Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ On Set ❯ 05 - O(h) ( Chapter 5 )

On Set

-05 O(h)-

“Vegeta!”

Vegeta flinched while glaring at the inside of the refrigerator and the meager contents on its shelves. There was beer, which he quickly dismissed. Drinking alcohol hadn't appealed to him, not since that night on the couch which had led to a drunken jerk off with the image of Bulma burnt into his brain. It was something he still regretted doing. He was having a hell of a time trying to bottle up all those damn images, to stop them from creeping up when unwanted, such as when he worked out, or when she bumped familiarly against him, their arms brushing against each other on the couch, forcing him to subtly adjust his hard on without her noticing.

Because he wasn't supposed to be picturing her that way. It wasn't supposed to mean anything; that's what she had said. And he agreed; except apparently his dick didn't, because it still eagerly came to attention whenever he recalled the way her mouth had felt…

“Vegeta!” Bulma called for him again from somewhere off inside the apartment. He winced, still trying to ignore her, and glared harder into the refrigerator, looking for something to eat.

The condiments stared back at him. He frowned; those wouldn't satisfy. He found some limp vegetables in the crisping drawer. Nothing particularly tasty there either. The sole thing that caught his eye was a packet of raw chicken breasts. Only, he didn't have the slightest idea how to cook it, but he was acutely aware of how unpleasant it could be to consume poorly cooked chicken. A memory came back to haunt him: Raditz, Nappa and himself fighting over the toilet one night, after Raditz had served up pink chicken. Of course, Vegeta had won the toilet rights. Not that it felt like much of a victory at the time. He had never been so sick in his life, wondering if he was going to die as he threw up into the toilet, Raditz and Nappa dying in similar misery behind him, the two buffoons attempting to share the kitchen sink.

Fuck, he wasn't going to repeat that again. Which meant asking the woman to cook the meat for him. Or demand that she go out and buy something. Either way, he would have to talk to Bulma, which meant he couldn't ignore whatever it was she was yelling at him about. Goddamn her and her nagging, if she was going to lecture him about cleaning again, he was going to-

“Vegeta,” Bulma said, her voice much closer this time.

He sighed, shutting the refrigerator door. “What is it-ARGH, FUCKING FUCK!”

Vegeta covered his eyes with his hand and turned away from the sight of her, standing behind the refrigerator door, topless. Bulma was only wearing her jeans and the saddest look he had ever seen.

“Vegeta, is there something wrong with my breasts?”

Oh no. No, no, no… Why did she do this to him?

He kept his head turned, fingers pressed deeply into his eyelids, his jaw tensing in anger. “BULMA, GO PUT ON A GODDAMN SHIRT. OR BRA. OR ANYTHING, PLEASE. FUCK.”

“Vegeta, I'm serious…” she whined. Her voice was uncharacteristically glum, grating on his nerves, pulling on his gut. Curse her. He found himself lowering his hand, and he cautiously glanced over his shoulder, looking at her face and nothing else.

Dejected. That was all he read from her face as he took in the sad pull of her mouth and the wavering uncertainty in her mournful blue eyes. It wasn't an expression he often saw on her.

Bulma glanced down at her breasts. “Do you notice anything?”

Vegeta's expression became pained. She was really going to make him do this, wasn't she? He side-eyed their window. The blinds were wide fucking open. Making a frustrated sound, Vegeta snatched up a nearby kitchen cloth and threw it at her chest in an attempt to cover her, before he stomped over to the window and tugged down their shitty blinds. He wasn't about to let anyone else get a free goddamn viewing, even if she didn't seem concerned by it.

With that taken care of, he turned back towards her, seeing Bulma clutch the cloth to her chest. Thank fucking god. Her expression was still miserable, and she waited for him in the kitchen, a small, uncertain thing. Vegeta sighed through his nose, caving. He approached her, crossing his arms over his chest.

“The fuck are you going on about?” he asked wearily, knowing he would regret getting involved, but what other fucking choice did he have?

“My boobs,” Bulma said, looking at him with big, sad eyes. “One is bigger than the other. Can you tell? Is it noticeable?”

Really? That's what this was about? Vegeta grit his teeth and took in a very slow breath to keep himself from exploding and telling her that she shouldn't give a shit about something so unfathomably stupid. Clearly, she did give a shit. He tightened his arms over his chest and spoke slowly so as to sound calmer than he felt. “If that's true, I haven't noticed.”

Bulma looked at him, searching his face for the truth of his words, her blue eyes filled with vulnerability. “But it's more noticeable without anything… supporting them. You haven't seen properly.”

His fingers clenched over his arms. “Hadn't,” he corrected dryly.

She rolled her eyes. “Just now doesn't count. You just squealed and turned away.”

“I did NOT squeal. And I saw enough.”

“Wow, really, Vegeta? One peek and you're scarred for life?” Bulma asked, clutching the cloth tighter to her chest, her bottom lip pouting fiercely. “Most men would be jumping at the chance to see a beautiful woman's breasts!”

“Then go show them,” Vegeta snapped back, losing his cool despite his best intentions.

The flash of hurt across her face was evident, even for an insensitive asshole like himself.

Her mouth turned down, and she glanced away, clutching the cloth to her breasts defensively. “…Are they really that bad?” she asked, her voice so quiet he could barely hear her.

Goddamn her. Goddamn her and her stupid, sad face, and her stupid, gut-twisting power over him. His jaw worked and his temple throbbed. He knew what it was going to take to get her to shut up and he wasn't sure he was mentally prepared for it.

