Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Yellow Roses ❯ Guilty Pleasure [Part III] ( Chapter 8 )

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

“You can't ask Why about love!”

[Leo Tolstoy; ‘Anna Karenina’]

 

Both lovers remained completely silent while the warrior’s astonishing confession gradually started to sink in, with the Prince analyzing with obsessively quiet attention her every gesture and move.

For a passing minute, Vegeta had feared that his revelation, the staggering, glorious event that he had always expected to be the greatest achievement of a lifetime, had actually meant nothing to her. Unsurprisingly, the woman wasn’t quite as cunning as she’d perhaps like to be and, while Bulma may have attempted to put on a deceptive show of indifference, the anxious way in which her little fingers were now clutching at the leather fabric of the opulent couch betrayed her apparently calm poise and elegant posture.   

“Y-You mean…?” She spoke at last, finding it an arduous challenge to even breathe in that moment. “You… You mean… You have become a…?”

“A Super Saiyan,” he declared in a soft voice, accompanied by a distinctive touch of pride and an unexpected air of sadness.

“Kami!” Bulma whispered breathlessly, one of her hands suddenly reaching to her heaving chest, as if her lover’s confession had physically struck her square into it.

 

He’d made it.

Super Saiyan.

The Legendary.

 

The one and only aspect of Vegeta’s cryptic life that he’d always been willing to pompously divulge to the rest of the world; the jubilant promise of a never-ending power owed to him by birthright, the extraordinary transformation that would turn him into the most powerful being in the entire Universe, and the supreme weapon that would allow him to bring Frieza himself to his knees and end his loathsome, miserable life, once and for all.

Even Launch herself had heard of such a farfetched accomplishment, briefly alluding to it the day Vegeta had bizarrely saved them both from Nappa’s brutish rage. Her old friend hadn’t clarified or explained much about it back then, but her intoxicated words had never left Bulma’s naturally inquisitive memory and, soon after her forbidden affair with the dark Prince had begun, she’d shyly risked prodding him about the meaning behind Launch’s puzzling disclosure.

The blue-haired beauty would never forget the proud gleam in his gaze, his eyes shining brightly like two onyx stars in the night as he held her naked form tightly against his own, confiding his most exhilarating secrets to her. He’d gladly spoken of ancient legends and mythical warriors, of a fabulous metamorphosis only reserved to the few chosen ones, men like himself, a Saiyan Prince proclaimed a true prodigy since the day he’d entered this world, the most powerful child in a thousand generations, the one who’d indisputably reach the status of a Saiyan God someday.  

In any other man, those epic words and bellicose tales, so full of beaming pride in a race that didn’t even exist anymore, would have resonated like nothing but impossibly foolish inventions. But, in Vegeta, and in that unwavering confidence exuding from every single pore of that almighty body of his, it felt like an excitingly real possibility. Only this man, this man whose mind was still nothing but an impenetrable mass of mystery to her, could make her believe, truly believe, that the day would come when he’d reach the status promised to him, destroying the Lizard Demon responsible for the devastating destruction of both of their home worlds. And that was precisely the reason why it made absolutely no sense for him to look the way he did, now that he’d seemingly attained his golden dream at last.

Bulma had always pictured the moment of his announcement as a day of pure joy, perhaps even followed by the declaration of Frieza’s long-awaited assassination. She’d imagined him standing smugly in her presence, proudly wallowing in his victorious achievement with that cocky arrogance so typical in him.

But, as far as she knew, the evil Emperor was still alive and kicking, and the man sitting in front of her, slightly hunched and barely capable of holding her gaze in clear shame, was not the exultant Prince of All Saiyans she’d once known and grown to love, and she strongly suspected that the explanation behind his aura of defeat went beyond the disturbing argument taking place between them earlier that night.

“You think…?” She ventured coyly after a long, uncomfortable silence, finding the temptation to behold this mythological marvel too hard to resist. “You think you could show me?”

Vegeta’s expression of pain deepened at her question, almost as if he’d been, not only already expecting, but positively dreading her bold request. A strangled sigh escaped his lips as he lowered his stare, clenching his trembling fists in frustration and shaking his head no.

“I can’t…” He confessed almost inaudibly, his breath stuck in his throat.

“Why…? Why not?” Bulma quickly asked back, tilting her head to the side as she examined him with plain curiosity.

His entire body was now shuddering with an intensity that terrified her, and all he did was to anxiously keep shaking his head in disbelief, almost as if he could hardly accept what was happening to him. He squeezed his eyes shut for an instant, running his hands up and down his drenched face, gathering the courage to show his woman just what a disgraceful excuse for a man he really was.

“It… It only happened once…” Vegeta admitted through gritted teeth, his eyes still evading hers. “And now… Now, I can’t… I just… I just can’t…”

“You can’t do it again…” Bulma uttered in a horrified whisper, her statement more a deduction than a question.

Her worst fears became a reality when her Prince looked aside and nodded sharply in assent, bringing some much-needed light to the odd behavior she’d been a witness to all through this agonizingly long and intense night.

Bulma had wrongly assumed, at the beginning, that Vegeta’s wrath may have simply erupted from a rare, possessive need to control her, to stop her from forsaking the military base and putting her life at risk. But now, it was plain as day that there’d been other matters obsessively haunting her Saiyan Prince and, only in the aftermath of this unbelievable revelation, could the earthling finally get a clearer picture of where his self-destructive, erratic actions emanated from.

In spite of her rage and resentment towards the man who’d chosen to abandon her right after her confession of love, a part of her had secretly felt a ray of optimistic hope at the prospect of Vegeta possibly missing her and regretting his poor choices in the past. But, perhaps, Bulma had to grudgingly admit, not without disappointment, that his volatility was nothing more than the irate impotence of a warrior unable to reach and take full control of the incommensurable power which he now knew, without the shadow of a doubt, that lay dormant within his vigorous body.           

Now that it was apparent that Vegeta’s grand revelation was completely unrelated to his nonexistent feelings for her, Bulma knew that the wisest thing for her to do right now would be to stand on her feet, wish him luck and part ways.

He was, after all, the selfish bastard who’d broken her poor human heart, the one who’d fully dismissed her and her bare vulnerability, deserting and ignoring her, and leaving that bitter after taste in her sweet mouth, making her feel as nothing but a pretty little object, some kind of erotic sex toy he’d used to his heart’s content for as long as it suited him, only to discard her with cold disdain when the rules of the game didn’t strike his fancy anymore.

It wasn’t all that different, she thought with heartbreaking despair, from the way those creepy idiots downstairs treated the expensive escorts they hired for the night. The only difference being that, at least, those women were undeniably sure of where they stood with those men, and they wouldn’t have been gullible enough to trick themselves into believing that such cold-blooded warriors would ever have the capacity to truly fall in love with another being.

Bulma had made that mistake with Vegeta once, a stupidly naïve mistake which had cost her more sleepless nights than she was willing to admit, almost losing her sanity on the way.

The time had come for her to walk away.

‘Still…’     

Bulma couldn’t ignore the colossal magnitude that these new, unforeseen developments could bring, not only into the Saiyan’s life, but to the Fate of the entire Universe as well. And she also knew that, on a much bigger scale, Vegeta’s unexplored power could potentially be of greater importance than their poignant breakup could ever be, regardless of how deeply her man may have hurt her fragile feelings in the past.           

“How…? How did it happen?” Bulma inquired with concern, struggling to ignore that faint voice ringing in the back of her head, that little echo sensibly warning her to run as fast as she could before she’d ever fall again into the clutches of the ruthless warrior who’d once stolen her heart.

But her annoying curiosity, not to mention the cheerful hope invigorating her soul at the mere chance of one day seeing that fucker Frieza pay for all the damage he’d inflicted upon billions and billions of alien creatures all over the Universe, were making it virtually impossible for her to snub Vegeta’s troubles.

One of Vegeta’s thick eyebrows arched in automatic response to the woman’s odd question, inwardly berating himself for the shameful sense of relief overwhelming him when he noticed that his woman’s reaction to his embarrassing issues was leaning closer to pity than mockery. Any other being, particularly a warrior, might have surely thumbed his nose at him if it’d ever been discovered that the Prince of All Saiyans was nothing more than some pathetic weakling, utterly unable to even properly master his highly anticipated Ascension.

There were fewer emotions more abominably repulsive to him than compassion, most certainly one of the last reactions that Vegeta would have ever wished to awaken in another living creature, yet he’d gratefully embrace it coming from Bulma, he’d take anything she’d ever give him, even her righteous fury, if only because it emanated from her, for nothing would ever hurt him more than her indifference.       

“What do you mean?” He simply asked, not fully understanding why she’d even show an interest in the particulars of such failed event.

“I mean…” Bulma answered back, taking a deep breath as she tried to gather her thoughts and make some sense out of the situation, in hopes that she might be of some help. “I mean, how…? How did it happen? Were you…? Were you fighting, or…?”

“I was on a mission,” he cut her off, rapidly deducing what she was trying to achieve, and absolutely petrified of where this might lead.

He couldn’t tell her.

“I see…” Bulma replied, polite but thoroughly unconvinced. “But were you…? I don’t know…” She shrugged dejectedly. “Were you doing something different than usual? Or were you, um, you know…? Perhaps feeling someth…?”

“No.”

Vegeta’s harsh response was short and cutting, leaving categorically no room for further argument on the secretive matter, and Bulma didn’t know if this was because nothing out of the ordinary had taken place at the moment of his prodigious metamorphosis, or because her Prince was hiding some crucial facts from her. Whatever the cause, the earthling had already gotten close enough to her lover to learn that he was frighteningly good at keeping his well-kept secrets close to his heart, and that she’d never, ever, find out anything about his profound nature that he wouldn’t want her to know.      

The Saiyan peeked at his disenchanted woman from the corner of his eye, perceiving her disappointment, sad waves of disillusion always pouring from those stunning blue pools whenever she tried to reach out to him, only to violently crash against that stony wall of apparent indifference. Seeing her like this, so inexplicably eager to touch his blackened heart, to love and comfort him as only she knew how, always made him secretly wish that he were a different man, a better man, a man worthy of the devoted attentions of such a lovely little female.

But he couldn’t.

He couldn’t tell her.

He couldn’t tell her that her eternal presence in his heart had somehow contributed to the magical transformation of a lifetime, an outlandish fact that he still wasn’t quite willing to admit even to himself, much less to the woman responsible for such a life changing accomplishment.   

It all happened during the second mission taking place after choosing to step away from Bulma. But, what had simply started off as one out of the countless, tedious purging missions he was regularly assigned to, ended up becoming one of the most grotesque experiences of his life.

Vegeta and Nappa were generally considered strong enough to carry out most of Frieza’s standard purging missions. However, ever since their last fiasco, that disastrous debacle during which the Prince had ended up gravely injuring his arm, the Emperor had made the humiliating choice of assigning them a support squadron whenever there was uncertainty regarding the intentions or actual power level of the rebelling subjugated races. In consequence, the Saiyans had found themselves accompanied, almost supervised, by none other than a small group of the Icejin’s elite soldiers, including Zarbon, one of Vegeta’s most detested rivals.

The green-skinned jerk had made the young Prince’s days a living Hell ever since he could recall, innumerable times of constant mockery and deliberate sabotage, always taking advantage of his immense physical superiority. Through the years, the proud Saiyan youngster had never backed down or surrendered to the bastard’s higher power, not even once, earning a well-deserved degree of respect amongst the Emperor’s forces on the way.

In time, as Vegeta had grown, both in age and physical strength, his insidious adversary had retreated bit by bit, slowly backtracking from most of the past wreckage perpetrated upon all the remaining Saiyan warriors, increasingly concerned at the realization that they might, one fine day, surpass him in power. Nonetheless, the venom of all of the mortification from his youth would never fully leave his open wounds and, to this day, there were still too many instances in which the Prince had felt almost physically ill at the mere presence of the disloyal trickster, which was precisely why the youngest Saiyan wasn’t exactly jumping in joy at the opportunity of spending time with the wheedler prick when he was obligated to work side by side with his team, while Nappa and the others took care of the other half of the large planet.

Most of the mission had gone by in relative concord and without much incident, with Vegeta being in the foulest of moods due to the aching absence of his addictive woman, and keeping mostly to himself throughout the whole experience, trying to put as much distance as possible between him and the taller mercenary. The Prince had effective and uneventfully completed the first half of his assignment, consisting in the general eradication of the wide majority of the alien population, and was now about to embark on the second half.

This had always been, without exception, the most arduous task of them all, the one where he had to scout out and make sure that there were no survivors left alive, and that every single being had been completely exterminated. It was quite different from the impersonal act of massive extinction, and it was, unquestionably, the most dishonorable part of his job, for a vast difference prevailed between mass killing and looking some insignificantly weak creature in the eye as he murdered them in cold blood. By Saiyan standards, the path to true glory was only earned through the defeat of a fiercely strong opponent, after a splendid victory in combat, and there was no honor in the least in the assassination of meager creatures with no means to defend themselves.    

It was then that nightmare ensued.

During his relentless quest for survivors, and after his hypersensitive hearing perceived a suspicious sound coming from inside of one of the scrubby dwellings of the small, ordinary town, Vegeta had cautiously stepped into the modest house, discovering a couple of panic-stricken aliens, a woman and a child, desperately attempting to hide in one of the dim corners of the bedroom.

Without even bothering to pay much attention to what he’d considered nothing more than two worthless creatures, he gathered a tiny sphere of bright ki in the palm of his hand, ready to unleash his lethal power upon them, only for his body to instantly freeze in absolute terror when he recognized the face of the woman turning horrified towards him, giving her pitiless executor one final glance before he’d viciously take her life and that of her child.    

Bulma.

His lover’s beautiful visage was staring right at him, those unmistakably gorgeous blue eyes pleading, literally begging for him to spare her life and that of the small brat she was so bravely, and futilely, shielding with her own feeble body in a ferocious act of maternal protection.

The disturbing mirage lasted but a second, and soon enough, reality took a hold of him once again when the illusory spell was broken, and the alien female became what she always had been, nothing more than some ordinary creature, wholly unattractive and with a fearful gaze whose color only marginally resembled that of his stunning human lover. Despite how chillingly brief the deceitful illusion had been, it lasted long enough to shake him to the bone, and his state of utter shock had been such, that he’d completely ignored the alarming fact that he wasn’t the only warrior present inside the sinister room anymore.

“My… My… Vegeta…” Zarbon’s remarkably feminine voice teased him from behind, laying an ice-cold hand on the Saiyan’s upper arm. “We’re getting softer, aren’t we?” The taller fighter leaned over his shoulder, his revoltingly hot breath whispering in his ear. “Here… Allow me…” He muttered with rich amusement, pointing the sharp index finger of one of his large hands towards his future victims and killing them in the spot in one clean, merciless blast.    

The Prince couldn’t utter a single word yet, all he could do was shudder in silent hysteria and unadulterated rage, gawking in stupefaction at the thick cloud of smoke emanating from the now lifeless bodies.

“That’s quite all right, my Dear…” The pedantic soldier declared with shallow nonchalance, but incapable of suppressing the mockery in his tone. “It happens to the best of us…” He explained, sending shivers of revulsion down the Prince’s spine when he gave his trembling arm one final squeeze before letting go of him, flipping his long-braided hair and heading for the narrow door. “Although I am confident that Lord Frieza will find this little episode of yours highly amusing…” 

Vegeta stood still in the middle of the putrid chamber, feeling something break inside of his soul as he tried to exorcise the image of a fallen Bulma from his convoluted mind with no success.

He pictured her dead at his decaying feet, holding a non-existent child in her limp arms, the child that neither one of them would ever conceive, the happy, perfect existence that neither one of them would ever enjoy. The warrior could see her, he could see her ending her days like the poor cadaverous slave splayed on a pool of blood on the ground, murdered by one of Frieza’s soldiers without a man strong enough to stand by her side and fight for her, because he wasn’t good enough, because he would never be good enough for her.

