Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ The Dark Duke ❯ Unexpected ( Chapter 30 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ, or the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. But if I did own DBZ...Vegeta would have beat Goku in a fight. Just once. Goku was the hero, I understand this (and I do love him!) but I wanted Vegeta to best him just once.

Warnings: Cussing and (wait for it...) lemon.

A/N: Okay, so it's not before New Years (I did not mean to lie: Sickness! Holidays! Vacations!) but I hope everyone had an awesome holiday season and a fantastic New Years! Thank you for everyone who reviews (whether it be the first time or the fiftieth), and thank you to anyone who has stayed with me as my posting schedule has gone as crazy as my life. You guys all are rock stars in my opinion, and I have to say I love this fandom.

Big thank you to Lilpumpkin girl this time for keeping my head on straight when I forget certain things. Seriously, you should thank her for making sure this story does not go completely off the rails.

Oh, also, since I was playing Portal 2 at the time I was writing this chapter, I had to make a reference to it. Fantastic game, highly recommend it to anyone. Okay--onto the show!

Chapter Thirty: Unexpected

The first words Bulma got spoken to by her new husband, after they were pronounced man and wife were, "Get your things. We are leaving immediately." She had followed his orders, but when she had appeared at the rented carriage that would be taking her to Vegetasei, all he had done was nod before he had gotten on his horse, and that was that. No talk about what their future together entailed, or what this new state of being between them was, or just how it came to be that they were man and wife--which was just fantastic for an increasingly worried Bulma.

The carriage ride was boring as hell, Bulma in there with nothing but her thoughts and concerns for her now unforeseen future as the Duchess of Vegetasei. She did not even have so much as a book to distract her, and though she spent some of her time sketching, the rocky carriage was not really harmonious with her desires to draw with a straight hand and that too was abandoned. So she spent most of her time staring out of the window, watching the changing English landscape, and surreptitiously watching her new (and unexpected) husband ride.

She had not slept that well, the night before, picturing her wedding day. The way Vegeta had acted she had assumed they would be getting a room at an inn to consummate their marriage, soon after the vows were over. She had been unable to deny how excited and fanciful she grew as she imagined him holding her, being inside of her again--but apparently her sleeplessness had been for naught. Here they were, now, married and he had only spoken seven words to her (none of them scandalous or even the least bit dirty) before promptly ignored her. Fantastic. She sighed as she watched him gallop ahead, before turning back to the landscape, wishing she could understand what was going on in that head of his. Though she suspected if she could ever understand what Vegeta was thinking, then she truly would be the world's smartest woman.

Somewhere around watching the sunset that night and sighing over her new situation for the thousandth time she must have fallen asleep (not that she was that surprised, since she had really not slept well the night before) as she was awakened by the second time her legally betrothed husband had spoken to her, as well as a gentle shake of her shoulder. "Wake up. We are here."

Bulma had blinked a few times, seeing that she must have slept for longer than she had thought, going by how dark the sky was, as well as the crust of drool she felt on her cheek. She hastily wiped at it, her eyes focusing on the shadow of the man in front of her, and not for the first time did she feel her stomach warp as she thought of him as he now was to her, her husband. No longer just the intimidating Dark Duke, the unapproachable Lord Vegeta, the powerful Vegetasei, the unfeeling Vegeta or even that asshole who ruined her life--but her frickin' husband.

Bulma took advantage of Vegeta not leaving her side with haste to sleepily ask him, "Is thisÊVegetasei?"

Vegeta nodded, looking behind his shoulders to the mostly darkened building. "The staff was unaware that we were arriving tonight as I originally told them we would be stopping in Leicester, but it was early enough that I wanted to push on through to Vegetasei."

Bulma nodded, as if this explained everything, though, to be honest, she would have a very difficult time pointing out Leicester on a map. Or any --cester, or any --shire, or any fucking place in England that was not London. She could be in Ireland right now, and she would not be aware--though she would like to think the rocking of the ocean would have alerted her to where her new home was. Still, nothing like feeling as lost as she currently did to really drive home the point of how alone she was, marriage status be damned. Ê

Vegeta moved back from her, exiting the carriage, and Bulma sleepily stretched and moved as well, following Vegeta as he led her into the darkened looming shape that she could only assume was the house that was the size of the palace in London. The moon was new tonight, so she could not even get a real glance at it, other than to tell that it was in fact a building. Well, that was an understatement--even in the dark of the night, she could tell the place was palatial, down right massive, not that she could tell you anything about it except that it was dark, large, and looked like it had windows?

She followed Vegeta into the massive foyer, not that she could see much of that, either, what with it being lit by only a few candles in a candelabrum. A liveried butler, ancient as Jeffries was, was waiting for them, though, and by the crust on his cheek it looked as if he too was just woken up in haste (even though the rest of him was impeccable as Bulma would expect from any Vegetasei servant -her new servants, she guessed). He bowed deep, and Vegeta nodded to the man, the authoritative glint in his eye. "Wheatley. Good of you to greet us."

"Of course your Grace."

Vegeta impatiently hit his riding gloves against the palm of his hand as he spoke, looking all around the darkened foyer. "It is too late now, so make sure you have the staff ready in the morning for their introduction to the new Duchess."

Wheatley turned to Bulma, his eyes opening infinitesimally wider as he looked at her, though he dropped into a bow to her as well. He reverently murmured to her, "Welcome to Vegetasei, your Grace." Bulma stopped herself from curtseying back, though she could not help the deep swallow or the large eyes that accompanied her new title. Ê

Vegeta, already half turned away from them, looked back uninterested at the pair as he commanded, "Wheatley, have her taken to the Palace bedroom."

Wheatley turned back to the Duke, his eyes larger as he repeated in a tone that bordered (as much as a monotonous good servant's voice could) on incredulity, "The Palace bedroom?"

Bulma watched the exchange with interest, though why the Palace bedroom was so special was lost to her as Vegeta gave a swift nod, his frown deepening as he simply said, "Yes." Vegeta turned to Bulma then, speaking monotonically as if she were a houseguest and not his new wife. "Wheatley will take you to your new chambers, and I will have a maid bring up a repast for you to eat, then you should get to sleep. Tomorrow you will meet the servants and have a tour of the grounds and house."