…Fuck it.

“Show me,” he growled.

She glanced at him, her eyes showing her surprise. But the cloth remained.

He was losing his patience and his goddamn nerve over his decision. “Well? Are you going to show me your lopsided breasts or not?”

“Oh my GOD, Vegeta, THEY ARE NOT LOPSIDED!” she shouted back, horrified.

“Then why are we even discussing this!” he replied, his voice rising to meet hers.

Bulma threw the cloth at his face. He tilted his head to the side, easily avoiding it. He glared at her and she glared back, putting her hands on her hips. Once again, she was nude from the waist up.

“Well?” she demanded, trying to sound angry, but he could hear the doubt in her voice.

He breathed out through his nose like a caged bull. His fingers dug into his biceps. He forced himself to look down and not flinch away from the sight of her bared breasts.

Goddamnit. Of course they were fucking perfect, just like the rest of her. Just as he suspected they would be from all the times she had bounced around him in her lingerie or tight little tops, haunting him both in reality during the day and in his fantasies at night… His heart beat accelerated just at the sight. Her jeans hugged her hips. Her slender, pale waist curved up towards her exposed chest. Her breasts were phenomenal; round, and appearing powdery soft. Her nipples, tiny and pink, pebbled in the cool air of the kitchen. Vegeta's groin tightened. He pushed aside the desire to run his thumbs over her pert nipples. He allowed himself a good, long look, not just for himself, but for her sake too.

Then, finally, he raised his gaze back to hers. “They're fine.”

“Fine?” she asked, not sounding reassured.

His jaw tensed. What else did she fucking want him to say? “Yes,” he growled, growing more uncomfortable by the second. “They're… nice.” He looked away.

“Really?” she asked.

“Yes,” he snapped. “They're… big, and they look soft and… They're fine, okay? You've got nothing to worry about.”

“…Do you want to feel?”

Vegeta's head snapped back to look at her. He could barely force himself to reply without his voice getting caught in his throat. “Wh-what?”

She gave him a small, shy smile. “Well, you said they looked soft. Let me know what you think.”

Oh god. Oh fuck. What the shit was she playing at now?

She didn't give him the chance to question her further. Bulma reached out and tugged on his hands, still crossed defensively over his chest. “Here, it's okay. I want you to feel. I need to get used to other people touching me.”

He swallowed again. They both knew he could have resisted, his strength monumental next to hers, but she gently pulled and he let her pry his arms apart. She guided his hands to her breasts. Oh god, they were even softer than he had imagined, cupped in his rough, calloused palms. His brain short-circuited, feeling the warm plumpness of her in his hands. His thumbs twitched, still aching to touch her nipples, but fuck, he didn't know if that was acceptable. How would she react if he took the initiative? Would she moan if he brushed his thumbs against her? Would she gasp? Slap him?

“What do you think?” she asked, cocking her head to see his reaction, smiling cutely.

Vegeta felt like he was dying. This was pure, fucking torture. “Great,” he choked out.

“Porn worthy?”

He nodded dumbly.

Bulma grinned, her confidence returned. She squeezed his hands before pulling them away. His mouth tightened against an unfamiliar feeling of… Regret? Disappointment?

Keeping their fingers interlocked, Bulma leaned in, kissing his cheek. “Thanks.”

“Tch,” he scowled, fighting back a blush as he jerked his face away from her. “Can you please put something on now?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she replied, and let his hands go, running her fingers through her hair. “Can't you have too distracted by my perfect breasts, can we?” she teased, winking at him before she turned and sashayed away. He watched her, his eyes lingering on her waist, watching the sway of her jean-clad ass. It wasn't until she was out of sight that he realized he was still staring, toying with the idea of following her into her room…

Vegeta shook away the fantasy and rubbed at his cheek in annoyance. He looked back at the fridge. Fuck. He hadn't asked her about the goddamn chicken.

“When you're done covering yours, there's some breasts out here that need your attention!” he shouted after her.

“What?”

“The chicken!”

“Oh. Alright, give me a minute!”

He would like to give her something, and it would take more than a goddamn minute. Vegeta swore under his breath and left the kitchen, figuring he had time for a quick shower and jerk off before food would be ready.

~xox~

Bulma let the bedroom door snick shut behind her. She pressed her back against it, bringing a hand to rest over her pounding heart. Her knees felt weak, her nipples hard. Okay, what the hell had happened? She had only wanted a little reassurance, not a pair of wet panties and a throbbing desire for Vegeta's rough hands to touch more than just her breasts…

“When you're done covering yours, there's some breasts out here that need your attention!” Vegeta yelled from the kitchen.

“What?” she called back, barely keeping her voice steady as she tried to calm down.

“The chicken!” he growled impatiently.

“Oh.” He was hungry. Typical. “Alright, give me a minute!” she called back. She closed her eyes and took a few shaky breaths, trying to pacify the liquid lust that burned throughout her. By the time she gathered herself together and had thrown on a bra and shirt, Vegeta was in the bathroom, the sound of the shower coming out from behind the door. Bulma headed to the kitchen and started cooking, allowing the day's events to replay over in her mind.

~xox~

Bulma couldn't sleep.

She had been staring at her bedroom ceiling for close to an hour now. Tomorrow was the big day. Finally. Her porn shoot.

She was nervous, and excited. But mostly nervous.