And then it happened.

The last thing he could truly remember with a measure of clarity before his entire body blew up into a blazing, gargantuan orb of rampant fire and sizzling ashes, was listening to Zarbon’s scornful laughter from outside, laughing at his shamefully unparalleled display of weakness. His crippled mind whirled wildly, his corrupted heart exploding, a dark, primal power overflowing him as he roared like a beastly Demon from Hades.

He heard her voice, that sweet, harmonious voice whispering words of a love he didn’t deserve. He thought of her infinitely happier past and her charming human anecdotes, of the jubilant life she could have lived and the miserable one she’d been thrown into instead. He evoked his interminable years of humiliation and agony, used and abused by every man who’d ever crossed his path. All of them, every single one, taking something away from him, stealing his very soul piece by piece until nothing but an evil void remained. And he conjured her up again, the gentle, innocent woman who’d secretly hoped to heal his boundless wounds and bring him back to life, without knowing his most fundamental truth: that he was empty, that there were no pieces left behind within his vacant spirit to reassemble anymore.        

Vegeta didn’t know how he’d ended up outside of the plain house, kneeling on the muddy grounds with a leg on each side of Zarbon’s body, his deadly hands unyieldingly wrapped around the monster’s thick neck as he frantically gasped for air. He didn’t know where his hair-raising words erupted from, or how he’d even succeeded in forming a coherent sentence at all when his mind was nothing but a tumultuous pandemonium of wrath and revenge.   

“Y-You…! You won’t live to tell!”

The one thing he could relive with niggling lucidity was the look of terrified frenzy in his old tormentor’s eye, and that slimy, purplish tongue gyring within his parched mouth, striving to find just the right words to describe the magnificent apparition floating before his olive orbs, now blurred by the tears shed as life slipped through his viscous fingers.

“Veg-Vegeta! Nnnnnngh… Y-Your…!” He heaved hopelessly, one of his claws clutching at Vegeta’s homicidal hands while the other shakily reached out to him, attempting to touch him, to touch the living reincarnation of the Saiyan Legend which many had considered nothing more than a foolish array of puerile fables. “Y-Your…! Your eyes!”      

He wouldn’t let him.

Vegeta wouldn’t allow the dying traitor to touch him, to give him the undeserving honor of tainting him with his filthy touch; there was only one thing left for the ruffian to do, and that was to die by his own unforgiving hand.  

He sank his mighty fist into his wide chest, possessed by an unrivaled, raging bloodlust, drilling right through his immaculate armor and straight into the bastard’s engorged heart, violently ripping it out while the green freak was still breathing.

The rest was nothing but a chaotic cluster of foggy, esoteric visions flashing vertiginously through his brain. The Prince saw himself stumbling in confusion, muddled images of his own incensed self leaving his enemy’s dead body behind without a care in the world, the demon’s bloody heart still pumping, dripping warm blood into his clenched fist. He held vague recollections of his drained legs roaming hazily, wandering around with no clear direction until they chanced upon a small pond by a wild woodland.

It was in such a peculiar spot where Vegeta finally had the opportunity to see for himself the meaning hiding behind Zarbon’s last cryptic words. The Saiyan stood precariously by the lake, gaping at his own reflection on the misty waters, anxiously trying to assimilate that the unbelievable image projected onto the murky reflection was the one he’d been waiting for throughout his whole life.

It couldn’t be denied.

The man staring back at him, the fiercely powerful man with icy eyes of teal and aureus hair, surrounded by a smoldering, mystical aura of gilded flames, was not a man anymore but a Deity, the Golden Saiyan Idol who’d bring supreme justice to the Universe, paying eye for an eye and avenging his People’s honor, once and for all.   

Super Saiyan.

And then, without warning, and before Vegeta was even given a real chance to accurately fathom what it all meant, or how and why he’d finally attained such a monumental feat, the spell was broken, vanishing just as unpredictably as it’d come.

When Nappa found him some time later, lying on the dirty grass and wholly unconscious, his eyes and hair had fully recovered their natural raven colors, and the Prince could barely elicit just what exactly had transpired during the previous hours.

He hadn’t told a soul about the real events leading to Zarbon’s murder, not even to his one and only Saiyan comrade, fearing that if the dumb brute discovered that he’d finally gotten a taste of the Legends, his excitement would be such that he’d never hear the end of it, and it would only add even more pressure to his already stressed-out state.

Surprisingly, while Nappa had been mistrustful of Vegeta’s abnormal behavior, and immensely concerned about the serious repercussions of one of Frieza’s favorite soldiers being slayed by the hand of his Prince, the incident had soon been forgotten, even by the Emperor himself, who’d actually found it highly entertaining, seeing it as nothing more than a natural consequence to two longtime adversaries settling far too many old scores to keep track of.

 

“Well…” Bulma’s voice whispered, softly reclaiming him for herself. She was now sitting by his side, holding one of his hands between both of her own, and he must have blacked out for good somehow, for he couldn’t, for the life of him, remember when exactly she’d left her spot and joined him on the divan. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out…” She promised graciously, giving his limp hand a maddeningly affectionate squeeze.

Vegeta’s mystified gaze shyly met hers, his eyes doubtful, openly questioning the cheery optimism that she so candidly seemed to profess regarding the grim obstacle he was now facing. And one look at her was enough to reveal that she was telling the truth, that she truly, honestly believed that someday he’d make it, that he’d find a way to master his Ascension and turn his almost inconceivable visions into a triumphant reality.

“I know you will,” she announced proudly. “Have faith, Vegeta…”

She kept holding his hand and smiling at him, a coy but painfully sincere smile of sympathy and understanding, a smile that couldn’t have been easy, even for a woman as naively generous as she was, after all the grief and heartbreak he’d put her through. Yet here she was, proclaiming her faith in him, the solid, unwavering conviction that light would soon overcome darkness. 

The Prince could have stayed like this forever, secretly reveling in her doting touch, in the way her tiny fingers kept caressing his own, sensing her warmth even through the thick fabric covering his battle-worn hands.

No further words were pronounced and, even though Vegeta knew that they’d reached a disheartening impasse, and that now would be the perfect time for him to do his best to try to seduce his former lover and regain her affections, he simply knew not how to do it, all he knew was that he needed this, he needed her, more than he’d ever needed anything or anyone before.

As minutes passed by, he found himself relaxing more and more in her soothing company, getting lost in her comforting presence, and almost forgetting about his vexing troubles, including how much his Bulma most likely hated him right now, only devoting a few minutes of her time to him out of abject pity. It wasn’t until his body started to rebel against him, betraying his treasured self-control and throwing a look of shameful starvation at his lover’s full lips, that their peaceful trance flamed up, making Bulma react tout de suite to his impudence.

“I… I have to go…” Bulma stuttered with timidity, her cheeks flushing crimson and her hands instantly withdrawing from his touch as she stood gracelessly from the lavish sofa, already taking a few steps away from him. “Good luck, Vegeta…” She whispered again, hoping to break away scot-free this time.

She had to.

She had to remove herself from this unbearable situation, from sharing the same closed space with a man that she’d absolutely loathed with all her might mere hours ago, but who was now looking at her as if she were his one and only lifesaver, making her feel needed and desired in ways she never even knew possible, not even by him.

“Bulma…” He called for her, standing behind her and seizing her slender wrist with unexpected tenderness, effectively halting her steps. Her name on his lips sounded like a prayer, the aching imploration of a man that simply didn’t know who he was or how to treat her anymore.

“Don’t…” Bulma begged in the coldest tone she could muster, but making no effort this time to physically distance herself from him. “D-Don’t, Vegeta… J-Just don’t…”

Her voice was cracking, just as much as her convictions, but the wound inflicted by his betrayal was still fresh enough for some of her old anger to sting anew, to wisely remind her of what this man would do to her if she placed whatever remained of her heart in his hands again. She needed to remember, to never forget, that she was nothing more than flesh to him, just a warm body to consume and toy with for the night, and she’d be damned if she ever made the same mistake twice.

But he was good, she had to give him that, at least. He was awfully good at the art of watering down her resistance, and it was getting increasingly harder to think when the arousing sensation of the solid body now standing behind her back, and his sensual breath on her skin were making her knees weak with want.

“Bulma…” Vegeta mumbled meekly against the graceful nape of her neck, dreading that his expert touch simply wouldn’t be enough to keep his woman by his side anymore, and utterly terrified at the idea of losing her forevermore. “Bulma…” He called again, venturing to lay a long, languorous kiss on her invitingly exposed skin, inwardly roaring in victory when she released a shaky sigh in return. “Stay…”

His last word set her soul on fire, sounding dangerously closer to a firm command than to a modest plea. It was so disconcerting, so chillingly reminiscent of the arrogant, domineering idiot who believed that he could do as he pleased with her, that it became the final straw, the one setting her free and empowering her to take control and stand up to her man.

“I said don’t, Vegeta!” Bulma shouted with renewed fury, viciously pulling her trapped arm and cutting loose from him. “Stop it!”

Just as it’d happened when she’d bumped into him in the street, fleeing from the place as soon as possible was her first instinct. But, instead of running away, this time she bravely turned on her feet, facing him with a boldness that left Vegeta completely transfixed.

“What am I doing here, uh?!” She yelled fearlessly at him. “What is this?! What are WE?!”

The Saiyan gawked openly at her in stupefaction, his lips moving almost comically as words failed him. He’d expected a million and one different reactions out of her tonight, but not this, not this burning brazenness, both terrifying yet strangely captivating. Vegeta had already witnessed her unashamed sensuousness during their intimate encounters, and he strongly believed that a spirit of steel lay dormant beneath her mischievous sauciness and enchanting sweetness, but never had he seen her like this, both stormy and haunted, hoping mad and disarmingly beautiful.

“What?! You can’t even give me a fucking ANSWER?!” She crushed her tiny fists against his chest, pushing him with such maddened force that she actually managed to make him lose his balance and stumble on his feet, taking a wobbly step back from her. “Come on, Prince Vegeta!” She barked in blatant mockery of his Royal title, pushing him again. And again. “SAY SOMETHING!!!”

“W-Woman… Stop that…” He mumbled incoherently, his eyes broadening in shock at the realization that she now had him trapped against the wall. “STOP IT!” Vegeta ordered in dismay, taking hold at once of her furious fists to stop her from hurting herself with the hard material of his protective armor.

The warrior couldn’t help but marvel at the way she panted madly against his pursed mouth, with those messy, loose curls of hers framing her flushed face to perfection. He knew that he should be concerned by her astounding furor, but seeing her like this, possessed by such wild courage, was doing nothing but inflame his primitive Saiyan blood far more than it should. Before long, his tongue was licking his dry lips on its own accord, ogling at her parted mouth like a thirsty drifter tempted by the most rejuvenating potion.

“I see…” Bulma’s voice whispered with disdain, making Vegeta instantly curse himself for his own stupidity, fearing that his momentary lapse of judgement would scare the woman stiff again.

He’d been dead wrong.

This time, there was no place for girlish blushes or demure whispers. This time, the woman’s lips curled into a poisonous smirk, a smirk so frighteningly presumptuous that it would have made the Holy Saiyan Gods of War proud.

“You just want to fuck, don’t you?” The earthling muttered knowingly, her malicious voice dripping in venom. “DON’T YOU?!” She cried, pushing him once more with a strength she didn’t even know she possessed, and freeing herself from him.

She took a few steps backwards, her chin raised defiantly, her furious eyes never leaving his own horrified ones. One of her hands found her hip, the other one inflexibly pointed at the room’s closed door with her index finger, getting ready to shoot another lethal dart straight into his beaten heart.  

“If you want to get laid so fucking much…” Bulma spat brutally. “Then why don’t you just go downstairs and choose one of those whores?! Uh?! WHY?!”

Vegeta instinctively grimaced in disgust at his woman’s sanguinary words. Not only was it incredibly rare to see her in such a state, but he was deadly afraid of where this course of thought would soon lead her, and the mere idea repulsed him entirely.          

“It wouldn’t make much of a difference anyway, right?! RIGHT?!” She roared at him, stomping to the door and placing her hand on the handle. “After all, I am just a fuck, right? Just one of your many little WHORES!” The door opened by her hand without warning as she kept yelling spitefully at him, oblivious to whether they could now be heard by any of the guests occupying the nearby rooms. “So why don’t you just go out there and choose some other whore for the night?! COME ON! DO IT!”

The imminent risk of someone, anyone, eavesdropping on their private conversation and putting his crazy woman in danger, was enough to snap him right out of the petrified stupor he’d been enthralled by, forcing him to manifest by Bulma’s side in a flash, grasping her, getting her out of the way and closing the door without hesitation.

“Woman! Are you fucking insane?!” He screamed at her, grabbing her by the shoulders and tossing her around. “Have you lost your goddamned mind?!”

“WHY?!” She retorted with insolence, punching him aggressively in the arm again. “Because I’m the only one telling the TRUTH around here??!!”   

“S-Stop that!” Vegeta warned once more, though it soon became obvious to Bulma that her cruel remarks had upset more than angered him. “STOP IT!!!” He shouted, deeply troubled by his lover’s callously self-deprecating words.

He hated this.

He abhorred seeing her like this, heartbroken and absolutely mad. Not only mad at him but at herself, for having been foolish enough to fall in love with a man who hadn’t earnt it, a man who’d treated her with an amount of disrespect that a woman like Bulma most certainly didn’t deserve.

Never had he made the vast effort to satisfy and indulge a woman as much as he had when it came to her, simply because no other female had ever felt worthy of his attentions, and of all of those little moments of vulnerable affection he’d devoted to her, giving himself in a way he never thought possible, if only because she had been the only one who’d ever made him feel like a man, a real man with something to offer to the world other than murder and destruction.

All of those times of innocence and warmth, all of them gone, vanishing from her consciousness as if they’d never even happened, and all because of him, because he’d proven himself to be nothing more than an utter failure, a stupid coward who’d ended up making the most special being he’d ever chanced upon feel like nothing more than some common hussy, the one thing that she undeniably was not.

It was sadly true that he’d thought of the striking earthling as a common pastime when he’d first attempted to seduce her, just a cute little fuck to satiate his uncontrollable carnal needs for one night.

But, now that he’d grown to know this extraordinary woman, getting a real glimpse of her unique soul, the measly idea of seeing his Bulma as nothing but a piece of meat filled him with shame and repugnance, and it was infinitely more depressing to know that his actions had made her truly believe such things in return.

He wanted, needed, to let her know just how much she meant to him, and how significant her presence had become in his miserably lonesome existence.

Vegeta looked into her eyes, those glorious blue eyes that had always sparkled with nothing but love and fondness, and which were now brimming with unforgiving hatred and barely contained tears of bitter disappointment. He kept a possessively firm hold on her quivering shoulders, his exhausted mind trying frantically to come up with just the right words to convey his true feelings for her, as he wondered if this short-lived respite of silence could possibly mean that his woman had finally calmed down from her ferocious outburst.

Little did he know that Bulma’s emotional gashes run deeper than anticipated, and that she was about to put his sentiments to a test in ways he never imagined, hitting him right where it hurt the most.  

“Or maybe…” She suggested quietly, her voice low and husky but unequivocally vindictive. “Maybe I should be the one to go downstairs and pick one for you… How about that? Uh?” Bulma asked, lifting her chin once again in pure incitement. “Would you like that, Prince Vegeta?” 

His fingers tightened around her narrow shoulders, a wave of nauseating guilt overcoming him at the implication hiding behind the woman’s obscene proposition. Despite having the utmost certainty that her pettiness stemmed from the damage which he himself had inflicted upon her heart, he could hardly bottle up the irate offence that her provocations were stirring in his bruised ego.