Bulma noticed Vegeta did not say he would be giving her the tour, or be with her while she met the servants. That spiked the anger in her that she had felt simmering just below the surface of how he had been and was currently treating her. He was ignoring again, wasn't he? Some perverse part of her knew he was looking to escape from being here with her, so she poked the bear, asking him, "What time is it?"

Vegeta looked at her full on then, looking slightly bemused as he quirked an eyebrow at her like he could not believe her gall in asking for the time. From him. Her new husband. "It's just half one."

Bulma nodded wracking her brain for a something appropriate enough to ask Vegeta in front of a servant, that would keep him with her but she noticed that Wheatley was already moving up the stairs. She sighed, resignedly following him up the stairs, though she straightened her spine as she stopped on the curved stairs, looking to a moving Vegeta. She forced herself to sound as strong as she stood, her spine straight. Her voice came out commanding, and she was proud of that--she hated feeling like she currently did, like she had no control in her life. "I will see you in the morning."

Vegeta, who was being eaten by the shadows of the large foyer as he walked past the stairs, stopped at the commanding tone in her voice. He turned slowly, that eyebrow still arched as he met her eyes. A flicker of the old heat was there in his eyes one that she could see even from a distance as he observed her before nodding his head. "As you wish."

Then he turned, the tenuous connection between them broken, and Bulma watched him go, disappearing into the shadows of the looming hallway, the candle he held bobbing as he went in his own direction. For some reason she felt a profound sense of sadness as she saw that too disappear. Apparently, they would not be sharing chambers together, nor would he be joining her in bed. The sinking feeling in her chest surprised her more than anything. Despite what he had said to her about having a real marriage, it seemed as if Vegeta was treating this marriage as exactly it was--a marriage of convenience.

Hell, it was basically whatever the British equivalent of what a shotgun wedding was--she was pregnant, and though he had tracked her down and married her, Bulma got the feeling it was more out of duty to protect Kakarrot from marrying her than for him to actually wed her. Which begged the question just why had he married her? To ignore her? To further punish her for having made the mistake of getting pregnant by him?

Bulma sighed, turning back towards the waiting butler, who was standing at the top of the stairs watching her curiously. She used his curiosity to fuel her pride, and she gave him her most regal turning up of her nose as she continued up the stairs, her head held high, and her back straight. As she reached the top she saw a flicker of pride in the Butler's eyes as she observed how she held herself and Bulma felt slightly better. Now as she followed him down another massive hallway, her footsteps were swallowed by the lush rugs that covered the floor, and though she was desperately curious to observe all about the Vegeta's main land holdings, Bulma forced herself to keep her head straight forward, her eyes trained on nothing, her face showing polite disinterest (as it always should when you were a--now titled--lady).

As they reached the double doors at the end of whatever wing they were in, Wheatley gave a polite nod as he held the door open for her and Bulma swept into her new rooms. As she entered Bulma had a disconcerting thought that she had not a clue how to get back to the main hallway from where she was currently as she had been too busy holding her head up high. She hoped a maid would be there to help her find her way to the breakfast room in the morning or else she would be have to shamefully call on one to show her around her new home.

The thoughts of getting lost though were gone as she realized she was now in the chambers she was to be calling home while here (or for life, she assumed). They too were large--a large sitting room that was neither overtly masculine or too feminine, a large hearth, a large comfortable looking chaise, a large few stuffed chairs--it seemed like the kind of (large) private parlor one would have to relax in before going to bed. And it was entirely too large for just herself, she mused. Who was she to share it with though? Her ghost of a husband? The man who did not deign to even look at her?

Wheatley opened the door to the bedroom to the right of the hearth, bowing as he said, "I will send up a maid to help you dress for bed, your Grace."

Bulma, who had been nodding, froze as she heard her new honorific for only the second time. Your Grace--she was a duchess now, wasn't she? A true, honest to goodness titled woman, and not just that, but the highest title one could get without being a princess--her mother was going to be over the moon. Bulma swallowed heavily, feeling as if this should have made her happier than it currently did, as if she too should have been dancing in delight at her new fortune. She should have been ecstatic at her new title (though honestly titles had never really gotten her as excited as they did other Americans), but instead all she felt was this sinking feeling of dread when she realized her and the dowager had something in common. Would Bulma turn out as old and as bitter as her? She hoped not--she would much rather be a somewhat batty old person (like her own parents) than as cold and as heartless as that woman....

Realizing Wheatley was waiting for her as he gave a discreet cough, Bulma gave another nod, straightening her spine once more. "Thank you for your help Wheatley. I shall see you in the morning," effectively dismissing him, before walking into her new bedroom with all the strength she could carry.

It was dark except for a few candles, and all Bulma could really grasp from the room was that it was dominated by an extremely huge four poster bed, and that it seemed to be decorated in a dark, navy blue color. Other than that, Bulma could not drive up the inspiration to really examine her room more, especially now that she did not have an audience to play up to. She would have the rest of her life to observe strict societal rules and act proper. Right now, all she wanted to do was to eat, then to crawl into that bed and to force herself not to get too wrapped up in her thoughts. Yes her life had taken a few unexpected turns, and sure, nothing seemed to be going in her favor at the moment--but she was Bulma fucking Briefs.

The incomparable of the London Ton, the envy of every woman in New York--and she was done with letting herself get depressed like she had been. Sure, the pregnancy hormones were not helping, but she was not a person who sat around being depressed. She was a go-getter. So tomorrow she would really take stock of her new life, and figure things out such as where her lab was going to go here, where the babies room was going to be, and how to run a palatial estate such as this. And she would talk to Vegeta. She needed to know where she stood with him, and she needed to get some things off of her chest--and she would try her best not to shout them at him. Though she was making no promises, as he deserved to be yelled at and more in her opinion....

Having made that decision, Bulma felt more confident now that she had a plan of sorts and she paced her new bedroom as she awaited the promised maid. She did not have to wait long (Kami, this place was efficient, just as she should expect from anything of Vegeta's) as a younger woman came in, bobbing a curtsy as she introduced herself as Mary. "I came to help you dress for bed, your Grace. I left a tray of the cook's best rolls and some cheese and meat out in the sitting room. Is there anything else I can bring for you?"

