Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Yellow Roses ❯ Heavy Breathing ( Chapter 5 )

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

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

[Dylan Thomas; ‘Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night’]

 

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Bulma carefully twirled the little capsule between her anxious fingers, a tiny spur of impatient excitement burning within her at the thought of Vegeta’s potential reaction to her newest invention when she’d finally give it to him.

Not that long ago, the scientist would have found it absolutely impossible to picture the day when she’d even dare to contemplate manufacturing a capsule anymore. After all, the small but highly valuable item was her late father’s greatest invention, the one he’d built his entire technological empire upon, and the very first piece of technology she’d ever learnt to create on her own as a young girl. The impressive creation held such a significant, sentimental meaning in her life, for so many different reasons, that it was hard to believe that she’d now finally been able to conjure up the emotional strength to fabricate one. Then again, ever since the annihilation of her home planet had taken place, she hadn’t been brave enough to imagine the prospect of feeling true joy or optimism anymore either.

Not until Vegeta had walked into her life…

The scientist yawned loudly, resting her feet on the table as she took a short break from her always strenuous work, allowing her mind to wander, getting lost in her vivid imagination and the memorable recollections of her last encounter with her Saiyan lover.  

True to his word, Vegeta had stayed with her on the base for three whole days. Bulma wasn’t entirely sure about what it was that he did during the daytime, all she knew was that, every single evening without fail, the warrior had shown up at her laboratory to pick her up and join her on her way back to her apartment. She could still recall her initial shock at the sight of that austere, lonesome figure awaiting her patiently by the door, almost as if they were a regular couple, just a man taking his woman back home after a long day’s work.

Bulma let out a tired sigh, making the colossal effort to remind herself that, in spite of the more than obvious tie which had developed between them, her home wasn’t really his home, and this man wasn’t really her man. If she was truly honest with herself, she wasn’t even sure if an inscrutable man like Vegeta would ever have the emotional skills to be a part of anything that would resemble a real, authentic relationship with anyone, much less with a highly sensitive woman like her.

There had been no romance of any kind in those slow, calm strolls on their way to her place, certainly not the public displays of affection that couples used to engage into back on Earth. Instead, those long walks had been spent in complete quietude, both lovers sharing a comfortable silence as they walked side by side in the dark, with Vegeta walking a couple of steps behind her like a warm, protective figure, following her with quiet devotion. There had been no passionate kissing, no sappy holding of hands or inane parades of amorousness and, yet, despite the awkwardness of it all, Bulma had enjoyed every minute of it, every single minute of his discreetly earnest presence, and the thrilled butterflies fluttering in the pit of her stomach in exhilarating expectation at what was to come.

As soon as they’d reach their destination and the Saiyan would wrap one of his strong arms around her waist, flying her right into her balcony, all Hell would break loose, and this man, this distant, broody warrior, would instantly become her man. It was as if their bodies had a mind of their own, as if they shared an irrational connection, a maddening bond that would take over as soon as they isolated themselves from the outside world, freely giving into each other with everything they’d got. Lips crashing fervidly, kissing and devouring every inch of the other’s flesh as their shivering, heated bodies meshed together. Hands that wouldn’t stay in one place for too long, stroking, caressing, squeezing each other’s form as if the world were about to end, as if this time would surely be the last, their last chance to enjoy this mind-blowing carnal experience they’d never be able to rejoice in with anyone else. And as painful as it sounded, that was the truth anyway, because every single ardent night, and each one of those sensuously desperate kisses could be the last. The very thought of never getting to feel her lover’s touch ever again filled her with poignant despair but, oddly enough, Vegeta’s words seemed to have gradually sunk into her subconscious.

“You need to let go, Bulma…” He’d whispered zealously as his unremitting, skilled mouth brought her to the edge of ecstasy and beyond. “Let go…”

Her mysterious Prince had opened her eyes inexorably, tempting her, inviting her to reconcile with her new station in the world, this uncertain, inhospitable world that was still so new to her, but which the warrior knew like the palm of his lethal hand. If this man, a man whose inviolable eyes had clearly witnessed horrors she had yet to see for herself, had in some way managed to survive years and years of subjugation under the dominion of that wretched lizard Overlord, then so could she. She was Bulma Briefs, and knowing that Vegeta, a fighter who played with the fires of death for a living, had somehow found a way to make peace with the madness inhabiting this vast, chaotic Universe, had brought her a newfound sense of confidence and fortitude, the hope that perhaps she’d make it after all. That maybe, just maybe, those rare moments of happiness would make her life worth living in the end, and the earthling had resolved, once and for all, that from now on she was going to squeeze every single ambrosial drop of sheer bliss that she’d get to enjoy by her lover’s side.

And oh, what bliss that was…

The cocky bastard who found immense satisfaction in undoing her and bending her to his twisted will was still there, no doubt about it. The arrogant man with depraved hands that could bring her to climax with a single caress, and a foul mouth that would whisper filthy words of dark desire in her ear, kindling a fire within her soul that only he held the power to put down with his expert touch.

But then, there were those moments...

Those reserved moments of idyllic intimacy, so new to the both of them, when her lover would let his guard down, just for her, unwittingly letting her know that perhaps she meant more to him than he was willing to admit, not only to her but to himself. Those private times when he’d pull her closer after climax had claimed them both, lying behind her as he pressed his body against the smooth skin of her back, his furry tail lovingly curled around her thigh as he idly nuzzled the nape of her neck. At times, his embrace would be so tight that he’d literally take her breath away, and it occurred to her that he looked like a child, an abandoned little child clinging to the one thing which could bring him comfort, assuaging the rage in his heated blood and soothing the nightmares that plagued his restless sleep at night.

Even though no promises had yet been exchanged between them, and Bulma was still struggling to accept that ruthless fact, a part of her had started to feel as if they both genuinely belonged to each other. It was a foreign sentiment, an unspoken vow which emanated not from Vegeta’s mouth but from his actions.

Every time he’d lazily run his calloused hands across her spine, tracing every curve and every hollow of her softness as she rested her head on his well-built chest, his warm touch told her that he’d never touch another the way he touched her.

Every time his lips pursued hers, his famished tongue violently twined with her own, tasting and exploring her with voracious thirst, told her that he’d never kiss another the way he kissed her.  

And every time he stood on her balcony at the break of dawn, locking his impenetrable gaze with her own giddy one, the hopelessly possessive look in his eye quietly told her that he’d never, ever, look at another the way he looked at her.

Bulma’s fingers stiffened around the minuscule capsule, a tinge of worry crossing her curious mind, pondering, not for the first time, if perhaps it was still too early for her to make a gift to her lover, and wondering just how he’d possibly react to receiving a present from her. But a rush of hope soon encompassed her as she evoked the unbelievable way in which Vegeta had said his goodbyes to her after their last encounter.        

The earthling had always been the one initiating contact in the morning, the only one bold enough to ask when he’d come back to her, or shyly requesting one final kiss before his agonizing departure would ultimately take place. But this time, as he’d exited her bathroom, fully dressed in his new armor and ready to go into battle, he hadn’t halted his steps, hesitantly waiting in the middle of the room for one of her familiar final requests. This time, Vegeta had walked right towards her, standing by the bed and aggressively yanking off the crumpled bedsheets still covering her naked form, fully exposing her and literally taking her in his arms, impetuously slamming his lips against hers as he stole one last kiss. Bulma’s sleepy eyes instantly opened wide, utterly shocked by his unusual actions but promptly giving in, wrapping every available limb around him and gratefully kissing him back, relishing the incredibly sensual way in which her Prince growled and squeezed her flesh hungrily in return. His hard armor felt deliciously cold against her nakedness, and she moaned in need as one of his gloved hands held her soft bottom in a firm grip while the other one buried itself within her disheveled blue curls, pulling her even closer as if he desired nothing more than for their starved bodies to merge into one.

It was then that she felt it...

It was then that she felt that Vegeta loathed this just as much as she did, and that he too was conflicted, fighting a silent battle as he urgently dived into their heated kiss in a futile attempt to prolong the inevitable. Bulma could still evoke the heartbreaking sob itching in her throat, her eyes burning as she held back the tears, and how impossibly hard it was right then to bite her tongue so as not to ask him to stay, to send everything to Hell, his duties, his infernal mission and his obligations to his Master, and never leave her side.

And, the Gods helped her, when their mouths finally parted, their lips swollen and avidly gasping for air, and he sank his all-consuming eyes on hers, she sensed that he would. She didn’t know why or how such an absurd idea could even be possible but, in her heart, and in those raw, exposed eyes of his, she believed that, if she ever asked him, if she ever mustered the courage to reveal her selfish desires to him, he’d give up on everything and everyone and follow her to the end of the world and back.

“Seven days…” He whispered huskily in her ear, breaking the silence in the room but still refusing to let go of her.

She nodded wordlessly, shamefully hiding her face in the crook of his neck, her arms tightening around his robust neck, struggling to keep her teary emotions in check.

“Be careful…” She pleaded softly, her shaky breath ghosting his skin as she laid one final, indolent kiss in his jaw.

Vegeta kept her securely trapped in his embrace a little longer, burying his nose in her creamy shoulder as he took in her heavenly scent one final time, entirely basking in it, as if he were trying to imprint it into his memory for life. Bulma didn’t know just how long they remained that way, all she knew was that, when he eventually placed her back on the bed, kissing her pale forehead with astonishing tenderness, he took a piece of her heart with him as he left her side at last, walking into her balcony and flying away from her.

 

Bulma closed her eyes, taking a deep, cooling breath and realizing in embarrassment that she’d been nervously chewing on her thumbnail during the countless minutes she’d spent completely lost in thought as she’d obsessively recreated, over and over again, every single moment spent with her Saiyan Prince.

She’d fallen for him.

She’d fallen for him hard and she knew it...