“Woman…” He whispered threateningly, taking one step forward. Then another. Slowly backing her against the suite’s locked door. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll shut your fucking mouth right now…”

Not only did his unnerving threat not have the expected effect on his daring lover, but it only served to ignite her temerity even further. 

“Or what?” Bulma asked with exasperating impertinence, arching one of her feminine eyebrows mischievously in response.

Her Prince may have been an emotionally stunted jerk, but she knew, as sure as her heart was beating, that he’d never raise a hand on her under any circumstance. Toying with his still undiscovered feelings was a risky game to play but, so far, it’d proven itself to be the only tactic able to steal some kind of a reaction from him other than that uncomfortably dead silence.     

“Perhaps…” She challenged, gradually elevating her tone. “Perhaps I should, don’t you think? Perhaps…” One of her hands found his muscular bicep, proceeding to playfully trace slow, lazy circles on his hard flesh.

“Bulma…” He cautioned dangerously, both infuriated and aroused by the treacherous sensation that her one little finger was evoking all over his body, sending shivers of desire under his skin.               

“Perhaps…” Bulma spoke yet again, inwardly bracing herself for the bomb she was about to drop on him. “Perhaps I should pick someone else… Someone for myself… How about th…?”

“Shut up!” Vegeta boomed in frenzied fury, his nostrils flaring like those of a mad bull, grabbing her by the collar of her dirty overalls and shaking her again. “The Gods help me, woman… If you don’t shut your blasted mouth right n…”

“FUCK YOU! You fucking asshole! If you’re going to treat me like a whore, then I’ll start acting like a WHORE!” She clutched the sleeves of his spandex suit, sinking her nails into his solid skin in choleric rage. “I’ll fuck whoever I want! I’LL FUCK THEM ALL!!!”     

“SHUT UP!!!” He thundered like a savage, finally losing his battle against self-restrain.  “SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!” The warrior brusquely pressed his body against her own, with such violence that he knocked all air out of her lungs at once. “Y-You…! J-Just…! Just the thought of you with another man! WITH ANY MAN! I’d rather see you DEAD before that happens! DEAD!!! I’LL KILL YOU MYSELF!!!” Vegeta took her pale face in his big hands, lightly squeezing her cold cheeks. He was heaving profusely, his hot, ragged breath ghosting her puckered lips as he watched her with a look of sheer madness in his coal eyes, a look which told her that if she ever gave herself to another man, he’d stay true to his terrifying promise. “You’re MINE!!! You hear me?! MINE!!!”         

 

His impetuously dominant words made Bulma’s tongue freeze in bewilderment, the world shaking underneath her feet as she tried to make some sense out of his feverish statement.

She contemplated him in awed silence, struggling to cast aside her own selfish wrath in favor of a new emotion, a rare emotion born out of the devastating sight of the man panting and heaving like a deranged animal in front of her very eyes.

If she hadn’t known any better, his possessive declaration would have made him look like nothing but a caveman, some primitive barbarian treating her like a thing, a pretty little trophy which belonged to him alone. But now, as her pensive gaze met his incensed one, she could finally discern the pain floating on its obsidian surface, the pain of a man scared of losing a woman, the only woman he’d ever forged a significant bond with.

‘Mine!’

Bulma took in his deplorable appearance again, from his gaunter than usual cheeks to those dark circles spoiling his exotic caramel skin. His attire looked grimy and it stank to high heavens, but his unkempt, flame-shaped locks looked quite clean by comparison, as if he’d simply removed his clothing to bathe only to quickly put it back on once more, without even bothering to get it cleaned up. And it wasn’t any ordinary uniform he was wearing but her armor, the experimental armor which she’d so lovingly designed and crafted specially for him, sacrificing her scarce spare time at work so that she’d have something to offer, some insignificant gift that would show him, without words, just how much he meant to her.

‘Mine!’

In his painful absence, Bulma had feared that Vegeta had cut off all contact with her simply because he’d refused to abide to the new terms of their relationship, declining to accept and embrace her heartfelt feelings. All through those interminable nights away from him, she’d often rested in her old bed, all by herself, crying herself to sleep as she wondered if perhaps he’d tired of her already, and fighting with every fiber of her being to push aside the daunting thoughts which frightened her the most, those of her Prince having found some other woman to replace her with, as if she’d never even existed, as if she’d never meant a goddamned thing to him.

‘Mine!’

But this man, this man who mere minutes ago had laid the most tender, heart wrenching kiss on her shivery skin, begging her to remain by his side, looked nothing like the insensitive womanizer starring in her lonely nocturnal fantasies. This man, as tortuously broken as he was conflicted, was a victim, a victim to the world of anarchy and bloodshed he’d been born into, the only world he’d ever known, a Universe where love, friendliness, or even true loyalty were virtually nonexistent.

The chance of his rejection had been what Bulma had dreaded the most, as she’d restlessly struggled with the loud need to bare her soul and confess her feelings for him. But now, she was left truly wondering if the ruthless way in which he’d distanced himself from her wasn’t born out of his own lack of feelings for her, but to his own inability to handle a multitude of emotions that he’d most certainly never experienced before. And, while his uncaring treatment of her had been nearly unpardonable, this time the scientist couldn’t help but admit to herself that she too had been, in her own way, responsible for all the anguish they’d both suffered through during these past two months apart.

‘Mine!’

Now she could find the courage, at last, to remove the blindfold from her eyes and embrace her Saiyan Prince for who he was in truth, not the chivalrous Knight in Shining Armour of her girly childhood stories, but a Dark Prince born into an alien race of hardened warriors, a man whose staggering gestures of affection in her presence may have defied his very nature, surprising even himself.

Her man was a soldier not a poet, a man of impassioned action, not of flowery words, and, when faced by unfamiliar emotions which he quite possibly didn’t even comprehend, he chose to withdraw, sinking into a toxic spiral of alcohol and self-destruction as only means to cope with the shattering conflict consuming his spirit.

Vegeta’s old words came back to her in full force, those soft but ardent words of encouragement whispered into the night as he devoured every inch of her body.

‘You need to let go, Bulma… Let go…’   

He’d been right.

Her Saiyan lover had been right all along when he’d urged her to understand that this was a brand new world, a world where nothing mattered but an instant, a passionate instant treasured in each other’s company, making the most of what they had. It shouldn’t even matter if he’d forever feel powerless to pronounce any of those romantic expressions of love as long as he showed her through his own fervent actions what she actually meant to him.

 

Bulma smirked enigmatically as her hands found the cool chest plate of his armor, laying her palms on its smooth surface and embarking on a slow, sensual journey under the astonished gaze of her frenzied lover. She leisurely travelled upwards, exploring his well-built neck, feeling it tense up even further under her playful touch. Her fingertips traced the solid masculinity that was his jawline, her slightly trembling hands quietly betraying her inner tumult as she caressed his angular cheekbones, gliding her fingers across his skin with delicacy until she reached his temples, carefully immersing her small hands within the wilderness of his black hair, her smirk deepening proudly when he shuddered in uncontrollable need.

She marveled in silent wonder at the magnificent power now literally held in her hands, for the measly thought of some imaginary plot to escape from the military base that was her home, had been enough to push him to promptly give up on his foolish plans to keep her at bay. Now Bulma knew that the vicious anger and fierce greediness directed at her that night had been driven by nothing but fear, the compulsive fear of loss which had been her Prince’s constant companion since misfortune slaughtered his childhood.

Only she held the power to make him lose himself, to turn the most dignified and stoic of men into a savage, an enraged beast who’d say or do anything within his reach to keep her all to himself, even going as far as to confide the secret that was both the most meaningful and disgraceful event in his life, the illustrious Ascension earnestly pursued for a lifetime but still stubbornly escaping his full control.

Her man wasn’t even from this world, her man was an unfathomable fighter driven by an insatiable thirst for power and control, a man who knew nothing of idealistic love in the ordinary sense of the word.

Then again, Bulma Briefs was no ordinary woman either, and if an electrifying challenge was what Vegeta’s untamed nature truly needed to awake to the unexpected treasure that she was offering on a silver plate, then she’d give him a challenge he wouldn’t refuse.

“You’re scared… Aren’t you?” Her mouth whispered defiantly against his own, pressing her forehead to his as her hands aggressively clutched a handful of his wild mane.

“Scared?” Vegeta huffed in offence, secretly disturbed by how transparent his heart had become to this fragile woman. “A Saiyan fears nothing!” He rasped hoarsely on her lips, quickly noticing the change in her demeanor, knowing that they were about to enter a new territory, that land of milk and honey she always invited him into whenever she played her naughty games with him.

“And yet here we are…” Bulma laughed huskily, stealing a pitiful moan out of him as she lazily run the tip of her tongue all over his bottom lip. “You say I’m yours, but you walked away from me… I think you’re afraid, Prince Vegeta…”

Her voice was nothing but pure, impudent temptation, and a tinge of the unmistakable cockiness of a woman who knew herself to be desired above all others, a shrewd temptress who’d just learnt of the true place she occupied in her man’s uncharted heart.

“Woman…” The Saiyan muttered in dark warning, his starved hands grabbing her voluptuous hips at once, crashing them against his own. “You’d do well to watch that insolent little tongue of yours, or…”   

“Or what? Uh?” She challenged arrogantly, pulling his hair and tugging hard, tipping his head back and exposing his bobbing throat to her impish mouth. “Look at you…” Bulma whispered roguishly, her breath ghosting his bare skin. “Super Saiyan…” Her pearly white teeth drew a wicked path across his jaw, delicately scraping the vulnerable flesh. “The most powerful man in the Universe is afraid of a puny little wom…”

“Bitch!” He hissed viciously, grasping another handful of her enticing curves and smashing her lithe body right against his again. His tone was but a harsh whisper, no longer holding its earlier fury but betraying the excruciating arousal that his woman’s bravado was inciting in him. “I just told you, woman! A Saiyan fears noth…!”

Bulma silenced his lies with a kiss, crushing her lips against his with a ferocity she’d never shown before. Her fingers tightened in his hair, dainty nails like tiny hot needles, poking his scalp and sending a bolt of excitement right to his cock, while her ravenous tongue found his own famished one, caressing and exploring it in a heated frenzy, as if this were the first and the last kiss they’d ever share.

This, it was this what he’d needed the most, having his woman with him, savoring her heavenly taste and the way her tight little form felt in his arms.

Vegeta could have had her like this until the end of time but, before he could take his time to deepen their passionate kiss and really taste her, she let go of him all of a sudden, sinking her unruly teeth into his lip and making him gasp in exhilaration as she shot another challenge right into his inflamed soul.

“Are you sure about that?” Bulma dared cheekily, bringing her face dangerously closer and allowing her swollen mouth, now adorned by the most devastating of smirks, to brush temptingly against his. “Then what are you waiting for? Uh?” One of her hands maintained her possessive hold on his hair, while the other lasciviously reached down to his agonizingly tight pants, cupping and gently squeezing his hardened manhood with perverse fingers. “I think it’s time to take what’s yours…”

“You…” He mumbled gruffly, inhaling sharply through his nose at the insane sensation of her filthy touch, fighting the mighty need to rip her goddamned clothes off and impale her right against the wall. “You dirty little…”

Bulma cut him off again, newly biting his lower lip, hard enough to draw blood this time.

“Bitch!” He seethed through clenched teeth.

“Asshole!” She spat right back, smiling in malicious satisfaction at the look of shock and lust swimming within his steamy gaze, breathless with delight when her Prince threw whatever remnants of self-control left inside of him out the window, hoisting her supple body by her perky little ass and lifting her off the ground, walking her right to the bed while looking her in the eye as if he wanted to eat her alive. 

“You…” He spoke domineeringly, squeezing the tight flesh of her bottom with full hands, getting ready to take full control of their coupling, just like he always did. “I want you to…”

She chewed on his lip again, even harder than the last time, reveling in the animalistic roar erupting from his ample chest in instant reaction, a glorious, winning reaffirmation of the true power that she now held over this deadly, sexy specimen.

“GODDAMMIT!!!” Vegeta roared furiously, throwing her right on the unmade bed with more roughness than usual, and wasting absolutely no time in undressing himself, fearing that if he didn’t take this woman, right here, right now, he’d end up losing his wretched mind.

“I want you to spread your fucking legs for me, Bulma!” He ordered savagely, his tone letting her know that disobeying his total command wasn’t even an option anymore.

He swiftly removed his white boots and gloves while he kept his penetrating gaze obsessively fixated on the tiny figure lying face down on the bed. For a moment, he panicked at the chance that he may have been too rough on her when he’d dropped her on the massive mattress, but, soon enough, the woman showed, just as she always did, what she was really made of when she rolled on her back, casually lying on the bed on perched elbows, and laying her equally voracious eyes on him, feasting on the erotic spectacle that was her man undressing just for her.

“If you want me to spread my legs for you, Prince Vegeta…” She answered coquettishly, observing him through heavy lidded lashes, utterly unashamed of showing just how much she was enjoying the magnificent sight of him dropping both his armor and skintight shirt on the white carpet. “You’ll have to do it yourself…” Bulma defied at last, licking her lips with heated desire as she admired the way his muscular chest flexed while he moved with the slick smoothness of a giant cat.           

Vegeta stood edgily by the bed, dressed in nothing but a pair of royal blue pants that fit like a second skin. His tail had now unwrapped itself from the safety of his compact waist, swinging in anticipation from one side to the other as he ogled her, like a perilous, large predator who’d just discovered the most mouthwatering prey, obstinately determined to never let it go. The warrior watched her for a dazed instant, staggered by his own ability to control himself when he could literally feel his hot, crimson blood pumping wildly, wanting nothing but to ravish the woman now waiting expectantly for him to make his next move.

It was then that he knew.

It was then, diving into the infuriating insolence of those exotically turquoise eyes, that he understood, finding the final answer to the question incessantly hounding him ever since this seductive creature had made an unpredicted entrance into his turbulent existence, wondering just what it was about this woman that made her so incredibly different from all the others.

She was just like a Saiyan.

She was just like a goddamned Saiyan, lying on top of that blasted bed with the most challenging look any woman had ever dared to fire at him, and that viperous, rosy tongue of hers licking off the few droplets of metallic blood still tainting her lips.

His cursed blood.

With such a prodigious vision tempting his mesmerized glare, it’d become nearly impossible for the warrior to evoke any of the faceless, nameless sluts he’d bedded in the past, a past distorted by the omnipotent presence of his intrepid, blue-haired belle.

She was, without question, the feeblest female he’d ever chanced upon, with a ridiculously weak ki not much higher than that of a scrawny pet, but what she lacked in physical strength, she more than made up for in reckless bravery. None of the sporadic female warriors who’d been lucky enough to share his elusive company could compare to her, for the strongest of women would always morph into a submissive little lamb beneath the callous authority of his heartless touch, bowing to his deadly reputation and unfeeling nature.

But not this woman, not this minuscule, courageous woman gifting him with an impish smirk that could only mirror his own. The Prince could see himself reflected on her, and always had been, from those early days of cool defiance to those delirious nights of feverish passion and intimate confessions.

And now the woman’s triumphant stare was silently telling him that she’d discovered his most guarded secret: that he thought of her as his and his alone, his most prized possession, the only woman who truly mattered. She was brazenly luring him, offering him the priceless opportunity to take that final step and make her his for Eternity, and Gods, oh Gods was he going to take it, even if it was the last thing he’d ever do in his whole pathetic life.               

“What are you waiting for?” Bulma dared again, playfully tipping her head to the side and nipping her bottom lip while her lecherous eyes sensually roamed all over his semi-nude form.

Despite her calculating mockery, Vegeta knew that she’d long ago sensed his fears, the sheer panic that her expressions of love had roused within his hardened heart, and he soon understood that she’d simply changed tactics, choosing to play her risqué game of seduction by taunting and challenging him instead.

