Resolute
Summary:
Pre-Androids - The Prince of all Saiya-jins has never been one to put others before his own selfish desires or needs. His goals have always outweighed all things, even if it means hurting the ones that love him the most. With the birth of his son, Vegeta has obtained a new perspective. One he never believes possible. He begins to realize his ties to Earth are stronger than before and his need for escape has waned. Perhaps selfish desires aren't everything if it means to be utterly alone in the end.
Rating: Mature ; sexual content - adult themes.
A\N : This story was written many years ago. When I received a request to bring it back, I decided to edit it. Of course I ended up pulling a major overhaul, so hopefully it is still quality! Please enjoy and tell me what you think!
XXX
Sweat ran a jagged line down to the very tip of Vegeta's nose, splatting against the warm floor humming with energy.
He forcefully pressed the hefty weight of his body up through the domineering push of gravity. His muscles quaked as they grew taunt. He planked, lifting his chin through the force biting into the back of his neck. His obsidian eyes focused on the flashing red light warning all occupants that spike in the force of gravity was becoming dangerously high.
He cared not. He would push the limits. He always had. Giving up only admitted defeat.
The Saiya-jin prince forced one arm behind his back - going one step further. Veins pulsed and throbbed as each fibrous muscle contracted and vibrated as his power levels tweaked to assist him to maintain control. Gravity was almost pulling rank, nearly over powering his being. Nothing was going to stop him, however, from pushing the limits. His anger grew, frustrated by his waning self control.
Damn it, he would obtain his goal even if it killed him.
Before his arms gave way, he felt endorphins pumping through his body, and as it did, he could feel his form cry out. An ounce of extra endurance.
Though, he had been at it all day. He could feel the need to be released from this physical torment, but no matter the cues that presented, he maintained his composure.
Vegeta sucked in a quick breath and released a burst of air, which was followed by a belted cry. He thrust upward and his body complied. Off the floor he rose, baring his teeth and grunting through his final pushup. A grin of success plastered across his lips.
A burst of ki emitted from his core and as it did he yelled out and forced his tense body backward into a spiral, landing upon one knee in a shaky fashion. The vein in his forehead pulsed and his cheeks reddened as he took slow steps toward the controls.
Vegeta took in a deep controlled breath, pounding a heavy fist upon the large red flashing button, which, at this time, was squawking its persistent warning.
Gravity deflated reaching an equilibrium. As it did he felt a beautiful sense of relief. His stressed form sagged against the controls. Not for long, however. He straightened his body, rolled his shoulders as he allowed his lungs to expand fully to their much needed relief. He closed his eyes and rolled his head back. The rift of delicious pain melted away.
As a Saiya-jin he could already feel his strength increase. Each time he pressed on it was only a benefit to his power level. This was exactly the high he sought.
A bead of sweat trickled down the length of his sharp jaw. He swiped his gloved hand across his brow and narrowed his black eyes looking to the tightly barred door, then to the clock. It was 3:03AM.
All day plus some…
Like most days, time flew by. There was not enough time in one day to complete what he wanted to. If he could get by without sleep he would. Tirelessly, he would trudge on.
He no longer could afford to dally. Especially if it meant that low class fool continued to breathe; to surpass him. The flame haired man bore his teeth, clenching his hands brutally around the towel. He twisted it unknowingly before slinging it over his neck. He was determined to prove his worth and bring that damned clown, Kakkarot, to his knees. He would prove he was the better man. The former prince of the Saiya-jin would transform sooner rather than later.
Pain seared down the length of his leg and continued to intensify, but paid it no mind. Instead Vegeta turned and unintentionally limped toward the door. He shook out his leg, fighting through the pain. However, another shock webbed down the length of his thigh. He flinched just barely, but nevertheless it caught his attention. He paused and eyed bright red ribbon-like strands of blood coursing their way down the toned muscle of his thigh.
One of the damned bots had gotten him good.
His nostrils flared, growing agitated with his own mortality. He again ignored the pain and yanked open the door continuing on without a second thought about the wound plaguing his leg.
He locked the machine and in one short burst of energy he hovered and propelled himself to the veranda of his given rooms. Vegeta stepped inside, and closed the sliding door behind him. His onyx gaze scanned his painfully dull room before continuing on.
In said room contained a single bed, a box they called a television, this he barely used, and a closet which contained the necessities. Yep, just a few pairs of sweatpants the blue haired female insisted he wear for 'comfort'.
Comfort. He snorted at the thought.
He grumbled under his breath as he attempted to move toward his bed without one slight hint of a limp, yet he failed miserably. Kami, he had pushed himself harder than he thought. He didn't intend to tear himself apart, nor did he intend to blow himself up again, but he would continue to push and strive for greatness.
Though, he did realize that if Bulma knew he had cranked the gravity machine and pushed the bots to the brink he would never hear the end of it. Her incessant screaming would be the death of him before that damned machine or those flimsy bag of nuts and bolts she called training bots. Perhaps even those damned Androids.
His lips spread to a thin line as he fingered his gloves, yanking the fabric from each individual digit. Vegeta flexed and stretched his fingers, and as he did he eyed the material of the newest pair of gloves.
