Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ The REAL Reason Why Vegeta Took Trunks to the Park ❯ The REAL Reason Why Vegeta Took Trunks to the Park ( One-Shot )

Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ, Sam I am, I do not like green eggs and ham

Author's Note: So I was watching Oprah the other day and it inspired me to write a lemon. Go figure.

Warnings: Lemon + Bad Humor = Unfunny Lemon? Also contains lots of stuff that could be deemed offensive, and probably is.

The RealReason Why Vegeta Took Trunks to the Park

Vegeta sat on the bench with a stony look on his face, arms crossed over his chest, feet flat on the concrete ground beneath them. It was an environmentally friendly bench, gray with speckled bits of rainbow-fresh color strewn about its surface. Then again, a trendy park in one of the richest neighborhoods in Satan City definitely had to keep things environmentally friendly, otherwise all those ecologically-minded rich people whose wealth drowned out the hypocrisy of their consumerism would object and send their children and their children's nannies to play elsewhere. No matter what anyone else could say about him, Vegeta was one of the very few devoted parents actually supervising his own child in this particular park as opposed to relying on a nanny, or in the case of his own family, a robotic nanny designed entirely by his wife, Bulma Briefs.

Vegeta continued to stare straight ahead, which just happened to be the direction where his son currently romped around with such friends as Son Goten and some little human boys and girls from around the neighborhood. Trunks mistakenly thought that his father was watching him play and, with a huge grin on his face, waved to his dad before returning to the current game of spin the bottle, where it was his turn to do the spinning. He really hoped he spun well and it landed on Goten, the seven-year-old thought with a blush.

Vegeta didn't notice his son's wave, nor did he notice when his lavender-haired progeny pinned his best friend to the ground and stuck his tongue deep inside the other boy's throat. He was aware of all the nannies around him flirting with him in various ways, such as one he saw from the corner of his eye that, although dressed conservatively as a nun, pulled up the long, black skirt of her habit to show him that she wore no panties beneath. Vegeta was deeply offended by this, not because he was Catholic, but because he detested vulgar women.

Not that that had prevented him from marrying one, but Bulma was different. She was vulgar only towards him-he made sure of that. Although she still had a preference for skimpy clothing, she had agreed to always wear at least some form of clothing whenever she ventured outside the house. He refused to let her get involved in any of that nudist business she'd been interested in a year or two ago. Even if it did give him a nice view when she was outside doing the gardening or fixing the gravity room in the buff, the neighbors had soon discovered the view as well, and he had found himself spending all his time chasing away scrawny men with large binoculars when he should have been training. As a result, Bulma had agreed to restrict her nudity only to times when she was either alone or in his presence.

She hadn't been feeling all that partial to nudity lately, though. Recently, whenever he came in from a long day of training feeling horny and demanding sex, it seemed as though she was always asleep. In the old days she would have leapt straight upon his engorged penis, riding herself to heaven as he stood still with his back against a wall to stabilize them, reaping the benefits of her enthusiastic erotic energy. During the past week, however, they'd only had sex once every day instead of the usual two or three times-five on holidays and weekends. Bulma kept turning him down due to exhaustion, and when he tried merely to relieve himself upon her unconscious sleeping body she woke up with a start and had the gall to yell at him for molesting her, when he was in reality only making use of his husbandly rights.

Finally she had confessed the truth to him: She was having an affair. Not a sexual affair, but rather an emotional one. Her attentions as of late had turned away from her husband towards their young, rambunctious son. Since the robotic nanny broke down two months ago, and the human nanny quit last week after her attempts at seducing the Saiyan Prince failed miserably, the responsibility of looking after Trunks came to rest completely on Bulma's shoulders. And with a child that age, there were a lot of things to be done. Not only did Bulma have to select the clothes he wore to school each morning, she also had to fix his Saiyan-sized breakfast, drive him to school, pick him up from school, supervise his playdates, make his dinner, help him with his homework-they were currently teaching Algebra as early as the second grade, and he had at least 150 math problems each night in addition to all that busywork from his other classes-make him take a bath, then tuck him into bed and read him a bedtime story. After all that work each and every day, in addition to her full-time job, it was no wonder she was too tired to have sex on-call like she normally would.

So Bulma gave Vegeta a proposition: All he had to do was take care of Trunks for one day during the week, and in return she would be ready and willing for him wherever, whenever from that moment forward. He had readily agreed-sex was so much better when she was an active participant as opposed to a sleeping beauty.

And thus he ended up here in the park. He'd chosen to come to the park in spite of the fact that he had to wear normal human clothes to do so because here he could ignore his son and work on his meditation techniques without anyone noticing. Bulma would never know the difference between Vegeta watching over their son and Vegeta allowing their son to do whatever he pleased with whomever he pleased on the playground, as the boy was currently doing with his little friend.