What she didn’t know was what the blazes she was going to do about it. Her lover’s affectionate displays, even that barely hidden adoration in his ebony eyes, told her that he’d grown inexplicably fond of her, but Bulma was no fool, and she sadly suspected that perhaps it simply wouldn’t be enough. For all she knew, the raw intensity in his actions was still nothing more than some kind of animalistic, physical infatuation and, even though she wanted to believe, with all her heart, that Vegeta had developed truthful feelings towards her, she had no idea as to how he’d react if she ever dared to pronounce that always terrifying four-letter word.

Love was a frightening concept indeed, an intimate notion that even regular human males had had trouble accepting and fully embracing, and she couldn’t even begin to imagine how Vegeta would respond to an honest declaration of affection coming from a woman. 

The scientist peeked at the large clock hanging from the wall, begrudgingly acknowledging that it was time to return to reality and get back to doing her job. She put the tiny capsule inside of one of the small pockets in her greasy overalls, carefully zipping and patting it, making sure it’d be safely protected until she found the right moment to give it to her lover. The Saiyan Prince was coming tonight, and even though her little present wasn’t much after all, she’d put a lot of thought and work into it, and she very much hoped that Vegeta would like and make good use of it.

Just as she was standing from her chair, she heard the familiar sounds of a shy voice awkwardly clearing her throat right behind her.

“Um… M-Miss Bulma?” The young receptionist coyly asked, uncomfortably standing by the lab’s door as she fidgeted with her hands in clear edginess.

“Yeah?” Bulma quickly replied, turning around so she could face her, suddenly surprised by the girl’s shyness. The young woman, who’d been hired to replace Launch, had been doing a more than acceptable job at it, and even though she’d always addressed the scientist with utmost respect, the girl seemed to be way more nervous than usual, even by her own standards.

“What’s the matter?” The earthling inquired as she tiredly rubbed her sore neck.

“Uh… Um… There’s… There’s a man w-who wants to see you…” The girl stuttered in half a whisper.

“See me?”

“Uh… Yes… H-He asked for you by name, Miss…”

Bulma squinted subtly, both intrigued and disturbed by the youngster’s words. There was only one person who knew her by her own name, and that was Vegeta. But, whenever the warrior visited her, he simply walked into her laboratory with that unique arrogance of his, totally uninvited and behaving as if he owned the place. As far as she was concerned, no one else should have been able to address her by name, certainly not someone intimidating enough to instill fear in the young girl’s soul, as he obviously had.

“Alright…” Bulma sighed audibly, walking in the girl’s direction and placing a kind hand on her trembling shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze in an effort to reassure her as well as she could. “Let’s see who this mysterious man is, shall we?” She muttered, already stepping into the hallway and leaving the girl behind.

She walked at a slow pace, her heart in her throat and her mind elucubrating a thousand and one horrifying possibilities behind her false confidence. And her worst fears became a reality as soon as she arrived at the entrance, setting her eyes on the secretive visitor, a man she’d hoped with all her might that she’d never get to see or interact with ever again.

Nappa.

“Bulma Briefs?” The giant beast asked gruffly without so much as a formal salutation.

Bulma swallowed heavily, faintly lifting her chin as she approached him, knowing that the best thing to do under the present circumstances was to stay as cool and collected as possible. The memory of the hulking animal threatening and cursing at her late friend still remained firmly engraved in her memory but, this time, Vegeta wouldn’t be around to save her if she got in trouble with the older Saiyan.

“That is correct,” Bulma calmly informed, standing behind the large desk and casually leaning on it with her now clammy hands. “What can I do for you?”

The bald man smirked malevolently, a deep grunt erupting from his throat as he leisurely uncrossed his arms, revealing the enigmatic object he’d been hiding, held in one of his massive hands.

A small, white box which he immediately offered to her.

“This is for you,” he stated cryptically, handing over the minor item and placing it in her hands with surprising care for a savage like him.

The earthling promptly took hold of it, watching it in concentration with a puzzled frown on her face. “Ummm… Th-Thank you… I guess?” She stammered uncertainly. “But, what…?”

“It’s Vegeta’s scouter,” Nappa explained neutrally, solving her doubts before she even had the time to fully state them. But a mysterious gleam in his chilling eyes quickly told her that, behind his apparent disinterest, the fighter was keeping the woman under close scrutiny, analyzing her every word and gesture. “He asks that you fix it for him.”

By now, Bulma could barely mask her consternation. The first time she’d gotten her hands on her man’s scouter, she’d almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it all, finding it absurd for anyone to keep such an antiquated model around. But, after her lover’s confession, in the secrecy of their private little world, she’d discovered the astoundingly sentimental reason behind it, and it was then that she’d finally understood just how valuable the old relic was to the Prince. Ever since she’d learnt that the ancient object belonged to Vegeta’s late father, she’d manipulated it with absolute care, and she found it hard to believe that the Saiyan would easily hand it over to someone like Nappa.   

“Did…? Did something happen to Prince Vegeta?” Bulma asked cautiously, a rush of panic overwhelming her at the thought of her man becoming the victim of some horrible outcome during his latest mission, or, what would be infinitely worse, the idea of Vegeta refusing to see her anymore, and choosing to handle his business with her through the taller idiot from now on.  

“What did you just say?” The brute asked in malicious offence, instantly making the hairs on her neck stand.

“I asked if something happened to Prince Vegeta,” the scientist guardedly repeated, trying to pay the gigantic man a modicum of respect but still refusing to show just how utterly intimidated by him she was feeling at the moment. “Since he usually chooses to supervise the repairs himself…”       

Nappa’s smirk curled evilly, tilting his head to the side as he peered at her askance. And then, then he took one step forward, towering over her, his nostrils flaring with poorly concealed curiosity, as if he were taking in her scent just the way Vegeta had when they’d first met back in her laboratory. Her body’s natural reaction, however, couldn’t have been any more different. Whilst her lover’s brazen actions had literally set her body on fire, awakening her lusty desires and making her yearn for his touch, Nappa’s mere presence made her wish for nothing more than to soak her full body in pure bleach.

Luckily for her, the older man soon stepped back, that evil smirk never leaving his putrid mouth, and he basically turned on his heels, leaving the building without a second glance.

“That’s none of your goddamned business, wench!” He barked at her, already giving her his back. “Just fix his fucking scouter if you know what’s good for you!”

His insulting words would have offended her if it weren’t for her state of extreme confusion, her mind blank, shaky hands holding the small box against her chest as she drowned in cold sweat. And she remained completely still, standing in her spot long after the bastard had left her presence, her eyes travelling to the baffling item, fingertips enfolding it gently, incapable of gathering the courage to open it and unveil its contents.

“M-Miss Bulma?” The girl’s voice timidly asked, somehow bringing her out of her dazed reverie. “Is… Is everything okay?” She enquired in a whispery voice.

“Uh?” Bulma frowned, quickly realizing that the young receptionist had witnessed the entire exchange and was now clearly ogling the object in her hands with nosiness. The scientist knew that she had to get out of there at once. Whatever that box contained, it certainly wasn’t something she was willing to freely share with anybody, much less with some girl who was still hardly more than a stranger to her.

“Yes,” she answered with feigned self-assurance, passing the snoopy girl by as she walked into the hallway in the direction of her lab. “It looks like I’ll be busy. Please make sure that no one bothers me for a while…”         

Bulma sat by her worktop once she reached the place, secretly grateful that it was her assistant’s day off while she placed the small package on top of it. She took a deep breath, her fingers fidgeting fretfully, finally taking off the lid and making the appalling discovery.

There it was.

Vegeta’s scouter.

“Kami…” She whispered to herself, anxiously biting on her lower lip as she examined the distinctive object with dread. By now, she’d fixed it for Vegeta enough times to know it like the palm of her hand, but never had she done it without his presence, both solemn, yet strangely supportive, by her side.

Something must have happened.

Something bad…

Bulma grasped it at last, running her trembling fingertips across its timeworn, cracked surface just as she’d done when Vegeta had disclosed how important the object was to him. She could feel it coming, that old, familiar dread, the frightful tightness in her chest that pounced on her whenever she pictured the possibility of her lover’s absence in her life. She switched the on button, testing its many functions, her distress rapidly intensifying once she realized that the small apparatus appeared to be doing its job efficiently.

The scientist carefully deposited the scouter on the table, right in front of her, planting her elbows on the hard surface and tiredly resting her head on her hands as she stared at it through blurry, misty eyes.

It made no sense.

None.

She was pretty sure that her man would never get rid of the object by choice, and he certainly wouldn’t go on a mission without it, which could only mean one thing: that Vegeta was on the base but was refusing to see her. And the worst part was that she couldn’t figure out how or why that was even possible, given how incredibly affectionate he’d been towards her during their last encounter.

Perhaps he regretted it all...

Maybe, just maybe, he’d finally opened his eyes and he’d understood just how absurd, how utterly insane this relationship, or arrangement, or whatever this madness that had erupted between them was.                        

Perhaps he’d met someone else…

Her eyes squeezed shut at that particular probability, battling an inner turmoil she’d never faced before as jealousy and abandonment ate her alive, hot tears pooling at the corner of her eyes, quivery fingers digging into her scalp, pondering, wondering why, just why had her Prince chosen to put an end to their affair. And how could he have been so cruel to do it in such manner, without so much as an explanation or a goodbye, and choosing to rub, quite literally, his most prized possession right in her face instead.   

Bulma froze in that position for countless minutes, time going by unbearably slowly as her mind meandered in agitation, travelling a myriad of dark, gloomy trails, always leading to the same destination.

Loneliness.

In the end, it was the all too familiar noise of her alarm clock, announcing that her working day had come to an end, what brought her back to reality, a miserably lonely reality she wasn’t brave enough yet to face.

‘Seven days…’ He’d whispered in her ear as he held her prisoner to his fierce embrace.

Seven days.