He was pleased with the new gear Bulma had gifted him. He would give that woman that, at least. There were minor flaws, but not many he could honestly complain about. The female had been working vigorously, perfecting each minor aspect. She was obsessed with getting each fighter gilded in a new set before the Androids decided to bless them with their presence.
For inspiration, he had allowed her to study his previous armor. The first attempt had been painfully awful, but as she adapted, and a whole new line was born. That damned smile. That annoying smile that spread across her lips when she knew she was successful. That she has pleased him.
Those hauntingly beautiful lips…
Like a disease, her face plagued his mind. That smile, her perfect mouth, that long curled azure hair, her large expressive eyes… Even the soft, womanly curves of her body. As he continued, he accidently humored his mind the image of her naked form as she stood in the fullview with the rays of brilliant moonlight showering her from head to toe.
There it fixed in the forefront of his mind and it was then he shook his head.
For good measure he threw his bloodied towel to the ground. The jolt caused a searing pain up the length of his leg. He hissed and gripped his knee. Wincing, he leaned forward and took a careful look at the open wound. Blood welled and seeped into the open area of his gear. The tough threads of the material were burnt completely through. Was it melted to his flesh? Vegeta decided to find out and yanked the melted material away from the skin. More pain and more blood came as a result. He yanked off his breast plate and the rest of his spandex material until he sat upon the bed completely nude.
His breath came in heavy, yet controlled bursts, "Fuck." He muttered.
Another piece of Bulma's hard work was in tatters on the floor. She would appreciate that in the morning, no doubt. Though, she wouldn't cease to make him what he needed, she never did. Why stop now? Unless he felt like pushing buttons.
Yes, He gave her credit. Perhaps she would take this and grow from it. Create something that was more resistant? Of course the damned bots were no longer in working condition, yet another reason for her to be in a horrible mood tomorrow. Another thing to fix because of him.
He supposed he was trading her pain and sweat with his own. The bots and gear were not being destroyed for moot. No, he was going to be one of the reasons she was able to wake up and live another day especially if things played out correctly. He was confident.
A gust of fresh air drifted into his room. Vegeta basked in the glory of it, hoping the cool draft would melt away the pain. He rested briefly.
Then stood and raised an arm, acknowledging he smelled to high hell. He moved toward the window, pushing it open farther to continue the gusts of air. He tilted his head to the side, catching another scent lingering in his room. A floral, yet familiar scent.
Bulma had been in here...
She most likely came to see if he had already took to his bed.
...
Not quite, woman. You know better.
...
She would have never bothered him during his training session in the GR either, not now, especially this close to the Androids. She, to his surprise, had learned rather quickly that trying to stop him would only make him more persistent. He was not one to be told what to do, and she understood that. She understood he had goals. She knew what he wanted to accomplish.
He would never acknowledge this to her face, but he knew that in knowing his desires it only fueled her desire to do good by him. Perhaps she gifted him the supplies necessary because she knew it was the best way to obtain his attentions. She wasn't wrong in this.
In an odd sense they weren't too far apart in some regard.
Bulma was almost the exact same, but lacked the mentality of a hardened warrior. The woman was not born of a warrior race to which strength meant everything. There was absolutely no room for weakness. Weaknesses meant death. Weakness meant one was a lower being. She would disagree, however, but that is all he knew. It was ingrained into him.
Even under Frieza's rule he quickly learned to trust no one, and to rely on instincts.
He learned to be ruthless, it was how he survived.
...
The shower head turned on blasting a strong current.
Steam immediately began to rise, clouding the mirrors and caused the ceiling, walls and tiles of the shower to glisten with perspiration. He stepped in casually, eyeing his feet and wiggling toes as dull streams of blood, sweat and grim coursed down his muscled legs and disappeared into the drain.
Vegeta slowly turned pressed his forearm against the wall and leaned in heavily, allowing the cascade of water to trail down the taunt muscles of his back. In response his body shuddered in pleasure.
He flexed his thighs, calves and then his arms. His body was once again aflame, and to his surprise, the hot water proofed not to do a damned thing to dull his aches and pains. He finally submerged his head under the streams. His fingers dropped to his stomach, and as they did he reluctantly grazed his fingers over the puckered scarring riddling the flesh.
His battle wounds.
Each one a reminder. A memory.
He was covered in them.
His body was riddled with all sizes: small, medium and large. They were vast; so many it would take forever to count them all.
One of his largest was also his most memorable. It stretched up the length of his quad and around his hip. He should have known better, honestly. Vegeta could have avoided it, but he had been young, dumb and rebellious without reason back then.
He had grown bored with his seclusion upon Frieza's ship and decided to disobey orders. So, he had planned to break into a pod, override the controls and explore a neighboring planet. Upon return, a surprise blast from the main ship's cannons cut clean through his pod and nearly took his entire leg.
He had later learned that Frieza knew he had gone off ship and as a lesson his pod was shot down per his orders. The lizard was kind enough to allow his most experienced medical team the time and space to work on him.
It had saved his life. He didn't learn about the decision until many years later, however. At the time, he believed they thought he was an enemy ship. He should have known better. He was merely a small pod approaching a heavily guarded and well armed ship. He was a mere flea.