Bulma thought about how much sleep she had gotten in the carriage, her current agitated state, putting them together to realize she was not tired, nor would she easily be able to relax in a bed. Though she knew the hour was late an idea hit her, and she turned towards the girl smiling for the first time in what felt like ages. "Mary, while I eat, can you have a hot bath drawn for me? I would greatly like to wash the days travels off of me."

Mary seemed a little startled at that request (really, who asked for a bath at 1:30 in the morning??), but she still gave a nod. After helping Bulma change, Mary left with another curtsy, as quiet as she had been when she had entered it. Bulma, used to the general clamor always present wherever her family was felt like screaming--maybe she could convince the servants they had to wear bells? At least then her existence would be slightly more musical....

Bulma went into the sitting room and finished her meal quickly, silence and darkness her only companions as she stared into the fire that had been made for her as she ate. She did not like to think this about herself, and despite her new resolve to make the most out of her new life, but maybe she had made a stupid decision in marrying Vegeta. Not that he had given her much choice, but Bulma recognized (foolishly perhaps) that she had expected things to be different between them. She had expected him to treat her like a husband, for one, not some forgotten burden that he was now shackled with. Hell, he could not even work himself up enough about her to come and have his dastardly way with her.

She was sorely disappointed about this.

She had known Vegeta was not one for great declarations of love and sweetness, and she was not even sure that he had love or sweetness within him, but she had expected him to at least carry through with consummating the marriage, despite what he had told her in the hotel room those few months ago. She had expected their marriage to be full of fighting, and passion, loads and loads of passion--not this icy silence that permeated the air between them since that morning. The sex between them was always explosive on her end, and even if she had to endure a lifetime of Vegeta's attitude and sneering--which truthfully was not as bad as it sounded since she understood it better now--she had been expecting to endure a lifetime of him making her moan and scream between the sheets as well...though on further thought, when had they ever had sex between sheets like a normal couple? Or what she assumed a normal couple was like. Maybe everyone fornicated everywhere like they did?

"Your Grace, the bath is ready for you."

Bulma looked up from the plate she had been unconsciously running her finger around, as her thoughts grew more and more lascivious, the young maid bobbing another curtsy at her before Bulma blinked slowly, pulling herself away from her thoughts. She definitely needed to outfit the staff with bells or some other way to alert Bulma of their presence. She could not keep being caught unawares by them, thinking such dirty things as she was. "Thank you. I will ring when I am done," Bulma curtly said, dismissing the maid so she could bathe alone.

She waited until Mary was gone before she sighed, standing, walking through her new room, straight to the connected bath chamber, where she was extremely happy to see wisps of steam rising off of a large porcelain tub filled with hot water. Bulma let out a contented sigh as she felt the warmth from the bath permeate her body, even from where she stood, her muscles already starting to unwind. Now this, this was her idea of heaven after two days of being stuck in a carriage and sleeping in that inn last night. Bulma quickly pulled her robe off, her night rail following, before she walked over, allowing herself to sink into the warm water.

The groan that left her lips was pure pleasure as she sank in, enveloped in heat, and Bulma knew in that moment that while her marriage might not be what she was expecting, there would always be some simple pleasures in life that would make it worth it, and give her the resolve to carry on as only Bulma Briefs--no, wait--Bulma Vegeta nee Briefs, now, could.

~~&~~

Vegeta made sure he had meandered around downstairs for a good hour before going up to his room. He wanted to give Bulma plenty of time to fall asleep before he came to the bedroom--he would not be sleeping in it tonight, as Bulma had made it clear that she did not want to see him until morning--but he still needed to get to his dressing room before he slept. So he was not, technically, going against Bulma's dismissal of him earlier--he was just grabbing what he needed, and leaving. He did not even care that she had sent him away tonight.

Well...okay that was a lie. Some part of Vegeta had wanted to protest at her ignoring her wifely duties, but the other half, the bigger half of him that felt guilty for marrying the poor woman without her knowing all of the circumstances of Vegeta's future, had bowed his head and left her to herself as he went to his study. He had planned on drinking himself into a stupor, but instead he had stared sightlessly at the rows of books in front of him, wondering what else life was going to throw at him. Just when Vegeta thought he had it all figured out, nope. He thought he had finally gotten his affairs in order, finding a suitable heir to take over the Vegetasei title when he was gone? Just kidding! He instead had sired a child with a woman who made him feel! Who he had to marry for both her honor and his! Who might or might not produce a male heir that Vegeta would not be able to raise! Ê

It was enough to drive anyone to drink--anyone but him tonight it seemed. So Vegeta had waited, unblinking, unseeing, unthinking--until he had seen that a good hour had passed since Bulma had gone upstairs. He had stood stiffly from the chair he had been occupying and walked the familiar stairs of his childhood home all the way up to his chambers, intending just to grab his robe from his closet before heading to sleep somewhere else. He forced himself to not look at the bed in the darkened room, the only light coming from a candle burning on a side table, knowing that if he saw Bulma's sleeping form he might not be able to help himself. From sliding into bed next to her, waking her up with all of the unspoken passion he wanted to share with her, showing her that while he might be a piteous husband in some aspects, in this one he would always go above and beyond.

She was his dammit, and the beast inside of him roared for him to claim her as such.

Instead Vegeta went into his dressing room grabbing the black robe he would change into once he was in another room and a few other necessities, feeling exhausted and sore from the excessive amount of riding he had been doing. He just needed a good night's sleep then he would be better prepared for what was facing him in these upcoming weeks.

He hoped.

Vegeta left his dressing room, trying to force himself to just power walk back through the room, heading straight on to the next bedroom that had linens in it so he could drag his very exhausted and tired body to bed. He made it all the way to the front door of the room by sheer will, before his body stopped, not allowing him to go a step further. It was literally as if he had hit a wall--he could not take a step further if he wanted too. He tried to keep walking out, to scale the mental wall he himself had put up, to tell himself that he knew what Bulma looked like....