Tonight was supposed to be the night, the night of her much-anticipated reunion with her lover. But now, as she stood from her chair with dejection, she had to reluctantly accept that the chances of Vegeta making one of his furtive visits to her balcony tonight were slim to none.

Bulma rubbed her now swollen eyes tiredly, wiping off the moisture with the sleeve of her dirty overalls as she grabbed the empty box with the intention of placing the scouter back inside so it’d remain protected from any outside elements until she had time to take care of it tomorrow.

And then she saw it…

Her puffy eyes widened in shock when she made her discovery: a flat, rectangular object awaiting patiently for her to reveal its secrets. It was lying at the bottom of the box, its color and size so similar to the package itself that Bulma had completely missed its presence. A shaky hand reached out for it, her breath hitching in her throat, berating herself for her own stupidity. She’d been so engrossed, so focused on Vegeta’s absence and on his scouter, that she hadn’t even taken the time to properly inspect every part of his message.

“What…?” She muttered absentmindedly, her suspicions proven right when she flipped it, seeking its frontal side and confirming, indeed, what the secretive object was.

An envelope.

A large, white envelope that Bulma opened with such restless anxiety that she almost ripped the whole thing apart as she frantically discovered its contents, consisting on a small magnetic card and a simple white note.

 

Constellation-X Hotel

Room 980

After Work

 

“Gods…” She whispered in relief, a surge of enthusiasm engulfing her once again.

She closed her eyes and pressed the note to her lips, exhaling a ragged breath of pure liberation, immediately recognizing both Vegeta’s handwriting and his scent all over it. She didn’t even know how, given how much weaker her human senses were compared to his overdeveloped Saiyan ones, but she could, nonetheless; that earthy, musky aroma that belonged to him and him alone, and his handwriting, small, slightly angular, and surrounded by an unmistakably regal touch.

At her insistence, and much to her surprise, he’d relented to her pleads once, agreeing to write a few words for her on the inside of the back cover of one of her poetry books. It’d happened during their last encounter, after admitting to the curious woman that, even though he mostly handled any kind of written information through a wide array of digital formats, and his people hadn’t used books as means to store data per se, he could indeed write by hand, and Bulma had been so fascinated by her lover’s revelation that she’d managed to steal a few written words from him. The words had been written in Standard Galactic, and when the earthling, feeling especially bold, had enquired whether he could write in any other language, he’d confessed to still being fluent in Saiyango but, to her disappointment, he’d refused categorically to share anything having to do with his long dead language with her.    

But now, none of that mattered anymore, the only thing that truly mattered was the object in her tremulous hands.

An invitation…

Her Prince had sent her a clandestine invitation, and even though she’d never visited the particular spot he was inviting her to, she’d surely heard of it before, and a naughty, sneaky voice told her, not without mischief, that tonight would be a night to remember.

Bulma carefully placed the scouter back in its box and, after making sure that the magnetic card and the note were safely hidden inside the very same pocket where her tiny capsule rested, she parted in the direction of her Saiyan lover, her heart giddy with excitement at what was still to come.

 

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The night was falling by the time she arrived to the mysterious hotel and she watchfully parked her air-bike in the designated area. Despite still owning a few of her old capsules containing a couple of Capsule Corporation vehicles, she’d chosen one of the standard ones provided for Frieza’s employees instead, fearing that her esteemed possessions would, not only get her excessive attention, but put her at risk as well. Bulma had been extremely cautious when it came to hiding most of her technological abilities, and she definitely didn’t want her skills or her talents to fall into the wrong hands. Just the mere fact of making a capsule for Vegeta was already placing her in great danger, yet she knew, undoubtedly, that her Saiyan Prince would take whatever secrets she shared with him to the grave.

Constellation-X Hotel was located at the center of the base’s most expensive residential area, the district where only the Emperor’s most celebrated warriors could afford to stay. The neighborhood wasn’t exactly isolated from the rest of the military station, but there was basically no need for it to be. In the lizard’s empire, every single living creature knew their place in the food chain, and Bulma, as much as it pained her to admit it, still quietly abided at the bottom of the barrel, and she was convinced that she’d stay there for a really, really long time.  

The earthling stood in front of the lavish entrance doors, taking a deep breath and battling a painfully tight knot in her stomach as she bravely walked up the long flight of stairs. Once she set foot into the massive halls, she had to force herself to clench her jaw, refraining from gawking like a silly little girl at the opulence swimming before her wide blue eyes.

The whole place reeked of luxury, with walls and floors extensively covered in polished stone, bizarrely similar to her planet’s finest marbles, and extravagant, thick burgundy rugs. The large golden lamps hanging from the high ceilings screamed excess, and a scent of cleanliness floated in the air, together with a rare aroma of rich incenses and a waft of the distinctively expensive herbs that high-class soldiers used to indulge into smoking.

Bulma walked through the over-the-top corridors, both nervous and excited about her foreign surroundings, holding her small white box in one hand and the magnetic card in the other. She’d feared that someone, at some point, would stop or interrogate her about her whereabouts, but in spite of the sidelong glances that some of the workers shot in her direction, she was pretty much left alone right until she reached the elevators.

As she pushed the button and waited patiently for her turn, she couldn’t help but peek in the direction of the roaring laughter coming from the back of the hall. To her right, in the distance, she clearly discerned the hotel’s bar, filled with tables brimming with appetizing foods and overpriced liquors. And at the tables, indulging in the wasteful feast, sat a wide selection of the most grotesque fighters, all dressed in their high-rank armors, enjoying the company of what Bulma rapidly recognized as expensive escorts, most of them sitting on the soldiers’ laps.

It wasn’t that different from Earth, she thought as she examined the obscene situation from afar. The heiress was no stranger to the extensive variety of posh hotels she’d sought accommodation in during her past work trips and Capsule Corp. conferences, and she knew how a lot of those business men who her father used to make business with operated. Surely, they used to handle their affairs with a little more discretion, but the principle remained the same, and now she knew why no one had questioned her about her intentions as she’d stepped into the place. Whether it was on her home planet, or on some long-forgotten corner of the Galaxy, the ‘look the other way’ policy seemed to apply with no exception.

Launch had described endless stories about those women before, and about just how many credits any decent looking female could quickly accumulate as long as she was willing to set aside her principles for a night. But, thankfully, even the intrepid blonde hadn’t been able to stoop to that level, and all of those tales had ended up in nothing more than strange anecdotes, just another footnote to add to the sheer insanity that had become her life.

“That would be the day…” Bulma mumbled, shaking her head to herself as she entered the ornate elevator, thinking on how she’d much prefer to starve to death rather than ever putting herself through such degrading circumstances voluntarily.         

It was inside the elaborate lift that her nerves truly started to get the most of her, clutching the box a little tighter against her chest as her fingertips fiddled with the shiny, magnetic card. It was always like this, that jittery anticipation that invaded her whenever she felt his presence nearby. And she could feel him, she didn’t know how but she could. Like a warm, captivating energy hopelessly attracting her, pulling her towards him with no way to run, and the most frightening part was that she knew, as clear as the light of day, that she’d never, ever run away from him or try to resist this magnetic temptation in any way.

It was terrifying.

It was exhilarating…

Her wobbly legs walked her throughout the lavish corridor of the hotel’s last floor on their own accord, her heart hammering furiously in her chest and, when she ultimately reached her journey’s end, her hand slid that slick card through the slot without the shadow of a doubt, knowing that her dark Prince awaited her on the other side of the mahogany wooden door. The gate opened straight away, unveiling its secrets, a deliberate invitation for her to make her entrance and to embark in a new, secret adventure. And Bulma couldn’t help but gape in pure wonder at the magnificence she discovered inside, a plush luxury which perfectly matched the one she’d already witnessed outside.

It was splendid, the biggest hotel suite she’d ever set foot into. Extravagant yet fairly elegant, flooded in white and royal blue tones and sensually illuminated by quite a few strategically placed bright candles. A king-sized bed fit for a queen, impeccably made and covered in black, satiny sheets, announced the forbidden promise of the erotic pleasures that would arise on it and, in the back, staring out the window with his back still facing her, stood the only man capable of bringing her such thrill.

Bulma walked a few steps into the room, the door gradually closing behind her as her gaze greedily roamed all over the fine Saiyan specimen standing before her very eyes. He was clad in nothing but a white towel from the waist down, his torso fully exposed to her, proudly exhibiting the fascinating atlas of ruthless scars that he called his body, and which she now knew by heart.            

She wasn’t quite sure just how long she waited for him to notice her, completely lost in the spellbinding trance of his presence. All she knew was that every single drop of air left her lungs the moment Vegeta turned around and fixated his eyes on her, walking in her direction with the smooth, menacing calmness of a lethal jaguar.

Her man.

Her Saiyan Prince...

He was a living enigma, a walking contradiction, with those unfathomable eyes piercing her to the spot, both confident yet oddly uptight. He always did this to her at the beginning of their clandestine encounters, staring at her with an intensity that made her blush like some foolish schoolgirl, as if he were scrutinizing her, trying to steal her most precious secrets so he could keep them all to himself.

Bulma waited on her spot like a cat on a hot tin roof, admiring his flawless form. The faint droplets of water still running across his skin and the few rogue tendrils of hair clinging to his shoulders told her that he was just fresh from a shower. And a stream of self-consciousness swamped her when she thought, all of a sudden, of how deplorable her appearance after a long day of labor must have been to him.

“I believe this is yours…” She whispered shyly, offering his scouter back to him when he stood in front of her at last.

Vegeta said nothing still, never losing eye contact with her as he simply grasped the white box with one hand and deposited it on a small console table nearby without much care. Before the dazed earthling could mutter another word, he grabbed her by the collar of her large overalls, aggressively pulling her closer and smashing his lips against hers.