Like a true Saiyan.

Seeing his woman like this, so darn inviting and liberally accepting of his real, warlike nature, taking him just as he was, stirred something inside his dark spirit, making him want to possess her even more if that was possible.

Unable to resist her inciting charms anymore, he soon found himself at the foot of the king-sized bed, taking hold of her heavy work boots and pulling impatiently without even bothering to untie her loosened shoelaces, throwing them carelessly aside. He then wasted no time in joining her on the plush mattress, crawling on hands and knees on top of her small, immobile form. His movements were slow and menacing, hoovering above her as he appreciated every bit of her surprising reaction, waiting immovably beneath his domineering body as she looked him right in the eye with the quiet dignity of a Queen.

Only his Bulma could be such a delicious contradiction, an irresistible blend of impertinence and submission, a woman willingly choosing to surrender to him, despite it being more than obvious by now that it was she the one truly in control, the one greedily holding the shell of the emptiness that was his heart in her dogged little fist.

She didn’t move, didn’t bat an eye, not even when he settled both knees at each side of her minute waist, straddling her with fierce dominance and drinking in that devilish smirk now permanently etched on her resplendent face. He found the zip of her greasy overalls, leisurely unzipping the loose-fitting garment, his boldness instantly rewarded with the now delectably familiar view of that flimsy, washed out undershirt, barely covering her old, black lacy lingerie. Bulma remained oddly docile as the warrior got rid of her work clothes with skilled but nervous hands, discarding it with just as much carelessness as he’d earlier employed with her shoes, leaving her clad in nothing but her revealing undergarments.

His beautiful lover just lay compliantly below his strong thighs, her gorgeous body now splayed all over black satin as she kept watching him in cheeky silence. The hasty bun once restraining her natural blue curls had long ago lost the power to confine their wilderness, and most of them had now been set free, a few teasingly hiding part of her flawless face.

If only he held the power to stop time, dead in its tracks, he’d keep her like this forever, unspoiled and splendid, shy and rebellious, tearing apart his walls like no one before.

“See?” Bulma whispered with pretend naiveté, his resistance coming undone straightaway with the way the tip of her lewd tongue caressed her upper lip. “I told you you were afraid…” She challenged again, as soon as she noticed that he’d frozen for an anxious moment, fearing he’d get lost in his own self-deprecating thoughts once more. Her hands fell on his muscular abdomen, impishly smoothing their way across every mesmerizing ridge until they reached his sensitive nipples, his breath rushing under her touch as her nails lightly grazed them.

“Wicked woman…” He hissed in harsh reply, grasping her fragile wrists with unexpected violence and pinning her hands above her head, finally leaning atop her as he sought the sweetness of her mouth like a starved madman.

He dragged his lips passionately against hers, their tongues meeting in a deep, agonizing kiss, eagerly tasting each other and pouring everything they’d got into it, love and hatred, rage and exasperating impotence, and, above all things, that irrational attraction held towards one another, an insatiable attraction driving them both to the brink of insanity. Bulma moaned hotly into their feverish kiss, and Vegeta couldn’t stop the victorious smirk behind his mouth at the incredible sensation of that small body wriggling and squirming in need underneath him as she tried to break free from his captive grip, even after their lips had parted from each other with reluctance, desperately gasping for air.

He wouldn’t allow it.

In a flash, Vegeta’s hands unchained their solid grip on her wrists but, before his little minx could make her next move, he slipped one strong arm under her light torso, turning her on her stomach in one clean move and taking delight in Bulma’s spontaneous, husky laughter. Her voice soon turned into a thrilled pant when he clutched a handful of her thin undershirt, pulling roughly and lifting her from the bed until he had her enticing body on her knees.

One of his arms encircled her shoulders as he knelt right behind her, wrapping his fuzzy tail around her waist while his free hand skimmed over her body, gliding down across her deliciously exposed tummy until it rested at the hem of her skimpy panties.

“Is this what you want, little woman?” His ragged voice rasped in her ear, the tips of his thick fingers making a provoking incursion into the soft curls secreting her hidden source of pleasure. “Is it?” Vegeta insisted, savoring her tiny hands now clasping the brutal arm keeping her caged as she arched her back, languidly grinding her hips against the painful bulge throbbing in want under the tightness of his pants.

“Uh-huh…” Bulma whispered, moaning in disapproval when his hand retreated without bringing her the relief that she needed so badly. She tilted her head back, slowly closing her eyes as her nails dug into his forearm, rubbing her cheek against his own like a needy kitten frantically seeking to be petted by her Master.

It wasn’t long before his hand descended even lower, cupping her tempting womanhood, and brushing the soaking wet lace with his fingers. He snarled in triumph at the glorious reaction of his lover, her desire glowing on her stunning face as she swayed her hips with the skill of an exotic danseur, tormenting him relentlessly with the maddening way in which she kept arousing his hard cock between her pert little ass cheeks while he stroked her swollen bud through the damp fabric.

“I told you…” Vegeta mumbled hoarsely, watching her in fascination with what little was left of his wits while his sharp Saiyan teeth playfully scraped her sensitive earlobe. “I told you you were mine!” The hand draped around her quivery shoulders flowed slowly towards her neck, delicately wrapping itself around it, her honeyed blood pumping furiously under its creamy perfection. “Only I can touch you, Bulma!” He huffed on her hot skin, already glistening with salty droplets of moisture which he greedily lapped up like a famished animal, sweeping his coarse tongue across the mouthwatering curve between her neck and shoulder, tasting her, drinking her, taking as much as he could from her, anything she’d be willing to give. “Only I can make you feel like this!”

He emphasized his arrogant statement by quickening the pace of his depraved finger, smirking evilly against her flushed cheek when she sobbed pitifully in response, her legs trembling in need as her climax approached, and silently amazed, as he always was, at how effortlessly he could bring his woman to ecstasy, and just how unbelievably stupid he had been to ever walk away from this, from her, from the prideful satisfaction taking hold of him whenever he got to have her like this, shivering desperately against him with those smooth thighs closing, trapping his mischievous hand between her legs as her orgasm washed all over her.

“Oh… Gods…” She groaned in pleasure, her mouth opening wide, releasing a choked cry while her fingers sank deeper into the arm still keeping that gentle, but possessive, hold around her neck.

The musky scent of her fiery arousal thickly permeated the air, and the Saiyan couldn’t help from hiding his nose into her disheveled blue tresses in a pathetic attempt at keeping his urges in reign, trying not to lose control much too soon.

“Mhmmm…” Bulma moaned in sheer bliss, burying one of her hands within his tangled hair and lightly scratching the back of his head while her hips kept dancing sensuously against his, riding the tail of the mind-boggling orgasm he’d just gifted her with. “Maybe you’re right…” She whispered salaciously, lazily turning her head to him and laying a long kiss on his yearning lips. “Maybe I am yours…” Her husky voice muttered, her sweet breath ghosting his parted mouth, sparking something dark and primitive. “But then…” The tip of her tongue found his lower lip, the contact brief and frisky, spurring a deep growl in his chest. She then smiled wickedly at him, like a naughty girl who’d just received her favorite present. “That means you’re mine too…”       

Her audacious words fed his fire, and he could feel the hiss of pure anticipation rumbling in her pretty throat when his hand instinctively tightened his ruthless grip on her.

No other woman would dare.

No other cursed woman would ever dare to even think about sinking her vile clutches on him, to assume that she held any kind of power or property over an untamable force of nature such as himself.

No one but her.

No one but his Bulma.      

“You presume much, little woman…” The Prince croaked, though her presumptuousness only served to fuel his very soul, to make him secretly wish that her words were true, and that she’d think of him as her man indeed.

The earthling’s smile widened irreverently as she grinded against him once again, cheekily reminding him of the physical reaction that her mere presence could awaken in him, destroying that grandiose self-control he was always boasting about.

“You think so?” Bulma murmured while her small fingers kept idly running through his scalp, her body voluptuously rocking against his, mercilessly teasing the massive bulge hiding behind his tight clothing. “I don’t think so, my Prince… I think you’re mine…” She whispered ardently into his heated skin. “I think…” Her adorable little nose nuzzled his cheek. “I think you’ve fallen in love with me…”

“You know nothing!” He exploded, his eyes searing at the consequences of her reckless words, because he knew, he knew damn well that she could be right.

Vegeta may not have had the faintest clue as to what those ridiculous words of love even meant, but he couldn’t deny any longer that, whatever it was, whatever this was that had befallen between him and the unreal woman shivering excitedly in his arms, went far beyond the realm of carnality. What he didn’t know yet, was if he was ready to admit it out loud, thus giving his brazen lover the satisfaction of validating her terrifying suspicions.

But one look at that devil-may-care smile of hers, told him that it didn’t really matter anymore.

She’d do it for him.

“Oh, I know…” Came the expected answer, her eyes still hazed with pleasure, but sparkling with a gleam of giddiness. “I know more than you think…”  

His big hand abandoned her throat, quickly imitating her actions and reaching out to her fragrant, aquatic waves, pulling her hair back with masterful control until her nape rested on the curve of his bare shoulder in raw submission.

“Do you, now?” Vegeta uttered hoarsely in her ear, visibly firing up at the sight of his woman’s luscious lips wide open in excitement, yet still twisted into that infuriating grin. “Didn’t you just say that all I wanted out of you was a good fuck?” He asked again, sensually curling the thick fingers still buried between her drenched thighs and sending waves of desire crashing right through her. “What if that were true? Uh? What if pleasure was all I needed from you?” 

Laughter.

The diabolical woman burst into a roar of husky, sassy laughter, lolling her gorgeous face in his direction and landing the most lustful kiss on his stiff neck. “Then you’d be doing a pretty lousy job at it…” Her teeth nipped at his golden skin, right above his furiously drumming pulse. “So far, I’m the only one who got off, you know?”

The maddening combination of her openly inviting words, and her teeny teeth mockingly doing to him what he’d been dying to do to her, ever since she’d fallen into his empty arms, was the last stroke, sending wild spasms of mad lust lashing through him and freeing him, once and for all, from his self-imposed boundaries.

“You’re right…” He agreed in a gruff whisper, abruptly reaching out to grab both of her hips with angry hands, needy fingers furrowing deeply into the tender flesh. “But we can surely do something about that, don’t you think?” He groaned viciously, crashing her curvy pelvis against his own with such desperate force that Bulma’s precarious balance faltered, instantly forcing her fall.

Her elbows sank on the bed, and she just lay there on all fours, like an obedient little sex doll humming in need at the sound of her skimpy panties being fiercely ripped off by no one but her Master.

“Oh, yes…” Bulma hissed shamelessly, peeking at him from above her shoulder with the most depraved smile she’d ever thrown at him. “Are we playing rough tonight?” She challenged with the impudence of one of the Emperor’s most debauched concubines. 

The Prince growled with want as his hands kept their firm hold on her hips, kneading and squeezing them with urgency, rubbing the hard cock still hidden under his constricting pants against her soaking wet core, and cursing the blasted woman for knowing him far too well, for knowing just how to provoke him, how to convulse his Saiyan spirit and bend him to her will.

Tonight had been a night of revelations, a time for redeemed acceptance, the startling acceptance that it was she, his Bulma, the one who’d irreversibly conquered his heart. And yet, here she was, still keen to play pretend with him, to allow him to take complete control for the night and do as he pleased with her, falling into the deceiving delusion that he was still the one in charge, despite the undeniable certainty that she now had him, and always had, tightly trapped in the palm of her tiny hand.

Vegeta knew that he should have been enraged by that infernal smirk from Hell, and that ballsy pair of extra-terrestrial blue eyes, telling him that he’d unconditionally belong to her from now on, now and forever.

But he couldn’t.

Out of all the conceivable emotions that her defiance could have instilled inside of him, he felt nothing but admiration, the genuine admiration of a man who’d found, against all odds, his kindred spirit. And the unanticipated pride of knowing that she was his, that Bulma wanted him with just as much intensity as he wanted her, and that nothing and no one would ever untie the supreme bonds tying them.

His hands bore deeper into her milky curves, his mouth leering in satisfaction when her long fingers curled into the sheets and the neediest whimper pulsated in her throat. He’d give her anything, absolutely anything she ever asked of him, and if this was what she desired tonight, then he’d show her that he still held the power to play this wicked game of hers with just as much thirst.

“Is that really what you want, little woman?” He questioned maliciously, his tone a raspy whisper, staring down at her, calloused palms roughly stroking and pressing her hips.

He didn’t even wait for her reply, his last shreds of rationality dissipating from his hazed mind when his hand found her little ass, slapping the round flesh hard enough to make her yelp in delicious surprise, moaning and wriggling under him.

“F-Fuck…!” She gasped under ragged breath, that pretty ‘f’ stuck between her pearly teeth and bitten-red mouth as she bit on her lip, making one of the Saiyan’s sharp eyebrows cock in immediate reaction.

“You like that, don’t you?” Vegeta asked perceptively, spanking her again, and again, the second she nodded breathlessly in wordless reply, treasuring the way her body was responding to his lecherous actions as he began to lose himself in the cloying perfume of the potent arousal that he himself was inciting.

One of his hands stayed on her rosy ass cheek, rubbing large, soothing circles all over the scarlet skin, while the other trailed possessively across her back as he leaned over her, replacing the path of his rugged palm with his mouth, his ravening tongue darting out and twisting in circles, licking and tasting her richly saturated skin.  

When he reached her face, he threaded his coarse fingers through her chaotic hair, tucking a few strands behind her ear as he carried on his pitiless teasing.

“You really liked that… Didn’t you?” His manly voice grumbled. “Didn’t you, Bulma?!” He insisted cruelly, forcing another squeal out of her when he smacked her plump little ass again.

“Uh-Huh…” She sobbed, eyes tight shut, sweaty cheek pressed against the pillows as she shifted against him in crazed need.

Vegeta’s forceful grip on her damp hair tightened, inwardly wondering just how the Devil was he still able to exercise that expert self-control of his, always pushing her over the edge, taunting her, tormenting her, without ever causing her any actual pain.   

“You want me to fuck you hard tonight, don’t you?” His steamy breath murmured, the foul hand earlier caressing her sore bottom now travelling upwards, skimming over her ticklish ribs through the thin fabric of her old undershirt, and briefly cupping her breasts. “Don’t you?!” He gruffed harshly, yanking off both her shirt and lingerie and releasing her full, ripe tits to his touch at last, lightly flicking her nipples.

“Y-Yes…” Bulma moaned weakly, shuddering at her lover’s heavy panting in her ear, instinctively arching into his large hand, her nipples pebbling against his surprisingly delicate fingers.  

She heaved loudly when his sharp teeth clamped down on her enticing shoulder, a devious smirk tainting his lips, feeling her bucking into his full hand while he playfully pinched one of those scrumptiously pink pebbles.

“Good girl…” Vegeta simply replied, the dominant hand clutching her curls firmly pressing her flushed cheek even harder into the pillows, while the other twirled those blunt fingertips all over her luscious tits one final time before letting go, impotent to wait any longer, frantically jerking down his tight pants and ramming into her, releasing a long, shabby breath of pure relief when he finally got to feel her slick warmth clenching down around his swollen cock.

He leaned heavily into her, never stopping, never giving her time to adjust to his immense size, knowing that she was ready for him, that her wet little cunt would always be ready for him, and forcing himself further inside as she groaned piercingly under the pressure.

“You like it like this, don’t you?” He newly asked, losing his pride, forgetting his reserves, puffing savagely like a madman as he kept his grueling pace, pistoning in and out of her totally uninhibited. “DON’T YOU?!” He highlighted his anxious question with a punishing thrust, forcing his dick even deeper.