Unfortunately, Vegeta hadn't realized how distracting the noise of children playing and nannies moaning in a futile attempt to get his attention could be. It angered him that he couldn't meditate the way he wanted to with all the ruckus going on around him. A part of him wanted to just blast all of them, including his own son. However, if he harmed anyone Bulma would never have sex with him again which meant years upon years of lonely nights spent on the couch watching porno flicks. He hated porno flicks more than anything else on this earth-they were so vulgar-and the thought of having to watch one made a shiver of dread keep up his spine. Even if he couldn't meditate, he had to control himself. For the sake of his future sex life, he had to keep himself in control, at least until he got home and could lock himself inside his training room to let out all the anger he bottled up inside.

Unbeknownst to him, as he sat fuming and forcing himself to keep his control inside a woman had crept up behind him and sat down upon the edge of the very same bench where his posterior currently resided. She wore a cheap blond wig that resembled the infamous Farrah Fawcett hairstyle, held on to her head by a purple kerchief tied beneath her chin. Her eyes were hidden behind dark-rimmed sunglasses, her body behind a long beige trenchcoat that masked her entire figure from view. She slowly slid down the length of the bench, sidling closer to Vegeta until her hip bumped his.

"Oh, excuse me," she said in a deep, throaty voice. "I'm so sorry to have bumped into you like that. I'm so terribly clumsy … why don't you let me make it up to you?" Her hand reached straight for his crotch.

Vegeta finally uncrossed his arms from over his chest only to grab her wrist and thrust it away from himself before releasing his grip. "I'm not interested," he said gruffly. Oh, how he hated vulgar women and their vulgar ways.

"I don't think you understand," the woman replied in her sexiest voice, leaning over towards him. "I'm willing to give you anything you want."

Vegeta edged away from her towards the opposite side of the bench. He would have loved to rip the ill-mannered woman's head from her shoulders and used it to play a rousing game of "hit the target with the ki-blast" with his son, but killing was a big no-no in Bulma's eyes.

Dammit, why did all the Saiyan women have to be dead? If only he'd married a Saiyan, not only would his son not be a half-breed, he'd be having plenty of sex and she wouldn't mind if he killed an innocent bystander every so often, either.

As things were, he was stuck with the human wench. Although he had to admit, grudgingly, she still had the tightest cunt he'd ever fucked, even after all these years. And most of the time-except for the past week or so-she had the sexual stamina of a twenty-year-old. Plus, she was rich as hell and able to fix the gravity room whenever he broke it. All things considered, Bulma wasn't such a bad woman to be stuck with.

"I don't think you understand," he growled at the predatory woman who kept creeping towards him regardless of his wishes. "I'm not interested in anything you have to offer."

"Aren't you?" she purred seductively. She lifted one leg so that it crossed over the other, causing part of the trenchcoat that covered it to fall away, leaving only acres of long, creamy leg and thigh topped by a dash of curly turquoise hair to his view.

Vegeta's eyes narrowed as he stared down at the half-hidden, half-unveiled private area between her legs. He'd know that distinctively colored pubic hair anywhere. Those perfectly shaped legs left no doubt in his mind as to the identity of the disguised woman, either.

So she thought she could play games with him, did she? Well, he'd just have to show her that women didn't play games with the Prince of all Saiyans.

"On second thought," he murmured, his voice suddenly gone husky, "Why don't you let me see what you have to offer?"

He heard a gasp catch in her throat-obviously she hadn't expected him to accept her offer.

"You haven't changed your mind, have you?" he asked silkily, seduction blatant in his voice.

"N-no, of course not," she replied shakily. A predatory feeling rose within him at the sound of the waver in her voice. He would lead her on, force her to play this game according to his rules, and then-he would pounce.

"Why don't we go somewhere … private, where I can try out the goods before I buy?"

"B-buy?!" she asked with outrage.

"Would you prefer to call the purchasing of your body something else?"

Her entire body suddenly grew still. He could tell from her demeanor that she was frantically searching her mind for a way to free herself from the mess she'd suddenly gotten herself into. Well, he wouldn't let her do it. He'd been walking around a sexually frustrated man for the past week because of her-he wouldn't let her wheedle her way out of a legitimate sexual experience with him, not now.

"Come on," he said gruffly as he grabbed her arm and stood up. He began to walk briskly towards a specific destination-the first that had immediately come to mind-and dragged the struggling woman behind him.

"Let go of me!" she hissed.

He didn't respond to her angry whispers. He knew she wouldn't make a big scene, not in this big park in front of their son and the nannies of all their neighbors. If she caused a scene and someone discovered the truth behind it, her name would be on the tip of every wagging tongue in the entire city. Bulma absolutely detested being the object of gossip; she much preferred to be one of those spreading the latest rumors by telephone or e-mail to being the subject of said rumors herself.

