Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ On Set ❯ 04 - Scripted ( Chapter 4 )

On Set

-04 Scripted-

Bulma could barely contain herself from skipping up the stairs to the apartment. Her new acquisition was tucked neatly under one arm. She opened the door (which she hadn't bothered to lock, not when Vegeta was home to keep guard) and stepped inside, eager to seek him out.

Vegeta wasn't hard to find. In fact, he was sitting in the middle of the living room floor, knees up, doing crunches. His powerful body heaved up and down, over and over. His eyes flicked to her, then away, not letting her entrance slow his pace. He was dressed in old sweat pants and a tank top. His feet were bare. The top stuck wetly to his sweaty chest.

His perfect, broad, sweaty chest…

Oh shit, she was staring. Better say something.

“You're still working out?” Bulma asked, honestly surprised. She glanced at the time then back at him. “It's been over two hours.” He had been exercising when she left the apartment.

Vegeta grunted. “No gym,” he said in the short pause at the top of his crunch, before dropping back to the floor. “No weights,” he added on the next repeat.

Bulma pursed her lips. So Vegeta was trying to make up for heavy lifting with quantity of reps? “Is this efficient?” she asked, putting her things on the kitchen counter and coming over to him.

“No,” he admitted tensely, but didn't stop, clearly determined to exhaust himself in the hopes of getting in a passable work out.

Bulma sat down by his raised knees, sitting on his toes to help anchor Vegeta's feet to the floor. He hesitated for only a moment before continuing his work out, saying nothing about her assistance. When he crunched up, their faces were only inches apart. She could smell the salty, musky sweat on him, and see the dark storm of unreadable emotions in his black eyes. His hot breath puffed out as he exhaled, ghosting against her cheek.

He grimaced at her nearness but didn't tell her to fuck off. She smiled, knowing she had been getting away with invading his personal space a lot lately. Perhaps he had grown accustomed to it, or perhaps he had just learned that it was pointless to argue with her about it.

Vegeta grunted as he performed another crunch, his eyes darting up, then away again.

Did she imagine it, or did his eyes settle on her mouth just before he dropped back down? Bulma's heart fluttered at the thought, her smile widening with vain pride. Was he thinking of the blow job she had given him, remembering her lips on his cock?

He wouldn't be the only one.

Watching Vegeta come apart a couple nights ago had been a far greater ego boost than Bulma could have thought possible. Especially when he had confided afterwards that it was the first time he had ever cum from a blow job. Poor guy. Either he had suffered lousy partners in the past, or just hadn't been able to let go. Bulma could bet which one was more likely, what with how uptight and private Vegeta was. But she had done it, she had made him cum. And damn, had it been fun. And really, really hot. She was dying to know if he thought so too, but asking him outright would only make Vegeta clam up. He hadn't even acknowledged the act since, the two of them going about their usual routine like nothing had changed, and Bulma wasn't sure whether to be grateful for that or not. Had he thought about it afterwards, even a little? Had he enjoyed it despite all his blustering, had he jerked himself off to the memory of her mouth on his dick? Because she certainly had, bringing herself to climax later that same night on her bright green vibrator, remembering how he had blushed and groaned and spilled himself all over her tongue…

Okay, so she might have had a bit of a crush on the guy. After all, just look at him. He was ripped, and screamed `high-strung taciturn man in need of a good fuck', which Bulma kind of had a thing for. Messing with uptight men was something of her hobby. She liked fucking with men as much as she liked fucking them. And messing with Vegeta had been pretty damn amazing.

Speaking of which…

Wanting to see if she had left as big of an impression as she hoped, Bulma leaned forward, resting her arms on Vegeta's knees. The next time he sat up, she ran her tongue over her lips to wet them. His eyes definitely went to her mouth. And there it was, a hint of pink on his cheeks.

Or was that just from his exertion? Damnit, she didn't know.

“Do you mind?” he grunted, their heads now nearly touching as he crunched up.

Bulma smirked and shrugged a shoulder. “No. You?”

“Tch.” He dropped back to the floor, laying flat on his back, breathing hard up at the ceiling.

“Done?” she asked when he stayed prone.

He grunted, wiping his forearm over his brow.

Bulma started massaging his calves. “Why don't I help you train?”

“You? How?” he asked, skeptically.

“Well, I could… I dunno, sit on your back when you do push ups?”

“Hn. How much do you weigh?”