Her body instantly responded to his passionate onslaught, her hands reaching for his built neck, nails digging into his flesh as her lover’s tongue delved deeper into her. It was terrifying, absolutely terrifying just how little need there was for words between them. Whatever it was, whatever this was, it worked. All they needed, all they’d ever need, was a hideaway, just a recondite, secret sanctuary where they could both retreat into, hiding away from the rest of the world and allowing their famished bodies to do the talking for them.

His insatiable lips soon found her neck, running his wet mouth all over the warmth that was Bulma. Her luminous skin both spicy and sweet, hot blood pumping underneath his slick tongue, making him groan in pure lust at the sensation of her little nails poking into his resilient skin as he explored her. His hands skillfully unzipped her, sneaking into her work-clothes and wrapping themselves around her waist as she trembled in need.

“Ve-Vegeta…” She gasped breathlessly, dropping her head back in submission, letting him do as he wished with her. The rich scent of her arousal darted straight to his groin, the booming beast inside of him roaring in exultant pride at just how dangerously easy it was for him to inflame her, to stir her desires and make her submit to his will.

“Ve-Vegeta…” She huffed once more, her hands now on his chest in a poor attempt at reining in her appetites. “P-Please… I…”

The Saiyan’s only response was a deep, guttural grunt, his lips nipping at her mouthwatering collarbone, hands tightening around her midriff as he brought her even closer, his thirst rising at the sound of his name on her lips.

Only she could do this to him, making him swell and yearn for her like a starved animal, invading his agitated sleep at night, those long, ghastly nights that felt interminable without her in his arms. His only comfort during those solitary times was thinking of her, reminiscing, with frightening detail, every single instant spent in each other’s company, all the libidinous things they’d done together, and the innumerable new ones he’d do to her when they’d eventually reunite again.

And the most disconcerting part was that the more he’d gotten to know her, the deeper their bond had grown, and so had those lonely fantasies featuring his blue-haired vision. It wasn’t her flawless body the one thing he evoked anymore, it was that myriad of minute details, that slew of idiosyncrasies that made his woman who she was. From the way her pretty brow would frown in concentration while she was patching up his old scouter, to the charming manner in which her face would lit up whenever she’d cutely scrunch her nose just for him. Not to mention the hypnotizing twirl of her fingers, playing with her hair during those enigmatic times when she’d allow herself to get lost in thought in his presence, her dreamy eyes half-closed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about only the Gods knew what while her other hand soothingly scratched his scalp in the darkest hours of night.

“Vegeta… P-Please… Can we…?” Bulma whimpered again, her hands still pressing his broad chest, her nails lightly grazing his nipples as she wrestled a losing battle with herself. She never wanted this moment to end and yet, she couldn’t help the horde of conflicted emotions surging within her right now. “C-Can we…? Can we stop for just…? For just a minute…? I-I just…”      

His lips froze on the spot, his large hands, still hidden beneath her clothing, instantly turning to stone on her hips. Vegeta’s mouth reluctantly abandoned her enticing neck, lifting his head until his eyes met hers, desperately attempting to keep his body under control and putting on a false masquerade of confidence as he privately feared the worst. Out of all the steamy, despicable things he’d ever done to his woman’s body, she’d never once asked him to stop, if anything ‘more’ seemed to have become her favorite word during the ardent times they’d shared together.  

“I just…” Bulma whispered timidly, her small hands gently cupping his face. “I was just wondering if… If I could take a quick shower? I… I’ve just been working all day and…” She shrugged slightly, her eyes meeting the floor alluringly. “I just…”

“Of course,” Vegeta replied, a knowing smirk thinly drawing itself on his mouth in both relief and amusement. For a second, he’d been afraid that his little minx would have finally come to her senses and leave him, but her passionate reaction to his kiss and that adorable blush on her cheeks let him know that she was just feeling self-conscious about still being dressed in her dirty overalls.

He gave her tiny waist one final, affectionate squeeze before ultimately letting go of her, surprising her once again when his hand reached out for hers, delicately intertwining their fingers together in a meager attempt at imitating her past actions, on that night when everything had irreversibly changed for them. She didn’t pronounce a word, meekly following right behind him as he walked across the extensive room until he made it to a white door, pressing a button located beside it and revealing the most opulent bathroom the earthling had ever set her eyes upon.

“There are fresh towels inside,” Vegeta quietly explained, letting go of her hand and staying outside, waiting by the door for Bulma to enter. Once she did, he nodded in the direction of a shelf hanging on the walls by the polished sink. “And this is for you…” He added in a significantly lower tone, laced with a tad of reserve.

The door closed behind her once again, and she simply stood still for a moment, her mind almost dizzy by the extraordinary luxury surrounding her, a lavishness which had once been so prevailing in her life, but that now felt as foreign as the cryptic man patiently awaiting her on the other side of the door. In front of her, resting on top of the shelf her lover had pointed at, laid what appeared to be a stylish giftbox. Bulma approached it with cautious steps, feeling as if she were immersed in a surreal dream and fearing that, by moving too fast, she’d wake up from her delusions all of a sudden. But her fingers, gingerly exploring the black, satiny box, told her that it was real, just as real as the blush flushing straight to her cheeks when she finally dared to open it and she discovered its lewd contents.    

 

******************************************

 

Vegeta stood cross-armed by the door, his left eye twitching in impatience as his concern for his woman grew to treacherous heights.

Half an hour.

Bulma had spent more than half an hour inside the bathroom already, and judging by the lack of noise coming from the other side of the wall, she showed no signs of coming out of there any time soon. At first, he’d thought that she’d simply be prolonging what he’d expected to be a pleasurable time inside the copious shower, but the sounds of the water streams had ceased long ago, and he hadn’t heard a peep out of her ever since.

He still couldn’t quite believe what he was doing, the dangerous levels he’d chosen to go through just so he could indulge and charm his little earthling. Never had he set foot inside one of these places before, choosing to seek accommodation in more modest inns instead. In spite of being one of the greatest, highest paid soldiers in Frieza’s army, the Saiyan had always lived a frugal life for himself, a life of simple pleasures where his only real treat had been keeping his ravenous stomach well-fed at all times. Everything else was dispensable, especially anything having to do with the females who’d entered his life just as quickly as they’d abandoned it, and he most certainly would have never spent a single credit in any one of them, whether it was with the intention of bedding them or, what sounded even more preposterous, of sweeping them off their feet. As a result of his thrifty existence, the Prince had accumulated a small fortune, a fortune that he was now gladly choosing to spend on the only creature he’d ever deemed worthy of his attentions.

Even though their last encounter had been, without a doubt, their best one to date, he’d still found himself haunted by his heartbreaking memories of her. She’d looked so sad and vulnerable, standing in the dark, in the middle of the empty streets, dressed in her old white dress and with those wistful tears streaming down her beautiful face as she evoked her former, idolized life, that he’d wanted to do something for her, however small the gesture, to enliven her spirit.

So, ever since he’d landed on the base in the morning, he’d spent the entire day looking for the right place to invite her to, painstakingly supervising every minute detail, from the best hotel to the finest suite, even disgracing himself to the point of buying that little present for her, the type of item he’d never cared much for anyway.

All because of her…

And now the goddamned woman wouldn’t even exit the bathroom.    

“Bulma?” He asked at last, discreetly knocking at the door after having waited what he considered a sensible amount of time.

Silence.

The most unnerving silence filled the air until a subdued voice finally offered him a reply.

“Y-Yeah?” Bulma answered shakily, her clear distress instantly putting him on guard.       

“Is everything alright?” Vegeta inquired in the least intimidating tone he could muster.

There was no response this time but that disheartening stillness, driving him to the brink of insanity until he couldn’t take it anymore.

“I’m coming in…” He announced softly, already pushing the button and opening the closed door, gawking in utter shock at the scene unfolding before his eyes.

He found her sitting on the edge of the tub, already showered and dressed in the attire he’d purchased for her. Her curly hair was still damp and recently untangled, yet she kept fretting nervously with the small comb in her hands, her little toes wriggling anxiously on the cold, tiled floors. But it wasn’t her agitation what confused him the most, it was the way her back slouched slightly, her shapely thighs shut tight as she looked at him with the most crushed look on her perfect face. She looked sickly pale and defeated, definitely not what he’d bargained for when he’d made plans for the night, then again, he already had the conviction that the bewitching woman would forever remain a mystery to him.

“Bulma…” He whispered with hesitation, taking a few steps forward, approaching her slowly, very slowly, as one would a terrified kitten, fearing that one false move would make her jump and run away.

“Are you alright?” Vegeta newly asked, standing in front of her as he took in her appearance. Despite her obvious anguish, the woman was looking as gorgeous as ever, and it was getting harder and harder to repress his most primitive instincts in her presence.

She assented doubtfully, a rosy tint spreading on her cheeks at the hungry way the Saiyan kept staring at her, both concerned yet visibly fired up, which only served to confuse her even further.

“Come here…” He demanded softly, offering his hand to her and inwardly relieved when she took it without vacillation, slowly standing from the tub. Vegeta tenderly cupped her face, savoring that darling blush on her face as she shyly avoided his gaze, still looking to the ground. “Then, what’s the matter?”

Bulma took a deep breath, wondering how she could try to explain to her lover the alluvion of emotions overflowing her when she couldn’t even gather her own thoughts. She couldn’t puzzle out her sentiments, all she knew was the way she’d felt inside of that immense shower as she’d lathered up her jaded body in expensive, fragrant soaps, and the way she’d felt afterwards, standing in front of the mirror, dressed in the sumptuous lingerie that the Prince had acquired for her.

It’d been the first time in many months that she’d had the opportunity to look at herself in a full-length mirror, and a surge of pain had viciously hit her when she’d sadly realized that she could barely recognize the image of the woman emblazoned in her reflection anymore. That drained, spiritless woman couldn’t possibly be Bulma Briefs, the wealthy heiress who’d once held the world in the palm of her hand, the one who used to believe that everything and anything was possible, and that there wasn’t a single thing in the entire Universe that couldn’t be hers.