Vegeta finally stopped when he reached a medium-sized playhouse nestled beneath a canopy of trees on the far side of the playground. Maintaining his hold on the wrist of the woman behind him he knelt down to peer into the tiny, child-sized windows of the bright red playhouse.

"Get out," he snarled, scaring off the two ten-year-olds that had been pleasantly making out inside. When they disappeared from sight, he pushed the woman through the door of the playhouse and followed her into the cramped space that was barely big enough for one adult, let alone two.

"What are you doing?" she exclaimed in a startled whisper. Her tight, round ass sat on the little yellow table at the center of the miniature house, her legs bent at awkward angles and her head stuck up in one corner as she warily watched the Saiyan that knelt opposite her. "What are you planning to do to me?"

"What do you think?" he asked, unbuckling his belt and unzipping the front of his brown trousers to reveal the long, hard erection beneath.

The woman across from him sucked in a breath. "Stop this, Vegeta," she hissed, finally giving up on her little game. She yanked the sunglasses and wig from her head and tossed them to the ground, thus freeing her burning blue eyes and short aqua hair to his gaze. "It's me you bastard! How dare you try to have sex with a prostitute!"

"Shut up, Woman," he replied casually. He stretched himself out so that his body covered hers, the top of his hair brushing against the roof of the playhouse. He took her chin in his fingers and turned her tear-lined face towards him. "I knew it was you all along," he whispered, his voice laced with promise and sensuality.

"You're just saying that," she hiccupped, attempting to hold back tears of betrayal.

He planted quick, soft kisses along her jawline. "You think I don't recognize my own wife even when she's in disguise?" The tip of his tongue touched the outer corner of her lip, causing her to tremble with unspoken need. "I would know you anywhere, Woman." His tongue danced around the edge of her mouth, a half-kiss of temptation. When she moved her head forward in an attempt to take his lips with her own he drew back with a sensuous chuckle. "Patience, Woman." He leaned down and licked away the trails of tears on her face. "You should know better than to make a foolish attempt to trick a Saiyan Prince." As his lips continued to caress her face his hands smoothed the trenchcoat away from her body leaving her naked and vulnerable to his ministrations.

Bulma let out a soft moan as his hands claimed her breasts. She arched her back against the feel of his fingers stroking her nipples to attention. Her own arms soon found their way around him, her gentle fingers running through his hair and stroking the back of his well-muscled neck.

"How could you ever think to deceive me?" his husky voice rumbled, music to her ears. "I know your body even better than my own. Your ears," he teased playfully as his mouth fondled the sensitive lobe. "Your nose," he added as he gave her a tiny bit on the very tip of her nose, "Your chin," he planted another tiny bite on her chin. "I'd know them all anywhere."

She was going crazy with desire in his arms; he knew every thought, every response within her. Right now she wanted him to kiss her, and it frustrated and delighted her to no end that he kept kissing her everywhere except the one place she desired him most.

"What about-" she began before he cut her off.

"Your lips?" he questioned. "One kiss," he murmured, "and your cover would be blown, Woman." Without further ado he placed his lips squarely upon hers, giving them both the one thing they wanted most.

"Oh, Vegeta," she moaned into his mouth. Not one to play second-fiddle to her seducer, she quickly sent out her questing tongue to meet his. Their mouths warred in passion for several minutes, and although Vegeta would have liked to claim himself the victor, he was forced to admit to himself that the conflict ended in a very pleasurable draw.

"Vegeta," Bulma moaned when their mouths finally parted after the long battle, "I'm so sorry I misjudged you. I-" He quickly cut her off with another kiss. Bulma had always been an outspoken woman, especially when it came to flowery declarations. He, on the other hand, preferred to let his actions speak for themselves. If she wanted to make a long, drawn-out speech to declare her love for him, she could damn well wait until they were finished, as far as he was concerned.

As his lips continued their task up above, his hands down below were causing the woman in his arms to go wild. His right hand cupped her left breast, his calloused thumb toying with the fully erect nipple. Meanwhile, his left hand had meandered down towards the entrance nestled amidst the curly turquoise hair between her legs. Two of his fingers thrust inside her slick passage while his thumb pressed gently against the delicate bud that held the key to her pleasure.

Bulma moaned against his mouth as his fingers pumped in and out of her. Her hips moved with pleasure against his hand, rocking back and forth in a rhythm perfectly synchronized with his sensual invasion. She was so wet, so ready, he nearly burst with excitement at the feel of her inner muscles clenching desperately around his fingers. He had to enter her soon, or else he would wind up making a fool of himself by spilling his seed outside of her.

He removed his fingers from her, causing her to whimper. "Vegeta," she moaned. He brought his fingers up to her mouth and brushed them against her lips. She eagerly took them in her mouth, sucking them in the same eager, wholehearted fashion she always used when she took his entire length all the way to the back of her throat. She licked her own juices from his fingers, letting him know how ready, how willing, how eager she was for him to take her.