Not that she needed to be. Kame Studios had been really kind to her the last couple weeks, talking her through the upcoming process, going over what she would and wouldn't be comfortable with. The director, Roshi, had even said she could bring her `short, scary friend', if it would make her feel more comfortable. And oddly enough, it did. Vegeta had quickly become her main form of support. Even if he didn't say anything or do anything, and just stood there in the studios, her large, surly bouncer, Bulma knew she would feel better for his presence.

Still, she was nervous. Bulma had already spent two hours in the bathroom, primping and examining herself from every angle to be ready for the cameras. She had even asked Vegeta to check her out. Unfortunately, Vegeta had grown wise to her by now, and threatened not to go with her to the studios if he came and found her naked in the bathroom. She had pouted, resigned to making do with her own self-assessment.

After all, she knew she looked beautiful. And she was confident in her sexual abilities. She was working with a good team. What was there to be worried about? …Well, just one thing, one nagging insecurity that she couldn't put to rest.

How did she look like when she came?

What was her `o' face like? Did she look pretty when she came, or did her face scrunch horribly? Embarrassingly? Oh god, what if she did something… weird, when she came? Maybe she made a face, or grimaced? What if Roshi had to cut the filming, and ask her for a reshoot? Would she have to cum on demand? Should she just fake it from the start? Would she even be convincing if she tried?

Bulma's insecurities grew, spinning around and around her mind, chipping away at her confidence. Finally, she reached for her phone, and pulled up Eighteen's number. She paused when she saw the time. Shoot, it was late, far too late to interrupt her new colleague just to ask if it was better to cum naturally on camera or not. She would have to ask Eighteen tomorrow.

But she couldn't sleep. She had to know, right now, how she looked when she came.

Well, there is this little thing called a smart phone that has a camera, you know…

Oh, right. Duh.

Mentally patting herself on the back for such a clever idea, Bulma set up her smartphone on her nightstand, trying to balance it to record herself. She reached for her drawer of toys but stopped. She normally played music to muffle the buzz of a vibrator, but it was far too late at night to be doing that. And if she didn't play music, Vegeta still might hear the whirr of her toy. Bulma didn't need Vegeta banging on the wall to make her feel any more self-conscious than she already did. Besides, now that she thought about it, she wouldn't have a vibrator on set, so she should probably practice without one.

Bulma got comfortable under the blankets, wearing only a pink tank top and white panties. She double-checked that her face was in frame on her smart phone's camera, before she ran her hands along her body, over her breasts, down her sides and belly, dipping underneath the hem of her panties. She let out a soft sigh as she pried the lips of her pussy apart with her left hand, her right rubbing little circles against her clit, teasing herself with building excitement.

Bulma glanced at the phone, looking at herself in the front facing camera. She looked so… impassive. Well, she had only just started. Bulma tried biting her lip to look more alluring, arching back a little, experimenting with different expressions and poses. She was biting on her fingers when it occurred to her she had stopped pleasuring herself, too focused on playing up to the camera. Damnit.

Forget about the camera, you idiot.

Bulma looked away from her phone and closed her eyes, resisting the temptation of staring at herself. She tried to let go, allowing the sensation of her fingers rubbing against herself to take over her thoughts. She sighed, falling into a familiar rhythm, feeling herself getting wet. An ache built between her legs, throbbing pleasantly. It was starting to feel good… Did she look good, too?

Bulma glanced back at the phone before she could stop herself.

She looked flushed, pretty, as far as she could judge these things. But that wasn't the problem, and there definitely was a problem.

She could only see her face properly when she was turned towards the camera. In the throes of cumming, she would have to turn and look directly at her phone, and she doubted she could make a natural `o' face under those circumstances. Damnit, this wasn't going to work, not with the phone placed where it was.

Fuck.

Now frustrated on top of being half aroused, Bulma snatched up her phone. She held her arm straight up, the camera above her head, and closed her eyes. She tried touching herself again, hoping she could cum before her arm got tired. She peeked open an eye. Her face was drifting out of view as her arm waved unsteadily. She tried adjusting her grip. As she did, the phone slipped from her fingers, and hit her square in the face.

“Ow. Fuck,” she spat out angrily into the room.

This was a disaster. She couldn't even cum by herself in front of her phone. How the hell was she going to do it tomorrow? Let go with a stranger between her thighs, a camera in her face, and a crew watching the whole thing with practiced, critical eyes?

Bulma pressed a hand over her face, taking a shaky breath, her confidence nose-diving by the second. She needed help, someone to reassure her, re-inflate her ego. But the only person good for that would probably have an utter conniption if she bothered him right now…

Bulma glanced at the wall between her room and Vegeta's. Was he asleep? It was late, but that didn't mean he was asleep. She often heard him get up at night to rummage in the kitchen, or watch the TV at low volume when he felt restless.

Bulma picked up her phone from where it had slid to her pillow. She opened up her messages. Vegeta was at the top of her recent conversations, his last message calling her a prissy bitch when she had complained about him keeping her waiting in the cold.

Are you awake? She typed. Her thumb hesitated over the send button. He was probably asleep, and even if he wasn't, there was no way he was going to help her out. Was there? Still, she sent the message before she chickened out.

Through the wall, she heard the soft buzz of his phone vibrate.

She waited.

A few moments later her own phone buzzed. She smiled, unlocking her screen.

I am now, his text read. Why the fuck are you still awake at this hour?

Can't sleep, she replied.

No shit.

Bulma hesitated again. She started typing a reply. Then deleted it. She thought for a minute, half typed a new reply, then deleted that, suddenly indecisive. She was trying to compose another message when her phone buzzed again, his text popping up on her screen.