His tries were in vain--it did not matter what he thought he wanted, his body really knew that no matter how many times he had seen Bulma, naked or clothed, he could not get enough. It was automatic, this need he had for her--and it was exactly the kind of weakness he had been trying to avoid by pretending she did not exist. This is exactly why he had pushed himself away from her, because when he was around her his orderly world went topsy-turvy and he seemed to lose all control of himself.

Vegeta sighed, frowning at himself and his own weakness, before he turned to where the only lit candle in the room rested, picking up the candleholder as he turned to face the bed. He approached the ducal bed cautiously, trying to be as soundless as possible so as not to wake her--then felt the frown on his face deepening as he realized there was no one asleep in the massive bed. There was no one in it period.

Vegeta cursed, staring down at the empty bed, wondering if the footman had brought Bulma up to the duchess's quarters, as that was where society dictated she sleeps. In the room on the other side of the sitting room he had walked through to get here--in her own bed. It was considered beyond unseemly to actually sleep in the same room as ones husband--a rule that Vegeta had never really considered before but now hated with every fiber in his being. ÊVegeta had been selfish with his decision to have her sleep in his room with him, but the part of him that lost all control around her had been unable to let her have her own room. She was his now and he wanted her at his side, sleeping, every night.

Well maybe not sleeping....

Fuck. He would have to now explain to her that the room she slept in this night was technically hers but he would prefer her to be in his...no, that sounded stupid and needy. Which he supposed he was. He was. Needy for her, that was. But he did not want her to know how needy he was. If he had a weakness for her it was his secret to keep, and no one else's business. Especially not hers. Vegeta sighed as he sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his eyes as a wave of tiredness washed over him. Best to leave all of this heavy thinking and soul searching for the morning. Well, at least he would get to sleep in his own bed tonight.

That thought did not help his suddenly black mood.

Vegeta sighed again, guessing he was tired enough to fall asleep, ready to lie back into his familiar large bed--when he froze.

Was that a moan he had just heard?

A moan coming from his water closet?

What the fuck?

Vegeta put the candle he had still been holding on the bedside table, and instead approached the partially open door to his water closet he had not seen was ajar in his haste to and from the room. He had been so blinded first by his need to leave the room as quickly as possible, and then by his need to see Bulma he had not even noticed that there was light coming from under the door, or heard the subtle sound of splashing that was obvious if one held themselves absolute still, right outside of the door, holding their breath as well. Which was exactly what Vegeta had done once he realized that hope was not lost with seeing Bulma tonight, holding himself absolutely still as he listened. Ê

Bulma was here. In his room. Even better--she was in his bathroom, using his tub by the sound of it. Which meant that she was absolutely naked, and the only thing separating him from her at this moment was a door. A door he could noiselessly pull open, so he could get his first look at a naked Bulma as his wife.

There was a moment where he hesitated, wondering if he would be pushing his luck, being too uncouth in opening the door, and watching his wife bathe. He was raised as a gentleman after all, and Bulma, while not a true lady, still acted like one and should be afforded more respect than for her new husband to go against her wishes and approach her tonight.

Then she had let out another moan; one of pure physical satisfaction, and the decision had been out of Vegeta's hands.

The door had noiselessly opened, and Vegeta had allowed himself a long moment to take in the scene before him. Bulma had her back to him in the tub, facing the tiled wall, her hands in her luxurious blue hair as she lathered it up, her naked back bare to him as she coiled the massive amount of hair she had around her head. Some of the suds escaped from her massaging hands, slipping over her slick skin, and he was faced with the desire to follow their very path with his tongue, taste of the soap be damned. It was Bulma. Her flavor would be sure to wash away the taste of anything else unsavory--and dammit--it had been way too long since he had allowed himself that pleasure of touching or tasting her. Ê

He looked at her head as she let out another moan, and he felt something shift inside of him that was unrelated to the lust he was displaying. It was not as if she were putting everything on display to him, but something about seeing Bulma so unguarded in that moment, relaxed and shampooing her hair--it had made Vegeta hard, while at the same time made him weary as to what his true feelings for his new bride were. He was having a very expected reaction to seeing a naked Bulma, his heart speeding up, his blood pumping, the beast in him screaming for him to take her with his already painfully hard cock--but he was having an unexpected one as well. One that softened at the sight of her relaxed as he had not seen her in months it seemed, one that wanted to smile at her as he was sure she was smiling--it was uncomfortable for a whole other reason than his bodily reactions were. Ê

But all thoughts, unpleasant and pleasant, were gone from his head as Bulma had dipped under the water, submerging herself, before she emerged again, standing this time as she sighed again. Vegeta's hand had moved down to cup himself, heavy and straining for her warmth, squeezing himself as she let out one last moan of pleasure as water and soap sluiced off of her curves. This was better than any fantasy he had conjured up of her. And he had conjured up many. Many, many. More than he would care to admit to even himself. It seemed that as it was in the real world, the only woman who could entice him to completion now had to have that beautiful blue hair, those wide blue eyes, and that luscious red mouth.

Kami, she was every bit as beautiful, if not more, than he remembered. The curves of her body were so feminine and inviting, her skin so flawless and delectable looking, that any man would have paid to touch that unblemished white skin of hers, to sink themselves between those lush hips. Her perfectly rounded backside called to him, as he had never really explored it before, and he was suddenly hit with the desire to right that wrong. She turned her body to reach for the towel waiting for her on a nearby stool, and his lustful thoughts were stopped and turned in a different direction as he saw not only the swell of those bountiful breasts, but also the new swell in her lower stomach.

Vegeta swallowed hard as he took in that bump, the first sign he had truly seen of his un born child, and felt himself wishing for things he could not have. Like a life raising that child properly, a lifetime to be a father unlike his own father had ever been, a lifetime of making Bulma's belly swollen with his seed, of showing Bulma the many things he wanted to do with her. And not just sexually...Kami, now there was a scary thought.

Bulma wrapped the towel around her as she stepped out of the tub, finally turning to face him as she wrung her hair out.

Her whole body froze upon seeing him, and Vegeta was pulled from his regrets about how short this marriage was going to be (and the fact that he was unlikely to ever see his new heir) as he saw a pink flush start at the tops of her breast over where she had the towel tucked around her, up her shoulders and neck, before resting on her pink cheeks. He was a hundred percent certain that pink flush had nothing to do with the heat of the water she had just left, but rather the way his eyes were greedily taking all of her in. He might not be around forever, but in his time here, now, as her husband, Vegeta was going to take advantage of having her all to himself. And he really did have her all to himself--she had admitted she had never had another lover before him, and that meant that Vegeta was the only man she had ever slept with.