She’d run her long fingers across the alien, red fabric clinging to her body, both slightly transparent and unbearably soft, trying to remember when was the last time she’d worn anything other than baggy overalls and her worn out Earth clothes. She’d contemplated her wet, lackluster tresses, her ivory skin, still soft but lacking the suppleness of former times, the good old days when she could afford to spoil and pamper every inch of her body.

And, above all, she’d thought of him…

Vegeta.

The man calmly waiting behind the door, the deadly warrior who’d orchestrated this entire rendezvous for reasons she couldn’t even comprehend. Bulma’s mind had flown to those women she’d just seen downstairs, in the lobby, the ones willing to sell their bodies for a handful of extra credits, powerless to restrain the acrid pang of jealousy and insecurity abruptly burning in her chest. She’d never even considered such a possibility in the past, but now, immersed in the middle of such overindulgence, clad in nothing but a tiny pair of panties and that flimsy negligee, she couldn’t help but wonder if this type of life was something attractive to her lover, a side of him she’d never been exposed to before.

Bulma was no fool, and she knew that the warrior was unquestionably, sexually experienced, yet she’d never actually pictured him as the type of man who would indulge in such females. He’d never appeared to be bothered by her lack of resources or her unsophistication, but now she worried that he’d grown tired of devoting his time to a mere mechanic, and that perhaps this was some kind of twisted game of his, trying to groom and spruce her up in some sick attempt at trying to turn her into something, into someone, that she was not.

His fingertips kept encircling her pale face, the sensual body heat of his proximity making her heart flutter as he kept piercing her with those eyes, the frown on his masculine face wanting nothing more than for her to make her most intimate thoughts known to him.

“Do you…?” She finally dared to ask, her voice barely a whisper and her eyes looking at him demurely. “Do you come to this place often?” 

Vegeta couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at that, using everything in his power to try to understand just what in Heaven’s name was wrong with the woman. He’d never really taken the time to intimate with a woman on any kind of an emotional level before, but he was fairly confident that the comfort he was showering her with was something which most females would enjoy.

“Never,” he replied with quiet conviction. “Why would you ask such a thing?”

Bulma’s blush intensified, wanting to believe his words more than she’d ever wanted to believe anything in her whole life.

“Th-Those…” She stuttered timidly, lowering her eyes once more, her hands gently getting hold of his wrists, almost as if she were struggling to remain grounded. “Those women… Do you…? Have you ever…?”

“No,” Vegeta promptly answered, finally grasping where those jumbled emotions really stemmed from.

Idiot.

He’d been a complete and utter idiot…

He’d been so focused, so compulsively engrossed in his obsession with planning the perfect day to spoil and satisfy her, that he’d forgotten just how incredibly intelligent Bulma truly was. He’d overpassed the fact that the woman would wisely analyze her surroundings and get a flawed impression about him and his way of life. For all she knew, he could have lived a debauched life whenever she wasn’t around, an existence dedicated to decadence and excess, and the worst part was that he had no right to complain or get offended by her wrong assumptions, given how severely tight-lipped he’d always been with anything regarding his private life.

Surprisingly, the deeper their bond had blossomed, the fonder he’d grown at the idea of opening up to her in the future, even entertaining the thought of sharing some of his old life stories with her, but her rare candor made him feel so inept, so inadequate, that he didn’t know if he’d ever find the courage to bare his soul to her. But tonight, there was one thing he could do, tonight he could bring her the reassurance that she so desperately longed for.          

“Bulma, look at me…” He pleaded, his hand carefully lifting her chin in encouragement for her to set those glorious eyes on him. “Never!” He whispered heatedly against her lips, letting her know, once and for all, that she was the only woman he’d ever catered to in this way.

His firm tone and the honesty in his stare left no room for argument, and the Saiyan was soon rewarded with a still somewhat shy, but flirtatious little smile. Bulma nodded, her eyes lighting up like the brightest of stars, wrapping her arms around him as she pressed her brow against his.

“Okay…” She whispered sweetly, her fingernails soothingly scratching the nape of his neck, reveling in the way his tail immediately found her waist and pulled her even closer.

“If you…” He wavered, his thumbs lightly brushing her cheeks. “If you do not like it, we could still go back to your apartment…”

She silenced his qualms with her lips, placing a tender kiss upon his as she shook her head in denial, her lovely face still pressed against his and her amusement growing by the second when she soon realized that now it was his turn to blush like an insecure adolescent.  

“I really like it, Vegeta…” Bulma muttered, kissing him chastely again. And again. “I do… I was just… I don’t know…” She shrugged sheepishly. “I guess I was just… I wasn’t expecting all of this…” Her arms tightened around his neck, literally jumping into his arms and effectively trapping him between her long legs, clinging to him as if his warmth was all she had to keep her alive.

Vegeta’s arms were on her at once, his hands ardently wandering all over her smooth back and that pert little ass of hers, sighing in relief as he felt her gradually relax in his embrace. She kept kissing him repeatedly, those nervous, adorable pecks she always broke the ice with whenever they reunited after their increasingly painful times apart.

Those innocent kisses which would end up bringing his downfall...  

Both lovers stood in the middle of the marbled room, getting lost in one another, the pressure intensifying as her legs constricted possessively, wound around his solid waist as her hands clasped a fistful of his wild hair. Her mouth kept hungrily exploring his, opening wide and happily welcoming him, letting him drink and consume her, giving herself to him like never before.

Now she knew, now she finally knew that he’d done all of this for her, and that he’d never given a damn about her lack of wealth, or status, or about always having to spend the night in her cramped, creaky bed. This man, this stormy, untamed man, hugging and crushing her yearning body against his as he grunted savagely into her mouth. Vegeta didn’t care about her blotchy overalls, or those stubborn little grease stains which sneaked in underneath her short nails and she couldn’t quite get rid of after a strenuous workday. Nor did he mind that her hands were no longer as soft as they used to be, once upon a time when the whole world laid at her feet and she could endlessly spoil herself rotten.

When he’d first invited her into this experience, she’d feared for a split second that he’d tired of her impoverished life, that it wouldn’t be enough, that she wouldn’t be enough. But the doubt in his gaze and the reserve in his voice when he’d offered to take her back to her home if such extravagance overwhelmed her, told her that he’d simply chosen to indulge her for her sake.

In the end, it didn’t matter.

It made no difference when or where their encounters took place, whether it was in her modest apartment, in the backroom of her laboratory or inside the most exuberant hotel suite ever conceived. Time would stop when they were together, and nothing, absolutely nothing else mattered but that raw chemistry, hopelessly pulling them towards one another.

Just a man and a woman, trying to steal whatever vestiges of joy and pleasure there were left for the both of them in the cold, miserable Universe they’d been thrown into.

In his arms, she was just his Bulma…

“Vegeta…” She whimpered longingly, rubbing her lust-hazed body against his as she became dangerously aware of the bulge hardening beneath his towel. “T-Take me to bed…” She begged feverishly, her teeth scraping his earlobe, enjoying the way the Saiyan groaned when she then licked that sweet spot below his ear.

His hands kept a firm grip on her bottom, a cocky smirk of satisfaction crossing his lips, inflamed at the sight of her neediness.

“Mhmm…” Vegeta moaned, playfully nudging the glowing skin of her neck with his sharp nose. “Is that what you really want, little woman?”

She nodded wordlessly, her moist lips brushing his jaw as she kept grinding against him. One of her arms tightened her hold on him while the other reached his muscular chest, her fingertips sensually tracing a hot path of fire across his delectably tanned torso until it reached its destination.

“I’d say…” Bulma’s sultry voice whispered wickedly to his ear, a widening smile ghosting his skin when she boldly wrapped her devilish fingers around his hard cock through the towel. “I’d say I’m not the only one who wants this, Prince Vegeta…”

“Lustful wench…” He hissed loudly through his teeth, his throat bobbing, swallowing heavily when she shamelessly squeezed his manhood. He instantly clutched her frail wrist, fearing that if she kept taunting and teasing him like this, it wouldn’t be long until she had him entirely at her mercy.

Bulma giggled in delight as he carried her back into the room, teetering like an untried young boy, his knees weak with desire, cursing himself for his weakness when it came to the woman shivering in his arms. When they made it to the impressive bed, he settled his precious cargo on it with utmost care, taking a step back so he could admire her in all her glory.

A thick energy stirred the air as his eyes contemplated the stunning woman carelessly splayed all over the black satiny sheets. The sharp contrast of her porcelain skin against the silken darkness, twined with the crimson of her provocative attire, turned her into the most appetizing spectacle his eyes had ever feasted on. He took in the delicious way in which the indecent negligée clung to her every curve, her ripe, luscious tits straining underneath the red fabric as her breathing accelerated.

She looked unreal, unattainable, like a kittenish little doll especially brought into existence to fulfill his every fantasy…     

One of his thick fingers hooked at the edge of his bath towel, and Bulma’s tongue licked her lower lip with naughty defiance when the white cloth casually touched the ground, fully exposing her lover to her starved gaze. All she could think of, as the glow of the candlelight fiddled with his anatomy, enhancing every ridge and every plain of his vigorous physique, was that he truly was the most handsome man she’d ever come across. She stretched her arm to him, her need taking over, the unbearable pressure building within her at the sight of his shaft, fully erect and jutting between his powerful thighs, and the knowledge, the maddening knowledge that every single bit of that perfection was hers and hers alone.

Vegeta soon accepted her silent invitation, carefully holding the trembling hand she’d so eagerly offered and bringing it to his mouth. His lips grazed her delicate knuckles, his face oddly stoic as his eyes desecrated every curve of her body, walking towards her and sinking his strong knees on the plush mattress, one knee at each side of her thighs, straddling her with dominance in one sleek, controlling move.            