“Gods! Yes!” Bulma gritted out, her jaw unhinged, toes curled in desperation, howling like a bitch in heat when his fingers furrowed even tighter into her scalp. “YES!!!” She hollered, her hands clasping the silky sheets with such strength that she feared the fabric might rip.

She stuck one of her hands right between her legs, her thighs already drenched, smeared with her slippery juices. The dirty, crude sounds of Vegeta’s powerful thighs violently smashing against her flesh barely registering into her clouded consciousness as her shaky fingers reached down in a frenzy, swirling hard circles around her clit while he kept pounding into her, completely out of control.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, woman?” The warrior barked, his arm circling around her hip, suddenly snatching her trembling hand away, that small hand so hurriedly chasing her imminent climax. “UH?!” He roared with unrestrained fury, grabbing her wrist at superhuman speed and twisting it behind her back, never halting his demanding rhythm. “I told you, Bulma… You’re mine…” He mumbled roughly against her glowing face, finding her so beautiful, so goddamned beautiful as she lay defenseless beneath him, gratefully taking all of him.

“I didn’t give you permission… Did I?!”

Her only retort was a long, powerless whine, like a vulnerable, wounded animal hopelessly seeking salvation at the very hands of her ruthless torturer.

“You don’t get to touch what’s mine! You little bitch…!” Vegeta boomed, nearly out of breath by now, instantly taking hold of the other tiny fist, still helplessly gripping the silken sheet, and brutally tying up both hands behind her back with the help of his wicked tail.     

Bulma panicked for one shaken moment, horrified at the possibility of her heartless lover withholding completion from her, but she soon let out a gratified, guttural laughter, her body filling with consummate relief the moment her agitated hands were replaced by thick, coarse fingers, roughly massaging her clit, matching the same tempo of those punishing hips.

He could feel them, Vegeta could already feel those burning flames of pleasure coiling in the base of his stomach, trapping a fiery hiss behind gritted teeth as her inner muscles clenched almost painfully around his cock, a vain attempt at stealing one more victory out of him by trying to make him cum first.

He couldn’t.

It was bad enough that he’d already, virtually admitted that he belonged to her just as much as she belonged to him, he couldn’t give her the satisfaction of giving in to her sinful sorcery so darned easily this time.

“Oh, Kami! F-FUCK…!” She cried at the top of her exhausted lungs, mouth gaped open, the nervous fingers of her imprisoned hands turning into minuscule, vicious claws, scoring her nails across the hard-rock abdomen frantically pushing her into the mattress, scraping new scars into his resilient skin.

“Are you cumming for me, Bulma?” His winded breath teased knowingly, almost able to see those bright sparks of silver flashing behind her eyelids as her eyes rolled back into her head, her entire form jolting hard, riding the crest of her mindless orgasm.

She had no words anymore, nothing left in her but the desperate, high-pitched sound emerging from her throat slowly fading into nothingness, her body thrashing, twisting under the power of the wild spasms of electricity coursing through her.

“E-Enough…” Bulma whimpered pitiably, her body faltering as her pleasure slowly died out, writhing tiredly, struggling in vain against his dominance when she realized that his degenerate hand was still working her, showing no sign to stop his merciless torment. “Please!” She mewled.

“Oh… I don’t think so, woman…” The Prince murmured into her clammy temple. “You’re not done cumming until I say so….” He swept his textured tongue all over her zesty skin, his hips rocking relentlessly against hers, huffing sharply through his nose when her nails succeeded in scratching his stomach as she feebly battled his mighty grip. “We can still get another one out of you, don’t we?”

Bulma never anticipated the way he let go of her hair, lightly raising his back and digging his big hand deep into her pelvis, painting purples and blues into her flesh as he picked up his pace, showing her no mercy, pushing, shoving, grinding in as deep as he could while the fingers of his other diabolical hand kept stroking her sensitized nub.

And she let him, ceasing her struggles at last and yielding to Vegeta’s fierce power, hopelessly screaming her second release into the crumpled pillows, her whole body limp while he fucked her unrelentingly through it, frazzled voice crumbling, until he finally threw his head back, shooting his hot seed into her tight warmth as he rumbled an unknown litany of alien curses, darkly exotic words of surrender, surrendering to her magic just as much as she’d chosen to surrender to his.   

Vegeta rested gingerly atop her still lightly trembling figure, pressing his drenched chest against her smooth back as he carefully removed his tail from her wrists, freeing her at last, and grimacing with a slight trace of concern when he sensed her arms drop lifelessly onto the bed, on both sides of her body.

He then latched his lips to that desirable spot, right at the base of the nape of her neck, lowering his mouth on her and letting out a quivery exhale as he kissed the alabaster skin with quiet devotion. His dominant bravado swiftly evaporated while his hard-skinned palms travelled up and down both flanks of her body, in that calming, nurturing way that he knew his woman loved so much right after climax had claimed them both. 

They stayed this way for a few minutes, his gentle hands and lips selfishly lingering all over her, for as long as Bulma permitted him to, until the time came for her fatigue to get the most of her, and she softly shifted beneath him with a faint moan, quietly manifesting her drained exhaustion.

The Prince promptly obliged, taking his hefty weight off her and pulling out slowly, a slight wince spreading on his tired face, never missing a single one of her reactions. A new tinge of worry clutched in the pit of his stomach when his small female instantly lowered herself, falling all the way on the bedsheets and curling up on her side into a drained little ball, making him wonder in hushed horror about whether he’d been too aggressive on her frail frame.

But his fears were newly appeased when he lay on the bed behind her. And, after taking care of leisurely removing what was left of his clothing, all he had to do was to cautiously reach out to her, enclosing her narrow waist with his needy tail and dragging her unhurriedly near him, for her to immediately roll over, turning his dusky heart into mush when she curled up against him instead, dropping her forehead down on his chest and gladly falling asleep in the safety of his strong arms.       

 

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

 

A soothing warmth, surrounding the hands that she’d so cozily nestled against the comforting protection of his chest, slowly brought her back from the peaceful slumber she’d gladly succumbed to. And, as she drowsily batted her eyelids, she soon realized that such assuaging balminess emanated from none other than the Saiyan Prince himself.

“Mhmm?” She moaned questioningly, quietly captivated, in spite of her somnolence, by the almost magical aura of sky blue light lightly enveloping her wrists. “Vegeta?” Bulma inquired with a sleepy curiosity emanating, not only from her lover’s mysterious actions, but from the odd frown marring his features as he kept his stare obstinately fixated on her tiny hands.

“Did I…?” Vegeta asked tentatively, his voice an ashamed whisper, still refusing to let his concerned gaze meet her own dazed one. “Did I hurt you?” The startling question came at last, making Bulma follow his line of vision and take notice of the still slightly reddened skin around her wrists, hitting her with the astounding realization that it was guilt the emotion he was so poorly concealing.

The heavy-eyed earthling didn’t make him wait for a soft but confident answer, her heart breaking a little at the touching sight of her man trying to cope with a distressing feeling that he surely wasn’t accustomed to, and wouldn’t quite know how to handle.

“No,” Bulma replied with calm assurance, blessing him with the kindest, most understanding of smiles. “You didn’t hurt me, Vegeta…” She quietly reiterated, pressing her enticing, nude body even closer to his, and resting her gently enfolded hands atop his chest as her beaming lips hungrily sought his for a long, idle kiss. Gleeful laughter danced in her mind when he sighed in relief, gradually relaxing as she took his guilt-ridden doubts away. “In fact...” The earthling whispered mischievously, a wicked smirk drawn all over her pouty mouth. “I really liked it… I like everything you do…” She confessed, stealing a smirk of pure mischief from her lover, and sealing her naughty revelation with another branding kiss.

“You truly are a vulgar woman, aren’t you?” Vegeta mumbled with relieved amusement and a rare flash of crimson tinting his tanned skin, forcing Bulma to inwardly bite her loose little tongue and refrain from letting him know just how ridiculously cute he looked when he was flustered like this.

The earthling couldn’t suppress her soft giggles, happily lightening up the mood of the faintly illuminated room, just like she couldn’t avoid finding the flagrant irony in a man who’d once, quite literally, barged into her home looking for nothing but a ‘fuck’, calling her a ‘vulgar’ creature now that he had her naked in his arms.

“I believe that’s one of my best qualities…” She confirmed with a lewd smile, engaging their yearning mouths into another leisurely kiss, basking in the marvelous way in which her stomach still fluttered by the mere taste of his sleek lips.     

It felt good.

It felt so frighteningly good just to be like this, lazing in bed with this man, a man who’d grown to know and cherish every inch of her body and spirit as if they were his own. And, as she broke their kiss with reluctance, carefully resting her still heavy head on the plush pillows, she couldn’t help but wonder what their erratic lives would be like once he ultimately mastered his Ascension, and whether they’d ever be able to rejoice in an existence filled with small, but profoundly happy moments such as this one, when the criminal monster who’d cruelly enslaved them both would finally meet his end. 

Bulma sighed in bliss, indulging in the comforting cocoon she was blithely surrounded by, a protective cocoon of warm silk and her lover’s quietly reassuring presence, making her feel as if no harm would ever come her way as long as she had him by her side. They both kept fondly staring at each other through curious, sleepy eyes, each one of them hoping with all their might that their other half would have chosen to see the light for good this time, finally realizing just how devastatingly pointless it would be to keep denying each other, and the truthful feelings binding them together, any longer.               

“That’s your ki, isn’t it?” Bulma broke her silence at last, fascinated by the great relief that Vegeta’s almost miraculous skills were inducing. He confirmed her smart theory with a soft grunt and a nod of the head, wordlessly encouraging her naturally inquisitive mind to try to learn as much as she could about this new, unknown power of his. “So, you…? You can heal wounds with your ki?” She questioned with breathless amazement.

“No,” the warrior promptly clarified, a glint of pride gleaming within his black eyes at his little lover’s admiration. “Ki can only bring relief to very minor injuries…” He explained with tranquil patience, bringing her frail wrists even closer to his chest as he soothingly caressed the smooth skin with his thumbs. “I’ve heard of certain races able to heal greater wounds, even capable of bringing people back from the brink of death, but I’ve never witnessed it myself.”

“I see…” Bulma’s whispery voice responded, newly rivetted by the Saiyan’s revelations.

At times like this, she was humbly reminded of just how little did she actually know about the incalculably vast galaxies encompassing her, and the endless amount of multi-colored cultures and exotic beings that Vegeta may have crossed paths with. But, much to her own surprise, and despite her intrepidly inquisitive disposition, it wasn’t that enigmatic Universe out there what she’d love to get to know the most.

If given the chance, if she ever truly had the unlikely opportunity of choosing a place where the two of them could spend the rest of their lives, it would be on a planet similar to her beloved Earth, for nothing would ever bring her as much joy and contentment as showing the deeply damaged man she’d madly fallen in love with, the inestimable beauty of an existence of harmony and peace, an idyllic home where she could enjoy the privilege of attempting to heal the bleeding wounds of his broken spirit in the same way in which he was healing her own.

“Vegeta, you can stop now if you like…” Bulma softly pleaded after a long, contented silence, noticing that, even though he looked noticeably happier and calmer than hours earlier, he still held the exhausted appearance of a man who’d spent the last two months flooded by grisly self-destruction. “You don’t have to waste any more of your energy. I’m fine now…”

His body’s instinctive reaction was to bring both of her minute hands even closer, lightly tightening the desirous grip of the furry appendage already encircling her creamy midriff and pulling her against his bare form.

The dim but powerful blue light, glowing radiantly in the dark, never lost its luster, not even when Vegeta allowed himself the indulgence of pressing his lips against the silkiness of her forehead, laying an achingly affectionate kiss upon her pale skin.

“Let me…” He shushed her with unusual tenderness, smiling with pleased serenity when he sensed her effortlessly relaxing, surrendering to the warmth of his caring touch.

“’Kay…” Bulma mumbled compliantly, her eyes dopy, progressively shutting down as she drowned in his mollifying warmness, falling into sweet, sweet oblivion.

 

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

 

The agitation of her obscure nightmares woke her with a startle, still in the dead of night, facing the bleak reality of a solitary bed and a pair of empty arms restlessly seeking the solace that only her Prince could bring.

For a fleeting instant, Bulma dreaded that the diabolical fears still consuming his soul would have gotten the best of him, cowardly pushing him to abandon her just as he’d done in past times, but her worries were soon placated when she discovered Vegeta’s heartening presence still in the room, sitting at the edge of the bed while holding a half-empty bottle of water in one shaky hand.

However, a second, more deliberate glance, was enough to make Bulma’s first flash of relief evaporate just as fast as it’d come, leaving nothing behind but uneasiness at the gloomy picture of defeat painted before her. The naked man slouched on the bed, with his tail firmly wrapped around his slim torso in self-protection, looked sadly closer to a confused, lost child than to a Saiyan Prince who’d recently savored his first triumphant taste of the Legends.

“Thirsty?” He croaked in a raspy voice as he turned around a little, extending a strong arm to her and offering to share the refreshing drink with quiet generosity. His gesture was soon rewarded with a timid nod and a drowsy smile, with Bulma sluggishly sitting on the bed, softly rubbing her eyes with the back of a tiny fist and accepting the beverage with the other.

“Thank you…” She whispered with candid gratitude, bringing the bottle to her lips and taking a large gulp.

At first, she’d figured that Vegeta’s odd attitude had to do with the hellish aftereffects of the copious amount of alcohol ingested earlier in the night, perhaps already nursing a bit of a hangover. But, when he responded back by bashfully lowering his stare with a simple nod, she knew that something else was still weighing heavily upon his conflicted mind.

There was a rare coyness about him, a raw vulnerability which she’d caught glimpses of here and there during the course of their passionate affair; but never had he looked more exposed than in this moment, as if he’d reached a point of no return, the deep acknowledgement of just how absurdly futile it was for him to pretend that he was still in one piece. Her Prince had the aura of a man on the verge of something, something of the utmost significance, and Bulma could only hope that it had to do with the full acceptance of the unstoppable forces inevitably tying them together.   

“Why?” His enigmatic question gravely reverberated in the chamber, his eyes still down in avoidance, yet his voice laced in angst, as if he were gingerly trying to reach out to her.

“Why what?” Bulma quickly asked back, leaving the now empty bottle on the nightstand, and turning her full attention back to him.

She crawled on the bed, bringing herself closer but giving him enough space so as not to make him feel threatened or smothered in any way, and she sat behind him, covering her trembling nudeness with the silken bedsheets, and pressing her knees to her breasts, draping her arms around her legs as she awaited expectantly for him to pour his troubled heart out.

“When… When you… Wha-What you…” He was stuttering, staring at his busted fists as they clenched and unclenched with nervousness. “What you said… When… The last time… When… About your… Your emotions…”

By now, Bulma was already battling the outpouring of compassionate tears threatening to spill from her burning eyes, her heart plummeting at the disturbing scene of a man who was both in possession of a power of such magnitude, that it would bring the most challenging of enemies to their knees, but so deeply hurt, and clueless about real affection, that he was incapable to even pronounce the forbidden word itching at the tip of his tongue.      

“Love?” The earthling’s choked answer came at last, trying to spare him the dull shame written all over his devastatingly handsome face.

Vegeta’s self-conscious response was purely a sharp nod of assent, but nothing had ever made Bulma struggle with such an incontrollable need to hold him in her arms more than the swift flush of red spreading all over his sharp cheekbones, and up to his ears.

‘Why?’

He was asking why she’d fallen in love with him, as if he honestly didn’t understand the reasons behind her inexplicable declaration, perhaps even, and this would be the most desolating vision of all, as if he thought of himself as someone entirely unworthy of any kind of love.