Oh no he did NOT. Her fingers stilled and she glared at him for asking such a personal question, but he wasn't even looking, completely oblivious, his arm resting over his eyes as he caught his breath. The image sent a jolt of familiarity through her. He looked so much like when he had been on the couch, head thrown back, arm over his face, and his dick in her mouth. Bulma pushed those thoughts aside before she got too distracted, and relented to answer his question. “… 49 kilos.”

“That's all?” he asked. He sat up on his elbows, giving her an almost worried look. “That's nothing.”

Bulma leaned back, uncertain if she should be flattered or offended. Did he mean her weight was nothing, or it would be nothing to lift her? “Well, what other options do you have?” she asked. “I'll help you work out, and you help me with my script.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “What script?”

Bulma grinned, squeezing his calves. “The script to my movie I just got. Can you help me practice?”

“They script porn?” he asked incredulously.

Bulma rolled her eyes. “Of course. So, are you going to help me?” Vegeta looked unwilling, his mouth thinning. Bulma decided to sweeten the deal. “What if I give you another blow job?”

“Wha-… WHY do you keep bringing that up?!” he huffed. He looked off to the side in annoyance. Definitely blushing.

Cute.

Bulma chuckled and decided to take pity on him. She stood up. “C'mon then, big guy,” she teased, holding out her hand.

He flashed her an irritated look but grabbed her offered hand. He pulled and started to stand.

But he had used too much force. Bulma's eyes widened, unable to handle his strength. Her weight shifted forward, and Vegeta fell backwards, dragging her down with him.

“Ah-”

“Tch!”

“-Oof!”

Vegeta landed rather unceremoniously on his back, with her sprawled on top of him. Bulma raised herself up from his sweaty chest, sweeping the hair from her eyes. “What the hell, Vegeta? If you wanted a blow job that badly, you could have just-”

“DON'T start that again,” he grouched, wincing as she put her weight on his ribs. “That was your fault. What the hell were you playing at?”

“I was trying to pull you up.”

“Well you suck at it.”

“I do NOT,” she huffed. “You're too damn heavy. You're supposed to help, not make me do all the work.”

“I thought I was. I've met grandmothers with more strength than you've got.”

“Ha ha.”

“I'm not kidding.”

Bulma glared at him. He glared back. Their faces inches apart. Her body lying snuggly on top of his. The heat from his body was intense, furnace hot, his skin flushed from his work out. It lulled her, enticing her to stay curled up on him. Her own skin, still cool from her trip outside, greedily sucking up all the warmth he offered. She melted against his hard body. Their stare off was starting to grow a little too long, a little too intense, but neither of them were making a move to disengage…

She pressed her fingers over his rapidly beating heart, soaking in his warmth.

“Fuck, your hands are cold,” he complained, breaking the tension. Before she could reply, his hands found her tiny waist and squeezed her to his front. Her breath hitched in surprise as in one smooth, agile motion Vegeta pushed them to their feet. She gripped his arms for balance. His upper arms were huge. She looked up at him as they righted, surprised to see he was watching her. For a moment their eyes met, his arms still holding her about the waist. Her heart was beating painfully fast. Then the moment passed, and he let her go.

“Don't you have any goddamn gloves or something?” he snapped at her, looking away, rubbing the spots where she had touched him.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, my hands are cold,” she griped back. Bulma turned and touched her fingers to her cheeks, hoping her chilled hands would calm down the flush on her face. Okay girl, get it together. All this porn business is going to your head if you're blushing over some biceps and being held at the waist.

She headed into the kitchen and put the kettle on. Vegeta went to the fridge. He opened the door and peered inside. “We out of water?” he asked.

“Bottled water is expensive,” Bulma lectured him. “Drink the tap water.”

“That tastes like shit,” he complained. He grabbed a beer, popped the cap with ease, and stood in the kitchen, dripping sweat, as he quenched his work-out thirst, draining the beer in several large, gulping swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing greedily. He gasped for air when he finished, tossing the empty bottle aside before heading to the bathroom.

Damn.

“Where are you going?” she asked. She couldn't quite bring herself to complain about his lack of recycling, not after witnessing his impromptu beer commercial performance.

“Need to wash off.”

Vegeta shut the bathroom door behind him. Bulma rolled her eyes and made herself some tea, mostly just to hold something hot to warm her hands. She pulled her movie script across the counter to peruse while she waited.

Ten minutes later Vegeta stepped out of the bathroom freshly showered, changed into his usual attire of a t-shirt and pants. He headed to the fridge again.

“So, we agreed you're going to help me with the script, right?” Bulma asked him.

Vegeta glanced over his shoulder at her. “YOU agreed.”