Bulma. What the fuck do you want?

Bulma sighed, giving up on trying to be delicate.

Can you come to my room? She finally typed out and sent, her stomach twisting nervously as she waited for his response.

She waited, and waited. Finally, she heard his door open, his feet padding along the corridor floor. Her own door creaked open. Bulma sat up as Vegeta peered in, squinting against the light of her lamp. His hair was rumpled, his eyes tired. He was dressed in only thin track pants, his chest and feet bare. Bulma had seen him topless before, but it was still a rare and pleasant enough sight that she let her eyes linger, admiring his rippling muscles. As she looked him over, he eyed her back, warily. He was probably skeptical of her state of undress. But when he saw her in a tank top and covered by her blankets, he stepped inside her room.

“What?” he snapped at her grumpily. “You've got five seconds to spit it out or I'm going back to bed.”

Bulma swallowed nervously. Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

“…I need you to watch me cum.”

~xox~

Vegeta sighed tiredly. He pushed a hand through his bed-messed hair. “Come on, Bulma. It's late. Why am I here?” he asked her, too weary to play her bullshit games. He wasn't in the mood to be teased. She better have a damn good reason for calling him here, or else he was going to grab the nearest pillow and suffocate her with it.

Even in the dim light of her room, he could see the humiliation flash across her face, just before she buried her head in her knees. Oh no. She wasn't teasing him. She had been goddamn serious.

Jesus fucking Christ.

“Nothing. Never mind,” she mumbled miserably to her knees.

Vegeta hesitated. Doubt wasn't a familiar feeling, or one that sat well for him. He always knew exactly what to do, all his life trusting in his gut, or following Frieza's orders. That had rarely led him astray (although a few times it had led him to jail). Nevertheless, he seldom needed to be delicate, not unless you considered negotiating a deal in the blackmarkets as `delicate'. Yet living with Bulma had forced Vegeta into developing a new set of skills, ones desperately needed to sidestep the precariously placed land mines of her innocent-seeming requests. Do you like my hair like this? Do these jeans make me look fat? Would you watch my porn? But whatever skills he had acquired were failing him now. Vegeta felt the `click' of his foot treading on this latest land mine, and he was stuck, unable to get off without blowing them both up.

Watch her cum? Was she fucking serious?! What the fuck was he supposed to say to that? How the hell could they go back to being just roommates if he agreed to that? Or worse, if he didn't agree to it. Would she forgive him if he just walked away? Doubtful. Fuck. It didn't matter how he responded, either way he was doomed, they were doomed, because their already fucked-up relationship hinged upon his response. Fuck. FUCK. And all of that wasn't even the worst part.

The worst fucking part was: he was dying to say yes.

Watch her cum? Jesus fuck, for days he had been imagining nothing else but her cumming.

Bulma was still hiding her face in her knees, looking so small and fragile against her cream blanket. Ashamed. Damnit… Vegeta sighed, and prayed that he wasn't going to have to fight a hobo for a park bench after tonight. He lightly shut her door and approached her bed. He sat on the far side, staring off to the side, keeping her in his peripheral vision.

“…Why the fuck do you want me to do that?” he asked her, his voice soft.

Her fingers tightened on the blanket. “…I need to know that I don't look ridiculous when I cum.”

Of course she fucking would. He should have known she would be freaking out about the shoot tomorrow. She had been talking about little else the last few days, gloating and preening. Yet when she didn't think he was watching, he had seen the worried crease of her brow, and the way she stared more critically than usual at her reflection in the mirror.

He was stressed about the shoot in his own way too. Bulma's text message hadn't woken him. He hadn't been sleeping a goddamn wink, his mind bouncing between arousal and anger at the idea of watching her getting fucked on the morrow… So if he was going to see her cum tomorrow on set, did it really matter if he watched her cum now? Only it did. It mattered a whole fucking lot. Watching her put on a show in front of a crew for a paycheck wasn't nearly the same thing as her cumming in private, just for him and her shattered nerves.

Bulma interrupted his thoughts, still speaking from behind her knees. “ I… I need to know I can do this in front of people, and… You're the only one I trust to show.”

Her confession punched him in the gut. Trust? She trusted him? It really shouldn't have surprised him. Bulma was letting him live with her after all; that required some level of trust. They ate together, shopped together, slept in the same apartment or sometimes on the same damn couch when it was late and the movie wasn't particularly interesting and they passed out until one of them woke up and encouraged the other to go to bed… Bulma hadn't just let him into her home, she had let him into her life. And he shouldn't have cared, that was none of his goddamn business who she did or didn't trust, but hearing her say those words, hearing her say she trusted him, only him, triggered a reaction Vegeta hadn't expected he would ever feel.

Damn her.

He was getting attached, letting her get too close. If he was smart, he should have gotten up, grabbed all his belongings, and left, never looking back.

Instead, he found himself looking at her tiny hunched form. It tore at him to see her so despondent. Gruffly he said, “Okay.”

~xox~

Bulma raised her head enough to peek at Vegeta over her knees. The shadows from the light of the lamp played over his skin, highlighting the sharp lines of his muscles. He looked like a painting. She stared, finding it easier to admire his body than acknowledge the magnitude of what he had just agreed to.

She finally raised her eyes to meet his. His dark, onyx gaze was hard to read in the shadows. But what really made her uneasy was the lack of his trademark scowl or sneer.