That had been a dark time in his life. Shit, who was he fooling? His entire life had been a dark and horrible place to be. Back then, during it all, he had wished Frieza would have allowed him to die. Many times he wished for death. He had put himself into situations that could have resulted in that. Though, it never came and he continued to prevail.
Why?
He wasn't sure. It was at this time he truly believed he had nothing to live for.
He had no family - the Saiya-jin were gone; a dead race. It was only him and two others. The all-mighty Vegeta - Prince of two Saiya-jin and no planet to rule.
He never admitted aloud, but he was a slave. He was a slave to a tyrant. He lived on Frieza's shit hole of a ship, eating terrible food, facing daily beatings. Training was his only source of solace. That was until he was allowed to purge. His anger and pain was allowed free reign, and unfortunately it had been expressed on innocent people. Though, as horrible as it sounds, those were the days he began to live once again.
He was doing what he was born to do, but on his own accord and with his own team. Though, his mistakes and shortcomings were never forgotten. Frieza never allowed him to forget. The proof riddled his body. Damned serpent fucked him forever.
Vegeta allowed a sigh to escape his lips as he dropped his forehead against the shower wall. His fingers brushed over the bristly locks of damp hair covering his head. He swiped in a downward motion across his eyes, to brush the water droplets from the tips of his dark lashes.
His jaw tightened as he felt his anger well from the black pit of his dark soul. On Earth, such a peaceful and tranquil environment, he felt out of place. He felt like he needed to feel; negative reinforcement was all he knew. Here he was coddled. Damn it, it was a Saiya-jin warrior. This was not the path he needed to take.
He reminded himself constantly when he felt himself adapt.
Daily, he was able to enjoy amenities he wouldn't have been provided on Freiza's ship. He was given good food, a shower, a machine which simulated gravity, endless amounts of technology to support his needs, and a comfortable bed to rest his head. He treated like a spoiled child. Though, he did humor himself at times, as he was of the station to be receiving such things.
He remembered the day when he lived for himself. He didn't worry about others, and others didn't worry about him. All he had to do was survive; fight and survive. Now he had other living creatures to think of and he allowed his damn mind to dwell on the whereabouts and successes of that clown Kakkarot. It came easy for that low life. Yet here he was pathetically wallowing in his poor life and need for greatness. Never was he satisfied.
Would he ever be satisfied?
Soon he realized he needed to distance himself. He would seclude himself until his goal was met. His life was a giant distraction. There were too many factors keeping him from what he needed to obtain and one of these factors was that female. She was the problem.
Admittingly he was lonely. Out of weakness he had allowed this loneliness to take him to her bed. He had given himself to that loud mouth, blue haired human female.
No, she had given herself to him.
Not that it wasn't pleasant, as he had fallen into the same trap more than once. It had become a routine. Something that felt comforting. Something he, shockingly, looked forward to more than training.
...
"I love you, Vegeta. You always remember that."
...
Love.
He snorted at the thought.
What was the point of this emotion? He couldn't possibly have formed such weak emotions for that human woman, right? Did he? Would he even know? He wasn't really quite sure what love left like.
Saiya-jin tongue there was never a word for love.
One thing was obvious, the female felt this emotion for him. So much she told him every chance she got without the need for reciprocation. Damn, where did she think her proclamation would get her, anyway? It would reward her in nothing but heartbreak.
See, that was something he could relate too. He could not reciprocate the same feelings, no he wasn't capable. It just wasn't in his DNA. He was a hardened warrior and she would just have to settle for that. Nothing more.
With that he slammed his fist on the knob, ceasing the streams.
He had warned her. He had told her what to expect. She seemed to understand. There would be no surprises, right?
Of course that all changed.
It started with the birth of his son. Their son.
XXX
The door opened a crack allowing just a sliver of light entry.
The full length of his shadow projected across the carpeted floor and disappeared upon closing.
Bulma's body comfortably sprawled across the bed. She was so deep in sleep she didn't rouse once to recognize another had entered her domicile. That was what was desired; that she wasn't distrubed. She always looked so peaceful as she slept.
His figure inched closer not toward the bed, but toward a small bassinet located at the edge of the bed. Bulma's palm draped protectively at it's edge, dangling just above the babe within. As Vegeta peered in he took notice to the small infant fast asleep. The child was just pushing two months of life. His arms and legs lay extended around him. His small rose bud lips were parted allowing small little breaths in an out as his little eyes rolled beneath the lids as if dreaming of his future.
The blanket that had once been draped so carefully over his belly had been shifted, exposing his small infant feet. Instinctually his furry purple tail had come to his rescue, wrapped itself around his digits to keep them warm. Vegeta leaned forward in the moon light to extend his index finger and softly caressed his son's rosy, plump cheek.
The lavender haired infant wiggled his little head, tilting in the direction of the caress and opened his mouth in search of his mother's nipple.
The little one grunted, raising his clenched fists above his head. He bore his toothless gums and began whimpering when no comfort came to his aid. Another snort and a minor whimper later, the child resorted to stuffing his whole fist into his mouth and contently began to suckle. Vegeta then stepped back, resting his palms on the bassinet edge and as he did he allowed the smallest grin to spread across his lips.
