He scowled and looked away. “Don't let it get to your head.”

“Too late.”

“Tch.” He got up. “I'm taking a shower.”

“Okay,” she replied, her voice still irritatingly amused. He was almost to the bathroom door when her voice called out to him again. “You'll let me practice on you again sometime, right?”

He clenched his jaw and didn't answer, slamming the bathroom door shut. He turned the shower on cold and got in, ignoring the half hard erection her suggestion caused him.

~xoXox~

AN: beta-read by Artephile/Marcella-Duchamp ^_^

DBZ owned by Akira Toriyama (although he'd be sore pressed to recognize his work in this AU, lol). This AU is the sinful idea of Stupidoomdoodles and myself, LadyVegeets. Stupidoomdoodles (cartoonist and illustrator extraordinaire) and LadyVegeets (writer) can be found on twitter, tumblr and p atreon. We'd love to hear your feedback. All sinners welcome ^_^