Kami, he wished he could keep it that way forever

Bulma seemed to unfreeze then, and she nervously wrung her hair out over the tub, her eyes flicking slightly past his shoulder as she calmly said, "Do you have a comb I can borrow?"

Vegeta, who had been expecting a lot of things, had found himself knocked off balance by her simple question. So that was how she wanted to play this? Like it was normal for him to be standing there, watching her as she bathed? To ignore the sure to be glowing of his eyes, or the way her own body responded to his glance. Even through the thick terry of the towel, he could see her nipples budding, and saw the way she was pressing her thighs together, as if that could help the ache that he was sure was suddenly there. Still she had asked a question, and Vegeta forced himself to answer, a smirk on his face, as he was never one to turn away from an opportunity when it arose. He swept his arm back towards the bedroom, "Of course."

Bulma walked past him into the room, casting questioning glances over her shoulder, but he ignored them pointed to the edge of the bed, "Sit. I will be right back." Vegeta quickly went into the Duchesses bedroom, going to the dresser that had stood unused on the other side of the sitting room since his mother had passed, and found the silver edged comb that he remembered her running through his own hair when he had been younger. He did not dwell on that happy memory for long, though, as his new wife was sitting on his bed, practically naked, and waiting for him.

Vegeta was glad to see that Bulma had followed his instructions and sat on the edge of the bed, though she was nervously playing with the edge of the towel, fiddling with it before she looked up at his coming back to their bedroom. She moved to stand as she saw Vegeta approach, but he cut her off with a swift pass of his hand, "Stay."

She looked at him, confused but did as he said, sitting back down on the bed. As she him approach, though, her eyes widened as he reached for the long length of hair that trailed over her right shoulder as she understood what he intended to do. "Vegeta you don't have to--"

"I want to." He cut her off with the truth, unknowing or uncaring of where it had come from. He could not remember being obsessed with her hair more so than any other part of her (and he was man enough to admit that he was obsessed with her in general), but right now he had the strongest desire to brush her hair for her. She was his wife now. And he wanted his hands on those silky tresses, even if they were wet.

Vegeta started at the bottom of her hair, both of their eyes on his hands as he carefully and slowly brought it through his fingers, using the comb, softly, whenever he got to any tangles. The higher he got, the closer he moved to her, their bodies radiating heat as Vegeta slowly and calmly set about his task. The tiredness he had been feeling, the soreness he had been experiencing, they were gone as the world shrank to just the two of them, enclosed in this space, as he calmly set about brushing her long ocean colored locks.

As he got to the height of her shoulder, Vegeta moved around her, taking her hair with him as moved so he was sitting behind her, his legs on either side of her body, enclosing her as he concentrated on the urge to keep brushing her hair. As he straddled her body, another persistent desire welled up in him, to just hold her warm body to his, but Vegeta ignored that to concentrate on smoothing her hair down her back, brushing it as it dried straight under his ministrations. He thought back to that first night, the first time he had seen her with her hair down, and how even then it had enchanted him. If the Vegeta he had been back then could see how much pleasure Vegeta now was deriving from this simple, mundane task, he would have scoffed. But that Vegeta was a fool as far as this Vegeta was concerned. Ê

Bulma was conflicted. So, so conflicted. This was the first time Vegeta and her had been alone since...well, last night, but that did not count. This had been the first time they had been alone since that awful night at the hotel, where she had almost died, and he had rejected her. She still remembered how he had answered her question, how cruel he had been when he had broken her heart into a thousand tiny pieces. "Why would I want what I already have had? You are nothing but used goods to me at this point." Those words that had haunted her, making her by turns angry and sad as they played over and over in her head since she had first heard them. When she had found out she was pregnant and she had considered telling him those were the words that had kept her from seeking him out. No, Bulma did not want to be so humiliated again by him, did not want to give him the chance.

The anger she felt at remembering those words still coursed through her body; pumping right along with the lust she could not battle, especially with his strong legs pressed to either side of her body (damn you pregnancy hormones!). He had hurt her, and he had known he was hurting her as he said those words, his eyes so black and soulless as he had venomously said them. She wanted to scream at him, tell him no one talked to her like that, and no one ignored her like he had--tell him that this was not how a human being deserved to be treated by another human being. Especially since...well, that was not important right now. Her anger and her lust pulsed inside of her, creating a potent mix where she knew that if she turned around to look at him she would either jump his bones, or try and claw his face off.

But...but...something odd was happening. Something unexpected. The anger and the lust, while still there, were being tempered by the way he was so softly and gently brushing her hair. It was such a mundane task, one Bulma usually suffered through with a maid, or hastily did herself--but there was something so charged and potent about the way Vegeta was painstakingly brushing her hair, untangling the knots so gently as not to hurt her, running the brush softly through her tresses so as to not pull on her scalp. The way he was making sure each section got as much attention as the one before it, all while basically holding her with his body...her heart was thumping so loud in her chest she was sure he could hear it. The soft way he was treating her fed into her lust more than the anger, but it also awakened another part of her--the part that had been so hurt by him that night. If she only truly lusted after him, his words would have made her angry with him. Not as sad as they had--Bulma had to admit to herself (as scary as it was) that somewhere along the line she had developed some real feelings for Vegeta, feelings she did want to give a name too. Not now. Not when he was already confusing her. The way he was treating her did not mesh with the harsh words he had spoken, and Bulma thought back to that night, wondering why she had never questioned what he had said before.

She had been so emotionally raw after only losing her life; she never questioned what he had said. But why hadn't she? It was so obvious in the way he was treating her right now that what he said about not wanting her was a lie (she could feel the hard length of him pressed to her back in this position) so why had he spoken to her that way? Especially after he had embraced her initially that night...maybe there was something she was missing, some part of how he had acted that night that she had overlooked that had explained why he had treated her like that. The questions she suddenly desperately wanted to ask him rested on the tip of her tongue.