Little did he know, the woman had awoken in the midst of his interaction with the infant. She had been watching him silently for some time. Quietly, she sat with her cheek propped against her pillow, eyeing his reaction to each subtle movement of the child they had created together. She wondered what he was thinking, or more or less, what he was feeling. He was never one to verbalize such things. What she would give to know one day.
Bulma unintentionally released a cough and as she did Vegeta shot back into the darkness. He lingered there for quite some time, not saying a word to her as she stretched and rubbed her sleep crusted eyes. Many minutes drifted by without one word from the man perched in the darkness.
"I know you are here, Vegeta. I saw you." Bulma finally said, cupping her mouth as she fought a yawn.
Nothing.
"You know, I won't judge you for wanting to hold him. Standing there for hours contemplating it seems awfully taxing, don't you think?" Finally she sat up and leaned toward the edge of the bed, which pointed in the direction of the father of her child.
As her eyes adjusted she could finally make out the silhouette of his body pressed tightly against the wall.
He clearly wasn't in a talking mood this evening. What was on his mind now? Was it Goku? The Androids, perhaps? He wasn't contemplating leaving again, was he? He had been talking about it for some time. The talk died a few months before Trunks was born, but even so she knew it lingered. Funny - no amount of stellar technology seemed to be enough to cage this wild prince. Not even his flesh and blood. She tried to appease him so many times. No matter how frustrating he was, she still wanted him around. They had a child together, damn it!
Even if there was an arm length distance most days.
Finally, she pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed dramatically.
"Fine, I am not going to continue to coax you out. You can do whatever you want. I am going to bed. I barely get enough sleep because of that son of yours as it is. Feel free to sleep here if you change your mind. Good night." Bulma finally rolled over and closed her eyes.
It wasn't long before she picked up the soft whisper of his footsteps closing in near the end of her bed. Yet, she felt no pressure, which meant he was still straying from the idea. A smile graced her lips and at that moment she snuggled closer to the pillow.
It didn't take long for her to drift off once more, but it wasn't long. She felt the bed dip and as she roused, her eyes scanned to the clock which read 4:08AM. She had only been out for ten minutes, or so. He must have decided he was tired enough to finally rest his head for a few hours before getting up and starting all over again.
Small mewls erupted in the silence. They were followed by snorts of anger and quick attention seeking cries. The child immediately caught her attention. She rolled to her back, all the while, eyeing the shadow of her lover seated beside her. She finally rested her palms upon her swollen breasts, aching for relief. Like clockwork her baby began to cry and as he did the waterworks arrived.
Bulma cursed aloud, looking down the length of her nightgown.
"Woman." Vegeta called gruffly.
"Hm," She called back, rolled to the edge of the bed.
"The boy is hungry." He had followed not far behind on her bed, as if interested in seeing the exchange between mother and child.
"Yeah, I am well aware." Bulma pointed to her nightgown, soaked with milk. "As you can see, I have a built in baby alarm."
Vegeta's eyes roamed the front of her nightgown and became more alert when her fingers moved to the laces, yanking them open to expose twin swells. Her physique had changed entirely since her pregnancy and postpartum. Her legs and arms were still quite the same, shapely and soft. Her stomach had a tiny bulge, no thanks to the boy she birthed, but the most extraordinary was the change in her breasts. Beautiful as they had been before, she had filled out from the moment of conception.
Vegeta then began to wonder if this been what it was like for his own mother.
Bulma leaned toward the bassinet and began cooing to the infant, smoothing her fingers over his small lavender adorned head. She smiled brightly, more happy than he had ever seen her, honestly. It was always like this when she collected the boy up into her arms. Like he was the light of her life.
As she lifted him, Trunks began to wail louder, little hands balling and his small legs kicking with frustration. Vegeta leaned forward, gripped the pillow and offered it to the woman as she cradled the infant in her arms and then propped the pillow under his body for support.
Bulma's blue eyes lifted to meet his. She grinned and mouthed her thanks.
With one small movement on her part she exposed her plump nipple to the boy's waiting mouth and within an instant he was quieted and hungerly suckling. The blue haired mother rocked slow and smooth, touching his locks and stroking his cheeks as she hummed a soothing melody.
Vegeta's eyes locked on the pair and it was then he moved around the bed to get a better view. He was astonished by this act. A mother feeding her babe. He couldn't really recall anything like it. Though, he was aboard a ship with warriors. There wasn't a time or room for procreation or child rearing. Children just wouldn't survive in such a world. If they did it was a shame. With that his brow tightened.
Finally, Vegeta blurted the first thing that came to mind, "Do you feed him often from your breasts?"
Bulma chuckled and looked up through her azure bangs, "Yes. It is the only way, well, besides formula. Why not the real thing if I can do it?" Her eyes then descended toward the child, leaning in to kiss his cheek and move him from one nipple to the other.
Finally, Vegeta sat beside the mother and child. His arms perched upon his thighs. He focused on his son. The child he never believed in a million years he would ever father. His lineage would continue on. Interesting thought, of course. He eyed the boy as he suckled greedily from his mother's breast and before long he looked to have fallen asleep against the warm flesh.