“Vegeta…” Bulma enlightened, her voice rocky but filled with a renewed sense of purpose, the resolve of a woman unwilling to let her man go, fervidly determined to help him open his eyes to a world always denied to him, to sentiments which she truly believed that he was able to experience but never had, simply because he’d never been given such a vital opportunity before. “Love… Love is not something you can explain, you know? Love is… It’s just...”

She shrugged miserably, exhaling in frustration and concern as she grasped just how incredibly difficult it would be to explain something which had been so natural to her for so many years, during a merrier past, that it’d become nearly unimaginable for her to envision a time when she’d have to make the effort to put into words what love was. 

“You can’t ask why about love, Vegeta…” Bulma affirmed in a soothing undertone, speaking to the Prince almost as one would to a child. “It’s not… It’s just not something that can be explained…”  

“Tch! What nonsense!” Vegeta instantly retorted, though the harshness in his whisper seemed to stem from chagrin rather than actual anger. “Everything…” He muffled, his physical and emotional fatigue now clear as water as he gave his back to her, still sitting wretchedly on the bed while his worn-out hands tiredly roamed across his face and hair. “Everything can be explained…” He mumbled grimly to himself, as if he needed, actually needed to believe that not a single matter in the world could escape his intelligence.

A single tear rolled down Bulma’s cheek, a glistening pearl promptly wiped off with the back of her jittery hand, utterly terrified of her lover’s reaction if he viewed her moment of weakness.

She may not have been able to decipher yet a lot of the ambiguities surrounding the Saiyan Prince, but she was already well aware of just how much he abhorred seeing her cry, which was exactly one of the many reasons why she knew that there was more, infinitely more to him than what met the eye, and that he was, in truth, in possession of a heart noble enough to love and be loved, but simply didn’t know it yet.

During the arduous brevity of their clandestine relationship, Vegeta had already shown her more proofs of affection than he perhaps was even aware of. And, though Bulma felt completely drained after such an intensely emotive night, she realized now, more than ever, that it was her inescapable duty to show him just how much he meant to her, and the unbelievable changes that his mere presence had brought into her life.

Even if it hurt.

Even if she had to bare her heart in a way she never had before, disclosing an old but deeply ingrained desire which he’d, in fact, already half-guessed during that very first night when he’d showed up without warning in her home. Perhaps then, and only then, would she shine a light on what the power of love could truly achieve.

“You were right, you know?” Her babyish voice stated with shy hesitation, following the long silence they’d both been engrossed in. 

Her mysterious affirmation certainly caught the warrior’s interest, for he instantly faced her again, frowning with plain nosiness. “About what?” Vegeta shot back at once.

“That night… The first night you visited me, remember? When you first came to my place…”

The Prince assented without reservation, thoroughly intrigued, and perturbed by both his lover’s strange admission and her sudden change of attitude. It soon became apparent that, whatever it was that Bulma was about to confide, it must have been something deeply painful and embarrassing for her.

“You… Y-You asked me about my book, about that… About that story from my book…” She demurely carried on, hit by the upsetting recognition that, even though the woman about to be portrayed was someone very different from the one she was today, the memory of the hopelessness tyrannizing her lonely nights back in those days was still as fresh as ever. “I… I told you about the story… About th-that man who wanted to… The man who wanted to die… Remember?”

“I do,” Vegeta confirmed with solemnity, and with the strong conviction that the recollection of that first night together, that extraordinary night of ecstasy and euphoria, would forever remain imprinted as one of the most treasured of his intimate memoirs. “But why…? What does that have to do with…?”

“Y-You asked me…” Bulma interjected, her exquisite eyes, lost in thought and already sparkling with unshed tears, focused on her covered feet with sad nostalgia. “You asked me if I… If I was just like the man in the story…” She evoked wistfully, and if she hadn’t been still timorously avoiding his gaze, she would have seen the look of sheer horror crossing his bloodless face when he figured out the implications behind her chilling tale of woe. “You… You asked me if I wanted to d…”

“Don’t!” Vegeta interrupted, gritting his closed fists with such sudden fury that he could almost feel the blood dripping from the sore skin.

Die.

He’d asked her if she wanted to die.

And out of all the goddamned words that that pretty mouth of hers could have ever pronounced, that was the one, the one cursed thought that he would never, under any circumstances, be able to wrap his wrecked mind around.

“Why not?” The earthling questioned back, though the knowing twinkle in her eye when their stares met, together with the blue smile twisting her lips, told him that she knew. “I thought you wanted me to tell you about love…”     

His uneasy silence was the only response that she needed to find the strength to reach out to him, soundlessly extending her hand in sheepish invitation, begging for the warmth of his body, needing him by her side when the time came for her to undress her soul.

Her prayers were answered when he readily agreed to her modest plea, crawling amongst crumpled sheets until he was beside her as he battled the nagging voices swirling inside of his head, troublesome echoes of mockery chastising him for giving into his woman’s wishes with such frightening ease.

It didn’t matter.

It didn’t matter anymore, all that really mattered was that she was still here, willing and eager to share her most confidential secrets with him, intimate, electrifying feelings which belonged to an enthralling world of her own.

Before he could sit down with her, she raised slightly from her previous sitting position, kneeling in front of him and literally throwing her slim arms around his robust neck, pressing her lusciously naked form against him in a zealous embrace. As always, his body reacted long before his bewildered mind could, long before he could fully grasp that she was acting the way she did because the enigma about to be revealed was so profoundly hurtful, that she couldn’t even bear to look him in the eye as she set it free. So, he gave his arms the freedom to do as they pleased, to bind themselves around the immaculate perfection that was his Bulma and pull her in until their bodies morphed into one.

For a long while, both lovers simply remained like this, clinging to each other for dear life as they knelt on the bed, her ragged breath ghosting his neck, betraying the skin-deep emotions painfully overcoming her. Vegeta did nothing but wait, keeping his woman all to himself, waiting patiently as she shivered in his lovingly possessive grip, until she gathered enough courage to unveil her deepest secrets to him.

“I… I used to…” She shyly whispered against his skin. “I used to f-feel so lonely… You know? Back then, I just… E-Even… Even Launch… Sh-She…” There was a brief pause as she took a big, shaky breath, trying to control the unbearable grief that the memory of her deceased friend still triggered in her. “She… She’d always try to… To get me to go out with her, but… I j-just… I didn’t want to… I just… I just wanted to be alone…”

Vegeta’s arms stiffened around her when several drops of hot, salty moisture dampened his shoulder, his heart stuck in his throat when that oddly familiar sensation returned at full steam, that strange connection that made her excruciating sorrow wash all over him, as if they’d already become one single spiritual being.

“I j-just… I just worked, you know? I-I worked as much as I could and th-then… I’d just go home and…” This time, her own arms were the ones tightening around his neck, trying to stay grounded, so as not to get lost within her turbulent sea of sad recollections. “I’d just lie in… In bed… And I… I… I’d think of my M-Mom and my Dad a-and…” A loud sob burst from her chest, her minuscule body breaking down in uncontrollable tremors. “And my f-friends… And I just… I j-just wanted to be with them… I-I just…”

“Bulma…” He spoke in a cautionary murmur, his blood boiling at the mental image that her mournful words were painting in his stunned brain.

Right from the start, Vegeta had already pictured her as being a bit of a loner, yet never had he imagined that a woman as tenaciously brave as Bulma would have seriously toyed with the petrifying idea of taking her own life in order to be reunited with her loved ones.

“I was just tired… S-So tired… And I…” She reminisced again in a small whisper, ignoring the warning tone telling her just how much her Prince was detesting to be a witness to her anguish. “Sometimes I just… I j-just wanted to… To fall asleep and n-never wake up…”

“That’s enough!” Vegeta cut her off, releasing her soft body from his fierce embrace, only for his hands to instantly hold her darling face right between them. He spoke hoarsely, his voice still low but full of furious passion. “You never think like that! You hear me? Never!”

Her glittering tears were now falling completely unrestrained, yet a rare smile of pure happiness arose in her mouth at the sound of his inspirational words of hope, brightly encouraging words that truthfully made her believe, not only that he honestly cared about her, but that somehow, and regardless of the immense amount of ache and loss which he himself had endured for a lifetime of terror, he still seemed to hold the unyielding belief that their lives were worth fighting for.

“I don’t, Vegeta,” Bulma declared proudly, her meek smile widening through the few tears still spoiling her charming features, and she slowly shook her head, imitating his actions and cupping his cheeks with gentle hands as she professed her feelings for him. “I haven’t… I haven’t felt like that for a long time…” She laid a feathery kiss on his lips, pressing her forehead against his own as she looked fondly at him. “Not since I met you…”

If the Saiyan hadn’t already been kneeling on the bed, his legs would have surely given up on him at the hidden connotation behind his woman’s staggering admission.              

Live.

He made her want to live.

Vegeta had always been aware of the aghast reactions that his commanding presence, and even the sound of his well-renowned name, could provoke all throughout innumerable, faraway galaxies. Sentiments which ranged from daunting fear to absolute repulsion, and a raging desire for revenge for his many crimes committed during the course of years of enforced service under his despicable Master, but never had he contemplated the possibility that his mere existence may have resurrected the craving to live in another creature.

He was overpowered by the strong need to say something, anything, to the defenseless woman waiting longingly for his reaction. But words wouldn’t come, for the Prince had now reached that point where he was so intensely touched by her raw sensibility, that no words would ever do justice to the myriad of exhilarating sensations flaming within his spirit.

So, as always, he let his body do the talking, carefully wiping her sizzling tears with gentle thumbs and kissing her regal forehead with moving tenderness, taking her in his arms again as he relished the loud sob that newly emerged from her lips, a soft cry swiftly giving way to a fresh stream of tears that, this time, Vegeta knew without the shadow of a doubt, were gleaming diamonds of sheer joy and liberation.

“I know… I know it’s scary, Vegeta…” Bulma murmured compassionately, lacing her arms around his neck as she rested her wet cheek on his broad shoulder, whispering words of soothing comfort in his ear, soothing words of reassurance which he’d desperately needed to hear all his life, without even realizing it. “I’m… I’m scared too, you know?” She confessed with emotive humility, her weak arms narrowing around him as she lovingly petted the nape of his neck with warm hands. “I know things… I… I’ve heard things…” She admitted, planting a long kiss on the crook of his neck. “I… I know you don’t always… I know y-you don’t always tell me a-about a lot of things, but… I know…”

More tears soaked his hot skin as she kept raining the most amorous kisses all over, tears which had now transformed into proof of the unwarranted pity that he knew she felt towards him, tears spilt in his name because a hard-hearted warrior like himself would never dare to.      

“I-I know… I know that you… You’ve lost it all… J-Just like me…” Bulma quietly asserted, revealing, once again, that in spite of Vegeta’s pathological hermeticism, she’d been fully conscious of the agony of loss accompanying him for a lifetime. “I… I know it’s scary t-to feel… To feel for someone… Because… Because you don’t want to get attached and then lose them…” Her shimmery tears flowed at liberty, yet her kind ministrations never ceased as her hands relentlessly touched and caressed his skin, letting him know that she understood, that he wasn’t alone anymore and would never have to be. “I know it’s scary… And it’s okay… It’s okay to be scared, Vegeta…”

The unforgettable voice of his Father’s ghost reverberated anew inside of his head, offering him his deranged guidance, ominously pontificating on the unavoidable principles always guiding him as he’d walked the lonesome path of his existence.                  

 

Men didn’t cry.

Men had no fear.

Men just took it.

They took it all and asked for more.

 

And here was this woman, this heavenly little creature who knew nothing of the crooked Universe surrounding them both, yet still had chosen to behave like a true revolutionary, trying imploringly to persuade him, to ingrain within him the surreal belief that, not only should he feel no shame in experiencing that unnerving fear of loss, but that she too had been infected by the very same poisonous malady ever since their solitary paths had crossed.  

“But now it’s different, Vegeta…” Bulma promised, her tone still soft but growing in intensity, the same ecstatic intensity flaring in her luminous blue eyes as her gaze met his yet again, taking his face in her hands as she manifested her unwavering faith in him. “Now you’re a Super Saiyan, Vegeta… Now… Now you can…”

“Not yet,” Vegeta reminded her with sore disappointment, the disenchantment about his lack of skill to ascend at will haunting him still. “I haven’t… I haven’t mastered it yet...”

“But you will, Vegeta! I know you will!” She proclaimed, with such resolute conviction that no man alive would have ever dared to doubt her fantastic claims.

Her bottom lip trembled beyond her control as new tears pooled in her eyes, the tears of a woman literally holding a ray of resplendent hope in her hands, the man she loved, the vigorous warrior who was going to liberate them from the ruthless chains of slavery oppressing them both. “Y-You’re going to kill him, right Vegeta? Please promise me you’re going to kill him!”

Bulma’s desperate plea awakened something latent within his spirit, like a Phoenix rising from the scorching ashes he’d been buried into ever since he’d left her side.

He’d needed this, now he knew.

He’d needed her, both the adoring inspiration of her tireless faith in him, and the aching weariness written all over her flawless visage, reminding him that he wasn’t alone anymore, that she too shared both his buoyant hopes and desolate grief, and that it was within his power to end it all and set them free from the tyrannical subjugation that their lives had become.

“On my life!” Vegeta whispered with ferocity, his onyx eyes glowing like those of a Dark Knight as he held her tearful face in his hands. “You have my word, Bulma! I’ll slay the bastard!”

 

He would.

He’d kill him.

He’d slaughter the beastly monster just for her, only so he could throw his butchered, rotten body at her angelic feet like a priceless trophy.

 

His impetuous vow instilled a new sense of pride within his heart, like a man who’d just been reborn, not only due to her unstoppable faith in his imminent Ascension, but for being responsible, at last, for the dazzling smile emerging through her tears.

“And then… Then we’ll be together, right?” Her eager voice asked again, his bronzed skin prickling in excitement at the affectionate way in which her fingertips kept stroking his cheeks. “Then n-no one… No one will keep us apart!” Bulma swore ardently as Vegeta gawked at her in sheer awe, still trying to assimilate the world-shattering words spoken by his lover.

Not a single day had gone by throughout Vegeta’s life in which he had ever felt as if he’d lived truly and entirely for himself. Quite on the contrary, the warrior’s existence had been nothing but a grueling journey, a crippling odyssey spent in a hopeless quest at trying to live up to everyone’s expectations of him.

From those, now almost dreamlike, days when his Father still lived, blindly striving to swell his heart with paternal pride, and to make up for the King’s own shortcomings, determined to grow his innate power beyond the limits of rational belief, to the much longer years spent in imprisoned servitude, recklessly chasing the idolized dream that would allow him to recuperate his lost honor and to avenge his people, once and for all.

His enormous potential, together with the celebrated augur promised to him since birth, had turned out to be more a darned curse than an actual blessing, a punishing burden he’d been carrying upon his shoulders for as long as memory served him.

In more recent years, he’d come to develop the dismal suspicion that even his own Saiyan comrades, Nappa in particular, had slowly grown to regard him as their only hope for a far greater life, nothing more than a meal ticket that would allow them to stand beside him and take a substantial share of the abundant riches he’d acquire when the day came for him to sit on a throne fit for a King, earned through the grand proclamation of his birthright.

But not her.

Not his Bulma.

His lover was different, so painfully different from all the rest, from those egotistic parasites inhabiting his world that, even though he could feel the warmth of her tempting flesh in his own hands, there were countless times when he still found himself wondering if she was purely a celestial apparition, just one of the illusory ghosts tormenting his melancholic existence.

But she was here, right here in his arms, and if there was one truth that he was positively convinced of, was that there was nothing the little female sincerely desired more than his own happiness.

Everything in his lover’s gentle nature told him that she very much wanted him to succeed, not due to any sinisterly ulterior motives, an ambitious yearning for wealth, or even the twisted aspiration to rule the Universe by his side, but simply because she loved him, and she knew that the utter annihilation of the heinous tyrant responsible for their incommensurable loss would be the one and only way to set them free.