He let go of her hand, his lips twisting into a devastating smirk at the sight of her slim arms folding in front of her, prudishly covering up her breasts, suddenly intimidated by the fierce intensity in his look. She was such a contradiction his little woman, such an amalgam of lovable paradoxes, the way she could blush like a maiden yet still pronounce such vulgar, despicable words in his ear in the throes of passion, would never cease to enrapture and amuse him.

His rugged touch found her thighs, gliding across her softness until it reached the rim of the glossy fabric still hiding her flesh from his greedy eyes. Her hips swayed in anxious need when his hands slid the nightdress upwards, revealing the tiny scrap of red still covering her heated core. His fingertips skimmed her hipbones, her milky skin breaking into delightful goosebumps in response to his feathery touch.

“Vegeta…” She whispered brazenly, trying urgently to free her legs from the merciless trap that were his thighs without success. She was going mad, she had to be. The excruciatingly slow way in which he was touching her, exploring her, and the way his jet-black eyes kept staring at her, his pupils dilated like those of a wild animal, were nothing but an invite for her to dangerously walk over the edge of reason.

The wantonness in her voice and the unmistakable scent of her arousal sent a jolt of excitement right to his cock, his jaw clenching, sharp Saiyan teeth chewing on his inner cheek until he could taste copper, and it was all he could do not to rip off those goddamned panties and ram into her, fucking her senseless until she’d beg him to stop. But he wouldn’t, he couldn’t. He wanted to take his time with her tonight, to taste her, to savor her, to luxuriate in her every word and every gesture, to engrave each and every instant devoted to her and keep it locked within the insanity that was his mind forever.

Because it would never be enough, now he knew. All of those nights spent in doomed solitude, fantasizing about the alluring creature, all of them, plotting, conspiring, brewing, envisioning every obscene fantasy, every impish, dirty trick they could plunge into, only to freeze in the spot when he finally had her in his arms, missing her already long before he’d even had the chance to lay his dirty hands on her.

He’d never tire of this little spitfire of a woman…

Vegeta’s hands resumed his erotic journey, leisurely travelling upwards as he undressed her, revealing her immaculate figure bit by bit. Bulma keenly raised her arms, her entire body wriggling in anticipation when he finally removed the garment, carelessly throwing it on the royal blue carpet. His plans for taking things slow with her started to crumble as soon as her hand grasped the minute waistband of her lacy panties, frantically attempting to get rid of them while still captured beneath his solid weight.

“You really are an impatient little thing… Aren’t you Bulma?” He susurrated against her open mouth, her name sounding like a sinful prayer on his lips as he forcibly grabbed her thin wrist, pinning it above her head.

She said nothing, panting breathlessly as she writhed and squirmed underneath him. Her only free hand mischievously reached down to his lower back, and his groin tightened when her clever fingers wrapped themselves around the base of his tail, stroking it just the right way, enough to drive him absolutely mad with desire.

“F-Fuck!” He roared hotly. The blasted woman had gotten to know him and his weaknesses far too well for his own good.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

A deep, husky laugh burst from her throat when he brutally ripped off her minuscule panties, parting her slender legs with one knee and positioning himself right between them. He viciously took hold of her other hand when his hips bucked wildly as she kept those mischievous fingers disobediently running up and down across the sensitive fur.

“You want this, don’t you?” He rasped, his lips curling smugly when his Bulma nodded with agitation. He trapped both of her hands above her head, sliding his swollen cock between her velvety folds.

The Gods damned her…

She was wet already, her sweet little hole contracting every time he wickedly teased her nub. Vegeta smirked evilly when he saw her fighting the fierce hold he had on her, knowing just how much she loved to touch him, to run those lovely nails of hers all over his marred skin, sinking them zealously into his flesh. But he wouldn’t let her. He wanted her caught, utterly helpless. He wanted her defenseless, right beneath him, wide open and willingly taking every single thrust he’d unleash upon her tight body tonight.

He wrapped his thick fingers around his member, drinking in her pitiful whimpers when he lazily rubbed its dripping tip against her clit, cruelly taunting her while his other hand kept restraining her arms. Bulma’s legs bound tightly around his waist, her hips writhing against his in a silent plea to put an end to her misery and give her what she wanted, needed, the most, the one thing that would bring them both release.

The Saiyan finally had mercy on her, placing himself at the entrance of her saturated sex and gradually moving inside of her. He gritted his teeth at the delicious resistance, her taut little pussy squeezing him hard as she struggled to take all of him, inch by agonizing inch. His hands met hers, carefully interlacing his fingers with her own in a rare gesture of intimacy, and her eyes closed, tilting her head back as she surrendered to the breathtaking sensation of her man rocking his hips back and forth in a slow, agonizing rhythm.   

“Bulma…” Vegeta muttered, his voice a hoarse whisper. “Look at me…” He demanded, already feeling himself coming undone as he kept moving, thrusting, sinking her rounded hips against the mattress, crushing her with his weight in a desperate quest for their insatiate bodies to become one.

She defied him still, her eyes tight shut, getting lost within him as his essence filled her up entirely. There was something in him, in that overwhelming, animalistic presence, that made her wish to surrender, to give herself to him with no boundaries and complete abandonment to the masculine power he exuded.

“Look at me or I’ll stop!” He whispered viciously in her ear, emphasizing his demand with one final, ruthless thrust, burying himself to the hilt within her depths, forcing a searing cry from her lips as she took him in.

Her eyes shot wide open, a look of sheer terror swimming in her hazy blue eyes at the thought of him stopping.

She’d die.

If he stopped, if he ever stopped, she’d die…

“Good girl…” He mumbled approvingly, suckling on her lower lip as he draped his fuzzy tail around both of their waists, literally melding his body with hers.

Her knees stiffened, her tongue playing with his when he picked up his maddeningly slow pace, pressing his forehead against hers and never taking his turbulent eyes away from her. There was a madness in his gaze, a primal insatiableness in his touch, in the way his fingers crushed with hers, his muscular body grinding, heated skin rubbing, imprinting his earthy scent all over her as he tortured her.

“Vegeta… P-Please…” She begged, feeling breathless, boneless, narrowing her hold on him with her legs, hooking her ankles together at the base of his spine and pushing with all she had. “F-Faster… Faster! Please!”

He laughed evilly, incensed by her neediness. “Like this?” Vegeta asked maliciously, his hips bucking harder, forcing a ragged scream from her throat. “Mhmm? Like this?” He demanded, thrusting ferociously into her again. And again. “Tell me, woman!”                

“Oh Gods… Oh!” She mewled pitifully, her nails delving into his hardened hands. There was something unbelievably exciting in being trapped underneath this man, in feeling powerless beneath his touch. “Yes! L-Like that…!”

He kept fucking her mercilessly, his rhythm accelerating, his eyes never leaving hers, secretly marveling at how this tiny, fragile thing could take all of him and keep begging for more. Bulma twisted, squirming under him and panting loudly, both lovers breathing heavily into each other’s mouth. She was sweet and zesty, fire and ice, the sexiest goddamned creature he’d ever had in his entire, miserable life.

“Fuck!” She whispered with bated breath, those turquoise eyes still fixed on him, her gorgeous face contorting in pleasure. “I’m… I’m close! I’m…!”

Vegeta’s tail tensed up, its furry tip reaching down to her soaked little nub. She was quivering, shaking in preparation for her release, her soft, tight cunt already clenching around his cock, greedily inviting him to join her in her egotistic pursuit of pleasure.

It was glorious.

Seeing her like this, having her like this. Her eyes closing, her head thrown back, thighs avidly tightening around his body, trembling like a flame blown by the wind. He kept moving, pushing, ramming against her, their sweaty bodies clashing, feeling that it was too much, that she was too much as he fell to pieces, his warm essence pouring inside of her as he came, his body jerking wildly, rumbling a choked cry against her skin.

All thought ceased when he buried his face in the crook of her neck, his fingers still intertwined with hers while his hips continued to move leisurely inside of her, trying to prolong their ecstasy for as long as he could in a slow, sensual dance.

Vegeta didn’t know how long they lay like this, all he had was the vague awareness of his Bulma softly rebelling against his touch, kindly freeing her hands from his fierce grip and wrapping her arms around him, gently encouraging him to let go, to abandon himself to her.

Her fingertips stroked his back with heart-wrenching lovingness, petting every wound and every scar, every single imperfection, taking away every vestige of the chaos of his existence until all that remained was her…                  

 

 

******************************************

 

Vegeta awoke in the middle of the night, startled and slightly disoriented, just as he always did whenever he found himself boxed in in foreign surrounds, especially after one of his usual, spine-chilling nightmares. When he rolled to the side, stretching his arms drowsily in search of the warm comfort of his little woman, he was met with nothing but an empty bed and a bundle of bedsheets still impregnated with her hypnotizing scent. Her unexpected absence sent a flash of panic right through him, making him sit on the bed all at once, tensely looking around in search of her heart-warming presence.

He didn’t have to look too far, for he found Bulma right there, in the lounge area, sitting on one of the plush sofas with a book in her hands and a silvery bowl of berries on her lap. She was wearing one of the white silken robes he’d left for her in the bathroom, but the soft garment was much too large for her petite frame, turning her into an enjoyable spectacle indeed. Her long legs were resting atop of a small coffee table, her smooth thighs fully exposed, just like one of her shoulders as the fabric fell down, revealing a delicious glimpse of creamy skin. At first, he briefly wondered how the woman had managed to get hold of one of her books in this place, but seeing her overalls lying in a heap by her side, he soon deduced that she must have been carrying it around with her in one of her pockets.