Bulma chuckled, moving her finger over the swell and detaching him. With great care she lifted her son into her arm, and lowered him back into his bassinet only to finish the deed by covering his little legs with a plush blanket. She tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear before moving back against her mattress.
Bulma's fingers moved to the ties of her nightgown. Vegeta, however, had other plans. He reached out lightening fast and gripped both wrists. She gasped and her head shot up in question. Her mouth parted with the intention of asking the question, but it died on her lips.
His orbs were focused; curious.
Without warning, yet in a gentle and slow fashion, he dropped his hands until both palm cupped the weight of her breasts. She took in a quick surprised breath, lowering her gaze to watch the movements. He peeled back the fabric and eyed the rounded pink flesh of her nipple before running a thumb over the tip. It was still damp with milk.
"Are you opposed?" his gruff voice cut through the silence.
Stupidly she shook her head.
After her consent, Vegeta leaned in close to brush his nose against the tip and moved upward until the swells of his lips also met their mark. Bulma's fingers gripped his shoulders, digging in tight. Before she could stop her brain from rapid firing due to sensation, a soft moan escaped her lips. A moan of pure surprise.
Her breaths were short and shaky at this point. She couldn't contain the look of surprise on her face, either. Her gaze lowered, eyeing the motion of his fairly large hand moving from her opposite breast and glided down the length of her stomach, tracing over the soft rounded skin of her tummy.
Her chin lifted toward the ceiling, eyes focusing as a hue of red graced her cheeks. Her body wasn't like it had been when he first started coming to her. It wasn't tight, and youthful in appearance, but, to her, worn. Her tight body had softened, rounded and now contained stretch marks from pregnancy; battle wounds if you will.
He continued to explore her body and as he did, Bulma allowed her eyes a moment to close. It was at this time she recalled the last time he had been in her rooms. When she thought about it, she recalled it had been when she was heavily pregnant. Just before the birth of their son, actually. She had been lying awake for many hours, unable to find a comfortable position. As it had been for many months.
She remembered hearing the door open that night. He has given her nothing but silence. She didn't need to ask, not really. He had been the only one to enter her room without so much as a greeting. She felt him, however, gliding through the darkness unannounced. That was until he slipped into her bed and without warning and enveloped her body with his own.
He hadn't said much to her the months past. He did approach her when he wanted, but mostly he treated her like a ticking time bomb threatening to blow him and this entire world away. She wasn't quite sure the reasoning for his visit. Perhaps he felt he needed to give her some sort of comfort as she was nearing the end of her pregnancy? She had complained of her pains as of late. Their son hadn't been too kind to her ribs and insides. His strong kicks created much discomfort and many sleepless nights for her.
He had held her for the rest of the night. A warmth enveloped her and she had fallen fast asleep. She wasn't sure what he had used to create a sense of solace for her, but she wasn't going to complain. She was just happy to feel the connection. She was happy he felt he needed to come to her. Goodness, the last time before the birth he had come to her was their last physical encounter. He had informed her she was carrying his seed and that this would be the last time.
Snapping back to reality, she focused on the hand that had been so deliciously exploring her body intentionally dipped lower. His fingers traced the hem of her silken nightgown and fingering it up until it was clenched into his fists. He brushed the heap of material aside and spanned his palm across her well-shaped thighs, moving even higher until his digits brushed across the material of her underwear.
His index finger hooked inside her panties and as he yanked the material aside she gasped and clamped her thighs tightly around his forearm, "Wait," She breathed.
Vegeta's focused gaze, filled with desire, shot up to meet her nervous stare. His eyes were filled with confusion. He could smell her own desire, didn't she want this? He sure wanted her.
She wanted so badly to give in like any other day. Though, it wasn't just any other day. She had just birthed their son a few months back. She didn't feel herself. Not quite, anyway. She was afraid she wouldn't compare to previous times.
What if…
"Why wait? Don't worry, woman, I won't hurt you. I will make you feel good." Vegeta purred as he presses his nose against the soft skin of her shoulder. "It is has been far too long."
"That is what I am afraid of." Bulma chuckled nervously, sighing as his nimble fingers parted the gown, sliding each strap down her arms.
He bared her swollen breasts to the cool air. Each beautiful breast was adorned with a plump, rosy nipple, which hardened instantly. He felt a growl formed low in his throat at the sight.
She was so unsure, but if only she could see what he was through his eyes. A perfect feminine body, ripe for their child. Everything about it stirred something dark within him. Something he wanted to pursue. A deep rooted desire.
With his constant, unbreaking gaze of approval Bulma grew uncomfortable. She turned her eyes away and immediately covered her breasts from his view only to slump back.
Vegeta's brows knitted and a frown plastered to his lips. In a lightning fast motion he gripped both wrists and yanked them outward, away from her body. He shook his head, continuing to eye her.
"No. There will be none of that, woman."
Her eyes were almost pleading. When he saw this, he dropped her arms and closed the distance between them. His lips pressed to the puckered flesh of her nipple, kissing and tasting. A warmth enveloped her womb by the mere sight.
Finally, Vegeta stopped toying and latched on, yanking her up and into his arms as he did so. Bulma released a groan, straddling his hips and steadying herself by gripping his muscled shoulders. His eyes were closed as he continued his attentions, where as she watched him with awe, gasping with each tiny twinge of pleasure.