Vegeta kept observing her with amazed eyes, his rugged fingers lightly caressing her tear-stricken cheeks as the world gradually shifted around him, finally forcing him to admit to himself that the moments spent in Bulma’s company had been the closest he’d ever come to true bliss in longer than he could recall.

This woman, this exuberantly unique woman quivering in his arms, was all alone in the world, just like him, and the time had come for him to surrender to her bewitching charms and admit the frighteningly real possibility that certain things in life were as purely irrational as she claimed them to be, and that all a man could do was to succumb to their mystical power. 

In the middle of the nothingness of his lamentable existence, he’d finally found something worth keeping, someone worth fighting for, and he’d be damned if he ever made the mistake of letting her go by his own stupid will, for losing her had turned him into nothing but a walking dead, a man with no reason to live other than the implausible hope of ever holding her again.

Now only one question remained.

The only question worth asking.

“Do you still want me, Bulma?” Vegeta voiced with grave solemnity, looking as if his very life were hanging by the fragile thread of her future answer, as if he’d just placed his entire fate in her small hands.

A meaningful smile threatened to cross her lips at the supreme significance within his bold question, a flash of exultance dashing through her as soon as she understood the implications that her response would surely have for as long as they both shall live.

“I don’t want you, Vegeta,” Bulma confidently professed, her reply soft but filled with just as much gravity. For a moment, the briefest glimpse of panic assaulted the warrior’s deep eyes, until she soon rushed to appease his clear disappointment. “I love you…”

She spoke slowly, emphasizing the word which had once inculcated terror in her Prince’s heart, but which she now knew he needed to hear the most, that one forbidden word he still wasn’t brave enough to pronounce. And she did so with the full acceptance of a woman willing to carry the gratifying burden of being the foolish, sentimental one in their relationship, for nothing else even mattered anymore just as long as they were together.

Her unshakable declaration was enough to release him from the invisible chains which he himself had shackled around his own heart, and there was nothing left for him to do but to wind his arms around her trembling form and pull her closer.

Vegeta kissed her hungrily, almost desperately, trying his best to pour every emotion overrunning his soul into his heated kiss, while his strong arms wandered all over her inviting curves. He freely allowed her to taste the grief of his bottomless wounds, together with those primal, animalistic appetites that only she awakened within his fractured spirit, and the sheer delight that her forgiveness and kind acceptance had brought back into his life.

Bulma kissed him back with equal fervor, their tongues dancing sensually as she felt his devastating pain and stormy desire, ecstasy and thirst, as if they were her own. And, when their mouths reluctantly split in a desperate quest for air, and her stare newly met his own, her heart fluttered in glee like that of a silly young girl at the look of zealous devotion thrown at her, an ardent look of reverence that no other man had ever gifted her with.

After an ephemeral eternity, Vegeta grudgingly freed her from his selfish embrace but, unable to stay away from her warmth for too long, he sleekly run his coarse hands up and down her elegant shoulders, relishing the way his radiant woman seemed to melt beneath the power of his touch.

“Bulma…” The Prince rasped on her succulent lips, his torn whisper a telltale of the heat rising through his savage blood.

He could already feel it, the wild echo of a thousand generations of Saiyan cries calling out for him as his basest instincts gradually started to take over his entire self. His heart pumping faster, barbaric voices resounding in his ears like thunderous drums of war, ferociously demanding for him to claim her, to take what was rightfully his.

Never in a million years would he have envisioned for this day to come, the crucial day in which fate would present him with a woman whose lifeforce would so vividly reflect his own, a woman good enough for him to even consider the outrageous possibility of forging the most sacred of unions with.

Vegeta conjured up all those incessant, archaic Saiyan stories, every single one of them, so remarkably meaningful during his gullible years of youth, only to lose all sense, slowly but implacably, as he’d grown older and bitter skepticism took over, turning his heart to stone.

And yet here she was, impossibly warm and charming, yet bravely spunky and resilient, the only woman suited for a Prince like him.

In truth, he already knew her to be far too good for a stony-hearted monster like himself. But he’d also come to learn by now, that the blue-haired siren possessed an otherworldly intelligence, a wisdom reaching far beyond her strictly scientific knowledge, an emotional astuteness permitting her to peek behind the thick curtains he’d so shrewdly drawn around himself, and to recognize his most primordial fears as clear as if they were her own.

And now all he could do was pray, with all his strength, for this to also mean that her virtuous heart had discovered something within his sinful being still worth saving, an untouched side of him which he’d been utterly unable to discover on his own.

“Bulma…” Vegeta’s rough voice softly implored, his hands pushing aside the few disobedient curls covering her bare shoulders to make it easier for them to explore her delectable collarbone. The tip of his wolfish tongue licked his upper lip absentmindedly, his libertine imagination running wild, already picturing his sharp fangs sinking into her deliciously ivory skin as his fingertips traced a line of fire all over her alluring flesh, masterfully trying to find just the right spot to lay his eternal mark on. “Lie on the bed for me, woman…”

His hypnotizing command submerged Bulma even further into the spellbound trance she’d already been possessed by, staring at his every gesture with expectant fascination, and wide eyes of sapphire that sparkled into the night like the brightest gemstones. She didn’t argue, didn’t even question his entrancing request, instead, she did nothing but nod meekly at him, releasing him from her dainty touch and turning her back on him, languidly crawling amongst the chaotic heap of black silk until she was lying on her back, waiting eagerly for him to make his next capricious move.

The warrior’s eyes never deserted such a mouthwatering scene, feasting on that statuesque pair of shapely thighs moving with the sensuousness of a nimble little kitten. But the shameless side of him which so enjoyed delighting in merely looking at her ethereal beauty, was quickly overtaken by the rashly uncontrollable need to make her his and, before he was even aware of his own actions, he found himself soon following right behind her.

Vegeta travelled a slow, sinuous journey across the large bed, following exactly the same sumptuous path that Bulma had outlined herself, until his rapacious body reached his craved destination at her feet, noting the way her minute toes wriggled in nervous excitement, and the rare emotion surging within him at the sight of her, as he leisurely crawled atop her.

Against the vestigial fire already taking possession of his essence, the Prince couldn’t repress the infuriating fondness, the irrepressible rush of protective sentiments that his woman evoked. It was at times like this, when he had her shivering in impatient need underneath the raw power that his body exuded, that he was reminded of just how small, how extremely vulnerable she truly was. His Bulma’s mind may have been admirably strong, but her frame was so delicate, so utterly helpless, that not a day went by in which he didn’t fear that today would be the day when the cosmic joke that was his life would finally take her away from him.

The brilliant earthling had been right, as usual, when she’d ingeniously guessed that the real, and profoundly disgraceful, reason lying behind his cold rejection in the face of her confession of love, was none other than his deep-rooted fear of loss, a neurotic terror which had guided Vegeta’s every act and thought ever since his beloved Father, race and home planet had been turned into nothing but scorching ashes and dishonorable memories.

And so, this shameful fear had implacably morphed into his darkest Demon, an evil reminder of the unbearable suffering he’d end up being subjected to if he ever let his guard down and allowed himself the forbidden luxury of getting attached to any living creature.          

But now things were different.

Now, as the Prince hovered over his lover’s provocative body, gladly welcoming the honest love and trust pouring from her generous spirit, he truly believed, for the very first time, that they’d make it, that he’d find a way, come what may, to master his treasured Ascension and make the world a safer place, a place where they could both live together in idyllic peace.    

Bulma’s trembling arms reached out to him as soon as he lay above her, pulling him to her for a sultry kiss while her long legs idly entangled around his own. He happily indulged her wishes, bringing his lips down to hers and tasting her deeply, a needy moan vibrating in his chest when one of her hands began to skillfully caress the luxurious tail he’d so lovingly wrapped around her waist.

He sank a firm elbow on the mattress, supporting much of his weight on it and letting his free hand explore her body, his touch leaving heat on its wake, from the warmness of her blushing cheeks, where he adoringly moved away the few tousled curls hiding her pretty face from his insatiate eyes, to that appealing spot at the base of her slender neck, obsessively calling out for him with animalistic want.

“I love you…” Bulma newly whispered as she broke their passionate kiss, her ravishing eyes bursting with the glow of a love far greater than she ever thought possible.

She ceased her mischievous ministrations on Vegeta’s most sensitive spot when she felt him rapidly respond to her wickedness, tightening his hold on her as he grunted in urgent need, letting her know that, if she carried on her playful teasing much longer, he’d come undone far too soon. His hand run up and down her thigh, ravenous touch exploring, kneading her juicy flesh as he pulled her limbs even closer, silently encouraging her to hold onto him with everything she’d got and get ready for what was still to come.

The first lights of dawn made an entrance inside the room, enveloping both lovers in faded purples and shy oranges as they gave into each other’s desires without inhibitions. Her silken mouth grazed his tremulous jaw, raining kisses on his febrile skin while Vegeta’s hand kept teasing and discovering her, making her gasp in soft delight and break down in thrilling goosebumps as he caressed the milky side of her ticklish waist.

Bulma held his face with shaky hands, murmuring words of love and affection, over and over, as her lips cherished every inch of him. She kissed his lightly furrowed brow, powerless to ignore just how much his expression had softened despite his evident carnal arousal. He looked so handsome, so incredibly handsome when he simply allowed himself to relax in her embrace, taking off his hurtful mask of indifference and showing her the real man hiding beneath, that she couldn’t suppress the wave of emotion thoroughly overcoming her at the realization that she was the only woman who’d ever been fortunate enough to see him like this.

Her mouth lavished him with devotion, laying avid, doting kisses all over, from his feverish cheeks to his virile jawline, feeling him inhale sharply when her skilled tongue brushed just the right spot between his jaw and his neck, so sensitive that the warrior couldn’t help the involuntary way in which his hips thrusted against hers in return.

Vegeta’s lips sought hers once more, their hectic mouths and tongues joining into a raging kiss, his self-control quickly slipping through his fingers while Bulma’s kind hands found their way across his tarnished back, endearingly stroking and caressing every scar and imperfection, every single, agonizing reminder of all the pain endured through a lifetime of horror, her soothing touch letting him know that it was over, all of it, and that his torment and degrading humiliation would soon become nothing but the distant echoes of a child’s bad dream.

Bulma could feel his whole body trembling in ardent hunger, his engorged arousal pressed against her heated core, begging for completion, yet, in spite of her dazed state, she could also sense his strenuous battle against restraint, as if he were somehow trying to prolong this moment as much as he possibly could.

She didn’t know she’d become an essential part of a ritual as old as time itself, the sacred custom by which a Saiyan male chose the woman he madly desired to spend the rest of Eternity with, a life changing day that Vegeta himself never even thought would arrive, a moment he was still fully unprepared for, despite his caretaker’s numerous tales depicting such a holy rite.

“Ve-Vegeta…” Bulma rasped in raving need, wriggling wantonly under him, letting him know just how much she wanted, needed him, inside of her. “Please!” The frenetic grip of her small hands grew in intensity, running up and down his broad back and perfect bottom, kneading, squeezing, raking her sharp nails into his rock-hard flesh as her legs constricted around him and her hips desperately rose to meet him.

The Prince hissed hotly, hating himself for his pitiful weakness when it came to his woman. He’d been badly attempting to make up for the rough way in which he’d taken her earlier by taking things slow this time, but he couldn’t, he simply couldn’t resist his soft little female, obscenely writhing and rubbing her voluptuous body against him like a woman dying of thirst.

Vegeta knew he’d lost his arduous battle against himself as soon as one of her hands reached down to take him, wrapping her long fingers around his hard length and stroking him, working him with languorous, powerful movements, and smirking with pride at his reaction, savoring the power that her devilish touch had over him. Bulma stared at the way his eyes closed and his mouth gaped in pure ecstasy, loving how easily he seemed to be getting lost within that wave of sensuous pleasure until he couldn’t wait any longer, his entire self aching for her.

“Bulma…” Vegeta mumbled in a hushed whisper, her taunting, velvety touch setting his skin on fire. “E-Enough…” He begged pathetically, reaching down to take hold of her thin wrist, gently encouraging her to halt her sweet torture.

He then held her hand within his, locking his all-consuming gaze with her own as he kissed her with indulgence, giving her fingers one tiny squeeze and letting them go, inviting her, without words, to drape her arm around his neck, secretly marveled still at how effortlessly his lover complied with his humble requests.

By now, with her naked body shaking like a leaf below him, hopelessly holding onto him, the Prince could barely think straight anymore, the only rational thought drifting through his dizzy mind, as he prepared to make her his, was a secret prayer, the hope that following the calling of his feral Saiyan blood would be enough, and that his instincts would soon take over when the time came to bind his soul to hers, if only she would accept him.

Vegeta melded their mouths into another wistful kiss, swathing his thick fingers around his erection and erotically rubbing its dripping tip against her swollen nub, drinking in her lustful moans as he reached her entrance, carefully guiding his shaft and slowly easing into her warmth. Bulma’s whimpers intensified, fiercely wrapping every available limb around him as she welcomed him inside of her, tightening around him as their bodies became one.     

His thrusts were gentle at first, drowning in that delirious quest to put her own pleasure before his own selfish ones as he delved deeper into her, striving to give her everything, everything he had.

Vegeta moved within her, a slow, aphrodisiac dance, rocking his body against her own, getting lost in the electrifying sensation of her teeny nails digging into the hardened skin of his neck as she pulled him even closer. Bulma’s hips gradually arched up to meet him, and he gladly indulged her, lifting her towards him and progressively quickening his pace as he made every effort to reach deeper, to discover and satisfy every single part of her.

When her winded mouth left his, throwing her head back against the lush pillows and sobbing in bliss, he knew that the time had come for him to beg for her acceptance.

“Bulma…” The Prince murmured breathlessly, laying rash, frantic kisses all over her exposed translucent throat as he struggled with the violent need to mark her, to take her all for himself. “Bulma…” He called out again, enjoying the way her eyes remained tightly shut, her face contorted in pleasure as she lost herself under his almighty touch. “Look at me…” He pleaded madly, his body never stopping his adoring assault on hers.

His imploring request finally stole her attention, and her dazed eyes opened slowly, heavy eyelids thick with ecstasy, curiously waiting for his words to come, knowing that right now, she’d give him anything, anything he ever asked of her.

“Y-You…” Vegeta murmured upon her open lips, bringing his flushed face closer, almost pressing his beaded forehead against her own. “You will have no other man…” He demanded in a husky bedroom voice, his words sounding closer to a supplicant plea than a dominant command.

Bulma could do nothing but nod anxiously in assent, sighing pitifully into his mouth as she felt his pelvis diving even harder into her, filling her up entirely, letting her know that she belonged to him and him alone, and that no other man would ever be allowed to touch what was his.

“And I…” He continued, never ceasing the sensual rhythm of his domineering hardness, melting against her inviting softness as he took her completely. “I will have no other woman…”

Her astounded gaze widened in shock for a moment, a new onslaught of fresh tears instantly pooling at the corners of her shiny eyes at the unbelievably vulnerable way in which Vegeta was baring his soul to her, and the obvious meaning clearly implied within his hopeful statement.

A promise.

The indestructible promise that she was his and he was hers and nothing, absolutely nothing in this infinite Universe would ever change that.

Bulma assented once again, the radiant ghost of a tearful smile drawing itself on her lips as she encircled his face with nervous hands, bringing him nearer for a new, passionate kiss. She generously allowed him to taste her tears, tears of happiness and relief, the relief of a woman who still found it hard to believe that her indomitable lover had finally found the courage to let go, to let go of his haunting fears and inhibitions, choosing to give his secretive heart to his mate instead.