And yet...

She could not ask them. She could not voice her anger, she could not question just why he had treated her so since that night at the hotel, why he had ignored her. The way his hands were going through her hair, almost reverently she would say, was too distracting, so out of character for him that the only thing she wanted to do in this moment was feel. Feel him touching her so sweetly, caressing her so attentively--Bulma promised herself that in the harsh light of morning she would talk to him. She would yell at him, she would question him and she would say everything that she wanted...no, needed to say to him--but the morning would be soon enough for that. Now she deserved to be touched so softly, to feel his hands on her, to be treated like she was a goddess--and dammit, she was going to enjoy this.

It was not until her hair was as shiny and soft as he knew it could be that Vegeta allowed himself to give into temptation, to put the comb aside, as he moved her hair over one of her shoulders, and leaning into the uncovered one, left a soft kiss there. The moan that came from Bulma acted as the only foreplay he needed, his still hard cock thrusting further up, straining, reaching for her, as she let out a delicious groan that put the ones he had heard from her in the water closet to shame.

Vegeta smiled against her warm skin, before moving up, leaving a kiss on the side of her neck going further up, dropping lingering kisses up her neck, behind her ear, in that zone that made her squirm, pressing further against him. As his tongue came out, tracing the shell of her ear, before leaving a soft bite on the soft flesh of her lobe, Bulma let out a breathy, "Vegeta..."

They both moved at once, Bulma twisting to face him, Vegeta moving her so that she was back against the pillows, his body over hers, his thighs still on either side of her. His hands framed her face as he used his forearms to prop himself up, and he took a second to stare at her, just stare at her, as he whispered, "Kami, you're beautiful." Ê

Her cheeks turned the most appealing shade of red, but Vegeta was too focused on her lips. Especially when they curved into a smile. He could not help himself once he saw that smile, and his head swooped down to hers, their lips joining as if they had never parted.

There was a time to be gentle, and a time to be rough--right now Vegeta did not care which time it was, he just wanted to touch her. His lips worked against the soft silk of hers, the fervent desire he was feeling leaving him lightheaded as she kissed him back. She stole the air from his body, and he still did not move his mouth from hers, savoring the heated feel of her all over his body. Her arms tightened around his shoulders, and she arched under him, pushing the soft curves of her body into him, causing him to see starbursts behind his closed lids. His mouth ran over her lips, frantically, as his hands buried themselves in her soft hair, angling her head to deepen the kiss. Bulma's mouth opened on a groan, and his tongue swept into hers, stroking her own tongue to life, before tasting every bit of her mouth, exploring the moist cavern. He thrust in and out, mimicking what his hips were doing to lower stomach, knowing that he had to get a reign on himself or that their first time as husband and wife would not last very long.

Vegeta pulled back from Bulma, dropping one, two, three quick kisses back on her mouth, before he moved so he was not covering her, moving down, leaving another trail of kisses along the top of the towel, before he stopped at where it was twisted around her, looking up at her for permission. Her blue eyes were dark, and he waited, patiently for her to give any indication that it was okay. A nod, a blink of the eyes--anything at that point would have been okay.

But Bulma surprised him (Kami, would she ever stop doing that?) by sitting up, moving her body out from under him, so that she was leaning against the headboard, her eyes still on his face, as she swallowed, hard, "I want to see you."

Vegeta moved, sitting so that he was facing her, trying to understand what her words meant, "Do you need me to get more candles?"

Bulma turned the brightest shade of red, and Vegeta watched with interest as she took a deep breath, running her fingers agitatedly through her hair as she looked around the room, muttering unintelligible nothings to herself before she brought her eyes back to his own, her courage built up enough to say, "No...I mean I want to see you naked. I really have not had the chance. I've never really seen a male naked before in person...."

Those words--they kicked him in the gut, desire hitting him soft and low in the gut at the request she had put out there, mixing with a well-needed reminder that though she was currently pregnant with his child, the only sex she had ever had, had been once in the grass, and once in a library...and half in an opera. She needed him to go slow right now, and dammit, Vegeta wanted to give her the first time she deserved, not the first time he had given her.

So Vegeta, in a move that surprised even him, looked at her, taking her hands as he said, "We do this how you want then. You tell me what to do."

Bulma's blue eyes flared in gratitude, and she smiled again causing his gut to tighten further, especially when she leant forward as she whispered, "May I undress you then?"

Vegeta groaned, knowing that she needed him to be kind in these moments, but that his desire (and very nature) were making kindness the last thing on his mind. He forced himself to nod though, even as the beast inside of him howled for him to mark her, mate with her, remind her that she was his and his alone. Even though his blood licked through his veins hot, his heart pumping as fast as if he had just run a marathon, his skin tingling for her touch, he made himself stand still for her.

Vegeta looked her in the eyes, knowing that his eyes were probably telling her how badly he wanted her pinned underneath him as he drove inside of her, "Just be quick about it...."

The or else on the end of that sentence went unsaid, but Bulma did not need to be told to hurry. Hell, she was as surprised as Vegeta was that she had even allowed herself to stop him from undressing her and ravishing her. But some part of her had kicked up, through the flaming desire that was currently licking through her entire body, making her breasts ache for his touch, her lower body pounding with demand, and told her that she wanted this time to be different then their other hurried couplings.

Sure, Vegeta had been naked the day in the library, but she had still not really seen him naked, nor had she gotten the chance to explore the golden, delicious body of his. And Kami knew she wanted to. She had been wanting to since she had first met him, since she had seen him shirtless as he fought her brother on his ship--and though they would be married for the rest of their lives, and she would have a long time to really explore his body...Bulma knew she wanted this now.

Her hands were surprisingly steady as she reached for him, moving so that they were facing each other on the bed, her legs tucked under her, one of his off of the bed, as the other was at an angle at the knee, away from his body. She made quick work of the black vest he still wore; glad he shed most of his outerwear before coming up here tonight, as she did not want to have to wrestle with yards of clothes in that moment.

Her fingers were slightly shaky as she moved to the buttons of his dark, black shirt, though she meticulously pushed the buttons through, one by one, not allowing herself to explore his body until she had pulled the shirt from his breeches, and finished unbuttoning every last button.