He shoved his pants down to his knees-human clothes were such a hassle-positioned himself, and entered her in a single, smooth thrust.

He kissed her again to drown out her cry of pleasure. No matter that they were lost in their own little world, they were still making love inside a cramped children's playhouse in the middle of a popular playground. If they made too much noise while pursuing their pleasure they would quickly be found out.

He didn't waste any time building up to a quick pace, his deep strokes enhanced by his Saiyan speed. The playhouse around them rocked in place as he slammed into her causing her to bite her tongue to keep from exploding in a barrage of sensual moans. When he felt that their tiny shelter might soon be bowled over by the sheer force of their passion, he quickly changed positions. His hands around her waist pulled her with him as he maneuvered himself into a sitting position with her straddling his lap.

"Do it, Woman," his passion-slurred voice urged. His hands guided her hips as she hesitantly began to move atop him, her back arched in order to avoid hitting her head on the low ceiling. Vegeta leaned forward to take one of her proffered nipples in between his teeth and gently bite down, a move he knew would send pleasure careening throughout her body.

With the encouragement of this outside stimulus, Bulma quickened the motion of her hips atop his as she rode him, moving up and down along his length. Unable to help himself in the face of such overwhelming pleasure, Vegeta began to move his own hips in time with hers, quickening the pace as much as her fragile human body could handle.

He could feel them both coming ever closer to climax. When her entire body began to convulse her cries of pleasure mixed in the small space with his own as he released himself inside her. The last thing he saw before pleasure hit him head-on was a brilliant burst of lavender.

"Shit," he exclaimed, somehow managing to realize in his less-than-coherent state of orgasm that the burst of lavender was actually a lavender head of hair belonging to his offspring. Trunks stood just outside the playhouse, peering through the child-size doorway. He stared in horrified awe as his father came violently inside his screaming mother. Although they'd had a few close calls in the past where their son had almost walked in on them in the middle of the act, he'd never before actually caught them. And at the very worst moment, too.

Awash in all the pleasure and sensation of release, Vegeta could barely think straight. His body refused to remove itself from his wife's warmth, yet every ounce of decency inside him screamed that he hide his nakedness and that of his woman from the child they had conceived through just such an act. With a loud grunt he moved his body to the side, one arm around Bulma holding her to him. He attempted in vain to shield her naked body from her son's eyes. Fortunately she hadn't yet noticed the boy looking in on them; as soon as she did, all Hell would break loose.

In his attempt to reposition himself and his woman without removing himself from inside her, Vegeta accidentally dislodged the base of the playhouse, already loose from their previous actions inside it. As he leaned against the side, the entire thing tipped over and crashed against the ground, breaking into several large pieces that fell into place on the grass around the two erstwhile lovers.

"Shit," he moaned again. He could still feel the last waves of orgasmic pleasure shooting through his body, but in addition to that he felt the eyes of everyone in the entire park staring at the two half-naked people lying on the ground in the center of a sea of shattered playhouse shards.

"Vegeta?" Bulma asked faintly, just now coming out of her orgasm-induced haze of pleasure. "What's going on?" Before he could stop her, she pushed the blue-green hair out of her eyes and turned to look over her shoulder-straight into the vivid blue eyes of her sweet little Trunks.

In an instant she was back in the real world again. "Oh my God!" she cried out as she watched her precious little boy faint right before her eyes, "Trunks!" She leapt off her husband's lap and ran to her son, oblivious to her own nudity. "Oh, Trunks!" she cried, cradling her son in her arms. "Please, Trunks! Speak to me!" She sobbed over his limp body.

Vegeta sat up with a groan. She'd have him sleeping on the couch again for sure after this one. Dammit, why did the boy have to come looking for his parents at such a crucial moment, he growled to himself.

Luckily, they didn't need to wait for an ambulance. Bulma once again wore her long trenchcoat and Vegeta yanked up his pants and fastened his belt. They were both disheveled but presentable. Vegeta picked up his wife in his arms and carried her and the child she cradled against her body to the local hospital, leaving only gossip and rumors behind them in the park.

**********

"Trunks, sweetie," Bulma sobbed later after her son had regained consciousness and let it be known that he remembered everything that had occurred in the park, much to his parents' dismay, "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"There is one thing," Trunks said hesitantly. He still refused to look either of his parents in the eye.

"Anything!" Bulma cried, hysterical sobs escaping her body in a profuse rush, "Anything my sweet, darling, no-longer-naïve-in-the-ways-of-the-world child!"

"Promise me you'll pay for the therapy."

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A/N: That was … different. ^^;; Sorry about that.

++Vegeta's Bondage Queen++