Bulma looked back at him stubbornly.

Vegeta sighed, turning away from her to pull out another beer from the fridge. “…I'm not fucking acting it out.”

She smirked. “No. That won't be necessary. All the `acting' is decided by the director and actors before hand. This is just the before and after dialogue.”

“Hn.” Vegeta came over to her with his second beer, cracking off the cap and taking a healthy swallow.

“Rough day?” she commented. He wasn't usually so eager to drink.

“Like I'm going to be sober while helping you with your porn homework,” he grouched back. He peered at the document.

Bulma bit back a smile at his comment and pointed to the first line. “The milk man. That's you, well, whoever the guy is gonna be.”

“You're not fucking that tall guy are you?” he asked suddenly.

“What guy? Piccolo? The one we saw Eighteen with? No, I don't think so. Why?”

Vegeta didn't reply, just grunted and sipped his beer, reading the script. Bulma watched his face very carefully. His reactions were subtle, but she was getting pretty good at reading them by now. His eyes narrowed and his jaw tensed. He put his drink aside, then looked at her.

“Very funny. Where's the actual script?”

“This is the actual script,” she explained, unable to stop the amusement curling her lips.

Vegeta's expression didn't change. “…They're pulling your leg.”

“Nope. Trust me. I asked the same thing.” She was relishing watching Vegeta come to terms with the reality of the dialog.

His brows knitted together, looking pained. He glanced once more at the script, then back at her. “You can't be serious.”

“Oh, I am. Very,” she smirked. She pushed the pages towards him. “C'mon. Read it. I have to memorize these lines.”

“I'm not fucking reading that,” Vegeta snapped.

“But you promised!”

“The hell I did.”

“Vegeta!” she cajoled. “Don't be such a pussy. It's just you and me. What are you embarrassed about?”

“I'm embarrassed for whoever wrote this awful thing.”

“Would you just read the line for me, PLEASE?” she begged, exasperated.

Vegeta gave her an agitated glare. Then he turned his ire back to the script. His jaw worked, mentally chewing over the words before he finally managed to spit them out. “Hi, Miss…” he grimaced, almost sneering, before pushing on, his voice riddled with condescension. “Did you order a big load of cream?”

Bulma bit her lip. She tried her damnedest to bite back her laughter, she really did, but her snort gave her away.

Vegeta glowered at her. “Oh, you're laughing? This is your big fucking porn debut. You're going to be shooting this goddamn comedy of a script.”

Bulma wiped the tears of mirth from her eyes. “Aw, c'mon, it's not that bad.”

Vegeta arched a brow and leaned over to read another line. “Can a little thing like you handle this milky delivery all by yourself?” He gave Bulma a wry look. “This has got to be a goddamn parody. This is far worse than the shit they were saying when they filmed the other day.”

Bulma shrugged a shoulder. “Well yeah, I mean, they're not going to waste a good script on a newbie like me, are they? Besides, I like it. It's fun. It won't be so… serious,” she said, glancing away, thumbing the script. Humor would be good, she figured. As excited as she was to try porn, thinking of fucking someone on camera was making her stomach churn with nervous butterflies. Being able to laugh about the scenario would take some of the pressure off… wouldn't it? She hoped so.

“…Having second thoughts?” Vegeta's voice cut in.

Bulma startled and looked at him. He was staring at her, his dark eyes watching her acutely. Bulma swallowed and forced a smile. “Who, me? And keep this gorgeous body all to myself?” she tried to joke.

Vegeta didn't look convinced, but then again, he was skeptical about most things. His eyes drifted back to the script and he winced. “…I'm not nearly drunk enough for this shit,” he sighed, pinching his nose.

Bulma smiled, her heart melting. He was actually going to help her out. She had been expecting him to throw a fit over the script and storm off to his room. Bulma pushed the beer back into this hand. “Drink. I'll make us something to eat.”

A couple hours later they were sat on the couch. Their emptied, dirtied plates lay on the coffee table, along with most of the beer bottles they had in the apartment. Perhaps she could blame it on the beer as to why her legs were hooked comfortably over Vegeta's lap, her body curled up by his side, but it would be a lie. She often tried her best to snuggle up to him when they watched TV, and sometimes he even tolerated it, especially on night's like this one, with a few drinks under his belt.

They were going over the script for… was it the fourth time? It was hard to keep track. They kept having to pause and redo scenes when one or the other of them started laughing, or complaining about the dialog. She was taking it somewhat seriously; she needed to for the job after all, but Vegeta had no such responsibility to learn the lines, and the more he drank, the more he seemed interested in criticizing the writing rather than helping her practice. But at least he had loosened up and wasn't being such a prude anymore.