When she did, she lifted her eyes back to his, seeing how heavy lidded they were as they watched her, that fire she was used to seeing there in intimate moments like this blazing like an inferno as his breathing became more labored. Bulma took a deep gulp, her eyes drawing lower as she put her two hands at the gap of his shirt, pushing them through to the warm, hard, yet soft skin that was waiting for her underneath. Bulma pushed her hands apart, up his shoulders, and down his arms, taking the shirt with her as she pushed it off of him completely.

She gave herself a moment to really just stare at the hard male chest in front of her, the candlelight making his skin shadowed and bronzed at the same time, gulping hard as she took in his perfection. Slowly, she raised one of her hands to the top of his right pectoral, to a scar that was there, tracing the curve of it with her fingers, lightly.

"A wound from my first time taking another man's ship. He thought to stab me through my heart--I repaid him by taking his ship and his life." The words were spoken low and soft, guttural almost, and Bulma simply nodded at the admission from him, as her eyes flicked to his. She made sure his eyes never left hers as she leaned forward, putting her lips to the scar. Vegeta let out a hiss at the contact, but Bulma did not let that deter her. His skin was warm, and salty, and had that musky flavor that would always and forever remind her of Vegeta. Her tongue came out to edge the line of the scar, and she felt Vegeta's muscles tighten, could hear his heart begin to pound harder, and saw, from her peripheral vision, his hands fisting in the sheets.

Bulma smirked, feeling a rush of power as she realized the hold she had over him, wondering why he had told her he no longer desired her. It was clear to her that he did...

But that was a mystery to be saved for another time as Bulma used her fingers and mouth to explore the planes and angles of Vegeta's muscles, and scars, paying special attention to his deeper cuts, his healed wounds that spoke of the fighter he was. Vegeta told her what each scar was, his voice growing lower and darker as she became bolder in her exploration of him. When she got to the tip of one of his pecs, she ran her tongue along the rim of his nipple, and she heard Vegeta let out another agonized moan. Her eyes were drawn to him again; as she saw how much control he was exercising in allowing her to explore his body. His face with white, clenched, his eyes lowered as if he was in pain, and his mouth was drawn flat. Bulma pulled back, her hand to her chest, "I'm sorry. I did not mean to hurt you."

Vegeta's eyes opened, that banked fire alive and well as he looked at her, "You're not. Kami, the last thing you're doing is hurting me...it's just...you could hurry things along a bit."

Bulma smirked at that, and she moved away, to the edge of the bed, pointing, "Stand."

She was not surprised by the alacrity Vegeta followed her orders, but rather the still graceful way he sprang from the bed, turning to face her as she scooted to the edge. Was the man ever not completely in control of his body?

She suddenly made it a goal of hers for tonight to make him lose control. As much as possible.

But she was not as unaffected by the sight of Vegeta standing over her, staring down at her with lust-filled eyes, the tent in his pants obvious, and her hands trembled as she reached for the breeches buttons. As she got to the waistband of his pants, she paused there, and he surprised her by putting his hands on top of hers. She looked up at him, seeing him giving that wickedly delicious smirk as he calmly said, "It might be best if I did this. I have to take my shoes off still...."

Bulma looked down, seeing that he was indeed still wearing his shoes, and she nodded, gulping as she leant back. "Perhaps you're right. It would be best."

Vegeta made quick work of his boots, sitting on the edge of the bed, a foot or so from her, as she watched him from lowered lashes. He then stood, his back to her as he unbuttoned his pants, before he shucked those, as well as whatever else he had on, standing, giving her a second to stare at his rounded, muscular ass, before he turned towards her.

Bulma shot her eyes up, taking a necessary second to stare at the perfection that was Vegeta's sculpted chest and abs, before she gulped, her eyes following the trail of hair that led down from his belly button...

Bulma gulped.

She had seen the male anatomy in books only, and yes, Vegeta had been naked inside of her twice now, but she had never really gotten the chance to look at him, or see any man with an erection before.

He was fucking huge.

Well, she was guessing, but the more Bulma looked at it, her eyes wide, the more she wondered how that had fit inside of her. No wonder it had hurt when he had first thrust inside of her.

But still, she was not afraid of him, as she was instead interested to see the swollen appendage, the flushed red head, the pearl glistening from the tip. Bulma kept her eyes on him as she said, "Can I touch you?"

His answer was as much a frustrated groan as a command, "Touch me."

Bulma did not need a second invitation, and she reached her hand out, running it down the shaft of him, surprised by how soft the skin was there, and how hard he was underneath the smooth flesh. He was like steel, and she curiously ran her hands up and down him a few times, from tip to base, seeing the muscles in his abs clench, as he fisted his hands at his sides, before he let out some desperate noises as she increased her speed.

Bulma got into the feeling of power she got from making him make those noises, and going off of what he had done to her, Bulma brought her mouth to the tip of him, covering the swollen head with her mouth, even as her hand continued to pump him.

"KAMI!"

Bulma was going to rear back, afraid she had hurt him, her hand stilling on him, but Vegeta's hands had moved into her hair, holding her where she was as she groaned. Bulma flicked her eyes up to him, though she did not move, and was gratified to see he was looking at her like she was a goddess.

Emboldened by his looks, Bulma pushed her head forward, taking as much of him into her mouth as she could, feeling him hit the back of his throat. Bulma ran her mouth off of him, using her tongue on the underside to trace a vein it found there, and Vegeta let out another moan. Bulma withdrew completely, running her tongue along the crown of him, enjoying the pure, masculine, Vegeta flavor, before she opened her mouth, pulling him back in. She started to run her hand slowly against the shaft again, her mouth and hand working together.

Vegeta's hands in her hair guided her as she continued her exploration of him with her mouth, but going by his moans and groans, Bulma did not need much help, especially as she moved her other hand, the one not pumping him, from where it gripped the back of his thighs along to his front, where she palmed the heavy sac that rested there.

Vegeta let out a ferocious growl then, and before Bulma knew what was happening, he had pulled himself from her lips and hands, and then lifted her with both hands under her armpits, throwing her back against the pillows.