Her exotic eyes were glued to the small book, carefully holding it in one of her hands as she read its colorful contents with a lovely frown on her face and the aid of a single floor lamp, while the rest of the room remained only illuminated by the faint glow of the burning candles. Every now and then, she’d bring one of the juicy fruits to her lips, chewing on it slowly, with such incredible leisureliness that Vegeta couldn’t help but marvel at how vastly different her way of eating was from his own. In spite of the apparent look of concentration dancing in her gaze, it was more than obvious just how much his lover seemed to be enjoying the small, yet ridiculously expensive, purple berries. He’d ordered them expressly for her, and the warrior experienced an odd sense of accomplishment at being the one able to bring her that fleeting moment of satisfaction, especially as he recalled the look on her pretty face the very first time he’d watched her eat.

It’d been in her laboratory, back during one of his now habitual visits, precisely at the time of her daily lunch breaks. He’d caught her chewing on one of those ghastly protein bars that most of Frieza’s employees were issued instead of regular food, a type of nourishment which the Prince was certainly no stranger to. He’d subsisted on those blasted green things more times than he cared to admit, back when he was nothing more than a young, low-rank soldier, without access to enough credits that would enable him to buy a proper meal.

“I hate them…” Bulma had openly admitted, swallowing with difficulty as she washed down the repugnant meal with the help of a glass of water. “But I force myself to eat them anyway. I’m trying to keep my weight up now…”

She’d shrugged nonchalantly back then, trying to belittle the situation, but the use of the word ‘now’ had been enough to let Vegeta know that she had struggled to maintain a healthy weight not that long ago, no doubt as a result of her new life conditions. And, in that moment, he’d had to bottle up his words so as not to act like a stupid, infatuated fool and offer to buy her some decent food.

‘It was probably for the best…’ He’d later thought.

His lover still remained the most perplexing enigma to him but, if there was one thing he’d learnt by now, it was that Bulma Briefs possessed a stubborn pride which mirrored his own, and something told him that the woman would have willingly chosen starvation rather than becoming someone else’s twisted charity case.

He observed her soundlessly for endless minutes, mesmerized by the picture unfolding before his weary eyes, priding himself in having been able to provide a pleasurable respite, however brief, for her, allowing her to get a little taste of the best things life could offer her still.

“Another one of your human stories?” Vegeta asked with quiet amusement, breaking the enthralling silence in the room, unable to wait any longer to have his woman by his side once again.

Judging by the calm way in which she turned in his direction, smiling softly at him, it seemed like Bulma had already known of his state of alertness for quite some time, perhaps secretly enjoying having his adoring eyes on her.

“No…” She shook her head slowly, her gentle smile never abandoning those luscious lips. “It’s a poetry book.”

The Saiyan said nothing, entirely unfamiliar with the concept, and his ignorance must have been written all over him, since Bulma soon kept talking in an attempt to further explain such a foreign notion to him, her face beaming with kind understanding.

“Poetry is…” She popped another berry into her mouth, chewing on the juicy treat, pouting charmingly as she tried to come up with an explanation that could satisfy her curious lover. “I guess you could say… Ummm… I suppose you could say that poetry is about beauty…”

Vegeta remained silent, squinting imperceptibly as he futilely tried to grasp such an incredibly alien idea.

“It’s about creating beauty through words…” She resumed patiently, stirring his very soul with the girlish way in which she distractedly licked her fingers. “Sometimes a poem can tell stories too, but… I believe it’s more about beauty… About emotion…”

“Read one for me,” he simply requested, without even bothering to overthink or to question his bizarre request any longer.

His old self would have never dared to make such a wish, deeming the mere notion of someone employing words in order to create something as useless and superficial as beauty as utterly ridiculous, even laughable. But this ‘poetry’ thing was something that the little earthling seemed to deeply value, maybe, just maybe, by listening to her words he’d be able to understand her better in some way. After all, his Bulma was beauty, and perhaps a celestial logic would hide behind such foreign words, allowing him to steal a piece of her spirit, so he could forever keep it for himself.                        

This time, it was Bulma’s turn to express surprise. “Really?” She asked in naïve bewilderment, her eyes widening candidly. “You really want me to?”

A stoic nod of his head was enough to make a smile grace her mouth for a second time, inviting her to forget just how unlike each other they truly were. For all their differences, she’d already been privy to a side of Vegeta that she knew he’d never had the guts to expose to any other living creature. The man sitting on the bed, ravaging her with his eyes as she slowly approached him, was a far cry from the cold, conceited asshole who’d barged into her home in the middle of the night, wholly uninvited and with nothing more than an arrogant smirk and a now long-forgotten warning of turning her into nothing more than a sexy little toy to play with for a night.

Seeing him like this, making the effort to spoil and content her, even going so far as to show an interest in something as pointless to a pragmatic warrior like himself such as poetry, gave her hope, feeling as if a revitalizing breath of fresh air had rushed into her cloudy world, making it a little brighter.

“Okay…” She whispered to herself, switching on the tiny night lamp and laying on her belly by Vegeta’s side, skimming through the pages of the thin, worn-out book in search of her all-time favorite. The warrior rolled on his side, leaning on his elbow as he watched her silently, resisting the potent urge to slid his depraved tongue all over that tempting shoulder, still fully uncovered by the sleek fabric of her white robe.

“Are you sure?” Bulma questioned once she found the treasured poem she’d been looking for. She gave him a coy side-glance, unsure of what he’d actually think of the grave words she was about to share with him.

“Go on…” Vegeta murmured calmly, thoroughly intrigued by his woman’s choice.

She run her rosy tongue across her lower lip for an instant, taking a deep breath and letting the powerfully lyrical speech flow freely.

 

“Do not go gentle into that good night…”

 

Her sweet voice permeated the air, that feminine, melodic tone that always made his demons go away, retreating into the darkest recesses of his troubled mind. She spoke words of compelling bravery, solemn words of courage and heroism, an inspiring, encouraging ode to fearlessness and survival.

‘It wasn’t that different…’ He thought astonishingly to himself.

It wasn’t all that different from Nappa’s old Saiyan tales, or from the ancient songs his late Mother used to sing for him during those ephemeral but meaningful times they got to spend together. Even from the motivational speeches that his Father, King Vegeta, used to pronounce in front of his troops right before a significant battle, those inspirationally invigorating words which made his soldiers’ blood boil and rage in glorious triumph.

There was something oddly familiar in his woman’s magnificent poem. A rampant ode to prowess which made him realize that maybe those humans had possessed some kind of a backbone after all. Based on the female’s extreme lack of strength, and in the extermination of her race’s existence, he’d always pictured her people as being ludicrously weak but, now, it suddenly occurred to him that they might have compensated for their physical shortcomings with an outstanding fighting spirit. Vegeta had no access to the exact circumstances in which the destruction of Bulma’s planet had taken place, but he clearly remembered her referring to her old human lover as a ‘fighter’. It was very possible that those weak earthlings had abandoned this world giving everything they’d got, and if that was the case, it would positively be something that would warrant them at least a modicum of his respect as a warrior.         

“So… What did you think?” Bulma asked in a low whisper, genuinely interested in the unreadable look in his gaze, a rare spark swimming behind his recondite eyes. 

Vegeta brought his calloused palm to her cheek, his light touch lingering on her skin, impressed, as he always was, by just how much this fragile woman seemed to trust him. His fearsome presence, even the mere mention of his name, were enough to instill the most paralyzing terror in the heart of every fighter in the Galaxy, yet his blue-haired beauty never flinched, never feared or backed away from him, not once, not ever.

“It suits you…” He answered at last, idly twirling one of her unruly blue curls between his fingers, enraptured by its extraordinary color.     

“Really?” Bulma asked, frankly amazed by what had probably been the greatest compliment she’d ever received. “You really think so?” She whispered, breaking into a shy, yet satisfied smile, and leaning towards him in pursuit of a kiss.

“It does…” The Prince affirmed, gladly kissing her back, his craving lips languidly melting against hers.                  

It was the truth.

The poem fit his lover like a glove, certainly much more than some idiotically asinine tale about a man who wished to die for no reason at all. There was a gutsy little hellcat hiding behind her painful fragility and that immeasurably sensitive heart, an iron soul draped in the finest silk. It was the only reason he could conjure up, the only explanation that could possibly justify why a woman as feeble and emotional as Bulma had managed to stay alive for as long as she had. There was more, infinitely more to her than what met the eye, and a wise, hidden voice told him that his woman would survive anything and everything that life would throw at her, come what may, or that she would die trying.

Bulma grudgingly broke their innocent kiss, offering him one final smile twined with sadness and bliss, as if Vegeta’s words had brought her both joy and gloom at the same time. She then placed her old book on the nightstand, switching off the light and laying on her back, resting her hands on her abdomen as she stared at the ceiling for what felt like an eternity. The Prince kept his gaze on her, his sharp Saiyan senses selfishly devouring the woman now lying by his side. She remained completely still and slightly heavy-eyed, lost within her own thoughts, somewhere between dreams and reality, as if her mind was spinning in a million sensations at once, hopelessly attempting to make some sense out of them.

“He wrote it for his father, you know?” She muttered at last, her eyes still avoiding his as she stared into some imaginary distance. “He was old… Very old… And he was dying…” Her girly brow scowled lightly, and she took a deep breath before speaking again. “Kicking and screaming… That’s what he meant, I believe… He…”

“Bulma…” He gingerly interrupted her, vainly attempting to break the woman’s melancholic train of thought, fearing it would get her into a much too dangerous place.

“That’s how we’re born, isn’t it?” She continued, apparently unperturbed by his words. “When we’re children, that’s… That’s how we come into this world…” Her long fingers found the belt of her robe, languorously toying with it. “Kicking and screaming…” She repeated in a breathless whisper.

Vegeta remained silent, gawking at the outlandishly splendid creature lying between ruffled bedsheets. Her turquoise eyes were still fixated on the high ceilings, and the white garment which she was supposedly wearing was now barely covering her marvelous curves. A perfectly rounded breast threatened to escape from its captivity as the glow of the candle lights kept playing games with her figure. At a different time, the warrior would have wasted no time in throwing himself at her and making her his, but this time, this time the woman was baring her soul, freely offering him a glimpse into her mind, the one part of her he’d never thought he’d ever have access to, the one part of her that fascinated him the most.