His free hand rested on her calf, idly massaging her. He read from the script. “Would you like to try a free sample?”

Bulma spoke her line from memory, watching his hand on her leg. “Only if it's organic. I prefer my protein fresh from the source.”

Vegeta snorted. “Organic?” he mocked, arching a brow. “That's not in the script.”

Bulma smirked at him knowingly. “Well, it should be.” Okay, so maybe she wasn't taking it as seriously as she should have been.

Vegeta's mouth twitched, the corner curling up. God, he looked positively sinful when he did that.

It made her stomach flip flop in a very pleasant way. She smiled back, nuzzling closer, magnetized by his wicked smirk. And he smelt great, the hint of soap from his shower and the earthy, masculine smell of him that she was growing more familiar with teased at her senses. He shifted his arm so he could better accommodate her. Holding her. It felt good, made her heart hammer and the room spin a little. Okay, well, that was probably the beer. She had drunk an awful lot of it. Vegeta too, judging by the pile of bottles on the table and the soft flush on his cheeks. The color suited him, made him appear far less scary and much more endearing… Damnit, Bulma, get it together, girl. This isn't the time to be mooning.

Vegeta stopped her thoughts from getting carried away by shaking the script. “This is awful.”

“Mmhmm,” she agreed, barely trusting herself to speak.

“How many goddamn milk puns do they have?” he asked, swapping the script for the last beer. “Are they even trying to be creative?”

“Hey, I didn't write it, I'm just doing it,” she defended lazily.

“Tch,” Vegeta replied. He took a drink and set the beer down, before flipping once more through the script's pages. “Like here,” he pointed to a line. “He's still calling her `miss'. What is sexy about that?”

Bulma thought about it. “Well, he is a milk delivery guy. I guess it's supposed to be in character?”

“Fuck character,” Vegeta replied. “Who is going to jerk it to that? Why not call her something appealing that actually drinks milk, like… a greedy kitten?”

Bulma's brow arched up, surprised despite herself. Was Vegeta offering suggestions? Was Vegeta offering dirty talk suggestions? “A what?” she asked.

“Here,” he insisted, tapping the script drunkenly. “This line. He should say, `Come here and gobble up this milk like a good little kitten'.”

Oh. My. God…

Bulma stared hopelessly at Vegeta. She was pretty sure her brain had just suffered some kind of critical failure, because she couldn't comprehend the words coming out of Vegeta's mouth, or the effect they were having on her suddenly skyrocketing libido.

“What?” she stammered.

Vegeta glanced at her. “I said, come here and gobble up this milk like a good little kitten.”

Sweet merciful god.

He was staring right at her. She couldn't look away. Bulma felt her cheeks redden and she barely suppressed the urge to press her thighs together, as if he might somehow know how turned on she suddenly was. She nodded slowly. “Y-yeah, you're right, that's better than `miss'.” She grabbed his beer and took a much-needed drink.

Vegeta didn't let up, still watching her even as she swallowed. “Or,” he said, his voice slurring with dark promise. “They could play on the bottle theme.” He nodded at the bottle in her hand. “Something like, `Here comes your bottle, baby, guzzle it all up'.”

Bulma nearly spat out her mouthful of beer.

Vegeta was smirking outright now, looking rather pleased with himself.

“OKAY, who are you, and what did you do with Vegeta?” she demanded through a broadening smile. Who would have thought Vegeta could be so crude? And playful? It was a pleasant surprise.

“Hey, I'm just trying to make your shitty porn less shitty,” he drawled.

Bulma arched an amused brow. “Really? Where did you even learn to talk like that?”

He made a noncommittal sound, his fingers returning to massage her leg. “When you room with two sex crazed idiots who bring home the cheapest whores in the neighborhood, you hear a thing or two.”

“Ugh,” Bulma sympathized, scrunching her nose. “Sounds awful.”

“That doesn't even rate highly on the list of their crap I had to tolerate.”

“No, I meant awful for them, having to deal with a prude like you,” Bulma teased.

He shot her an irritated glare. “Real cute. Do you want to hear my suggestions or not?”

“Oh my god, yes,” she grinned, leaning in, keen to hear every perverse thing he might have to say, knowing there was a good chance he would regret every word once sober. Vegeta glared at her for a heart beat longer, but was soon undone by her enthusiasm. He leaned in, and they huddled together like two conspirators exchanging secrets.