He was actually taking her seriously. And he had agreed.

Her heart skipped a beat. Several, in fact, leaving her lightheaded with disbelief.

For a moment, Bulma doubted if she could go ahead with her proposal. This suddenly felt like a bad idea. It was far too… personal. Just him and her. But if she couldn't masturbate in front of Vegeta, how was she going to cum in front of everyone else tomorrow? No, she had to do this, for herself, and for the shoot.

“Are you sure?” she asked him.

The hint of a familiar frown pulled at his brows. “Bulma. Do you want me to fucking watch or not?”

She smirked, his annoyance familiar and reassuring. She knew it well. He was trying to hide his embarrassment. Her hesitancy melted away. This was just Vegeta. She could do this with him. “Yeah.”

“Then don't question it, alright?” he said, sounding more unsure about his decision than she was.

“Okay, you got it, big guy,” she agreed with a soft smile. She laid back against her plush pillows, once again getting comfortable. She flashed Vegeta a coy look, her hands toying with the blankets. “Are you, uh, comfortable? Can you see okay over there?”

“Fine,” he grunted. He didn't really look at ease, sitting tensely on the edge of her bed, but Bulma wasn't about to question him.

“Alright. Well… I'm going to start now,” she announced. Her cheeks were burning. She slowly pulled the blanket back, revealing her thin tank top and panties. She didn't know why she felt so suddenly shy revealing herself to him. She loved showing off, and it was hardly the first time she had done so in front of Vegeta. But this was… a whole new level of uncovering. It was intimate.

Vegeta's Adam apple bobbed. He remained respectfully still, watching from the opposite end of the bed. His shoulders were tense, his arms braced stiffly on the bed. His face, expressionless, his black eyes watching her, unreadable. It made her feel uncertain. She lowered her eyes and tried to bolster her courage as she pushed her hand beneath her panties.

She swallowed nervously. Her eyes darted to her silent watcher. Vegeta hadn't moved, and wasn't saying a word. His gaze was as heavy as a predator's. Her heart thudded wildly. Did he like what he saw? She didn't have the slightest clue. Vegeta gave nothing away. She looked away, not brave enough to keep eye contact while she touched herself. Okay, girl, just get started, and it will get better from there… Bulma pressed her finger to her clit, and slowly started massaging herself.

But it didn't get better. She didn't have to look to know Vegeta was still watching, and somehow that was making things worse because she couldn't read him. She stole a glance at his face, trying to assess if he liked what he saw. But he was a goddamn statue, giving nothing away. Was he bored? Should she be playing it up more, putting on more of a show for him? Moaning? Writhing? She would have to do that tomorrow, wouldn't she? God, this was much harder than she thought it would be. He was probably regretting agreeing to watch. Even now he was probably cringing on the inside, or chastising her for being ridiculous. Look at little Bulma, pretending to be a porn star…

Stop it, Bulma, you're psyching yourself out!

I know!

Bulma cringed and stopped touching herself. She clamped her thighs over her right hand, and covered her face with her left. “S-sorry, I just… I just need a minute to get into the mood,” she stammered, wanting to sink into her bed and hope that her mattress would swallow her up, that she should never have to face Vegeta or the world again.

It was painfully, frustratingly quiet, Vegeta silent, only the sound of her breaths echoing in her ears. God, she felt so stupid, like an insecure virgin. This was not how it was supposed to be. She was supposed to feel sexy, empowered, and desired, just like in her recent fantasies when she imagined a certain not-so-tall, dark, and handsome man breaking down her door and ravaging her.

But she wasn't feeling desired.

And Vegeta wasn't breaking down any doors to get to her.

Bulma, you stupid, stupid girl…

The bed suddenly shifted as Vegeta got up. Oh, no, no. Please… please don't go and leave me now… Bulma didn't think she could take him leaving, not when she was feeling so embarrassed and vulnerable. God, if he left now, she wasn't sure she could hold back the tears…

The bed dipped at her side as a weight joined her. Bulma sucked in a startled breath and glanced over, her hand dropping away from her face. Vegeta was sliding down next to her. Her eyes widened, watching as he got comfortable, propping his head on his hand to look down at her. He wore the same dark gaze from before, only now, just inches away, she could see the heat in his eyes that the shadows had hidden from view. He was looking right at her, holding her gaze as if nothing else in the world mattered but her.

“Whenever you're ready,” he told her in a low voice. “I'm just getting comfortable.”

Bulma swallowed, forgetting how to breathe. She nodded mutely, unable to look away.

He didn't say anything else, just waited patiently, and kept her gaze.

Bulma gave him a small, grateful smile. “Okay. I'm going to try again.”

He gave a small nod of acknowledgement, his eyes flicking briefly to where her hand was hidden under her panties, then back to her face.

Encouraged, Bulma closed her eyes and started touching herself again. It felt better this time with his weight right next to her. Comfortable even. She could feel the heat radiating off him, feel his breath ghost her cheek as he exhaled. She let her own breath out in a soft sigh, almost a moan as she fingered her core, encouraging herself to get wet. Oh, it felt nice… This was actually going to work, she was going to cum in front of Vegeta, with him right there next to her.

She got more and more worked up, and as she did, it became harder and harder to not roll over, to press herself against him. She ached to nuzzle his jaw, to press her mouth to his. The more aroused she felt, the less interested she became in having a watcher, and the more she yearned for a participant.