Finally he broke free, resting his cheek on her chest,"Your milk is sweet." He informed her.
Bulma felt heat spill into her loins and a hot breath of air burst from her lungs.
"Vegeta." She mewled.
"Hm," He inquired.
"I may not be fully healed."
"It has been two months." He rebutted, rounding his palms over the swell of her rear.
"Again, you need reminding things take more time for us in regards to healing." She said, dropping until her damp panties brushed over the top of one of his knees.
"Are you in pain?" Vegeta inquired, palm spanning the length of her stomach once more.
"I have discomfort."
"It seems to me you are feeling quite the opposite." He desired filled eyes glinted with amusement.
"Vegeta," Bulma began.
"Let me take the pain away, woman." Vegeta muttered, softly pressing his lips to her collar bone.
Her crystal blue eyes closed, shuttering as his velvet lips glided across her bone ending with a small nip. Before she could respond the palm upon her stomach moved ever so slightly and a swell of heat radiated in her womb. Vegeta lifted his hand slowly, hovering over her stomach and transferring a pulse of ki to her in the hopes she could find a bit of relief.
Bulma stretched her legs and rolled back, eyeing the spot in which a glowing currently resided. Her lips dropped open in awe. The scientist in her perked in interest. Her eyes widened and without a word they both met eyes. A knowing grin spread across his lips.
"Well, I suspected your ki could be harnessed and used for good, but I never imagined. The feeling of this…" She shook her head, completed baffled.
"Small wounds can be healed to an extent with ki. Whatever issue was contained inside you at this time seems to already be well on its way. Your body was doing a good job on it's own. A serious moral wound, however, would need something more. A rejuvenation tank." Vegeta then shifted, wrapping an arm around her midsection.
He was clearly becoming tired of their small talk. He wanted her. That much was obvious. She could feel the very apparent bulge in the front of his sweatpants pressing presistantly against her thigh.
Without warning, he yanked hard forcing her to her back and within seconds he was hovering over her. His knees pressed tightly into the mattress, steady and confident. His fingers once again pressed at the material of her nighty until it was a bunch at her hips. One quick gesture and his fingers looped into her underwear, ripping it clean from her body.
Bulma hissed as the material burned across her flesh. Vegeta didn't say one word as the skin of her thighs reddened, instead his fingers fanned across the glistening, pink skin of her womanhood. The woman beneath him gasped and arched her chest and hips. She rolled through, forcing her thighs apart as he glided his fingers down her slit and slow up and into her warmth.
He had wanted this so for long. He had fought the urge to take her. He knew it was a weakness of his. The proof of it was in their son. So often he had called on her, and she him. Without hesitation he crumbled. He couldn't resist her any longer.
It scared the hell out of him when he had first felt that pulse of life dwelling within her womb. He had been so captivated by the heat of their passionate exchange he didn't even notice until it had come to a head.
Thoughtlessly, Vegeta had pulled away. He had left her to deal with this biological change on her own. Yes, it had been cowardly, but he didn't know what else to do. He wasn't meant to be a father. He wasn't meant to be a lover; a spouse. He was a hardened warrior. Like a fool, he decided the best option for both the mother and child would be to turn his back on the situation. They would do well without him. He would only cause problems. He checked in constantly, but he found it was far too hard to meet head on.
Look at him now.
He hovered over the mother of his child, famished for a passionate exchange. She, too, was needy. Her eyes were lidded, her beautiful mouth was parted. The swells beneath her nightgown heaved with each lusty breath. He moved his arm, thrusting carefully in and out of her cavern, drawing out pleasure and building a need that would have her begging to get him inside.
"I don't think I can wait, woman." He admitted, burying his face against her breasts.
Bulma reached up, gripped his hips and ground hers against him. He was painfully hard and as they met eyes she knew.
"Be careful." She breathed, capturing his lips with her own and breathing him in.
Vegeta groaned, lightly pressing his tongue into her mouth to find hers as he withdrew his hand from her body. His palms pressed into the mattress briefly before shrugging his sweatpants bottom down past the swells of his rear. He grunted against her ear, pulling her warm thighs up and apart. With one hard thrust he was deep within her warmth.
They both cried out in unison.
Another hard thrust. Bulma panted against his ear.
Tightly they were both wrapped in one another's grasp, rocking against one another desperately.
"Why did you wait so long?" She questioned, pressing a wet kiss against his ear then his neck.
Vegeta growled, pulling back abruptly and gripped her hips tightly only to pound into her hard and fast.
"Oh kami, you are going to make me come."
"Good." He snapped, reaching around to cup her rear end.
Quickly he built a delicious rhythm to show her how much he, too, had been wanting the same as she. Their passionate exchange continued in a desperate fashion until both were flushed, sweat dampened mess in the middle of the bed. Both were spent.
Vegeta was sprawled across her body face against the pillow, and Bulma held him with her thighs tightly clenched around his hips not caring that the front buttons of her night down were now missing and her body was completely exposed through the split of material.
His palm still rested on one of her breasts, stroking the nipple before turning to face her. He ceased the action and slowly sat up until he had a moment to reposition his sweatpants. She also took advantage of their moment of relaxation. She pulled her night gown closed and leaned forward to make sure the babe was still fast asleep.