“So at some point,” Vegeta mused, the script now forgotten, his voice lowering. “He definitely needs to say something like, `I'm gonna unload my hot delivery right inside your tiny box'.” The hand wrapped around her back started stroking her side.

“Oh shit, yes he does,” Bulma agreed, giddy with the thought. “And maybe, `I hope you're not lactose intolerant'?”

Vegeta smirked. “`You really know how to milk my cock with your tiny hands'.”

Bulma giggled. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “If he cums on her, I mean me, he should mention something about not crying over spilt milk.”

Vegeta leaned in so close his brow bunted hers. “Is that how it's going to play out?” he asked, his fingers on her leg having moved up, now stroking her thigh, his other hand gripping her waist tightly, sending a thrill through her.

A distant voice in her head told her to lean away, that she was at the point of no return, but she ignored it, smiling and nuzzling in closer. “I don't know. Like I said, the actual sex has yet to be worked out.”

Vegeta's eyes trailed over her face, looking at her with a tender care. “…He should.”

“Should what?” she asked.

“Cum on you.”

Bulma felt her breath catch. Her inability to breathe only grew worse when Vegeta reached up, and thumbed her hair. “It would look good on you,” he said, his voice oddly soft. His thumb trailed down, ghosting over her face as if outlining an invisible trail of cum along her skin. He ran his thumb over her bottom lip and stopped.

Bulma's heart was trying to beat its way right through her chest. Her whole body felt on fire, and she was throbbing between her thighs, her face tingling where he had touched her. Their eyes locked, his darker than usual. His cheeks flushed. She wet her lips nervously, and his gaze darted to the movement of her tongue. For a wild, fleeting heartbeat, she thought he might kiss her. Oh god, she wanted him to.

But he didn't, because Vegeta wouldn't do that. He had to be forced into doing anything remotely sexual. She had to beg him just to look at her in her lingerie. She had needed to manipulate him into a blow job. What sane man wouldn't have jumped at that chance? God, Vegeta just… wasn't even interested in her, was he? He was just drunk. Maybe he was fucking with her, just making fun of her, and the script, the same way they made fun of the crappy dramas on TV. Or maybe he was getting back at her for all her teasing him about blow jobs. Jeez, just how easy was she? All Vegeta had to do was say a few perverse things with that gravely voice of his, and her panties were absolutely soaked. Damnit. No wonder porn interested her; she was no better than some goddamn slut.

Bulma reached up and pulled his hand away as she lowered her eyes. “I'll mention that to the director,” she said, clumsily disengaging and pulling her legs off his lap. She stood up, a little unsteady, and picked up the script. She dared a quick look at him. Vegeta's brow was furrowed, his expression guarded.

“Thanks for your help,” she said, and walked off to her room.

“What about your lines?” he called after her.

“It's fine, I should practice by myself and stop troubling you.”

She shut her bedroom door softly behind her and leaned against it. She had run away. She, Bulma Briefs, free spirited woman, confident, sexy, and fond of messing with men, had just run away from one. Shit.

Bulma threw the script on her chair and went to her bedside drawer. Pulling it open, she revealed several of her vibrators. Bulma picked out a hot pink one, shimmied out of her clothes, and got into bed. She turned on some music, then her vibrator, and closed her eyes. The memory of Vegeta indirectly calling her a good little kitten re-played in her head as her hand slipped under the covers.

~xox~

Vegeta watched Bulma retreat, hearing the soft click as her door shut.

What the fuck. One minute he had her in his hands, in his goddamn lap, and the next, she was gone. He was hard as a fucking pole, actually willing for once to be her goddamn porn guinea pig, and she had gone to fucking bed.

Great. Just fucking perfect.

That goddamn cocktease.

Vegeta ran a hand over his face, trying to scrub the past couple of hours from his mind to little avail. Nope, the innuendo they had spoken and the wild scenarios he had imaged thanks to that ridiculous script were solidly implanted in his brain, and the buzz of alcohol was making it harder than usual to enact his iron clad will over his thoughts.

Goddamn her, how did she do this to him? From day fucking one she had been toying with him, even BEFORE all this goddamn porn business, but now that this ridiculous `job' had started, her inadvertent flirting was ten times as worse. If it even was inadvertent. Vegeta had been getting the impression that maybe she was using the porn as some kind of excuse. But that idea had just been blown out of the room, because she had left him here, hard in his pants and torn up on the inside. He couldn't shake the image of her with cum on her pretty face. Why the fuck was that so arousing?! He had never been into that before. Not that he had really been into any kind of thing before. Women had always ranked pretty lowly on his list of distractions. When he did bother with them, there was very little messing around involved. But Bulma was turning his whole idea of sex about on his goddamn head.