But she would have one, tomorrow. Bulma frowned, feeling trepidation creep back up. Would her partner tomorrow be attractive? Would he be any good? He would have to be good, wouldn't he, being a porn star and all. But what if he did something… weird. What if she couldn't get into it with him? Was she allowed to use lube? Could she really go through with it, fucking someone she wasn't into?

Damnit, she was losing focus again. Her hand slowed, her arousal diminishing. This whole exercise was a train wreck! How the hell was she going to succeed tomorrow with all the distractions of a film set, when she couldn't even concentrate on sex now, with only one silent onlooker?

Something brushed her leg and she gasped, startled her out of her thoughts. Vegeta barely touched his fingertips to her thigh, but the sudden contact electrified her.

His eyes were locked to her face.

“You don't have to do this by yourself, do you?” he asked.

Bulma blinked at him, startled, her mind reeling to catch up to his train of thought. “By myself?”

“Tomorrow. Your co-star will be doing this for you.”

“Oh… Yes, probably.”

Vegeta considered her answer for a moment. His jaw worked, and, his voice incredibly low, said “Let me.”

Her heart was pounding. Exploding. Time slowing down. “L-let you what?”

“Make you cum.”

~xox~

Vegeta watched her reaction carefully, his gut clenching anxiously. He could hardly believe what he had said, the words offered before he could think to stop them. He had just wanted to soothe her. He could see her discomfort, see her struggling to keep momentum. He knew that look creeping over her face, the familiar furrowed brow and pursing of her lips; she made that face whenever something really pissed her off, right before she screamed colorfully and stomped off.

He didn't want her to quit, not now. Not when she was half dressed, with her fingers in her cunt. Not when he was already half hard just from the sight of her, her soft, breathy sighs clawing at his sanity. But her sighs were fading as she got wrapped up in whatever insecurities were now plaguing her thoughts.

But he knew his offer wasn't purely altruistic. It was true she wouldn't be cumming alone tomorrow. And while he could play off his suggestion as simple `practice', Vegeta knew he had more selfish motivations than that. It was about him wanting to touch her. How could it fucking not be? She was perfect; pale limbs, soft curves, flushed cheeks. And she had been giving him the worst case of blue balls lately. Goddamn if he wasn't looking for some kind of reward for all the shit she had made him endure. It was now or never, because after tomorrow's shoot, all this would end. She would get her porn check and cash it, and then life would return to normal as she went about looking for a real job, and harassing him to do the same. There would be no more lingerie, no more boobs hiding behind the refrigerator door, no more `practice'. So before they went back to being normal roommates, Vegeta wanted to be a little fucking selfish, and finger her until she squirmed.

If she would let him.

She still hadn't answered.

Bulma lay frozen on the bed, staring at him with impossibly wide eyes that glittered in the lamp light.

Oh fuck. He had crossed a line, hadn't he? Damnit, way to fuck it up, asshole… He lowered his gaze, starting to retract his hand.

“…Okay,” she abruptly said.

He paused, looking back at her, unsure if he had heard correctly. A pink blush crept over her cheeks, her eyes still watching him. Bulma retracted her hand from her panties, and touched it to his. Her fingers were wet. She was touching him with her juices on her goddamn fingers. He could smell her too, a sweet, feminine musk assailing his nostrils. It was messing with his head, making him feel drunk, dazed, aching to get a nose-full of more.

Holy shit.

She picked up his hand, and he let her. She was probably the only person in the world he allowed to touch him so casually. Her fingers were so slender and pale next to his. He watched, transfixed, as she guided his hand underneath her panties. A small breath escaped his lips when his fingers encountered feathery hair, and then down further, the soft warmth of her pussy.

Holy shit, he was touching her.

“Please,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper. It was just the two of them in the room, but to Vegeta they were the only two people in the whole world. Nothing else existed beyond the bedroom walls. There was only her, and his fingers smoothing over the cleft of her sex, touching the tip of her clit in between.

She gasped, her blue eyes begging for more. “Like this,” she said. She guided him, slipping his finger between her lips, pressing it over her clit a certain way, moving his finger in small, teasing circles.

Thank Christ she did, because Vegeta didn't think he had the capacity - or experience - to know what to fucking do. Had he ever fingered a woman to completion? No, not that he could recall. Sex had barely been a blip in the radar of his life, and those times he had fucked, he rarely gave his partner much consideration. But right now, Vegeta was compelled, obsessed with the need to make Bulma cum. And cum hard.

Payback, he told himself. Revenge for her blow job.

Vegeta followed her directions to the T, priding himself on being a fast learner. Soon enough, she let her hand fall away, giving him full control. She crooned in pleasure as he teased her tight little nub. He worked her that way for minutes, feeling her relax under his touch. His gaze trailed over her exposed belly, over her nipples, peaked under her thin tank top, just begging to be kissed, and over her pretty, flushed face.

She was watching him from under half-lidded eyes, her mouth slightly parted, panting. One hand lay by her temple, her fingers curled, clenching as he teased her. He let his finger dip a little lower, rubbing against her slickness. Bulma's breath hitched, her hips pushing against him.

Fuck. He wasn't mentally equipped for how hot this was. He was doing this to her. He was making her feel good. Against his thigh, his cock was throbbing, swelling. He hoped she didn't notice, worried it might spoil the mood. He would never forgive himself if he fucked this moment up.

His finger followed her wetness until he was rubbing against her tiny hole. It elicited the most amazing, needy sound from her. Her thighs fell wider apart, in silent invitation for more. Vegeta had to fight the urge to tear her panties off and mount her. He wanted to fuck her tight, wet cunt until he spilled himself inside. Would she even stop him if he tried?