"You know," Bulma began, reaching out to stroke her son's soft head, "I am rather shocked you came to me tonight." Her eyes flashed up in question.
"I know." Vegeta washed his face with his hands and rested back against the headboard.
"What changed?"
He was quiet for a while. This qued her in that there may be more to this scenario that she had thought. Here she thought he was just wanting to show her his affections like before; like old times.
...
Jesus, Vegeta, don't you dare ask me what I think you are going to ask me.
...
"Woman," He began, running a hand through his sweat soaked onyx locks.
"What do you need now?"
At this, his nostrils flared. His eyes burned with anger.
"Don't look at me like that. You know just as well as I that you need something, which is the only reason you came to me." She countered angrily, standing up in a huff and stripping what remained of her nightgown.
Tossing the material in a frustrated fashion, Bulma began to mutter under her breath as she threw a fluffy house coat around her person. Abruptly she turned to the father of her child and lover. Her arms defensively crossed against her breasts.
"So, what is it?"
"I need a ship." He admitted in a cold monotone.
She chuckled, dropping her arms at her side, "Of course you do."
"I need to get away; get away from all these distractions."
"I am so glad that you think you can just jump on a ship and rush off into space when you feel like the going gets tough, Vegeta!" Bulma said, fighting hard to keep her voice low so she didn't wake their child.
Vegeta stood up from the bed and began to pace like a caged animal, "That isn't it, woman, don't be senseless."
"No."
"No?" He barked, "Don't be a fool! You know what I have sought to accomplish.I need to obtain Super Saiya-jin, woman. Who else will save this blasted planet and all your skins when the Androids arrive, hn?"
"Oh please, Goku has already achieved that. That is old news, Vegeta!" Bulma snapped and was sure to release a condescending chuckle to boot.
"That pathetic low life will not be the only one, woman. Mark my words!" Vegeta's face reddened at the name drop and he pointed his index finger at her as he bore his teeth.
"So, your plan was to come in, fuck me and then expect me to hand over a ship as payment for getting me off?" She pursed her lips.
He breathed heavily through his nose as he folded his arms defensively across his chest, "No."
"No?"
"Don't make me say it."
"Well, I sure as hell would like some answers. I deserve that at least! What is this?" Bulma said as she motioned between the two of them.
He turned his back to her and placed both hands on either side of his face. Finally they dropped at his sides and with that he placed both palms upon his hips as he looked at the floor.
"I never had much to fight for, woman." He started, "I admit that all the goals I have created for myself have been based on selfish notions."
Her brows knitted as she listened carefully.
"I have always only known pain. I have never had a place where I could rest my head and feel comforted. I never expected such either. Each day has never been fully guaranteed for me, especially in the past. Recently it has changed. You…" He paused, swallowing hard.
Bulma took a step toward him, but stopped herself.
"You… make me... feel. I hated it. I still do, but somehow I feel grounded when you are around. Now that I have you and the boy I feel a deeper, stronger desire to follow through with my goals. Damn it, woman. Don't you dare make me gravel… I will not." His voice was filled with so much emotion.
It rocked her to her core, to be honest.
Her chin was held high and as it did she pulled her arms in tighter around her being. Her eyes focused on him and through pursed lips she forced a sigh of defeat.
"I don't want you to go."
His eyes lingered, but something settling in them told her that staying was not an option at this point in the game.
"I'll give you one of the ships I created before the ship I took to Namek. Be kind to her, she is well built, but there is some sentimental attachment there. It was one of my first concepts. I put a lot of energy into her." She bargained with him, as if she had some sort of leverage.
Vegeta nodded once, but didn't reply to her. There was a sort of silence thanks.
"Now if you will please remove yourself from my room that would be much appreciated. Don't ever ask me for another thing." She frowned, turning her back to him in the process.
There was not another word exchanged between the two. He left her alone and once she was and she was positive about that she broke down. She allowed all the months of his absence to finally hit her hard. She cried tears of loss.
XXX
Tirelessly she worked for weeks on the ship she had constructed some years back.
It had originally been a prototype, but then the prototype became something much more and branched off into the line of ships used in space for Capsule Corporation. Goku had used one with her assistance during their voyage to Namek.
Since she hadn't given it a proper look over in years, she soon realized many tweaks needed to be made before she was confident that the craft would be fully operational. She wanted to be confident that the ship would, indeed, make it not only to space and the destination, but be able to make a return route back to Earth.
...
Bulma, you know better! Who is to say he will even want to come back after he has obtained this precious goal of his?
...
During this entire process the only two individuals who had been allowed into her work space, or rather, wanted to enter said space was her father and mother.
Her father, bless his heart, offered as much assistance as he could. His own team offered their help when it came to the heavy lifting; replacement parts, etc.
Her mother had been there for moral support, babysat her boy, and made sure there was plenty of food and drink.
Vegeta was nowhere to be found.
Instead he locked himself away in the GR machine and didn't make one request. He would be SOL in any regard as she had made it quite clear that the ship was her final gift to him. No more revisions for the GR, no more bots to destroy, and definitely no more…
"Ah, she is done?" Her father's voice echoed through the vast space of their shop.