Fuck it. He wouldn't be able to relax until he had worked out his… frustration. Vegeta stood up, ignoring the mess in the living area despite knowing that he would be yelled at for it later, and stumbled over to his bedroom. He glanced once at Bulma's door, half tempted to bang on it and shout at her. About what, he didn't know. He just felt the need to vent his frustration at her, sexual or otherwise. Maybe she would yell back at him. Perhaps she would wrench the door open and they would scream and fight like they often did. She would probably be half dressed as per fucking usual, looking and smelling so soft and pretty and goddamn unattainable. Her face would flush with anger while they shouted, her eyes sparkling brightly with righteous fury. And then he would put two fingers right between her breasts and shove her back onto her bed, watch with a satisfied smirk as she toppled over, her face contorting with shock and outrage. He would let his eyes linger obviously on her splayed legs, admiring the view, until she blushed and tried to close her thighs. But he would stop her, keep her legs spread apart. She would fight him, for only a moment, before giving in, because secretly she wanted it too. She would watch him with those big, blue eyes of hers, her pink lips parted, her cheeks flushed, as he pulled her panties off…

Fuck.

Vegeta stormed into his room and shut the door, pulling out his cock without even taking off his pants. He pressed a hand to the wall between his room and hers. He could hear music playing, something with a steady bass. Music to fuck to. Goddamn her. It would serve the little cocktease right, to just storm in there and fuck her, teach her that there were consequences to her teasing. He bet her skin was just as creamy and soft under her lingerie as the rest of her was. His fingers still tingled with the texture of her skin from where he had been touching her thigh only minutes before. Had she even noticed? Was he that sexually unthreatening to her? Goddamnit, she needed to be put in her place, to learn that he couldn't just be fucked with. Everyone understood that just from looking at him. Why didn't she?

And why did he let her get away with it? It wasn't just because she was letting him stay here for free. No, he might have cut her some slack because of that at first, but fuck, it was more than that now. He was feeling kind of possessive over her. He felt… responsible, like he had to protect her. It was the only thing he had to offer her in lieu of a salary, but he had grown accustomed to the role of bodyguard. After all, how had someone so spoiled and tiny like her survived this long on her own without being taken for a ride? He felt like if he left her, she would end up in some kind of trouble, and that had his stomach twisting up in knots. Since when did he start to care about anyone except himself? Since at least now, apparently. She was giving him anxiety. How did someone so smart and resourceful make some of the stupidest decisions possible? Just look at this goddamn porn business she was getting herself into. The girl didn't make smart choices. She had invited him to her place after all, and that hadn't been very smart. He could have done anything to her, he didn't exactly scream `trustworthy'. Yet maybe she knew something he didn't, because here he fucking was, jerking off to the thought of her rather than storming in and taking what he so easily could.

And it would be so easy to take it, because with the way she acted, he thought — hoped — that she would be willing. Vegeta squeezed his shut eyes tighter and pressed his brow to the wall, willing himself in his mind's eye into her room, hoping to find her there, touching herself, thinking of him. Or maybe they were back on the couch, only this time she didn't leave. This time she made good on her promise and gave him another blow job, taking all of his cock down that pretty throat of hers. But no, fuck, that's not what he wanted, he didn't want to give her the upper hand this time. He wanted to have her under him, to have her mewling and coming undone because of him. He wanted to feel what it was like to fuck her, to cum inside of her, and to have her cum on his cock. He wanted to fuck her, in her precious little bed, in the goddamn shower, in the fucking backroom of the bar where they had met, or on the porn set, with everyone else watching, everyone else staring jealously as he fucked her and he made her cum and he shot his load inside her tight little pussy…

Vegeta choked back a groan as he spilled himself into his hand, his fingers curling against the bedroom wall. He felt lightheaded, knees weak. He gasped and looked down at the mess that he had made.

And it struck him.

He had cum, thinking of her. Of cumming in her.

On set, no less.

….What the fuck?

~xoXox~

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

If you're not on p atreon for stupidoomdoodles, you're missing out on some AMAZING NSFW On Set smutty art, I'm telling you guys. DAMN.

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, illustrator extraordinaire and ideas woman) and LadyVegeets (writer and ideas woman) can be found on twitter, tumblr and p atreon. We'd love to hear your feedback. All sinners welcome ^_^