She barely had time to bounce once before he was on top of her, the delicious weight of his body pressing her into the bed. She moaned as he latched onto her neck, his hips driving into hers, thrusting how hard and ready. He lavished her neck with kisses and bites, moving off of her enough that he could rip the towel that had become twisted around her open, baring her body to him.

He wasted no time in moving down to her breasts, pinching one nipple between his fingers as his mouth latched on to the other one, his tongue flicking over the hardened nub as he sucked her into his mouth. She groaned, arching her back, her hands in his hair, holding him to her as he tortured her. He alternated between laving her gently with his tongue, harder flicks, and gentle bites that had her whole body turning into a powder keg of desire. Her legs scissored as she moaned and groaned, needing to feel him there, though she could not get the words out over the way he was paying homage to her body.

Finally, she managed, "Vegeta, please," In a breathy, husky voice that had her feeling extremely wanton.

Vegeta unlatched himself from her chest, smirking up at her wickedly as he asked, "Please what?"

Bulma undulated her hips up to him, hoping to get her message across. He let out a moan, his eyes closing as her pelvis drove into his against his stiff erection, but Vegeta only opened his eyes, the black eyes glowing with desire, his face dark as he told her, "I need to hear you say it."

Bulma moaned, clawing at his back as he loomed over her, but she finally stopped thrashing enough to take some deep breaths. Forcing her body still, she forced herself to meet his eyes as she told him in a husky voice she barely recognized; "I need you inside of me."

Vegeta smirked, moving so he was between her spread legs, pulling her knees up to the sides of his body, and he rested his weight on her. She felt his probing cock at her entrance, and she let out a whimper, but his smirk only deepened as he said, "I thought you'd never ask."

And with one sharp thrust he entered her fully, his thick cock stretching her deliciously as he touched the base of her womb, both of them crying out and arching back, pushing them closer together. Vegeta buried his head in her neck, speaking to her in a language she had never heard before, her eyes popping open as she turned to him. Before she could ask though, Vegeta's head popped back up, latching onto her mouth as his hips pulled back, then thrust again, just as deeply.

Bulma moaned into the kiss, and Vegeta started to thrust into her mouth as he did with his lower body. His hips moved, rotating so that every time he thrust he was hitting a new spot, until he found the one that had her clawing at his back, holding him to her. Bulma's whole body clenched around him, holding him as close to her as she could, as she pulsed around him, wishing he could stay inside of her forever. Why did moments this pleasurable ever have to end? Ê

Just when she thought it could get no better, he let go of one of her legs, drawing the other one up so he could thrust further into her, hitting that spot. Bulma felt herself letting go as he continued to move into her, thrusting, stretching, her body becoming nothing but sensation as he found way to thrust into her at the same time as he slid against her engorged clit. The friction built fast, and before Bulma knew it, she was wrapping her free leg around his back, holding him to her that way, her head thrown back, moaning and crying as a fire blazed through her whole body, a raging inferno that caused her to hold him tighter to her as it ran through her body, sparks feeling as if they were coming out of her very skin as she got pushed to a higher plane of existence before she lost all feeling and let go, jumping off of the cliff of pleasure he had pushed her to.

Vegeta kissed her neck, holding her as she moaned through the orgasm, her body milking his, clenching around him, but still, he forced himself to hold off from thrusting into her mindlessly, trying to reach his own release, instead giving her little nudges, just enough friction so that she kept coming, and coming. Kami, she had never looked so beautiful as when she let herself really let go like she was right now.

He could watch her do this for ages....

Finally, when she stilled, no longer moaning and groaning, but instead panting softly, Vegeta pulled out of her, looking down at her, as she smiled up at him, clearly still dazed. Vegeta wasted no time admiring the view, though he would once they were done, instead flipping her softly onto her stomach, then pulling her up by her hips so that luscious backside was in the air. He positioned himself behind her, on one knee, the other one out so he was on his foot for a better angle, positioned himself at her entrance, then thrust in her again.

He groaned louder than her this time, though he felt her muscles squeeze around him again, a gasp escaping her throat. Kami, he had fantasized about having her like this since the moment he had first seen her, and Kami, it was way better than he could ever have imagined. Bulma went to move her head from where it rested on the pillows, no doubt moving to get up on all fours, but Vegeta put an arm down her spine, holding her down, "Stay there, it's better this way."

He gave a nudge forward of his hips to really emphasize his point, and she let out another sumptuous sounding moan that let him know she agreed. Vegeta then moved his hands to her hips, and holding her in place, began to thrust into her again, letting her body guide him as he went deeper than before. He leant over her, dropping kisses around her back, as his hand went to the weight of her breasts, delighting in the heavy feel of them as his other hand still guided her hips. When his searching hand found the hard tip of her breast, he gave her another pinch and she gasped, slamming back into his hips as he thrust forward as another orgasm hit her, squeezing him.

This time he let go, allowing himself to finish, his seed emptying into her as he held her still, her name escaping his lips on a throaty yell as the world burst into a thousand stars, his body finding that wonderful release he had been denying himself for months it seemed. He lost all sense of everything but Bulma, being inside of Bulma, holding Bulma, smelling Bulma, touching Bulma, wanting nothing but Bulma for the rest of his life. He came longer then he could ever remember coming before, and he held himself deep inside of her as he let the sensations wash over him. Ê

When he floated back down to his body, Vegeta realized he had collapsed on top of Bulma, and he moved off of her to his side. Usually, this was the part of the night where Vegeta slipped from the bed, got dressed and said good-bye, but tonight, for the first time ever, Vegeta pulled Bulma with him as he went to his side, so he spooned her, dropping kisses along the exposed skin of her shoulder. He could not let her go. He would not let her go--he did not have all the time in the world to play husband or be a man for her, but he wanted to make sure that before his time was up he well and truly branded her as his own.

He would like to think that fifty years from now, when she was the dowager duchess of Vegetasei, and (hopefully) alone in her bed, that these memories would still keep her warm. Which made him a sentimental fool.

Something he could not find the strength to really chastise himself for at this moment as he lazily drowsed off to sleep with Bulma in his arms....

~~&~~
A/N: Wow...I actually don't have anything to add to this (doesn't stop me from writing an A/N does it? Nope!). Hope you enjoyed the chapter, and see you next installment! Love ya all!!