Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Rekindle my fire ❯ Fire ( Chapter 3 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

PART THREE:

He discarded her shirt roughly, but noticing the glint of wariness in
her eyes, he removed her other garments with as much gentleness as he
could produce. He knew Yamucha was quick to rip off her clothes and
toss her into bed, he could hear them every night. But he also knew
what this woman really wanted, and pleasing her would be an honor to
him. Tenderness, her heart pleaded to his. There she stood in all her
glory, a beacon in the night, her perfect structure pressed against
him slightly. She removed his clothes, and her hands rested on his
warm muscles. Everything felt so right, she thought, as they slid into
the warm bath water. He laid her head upon his chest. Taking the bar
of soap from its dish, he began to massage her body, being careful to
clean her from the caked mud and dirt. He lifted one of her legs
delicately, and slid his fingers slowly downwards until she moaned
softly. She arched her back, and her eyes glazed over with pleasure.
Time seemed to stop as the night unfolded itself to the new lovers,
and Vegeta continued to bathe her, making sure she never lifted a
finger. The Saiyajin Prince's mate was the most cared for female in
his race, and he was not about to let the tradition slide. So he
patiently dried her like a mother would a child, and then laid her
back on his bed.

She opened her arms to him as he slid into the sheets with her, and
they began to make love. He slowly nudged her legs apart, and she
guided him inside her, encouraging him with little whispers and nips
on his chin. When he entered fully, they both gasped, and thus began
their exploration of each others bodies. All the desire she thought
she'd lost, he brought back to her, tenfold. She moaned into his ear,
weaving her hands into his hair. Then it happened. Vegeta nuzzled her
shoulder, and bit her. The small sting immediately began to subside,
and as the pleasure once again dominated her, he began to make a low
purring sound. She giggled inwardly with delight, as she realized he
was singing. What had just happened was so unexpected, Bulma looked up
at him with tears of wonder and joy in her eyes. It was a song in his
native tongue, one that Saiyan lovers would sing during the acts of
love, the acts of bonding. She understood him somehow, and she
playfully hummed along with him, their voices blending into a
bittersweet harmony. Their love was like a blinding light, the passion
taking their souls into a tumultuous storm, leaving them breathless
yet exultant, beaten yet triumphant.

She loved him more than she would permit herself to say, yet he knew
it through her touch, her laugh, her eyes. As did he, for he had shown
her the same unconditional tenderness the next night, and the next
night, and the thousands of nights yet to come. For him she lived,
Vegitasei's finest Queen.