In their fervid kiss she discovered his fearless acceptance, and in the dark depth that were his sable eyes, after their mouths grudgingly broke their febrile kiss, she learnt what being adored truly felt like, his look of sheer veneration telling her that she’d forever be in sole possession of his undying devotion. And that, even if he’d never have the ability to pronounce the words which she’d longed to hear for so long, he felt them, in a way he’d never felt such foreign sentiments towards any other creature before.

Vegeta’s eyes squeezed shut for an instant, turning his head to the side, and burying his face in the palm of her hand, smothering the softness of her skin with light kisses while his body kept moving in unison with hers and he shuddered uncontrollably, thoroughly overcome by a blast of alien passions. Bulma’s heat engulfed him irresistibly, deeply moved by his vulnerability as she drowned into him, feeling her body respond to his heartfelt touch, and to the endless wave of exhilarating thrill he was freely offering her.

“Hold onto me…” Vegeta whispered in her ear as soon as he managed to barely take a hold of his rampant emotions.

Her loud moans drifted in the air as she clung desperately to his strong neck, her head hanging back, mouth wide open as choked sobs of pleasure escaped her lips. His free hand roughly gripped her hip when he sensed her raising up to meet him again, savagely shoving her into the mattress instead and sinking faster, deeper, frantically trying to reach and possess every single part of her.

“Ve-Vegeta!” Bulma groaned recklessly, already out of breath, getting closer and closer, the incredible friction of his burning flesh rubbing against her sensitive core making her viciously rake her sharp nails across his skin. “Oh G-Gods… Oh Gods!” She screeched, teetering over the edge as she lost control, her inner depths already squeezing his thick cock as he kept plunging into her, now fully unrestrained.

Her visceral instincts told her that she wouldn’t last much longer. She knew, and he must have known it too, for he licked his dry lips with agitated need the minute he sensed her impending climax approaching, getting ready, dangerously ready to claim what was righteously his.

The Prince set her head over the soft pillows, with as much care as his mad state allowed him to. His mind spinning, about to lose his own rationality, seeing how easy, just how frighteningly easy it was for him to dominate her, to do as he pleased with her body as she writhed helplessly beneath him, as compliant as a ragged little doll.

Vegeta kept one of his arms firmly perched beside her face, gently removing a blue lock away from her damp forehead and nestling her head within his large hand, carefully striving to keep her from moving far too much so as not to hurt her. He could already feel his Saiyan blood taking over, crushing any rational thought as his lips devoured every curve of her beautiful face, kissing and caressing her porcelain skin with his infamous mouth, working its torturous way down south, swathing a path of flames all through her neck as he nipped and licked the honeyed saltiness of her tempting throat.

His sharp teeth perilously scraped her velvety skin, as soon as Bulma’s fierce grip tightened around him, her entire form trembling in sheer euphoria as a powerful climax rocked her body, rolling over and over, in a never-ending wave of unmitigated pleasure. Her piercing cries entwined with the animalistic roar exploding in his chest when he joined her, screaming his release into the fragile crook of her neck, his moist breath panting wildly against the rabbiting beats of her inviting pulse.

He could hear them, the cursed voices, those remote echoes reverberating in his head, begging for him to take her, to forget about the rest of the world and just take her. And he did, hungrily running his wet tongue all over the base of her flushed neck and cautiously sinking his razor-sharp fangs into the tenderness of her flesh, getting a taste of true Paradise, at last, the moment her warm, syrupy blood, coated his voracious tongue like a smooth caress.

A fleeting pang of guilt hit him right in the gut when he heard her yelp in distinctive pain, reminding him of just how small, how achingly frail his woman really was, and, for a brief second, he felt her struggle against his bold actions, her choked voice calling out his name as her petite fists tried to push him away.

But Vegeta wouldn’t relent, keeping her firmly trapped underneath him, knowing that the discomfort would soon subside, giving way to the same rush of heavenly rapture coursing through his veins in that blissful instant.

“Bulma…” He called out for her in a longing whisper, thanking the Gods for the old Saiyan tales to be proven right when he steadily sensed her ceasing her squirming, growing limp in his arms as she gradually came down from her frenzied high. “Y-You must… You must taste it…” He pleaded with bated breath, battling himself with the mayhem of clashing emotions overwhelming his spirit.

Bulma frowned in exhausted confusion, striving to focus her blurry vision on her Prince as she soared in a sweeping ocean of colorful sensations, blown away by an intoxicating blend of extraordinary pleasure and bestial pain. She felt hot all over, yet her ivory skin was now covered in a sheen of cold sweat as she shivered tempestuously, a flood of delicious electricity bursting through her entire form. 

“M-My blood…” Vegeta whispered in relief, comforted when he finally got a reaction out of her, seeing her cupping his face with jittery hands, tiredly seeking to understand his anxious needs. “Y-You must taste it… You must taste it!” He supplicated, bringing his tremulous mouth even closer, and wiping off the gleaming pearls of moisture coating her forehead with tender adoration. “Taste my blood!”            

The earthling blinked lazily, her head unbearably heavy, still subjected to the controlling influence of whatever alien spell her lover had cast upon her. She didn’t know, she didn’t know what was happening anymore, yet the desperate urgency in his tone made her want to do whatever it took to please and assuage his outrageous urges, to fulfill his every desire for as long as he needed her to.

Her own instincts promptly took over with terrifying ease, potent, primitive instincts which she never even knew she possessed, winning a brutal battle against her own faintness as she rose to meet him, lightly suckling on his bottom lip before daring to imitate his actions, piercing his sensitive flesh with extreme care. Her touching mildness was a far cry from the playful way in which she’d bitten him earlier, as if this time she knew, for reasons that escaped her comprehension, of the utmost importance of such an intimate gesture.

Bulma’s heartbeat swayed when she heard the soft moans of elation vibrating in his throat, his body still rocking leisurely atop hers. Their climax had long faded away, yet Vegeta kept their hips firmly locked together, relishing their sensual closeness and that new, exotic flow of pleasure engulfing them both as they engaged in the most sacred of rituals.

It was a different kind of ecstasy, so infinitely profound that any of the mind-blowing carnal experiences ever shared in the past paled by comparison. As Bulma tasted the metallic saltiness of her lover’s scarlet elixir, soothingly caressing his inflamed lip with the tip of her silky tongue, the Universe seemed to standstill as their spirits intertwined, each one of them feeling their own life essence wash over the other, irreversibly merging into one single spiritual being forevermore.

With one final, gentle lap, Bulma’s head dropped back onto the cozy pillows, utterly spent and barely managing to persuade her shimmering eyes to remain open. But she couldn’t miss this, she couldn’t miss the sight of her Prince as she’d never seen him before, his handsome face majestically illuminated by the warm glow of the first rays of sunrise, bathed in distant yellows and oranges, and a mysterious smirk painted on his blood-stained lips.

There was something beautifully unique about his enigmatic expression, a rare inner peace radiating off him instead of his usual arrogant stance; a sense of pride that emanated, not from his awareness of his own physical strength, or even from the smug satisfaction that he took on his expert bedroom skills, but the pride of a man who’d conquered his greatest fear, that of giving himself entirely and without reservations to another spiritual being, to the woman who, against all odds, had succeeded in carving a place inside a heart which he’d truly believed to be inert for as long as he could remember.

Vegeta looked into her enamored eyes for a handful of minutes, taking quiet delight in the calmness of her touch as she kept running her thin fingers through his chaotic hair, finding gratification in the drowsy smile she was giving him back, openly revealing just how terribly happy and proud she was of him.

Only after a tiny yawn curved her lips into the most adorable ‘O’, betraying Bulma’s weak fatigue, did he reluctantly accept that it was time to surrender, and gladly join his little lover into some vital, restorative sleep.

The Prince exhaled tiredly, lightly pressing his lips on her sleek temple, and forcing a sulky whimper out of her as he slowly pulled out, breaking the physical connection between their peacefully sated bodies. He rolled to his side with exhaustion, unwilling to let go of her for much longer, hooking his sturdy arms around her minute frame before his woman even had the chance to truly miss his reassuring heat.

Bulma readily complied, sighing in pure heaven as she curled up against Vegeta’s powerful chest, closing her eyes and indolently rubbing her cheek against his heat, getting lost in the pleasant sensation of the lulling way in which her lover’s tongue kept lovingly tending to the fresh wound in her neck, keeping her firmly pressed against his body with one arm and cradling her head in the other with poignant care.

“Does it hurt?” He asked in a nervous whisper, a hint of concern still troubling him despite how visibly relaxed his mate seemed to be in his embrace.

“Mhmm...” Bulma hummed in soft denial. “No…” She confirmed, putting his uneasiness to rest as she brought herself even closer, burying her face in the curve of his protective shoulder and smiling against his balmy skin when his tail narrowed possessively around her waist, making her giggle faintly when its furry tip friskily caressed her ticklish hip, just the way she liked it.

His throat grumbled with a pleased grunt of agreement, satisfied that his woman’s momentary pain had waned by now, but her pacification didn’t stop him from carrying on with his nurturing task, gently lapping up the distinctive brand tattooed on her ambrosial flesh as the persevering echoes of those ancient Saiyan voices faded away, bit by bit, now that he’d victoriously claimed her for himself.          

“Vegeta…” Her sugary voice mumbled with weariness, already feeling herself contentedly drifting off, but incapable to fully drop into placid oblivion until she found the answer to the question always perturbing her mind, whenever she was reunited with her Prince. “How long…?” Bulma shyly whispered, her fingers digging tensely into his hard chest as she battled that sadly accustomed dread. “How long have we got this time?”

Her distraught question immediately froze his comforting attentions, a gloomy reminder of the reality they’d both so desperately been trying to escape from, hiding within the false protection of these four luxurious walls, blissfully ignorant of the impending threat still creeping up behind every dangerous corner.

Vegeta’s shattered thoughts soon returned to Nappa, and to the deplorable spectacle he’d made of himself, in front of every warrior destined on the base, back in that filthy tavern. He recalled the obscure mission they’d both been bizarrely appointed to, impotent to push aside that wary suspicion, the wise voice of experience miserably reminding him that nothing good could ever come out of such an enigmatic assignment, yet equally warning him of the inexorable consequences that would arise if he ever dared to disobey his Master’s orders, for there wasn’t a single scar in the lethal machine that was his body, that wasn’t a healthy reminder of the excruciating brand of pain that that bastard Frieza took pleasure in inflicting upon any act of insubordination.

But then his Bulma stirred in his arms, spectacular sapphire eyes raising to meet him, not even bothering to conceal anymore that unique air of melancholy that the very thought of his departure kindled within her soul at all times. She was soft and warm, and so heartbreakingly real that her mere existence was enough to turn every one of his infernal fears into nothing but insignificant dust.

One of Vegeta’s arms kept his shielding hold around her figure, while his other hand timidly reached out to stroke her cheek, tracing every curve and flawless contour with melting tenderness, and ending his adoring journey on her luscious bottom lip, running his thumb across the appetizing temptation that was his beautiful mate.

With such a divine creature in his arms, no man would even blink an eye over making the choice of devoting every precious instant to her company rather than to some cold, godforsaken medical facility in the middle of nowhere, waiting for two interminable weeks for one of his Master’s sadistically twisted missions.

The Saiyan soldier didn’t even wish to take a guess at just what kind of aberration would Frieza have in mind this time. All he knew was that, by his clever estimations, he’d make it comfortably to the remote base, in his new space pod, in approximately two or three days, four days tops, which would leave plenty of time to selfishly indulge in his little mate’s warmth to his heart’s content, drowning into her heartening presence and happily working on strengthening the fragile bond that had just been born between their lost spirits.

The Prince kissed her lightly, savoring her with quiet reverence while his hand on her smooth back drew her even closer. “Ten days…” He declared with frightening confidence, unrivalled pride swelling in his chest at the extraordinary way in which her eyes brightened up, gasping breathlessly like a naïve child in a darling mixture of hope and disbelief.

“Ten days?” Bulma asked excitedly, a girlish smile gracing her lips when he nodded in silent confirmation. “So… I’ll see you again tomorrow?”  

Vegeta chuckled goodheartedly, thoroughly amused both by her childlike excitement and by just how incredibly easy it was for him to bring joy to that beautiful face of hers, recognizing that, if only he hadn’t allowed himself to be controlled by his own cowardly emotions, he would have saved them both a great deal of anguish.     

“Tomorrow is today,” he playfully reminded her, landing a tiny kiss on the tip of her button nose when she scrunched it cutely at the realization that morning had, indeed, already come. “Besides…” The Prince’s voice warned friskily, lowering his tone as if he were a young boy secretly planning a wicked mischief. “We’re not leaving this room until I’m done with you...”

Bulma couldn’t restrain a new flood of lively giggles, knowing that what he was implying was nearly impossible, but highly entertained by this new side of him. He’d already displayed a daringly cheeky behavior when they’d first met, but never had she seen him so amazingly carefree, so eager to lower his guard and let her take a peek at his true self, the man that he could have become if Destiny hadn’t dealt him such a cruel blow since his early childhood days.    

“Vegeta!” She exclaimed, making him grunt roguishly when she pinched his strong bicep in good humor. “I have to work, you know?”  

“No, you don’t,” the Saiyan answered immediately, draping both arms around her small frame and pulling her closer, gently encouraging her to rest her cheek on the warmness of his naked shoulder as he supported her head caringly against him. “I’ll take care of it…” He muttered on her milky shoulder, pressing his lips upon it, and showering her with a waterfall of soft kisses all over while reaching down for the satin sheets to tuck them both in, thrilled when he felt her easily snuggling against him, and grateful, as he always was, for Bulma’s outstandingly forgiving nature, making these past two months of torturous Hell feel as if they’d never occurred at all.

“You’re going to get me fired…” The earthling mumbled sleepily, though her faint laughter ghosting his skin, and the intimate way in which her smooth cheek kept nuzzling his powerful chest, like a white little kitten longing to be petted, betrayed, not only her childlike amusement, but how unimportant everything else appeared to be, even her much-needed job, whenever they were together, as if nothing else mattered in this whole vast Universe but taking as much from each other’s warmth as they could.

“Hn… I’d like to see them try…” Vegeta huffed with characteristic cockiness, a sly smirk dancing on his lips when Bulma hissed in delicious pleasure as he run his tongue across the unctuous curve of her shoulder. “I’ll burn this whole place down…” He promised, sensing her shiver in rapture when he touched the delicate wound at the base of her long neck, bringing deep relief to the still tender flesh as he traced slow, lazy circles all over his prized mark.

Bulma nestled even closer, interlacing her long legs with his own under the expensive covers, and smiling in surprised contentment when he instantly responded, pressing his warm feet against her tiny cold ones, silently letting her know that he’d learnt of her mischievous nocturnal activities whenever she thought him asleep and chose to use him as her own personal heater.

Her new string of giddy giggles was music to his ears, almost as much as the satisfied hum twirling in her pretty mouth as she pronounced her final words before a serene, dreamless sleep conquered her at last. “I know you would…” She reassured in a weak whisper, her words laced with an honest promise of trust, the unwavering faith of a woman who knew herself to be loved by her man, a man who’d give his own life in exchange for her own if such a horrid time ever doomed upon them. “I love you…”

Vegeta’s body tensed up for a split second, wondering if he would ever truly get accustomed to the foreign emotions that her unfamiliar love declarations still enthused inside of him, and soon simmering down at the recognition that it didn’t matter, that nothing even mattered anymore just as long as he had her eternally by his side.

The Prince secured the dominating grip of his arms around her, feeling her breathing steadily slowing down, calmly relaxing, and letting go to the considerate attentions of his unrelenting mouth as he addictively licked and kissed his cherished imprint, the sacred Saiyan Love Bite that branded her as his.

 

His woman, his Bulma, his lifelong mate.

More, infinitely more than a mere guilty pleasure...