But he didn't want to risk it. And there was something equally satisfying at having her come apart with just his hand. After this night, it wouldn't matter how much she screamed at him, or nagged him about getting a job, or how angry she got when he didn't do the dishes. It would all be worth it. They would both know that no matter how high and mighty she liked to act, he had made her cum on his finger buried inside her hot little cunt.

He could feel her little entrance fluttering, growing wetter. He watched her face carefully as he eased a finger inside, slowly, slowly, sinking into her slick, sucking heat. Bulma mewled, arching her head back against her pillow, her bangs falling over her eyes.

God, she was incredible. He wanted to tell her as much, to ask if she liked it, if she wanted it faster, if he could suck her nipples into his mouth or if she was still willing to practice her blow jobs. But he didn't dare, couldn't find it in himself to speak, incapable of expressing himself so rawly.

Her hair was still obscuring her eyes.

He shifted his weight to his forearm to better lean over her, sweeping back her bangs with his free hand. She startled, giving him a questioning look. They stared into each other's eyes, drawn together like two magnets, their breaths intermingling.

“Look at me so I can watch you cum,” he told her.

~xox~

Bulma's breath stuck in her throat, robbing her the ability to respond. Vegeta's whispered words destroyed her. His eyes bore into hers, and she felt herself drowning in them. Never had she felt so emotionally vulnerable. Nor so perfectly safe. She nodded weakly, trusting him implicitly.

She didn't take her eyes off him. Neither did he, his dark eyes pinning her to the bed. He pushed his thick finger deeper inside, slowly fucking her. She moaned brokenly, heat flushing her body, making her tremble with need. But she didn't look away. God, he was being so careful. It was agony. She wanted more, ached to rise up and kiss him, to press her mouth against the serious line of his lips. Would he react badly like he usually did, always the angry prude? Or would he surprise her, kiss her back, and crush the full weight of his body against her?

He was so silent. He had barely said more than a dozen words. She longed to hear his voice murmuring more obscene things in her ear. She wanted him to say `cum' again, in that low, gravely voice. She wanted to know what he was thinking, to have him encourage her with dirty words. She knew he was capable of it. What would it be like to cum while he called her a good little kitten?

He was still fucking her slowly, easing his finger in and out. She grabbed his bicep, clinging to his arm, needing to anchor herself. She spread her thighs wider, hoping he would get the message. She wanted more, needed more.

After a moment, he caught on. Another thick finger joined his first, stretching her open. Bulma groaned, her fingers digging into his muscled arm.

“H-oh god,” she keened wretchedly. It was hard not to throw her head back in pleasure, but the intense fire in Vegeta's eyes kept her gaze locked to his. His mouth parted, and for a wild moment she thought he might kiss her or speak. But he remained silent, panting, trying to appear unaffected, but his hot breath mixing with her own proved otherwise.

It was more than she could take. “Vegeta,” she moaned, his name falling from her lips before she could think better of being so personal. She was desperate. Sopping wet. His fingers made soft, obscene sounds as he pushed them in and out of her, but it wasn't enough. God, it wasn't enough, she needed- “More. Please…”

Please fuck me…

~xox~

Vegeta's breath hitched. He hadn't been expecting her to say his name. Why had she said his name? That changed everything. How could he pretend this was just fucking practice when she was staring so desperately into his eyes like a drowning thing, breathlessly moaning his name, begging him for more? Him, she wanted him.

Everything in his body screamed at him to give it to her.

~xox~

Bulma saw something flash in Vegeta's eyes. He hunched closer to her, his fingers by her pillow brushing through her hair, his thumb grazing her temple. She could smell him, his familiar, masculine scent cloying her senses. He shifted the angle of his arm in her panties, and started fucking her more roughly, his fingers thrusting in and out of her with aggressive strength. She sobbed, losing the ability to think, falling down a spiral of pleasure and need.

She held onto his arm, her other hand clutching at her chest, at the sheets, before finally settling on him, touching his broad chest, running up to his shoulder. She trembled beneath him, feeling the onset of orgasm. It was a huge, building wave, hurtling towards her, as black and consuming as his eyes. She was helpless to escape it, and could only let it pound into her; relentlessly, powerful.

His fingers shoved deep inside her, his palm slapping wetly against her clit. Her thighs trembled, spreading wantonly to accommodate as much of him as she could take. She wanted to take all of him. She had seen his cock, held it in her hand and tasted it with her mouth. It was big, bigger than two of his fingers. If only he would fuck her with it now. How would it feel to have him stretching her out, pounding into her with the full force of his body? Bulma whimpered at the idea, feeling his name start to form once more on her tongue, but it got lost to her throaty moans. She was keening uncontrollably, throbbing, burning, coming apart as Vegeta gave her the most intense fingering of her life.

“I'm…!” she tried to announce, feeling the wave crash over her. It hit like a tidal wave, knocking the air from her lungs. She sobbed, shuddering in mind numbing ecstasy. And for every intense, throbbing moment of it, their eyes didn't leave each others'.

She came down slowly, not wanting it to end. She squeezed his wrist to slow him down, but he didn't stop entirely, still gently thrusting into her as she quivered and gasped to catch her breath. His other hand stroked her temple, and she realized, embarrassed, that a few tears of pleasure had dripped from her eyes. Vegeta simply wiped them away without comment.