Bulma pursed her lips and pressed her gloved hands to her hips. With one quick nod she acknowledged that it was done.
"Yep."
"You put many hours into that. Vegeta didn't give you much time, eh?"
The blue haired heiress rolled her eyes and huffed, "Does he ever?"
Her father chuckled knowingly.
"We don't have much more time, dad, this is a last resort for him." Bulma forced herself to explain, even though it pained her to have to make excuses for him.
Glancing over her shoulder, she could see a smile forming from beneath his grey mustache and a glint in his eyes.
"He will come back, Bulma. You know this."
Bulma offered a sad smile, "Dad, don't get in the middle of this."
"Oh, don't worry I won't. I just wanted to let you know what I believe."
She nodded her understanding. Her father gave a small wave, stuffed his hands back into his white coat pockets and headed toward the shop door.
"You know, it is an innate physical and emotional response for a woman to know exactly what she needs to do and what is takes to achieve love and devotion for her child, usually. Women have this sense of connection the moment conception occurs. Unconditional - you understand? Men, as stupid as this sounds, do not. Once that child is born and a duty is presented, we know what is expected, usually. Not in all cases, but usually. Vegeta has enough sense, Bulma. Let him prove you wrong. He knows his duty."
"I will not set myself up for disappointment." She called back.
"Then you will truly be surprised then. I feel it in my heart." He said.
Bulma wasn't really sure how to respond. There had been many times where she believed she knew this alien man, and other times she felt like she didn't know him at all. What did he truly want?
No. She couldn't dwell on such things because it would only prove to drive her mad.
Her father then left her to her own disastrous thoughts.
XXX
A week later and everything was in order.
The ship had been taken to a launch pad and all the amenities had been stocked within the craft. Bulma and her team did one more scan through, checking all emergency exits, powered it off and on, tested the jets and made sure it was running with no errors.
One final touch was contained in a small box. Inside this box was a capsule to use as he pleased.
She didn't want to do this at first, but the more she thought about it, the more sentimental she became about the inevitability of his departure, she decided to just go through with it.
Bulma had their son with her as he made his way in and out of the ship with his own things.
She watched him in silence as he made his way down the ramp one last time, eyes on her the entire time. As he approached she pulled her infant son a little closer to her chest, holding on tight as if she would lose everything if she didn't. Her lips pursed and her eyes dropped to the muddy ground. He was standing directly before her. She could feel the heat of his eyes on her.
"Everything is up to par."
"Well I sure hope so!" She snapped.
She heard him chuckle softly as he swiped his gloved thumb under his nose, scanning the flat plains covering the Capsule Corporation aerospace yard.
"Take care of the boy." Vegeta muttered, eyes locking on the duo.
Bulma's blue eyes snapped up and as they did her brows knitted, "Of course I will. He is everything to me. The best gift I have even been given."
A soft smile pulled at the corner of his mouth, but he contained it.
Silence erupted around them, both being stubborn as ever.
"You know I have to do this, woman." His tone gruff and insistent.
"I know you must do this for yourself." Bulma corrected.
"No."
"No?"
"I have you and the boy. I desired this above all before, but if I am going to protect you… both of you… I must." He explained all the while, staring at her hands.
"I told myself you weren't coming back." Bulma whispered, tears forming in her eyes. She then tapped her foot, filling with rage at the fact she was allowing her personal feelings a moment to manifest.
"I will be back." He muttered harshly, and leaned in close.
"Do you promise?"
He sneered.
Her eyes widened as if to say, 'are you really not going to give me this?'.
He snorted, looked away briefly, turned abruptly and gripped her arm, yanking her toward him. His lips hovered over hers. "I promise. For you and the boy." He said.
With that, Vegeta leaned in and kissed her quick and hard before releasing her and moving toward the mouth of the craft.
"Vegeta!" She called out to him, causing the Saiya-jin to pause in his tracks.
In her palm was a box. A tiny blue bow adorned the top.
He tilted his head to the side and gave a suspicious eye.
"Take it." She wiggled the object in her hand.
Vegeta took in, inspected the black box and pulled up on the top to reveal a tiny capsule. His onyx eyes lifted, searching for an explanation.
"A couple months worth of armor. I know you go through many and I didn't want you to go without. They have heating and cooling abilities. I wasn't sure the climate, so I made it adjustable." She shrugged.
"I thought the ship was the final gift?" He teased.
Bulma's cheeks burned red, "I know what I said. I decided to do a nice thing, so take it and stop ruining it."
"Thank you."
"Go." Bulma waved toward the ship, "You better come back in one piece."
He raised a brow, "I am the prince of all Saiya-jin, woman. I will be back, but better. I will obtain my goal."
"I know you will."
He smiled genuinely this time, a rare jewel to behold. It faded quickly, however. He didn't waste a moment more. He was in the craft, the jets blazed, dust and debris rose and within 10 seconds the craft took off toward the mid-morning sky. A stream, after a while, was the only thing she could see.
Bulma stood there for what felt like hours. She rocked her son, cooing softly in his ear as tears streamed her cheeks.
This wasn't goodbye, no. This was just the beginning.
He would be back. She was confident.
XXX
Fin.
.