“My father…” Bulma murmured at last, after an excruciatingly long pause. “My father was a scientist. A brilliant… A brilliant man... He taught me everything he knew…” She exhaled a long, ragged breath. “Everything…”

‘That explained it…’ Vegeta inwardly thought.

That explained the woman’s intelligence, and her many incalculable talents, even the ones which he was pretty sure by now that she was hiding from the rest of the world, including from himself.

“He had nothing. Nothing, you know? He… He started from scratch, and he built his own company from the ground up…”

“Was he a successful man?” Vegeta quietly asked, gently encouraging her to proceed with what he knew was the hardest confession his woman had ever made. Perhaps it would do her some good to open up, to share a part of her past, as painful as it was, with another being. The Prince was no stranger himself to the torment of solitude, to those tearing emotions which would sooner or later end up rotting one’s soul if they were left buried for far too long.

“Very successful…” Bulma further explained. “My father’s company became the most successful business in our country, and then it expanded from there, and it just grew, and grew…”

“So, you came from wealth…” Vegeta deduced, more a conclusion than a question at this point.

“My family was the wealthiest family on Earth,” she quietly confirmed. “And I was the sole heiress to its fortune…” 

The Saiyan’s chest constricted achingly as the words she’d spoken, not that long ago, came back to him in full force. Words of rage and humiliation which had burst from her furious lips on the night he’d failed her, that dark night in which she’d felt so utterly consumed by abandonment and disappointment.   

‘I’m Bulma Briefs!’ She’d proudly declared into the night, burning tears spilling down her striking face. ‘I’m Bulma fucking Briefs!’

Now it all made sense.

All of it.

Now he knew what he’d suspected all along, ever since she’d pronounced her name as if it were a grand proclamation, the proud announcement of a woman who’d been someone once upon a time, a woman who’d once held a place of value in the world.

It was at times like this that he was reminded of how much the loss of his wealth, his planet and his people, at such a tenderly young age, had been both a blessing and a curse. The poisonous curse of a man who’d lost it all, his fortune, his home and his family, long before he’d even had a real chance to enjoy it. And the blessing in disguise of losing it all way before any real memories of such prosperity could have been strongly imprinted into his mind. His sense of identity had remained immovable, the treasured understanding of where he came from, of who he was and who he was supposed to become, yet his actual recollections of the past were terribly vague, nothing more than the faded notes of a cherished song he’d never quite learnt how to play.

But this, this lonesome little creature laying on her back and staring at the ceiling with the elegant solemnity of an alabaster statue, knew. Bulma actually knew what it was like, what it felt like to have it all, to savor and revel in it before it could all be viciously snatched away from her hands. She knew what it was like to have a family, to love and to be loved, to have a father who’d built an empire with the sole assistance of his own talents, a father who’d then taken the time and the personal effort to impart his wisdom, to share it with her, so that she could one day continue and, undoubtedly, honor his legacy.

Vegeta was indisputably a Prince, and no one would ever dare to question the thousand generations of Royal Blood coursing wildly through his veins. But, in the back of his mind, in that secreted, recondite place that no one else had access to, he knew that, in reality, the wide majority of his life had been spent in servitude, like a giant standing on feet of mud. A slave to an immoral Master he despised, the very same devil who’d eradicated his whole reality forevermore. But his Bulma knew, she knew what being ‘Bulma Briefs from Earth’ felt like, the exultance of an existence lived standing on top of a golden pyramid, only to feel it violently crumbling beneath her feet, kicking her to the ground without a single flicker of hope.

Bulma Briefs knew…

“But it’s the little things, you know?” Bulma muttered, breaking the unsettling silence floating in the room, almost as if she had the magical ability to read his thoughts. “It’s the little things I miss the most…” She murmured in a hushed whisper

Her mournful voice broke at last, and Vegeta witnessed her quiet struggles in silent dismay, the proud way in which she tried to resist, obstinately fighting the tears brimming in her eyes as she eluded his gaze in mortification.

“I’d give anything to smell a rose again…”

The wishful longing in her voice was soon followed by two disobedient tears, two shimmery pearls falling down the flawless sides of her face, hiding within an ocean of glossy blue. It was then that she grasped just how absurd it would be to try to keep her composure anymore, and she turned to look at him, rolling on her side and facing him, curling up into a little ball of defeat.

“You don’t know what a rose is, do you?” She smiled sadly at him, her tears now flowing freely, and her eyes filled with understanding and compassion, as if she deeply pitied him for never having had the honor to know what a rose smelled like. “A rose is a type of flower. It… It grows in the ground… They came in many colors and shapes…” She paused briefly, wiping off the wetness in her eyes with the long sleeve of her robe, even though the tears gave her no respite yet. “Most people preferred the red ones… But yellow roses were my favorites… My Mom, s-she… She used to grow them in her garden, and w-when they bloomed she’d… She’d put vases filled with yellow roses a-all over the h-house… And in my room and my lab…”

Bulma’s voice shook in grief, and she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, profoundly overwhelmed with anguish and remorse, the deep regret of a woman who truly wished she’d valued and appreciated every single morsel of all the love and beauty she’d once been surrounded by.

“My Mom…” She whispered regretfully. “I used to mock her sometimes… I… I used to ask her to stop tending t-to the garden herself… That we… That we were rich and sh-she should get someone else to do it for her…” A loud sob shattered in her chest, her sad smile still scorning her lips. “She just smiled at me… She just smiled… She told me th-that… That she simply enjoyed doing it herself… And that someday… Th-that someday I would understand…”

She was collapsing.

Falling into despair before his very eyes, into that dark abyss of desolation and repentance that he unfortunately knew far too well, and from which he’d never been fully able to escape. But, despite his poor limitations, and his absolute lack of skill regarding anything having to do with emotions, Vegeta knew only one thing.

He wouldn’t let her fall…

Not on his watch.

His arm slipped under her waist, bringing her quivering body closer to his in one smooth motion. He cuddled her tenderly against him, amazed and grateful when Bulma immediately responded to his touch, her trembling hands encircling his neck, staring at him with a rare mixture of wonder and shame. One of his arms kept her possessively pressed against his robust body, while the other delicately cradled her head as his eyes drank her in in all her splendor.

She’d never looked more beautiful.

Never more beautiful, more heartbreakingly real than trapped in his tight embrace, her face flushed, lips inflamed from crying and a naked heart, wide open for him to see.

He kissed her slowly, painstakingly slowly. Soft, fluffy kisses raining all over her balmy skin, the tip of his tongue tracing the curves of her cheekbones and her gleaming eyelashes, licking off the salty tears from her face, like a wild animal would lap at another’s wounds in a desperate attempt at trying to help them heal. He warmly kissed her closed eyes and that graceful forehead, erasing the pained frown tainting it as he felt her breathing slowing down, gradually relaxing under his excruciatingly loving ministrations.

His errant mouth then embarked on a sumptuous journey, from her temples to the tip of her tiny earlobe, suckling on it lightly and triumphantly stealing a blissful moan from her lips. He kissed her succulent throat, the honeyed scent of their lovemaking still clinging deliciously to her skin, and he sank his perverse tongue in one of his favorite spots, that feminine little hollow at the base of her neck which he’d never discovered in any other woman.

Vegeta rolled them over slowly, taking a dominant position atop of her, supporting his weight with one arm as the other took hold of the silken belt of her indecent robe, languidly pulling from it, untying it and allowing the lustrous fabric to fall to her sides, erotically unveiling her naked form to him. He then pressed the palm of his hand on her abdomen, her breathing hastening beneath his calloused skin, her temperature rising as he glided that very same hand upwards across her skin, from her midriff to her sternum, briefly wrapping itself around her neck and finally cupping her jaw, brushing his eager lips against hers in a silent plea for her attentions.

Bulma opened her eyes, iridescent blue drowning in sheer gratitude, thankful, as she always was, to have her Saiyan Prince by her side. He may not have been the most romantic, or even the most talkative of lovers, but he was the one, now she knew. The one man who’d slowly but implacably stolen her heart, the one man who’d never failed to remind her to stand on her feet, even when her strength faltered and she felt the entire Universe crushing her into nothingness.

Her hands touched his tanned cheeks, gently pulling him towards her for a passionate kiss, smiling into his mouth when he gladly indulged her, parting his lips for her and willingly inviting her in. His devious tail swiveled around her thigh as their tongues met, sensually caressing and exploring each other, igniting an all-consuming desire, that red flame always burning between them, never extinguished. When Vegeta broke their kiss, he did so with the hint of a pleased smirk curling in his mouth, a novel kind of pride swelling in his chest when he comprehended that he now held the extraordinary power to take away his lover’s pain.

“I wish I could show you…” Bulma whispered at last, a breath of nostalgia still trapped within her voice. “I wish I could show you what a rose smells like…” She lazily run her thumb over his lower lip, holding his gaze with a spellbound look in her sad eyes. “Baby… How I wish I could…”

“Kicking and screaming, Bulma Briefs…” He declared gravely, bringing his brow against hers and looking at her with a fervor he’d never shown before. “That’s how a warrior leaves this world…”

“Kicking and screaming…” She agreed with the ghost of a watery smile, earnestly accepting the new kiss he so generously offered.

He made love to her that night, long and slow, their bodies flowing, moving in unison, giving and receiving everything they possessed, hiding from the world and leaving all behind, creating an Eden of their own, a private refuge with no sorrow and no loss, no horror or regret.

Just a man and a woman, fighting to remind each other of those preciously unique moments which still made life worth living.   

After reaching that feverish pinnacle of pleasure, the secret lovers fell into a deep slumber, utterly sated and completely spent, entangled in each other’s arms. Neither one of them knew yet that, at the break of dawn, Bulma would make Vegeta a special gift, followed by a heartfelt confession that would forever change their lives.