Finally, she slumped back into the mattress, completely done. Her heart was still pounding a thousand miles an hour, her blood like liquid fire in her veins, her head foggy with pleasure. Sleep started teasing at the edges of her consciousness. She was spent.

Vegeta's hand came to a stop. He pulled his wet fingers out of her. She sighed mournfully, and let her thighs fall closed. He kept his hand inside her panties. She guessed he didn't know what to do with it.

But she did.

Gently, Bulma coaxed him to pull his hand out. Before he could stop her, she guided his hand to her mouth.

Vegeta inhaled sharply, right before she licked his messy fingers. She watched him from under lowered lashes, enjoying his wide-eyed shock, brows furrowed in a pained expression as she suckled his fingers in her hot mouth. She hummed, as content as a cat with cream. She could taste herself on him and it sent a wicked thrill through her exhausted body. She stretched out against him, nudging him with her leg. Her thigh jutted something large and solid in his pants.

~xox~

Vegeta sucked in another sharp breath when she brushed against his hard-on. He tried to back his hips away before she could notice, but the damage was done. Her lips curled up in a knowing, smug smile, her tongue flicking teasingly against his fingers. She sucked them clean with a wet pop, then licked her lips before asking, “Did I look okay?”

Please. As if his rock-hard cock weren't proof that yes, she had looked more than okay. Until the day he fucking died, Vegeta would never forget how her insides milked his fingers, or how her face flushed and scrunched in pleasure, her big, blue eyes locked to his, burning with a pleasure and trust that utterly shattered him.

He nodded in response, unable to give her a verbal answer.

“…Then I guess I'm ready for tomorrow?” she asked, letting his hand go.

He nodded again. He didn't know what to do with his hand now that he had it back. He was tempted to run his thumb over her plump lip, but he resisted.

She gave him a wry, lazy smile. “You're so quiet. You could give a girl a word of encouragement, you know.”

He frowned, embarrassed, knowing she was right. “…You were fine,” he forced himself to say, his voice hoarse.

Bulma smiled. She lowered her eyes, breaking the gaze they had been holding. The loss of her clear, blue eyes suddenly left him feeling more empty than he cared to admit.

“Thank you for your help,” she whispered softly.

He swallowed, glad now that she had looked away. He couldn't face her gratitude directly. “Hn.”

“Want me to return the favor?” she offered. “I can finish you off.”

His mind melted. He was fucking done. He wanted nothing more than to agree, to feel her hand, or mouth, or fuck, even her amazing, wet pussy, wrapped silkily around his cock. But he didn't know if he could keep it together if she touched him right now. Although she was the one who had cum, he was the one feeling undone, raw and exposed before her.

He glanced at her uncertainly, and saw the languid way she blinked at him. It was late. She was half curled on her side, facing him, relaxed and spent. Her breathing had evened out, growing deeper and slower, her eyes fluttering closed, on the verge of sleep. Tomorrow would be a taxing day for her.

Vegeta swallowed, and made what might have been the first unselfish decision of his life.

“No. You sleep,” he growled, then quickly added, “I need to sleep. It's fucking late.”

“Mm'kay,” she replied, letting her eyes finally fall closed, exhausted.

Getting up and leaving her there, knowing she would likely submit to any sexual activity he proposed, was one of the hardest things he had ever done. He stood, adjusting himself, watching as she curled up on her side, pressing her nose into the pillow where he had been lying just a moment ago. He waited, but she made no move to turn off the lamp, or cover herself up.

He made an agitated sound. “You trying to catch a goddamn cold?” he asked, leaning over to grab the blanket.

She smiled and hummed. “Mmm, but I still feel hot from you.”

He tried to fight back a blush, glad her eyes were still closed. “Idiot,” he grumbled under his breath as he tucked her in, then hastily turned off her lamp.

He closed her door, then went back to his own room. As soon as his door was shut, he smacked his forehead against the hard wood and stared down at his feet in a panic.

What

The

Fuck…

He had walked away. He had fucking walked away after MAKING HER CUM. Why, why? How many times had she asked him the most ridiculous, selfish things, leaving him with nothing but a `thank you' and the desperate need to jerk off?

Get back in there and fuck her already.

But Vegeta didn't move, his mind imploding with how this chain of events might fuck up the one good thing he had going on his life. How the hell was he going to look at Bulma again without remembering how pretty she looked when she came, or how she sounded, or how her perfect, hot cunt had felt?

Vegeta dragged a hand over his face, biting back a groan. The smell of her still lingered on his fingers. Her voice, moaning his name, teased at his memory.

Fuck.

He pushed off from the door and headed into his room, grabbing a box of tissues. He sat on his bed, and furiously jerked off, stroking himself with the same hand that had just been inside of her, that she had licked clean, just minutes ago. It took him next to no time to cum. He spilt himself into a wad of tissues, gasping into the lonely emptiness of his room.

He tossed the used tissues into the trash and flopped back against his mattress, throwing an arm over his face as his breath rattled in his ears. If all went well, he would get to hear and watch her cum again tomorrow. Only this time it would be because of another man.

His hand fisted, and something black and ugly swelled inside of him. He slammed his fist down onto the bed in frustration.

What a fucking chump he was.

…How the fuck was he going to survive tomorrow's shoot?

~xoXox~

AN: beta-read by Artephile/Marcella-Duchamp, our resident vegebul fanfic librarian and aficionado ~_^

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.

Please check out Stupidoomdoodles' NSFW art for this fic too. We'd love to hear your feedback. All sinners welcome ^_^