Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ or any characters or affiliates.
Positioned somewhat uncomfortably on her back, she looked up at the interior upholstery on the roof of the capsule car. She traced circles against the fabric with her index finger. Out of pure muscle memory...her hand started to slip down the front of her pants towards a burning bush. She stopped herself abruptly after realizing where this path was leading her. 'In time', she thought to herself. It was just so hard to get a minute alone..
She took in a deep, calming breath.
Almost, but not uncomfortably, her memory started flooding with various sights and sounds of a little girl. Birthday parties, ballet recitals, book fairs. How far back did it go? She smiled to herself while biting seductively on her finger. Did she want to see more? Was this the appropriate time to think about this stuff? While sucking on her herself trying her damnedest to will her finger into a different phallic instrument?
Fuck appropriate. She was never one to deny herself.
The woodsy notes of her father's pipe started to seep into memory, forming an almost tangible image of her sitting on his lap in his lab. The almost feather like feel of his gray tufts that had gotten oilier over the last few decades. The smell of his well earned elbow grease and hard work traced her brain like pin points on the facial recognition software he developed.
She had fewer recollections of her mother, but non the less pleasant. The enticing scent of her mother baking with a pound of sugar knocked at her brain, but was quickly staunched as the sweet scent reminded her too much of her own aroused musk.
Then she was hit with a more devilish, empowering memory. She remembered kinto'un. With a hardy guffaw she remembered falling through it and being genuinely confused and almost in denial. Almost.
But what was there to deny?
Bulma was a lusty, fertile female. She had needs. She had questions that needed to be answered and she could only discover so much by herself. Not everyone lived in the woods alone, away from the compulsion of sexuality.
But what did she discover when she let her her classmate touch her left breast under her bra? Did she discover that her supple breast in his hand placated the uncomfortable burning in her lower abdomen?
No.
Did she discover that she didn't like it and her 'dirty pillows' needed to be hidden away until she was wearing a long white dress in front of a crowded church?
No. Not at all.
She discovered empowerment, liberation, freedom.
Her body. Her choice.
Good or bad.
Maybe that's why she let that filthy desert bandit go all the way.
Did it feel somewhat wrong? Perhaps not, but did she want it to.
God.
Yes.
There was no specific time she could pinpoint when it happened.
When she became what?..A whore? A street-walker?
No.
Opportunistic.
When was the last time she sat down in the backseat of this car? Of any car? Prone position was her version of sitting down in a car.
Was she always like this? Always so eager to please... Did she truly enjoy the glistening line of spit and semen strung carelessly between her mouth and a cock when she slowly retreated. Did she like being slapped across the face and being told what a filthy slut she was.
Probably.
Was she one of the few who truly enjoyed the salty, warm taste of freshly extruded semen running down the back of her throat? Tears streaming down her face from the lack of oxygen with a cock in her mouth to the hilt?
Maybe
A small smile played on her beautiful face.
More recent memories tugged at her brain.. and her womanhood.
The memory of solid flesh pounding relentlessly against her svelte, dripping crevasse as she was bent over and pushed up against a wall. The thunderous moans she extracted from him as he came all over her face and forced her to hold her tongue out. The funny image of her vagina replacing his mouth when he ate her with abandon. It truly was funny. Looking down, all she could see was a flamed mane, furrowed brows, a perfect, prominent nose...and a vagina doubling as a mouth.**
Lost in her trip down amnesia lane, she almost missed the sound of the handle being pulled in the 'open' position. Almost
'And moment of silence over', she huffed internally.
Lifting herself from the middle to bring her knees to her chest, she stared upwards towards her houseguest. She subconsciously reached out a hand and ran it across his taut stomach. "You following me?" she smirked as he flinched slightly from her caress. Never removing her finger.
"Hardly" he sneered.
Her eyebrows lost symmetry for a second, but she quickly reigned it in. She stood up and pushed his abdomen where her finger still rested in attempt to move him.
He remained solid.
She rolled her eyes and turned around to capsulize her car. Once the smoke had cleared, Vegeta was no longer standing in front of her. She went to take a step forward when she felt one hand grab her shoulder from behind. She vacillated briefly on her next move, being all too familiar with this type of 'situation'. What was that first thing she was getting ready to do in the car anyway? This may be more labor intensive sure, but it could be more..satifying. She just needed to play her cards right..
"What were you doing out here anyway?" he purred in her ear. Holding her firmly so she couldn't turn around to face him
Oh the guttural notes that man could hit...
Vying for control, Bulma straightened her backbone. "Just enjoying some alone time. Or at least I was, before you interrupted me" she relented
"I needed you earlier", he brushed hair away from her shoulder and inhaled her scent, "but you were nowhere to be found."
A chill ran down the front of her torso.
"For what? And quit smelling me..it's weird.."
He leaned down over her shoulder and traced a canine across the furrow between her clavicle and her neck, "Gravity won't engage in the GR. I need you to look at it."
"Fine" she conceded. "But tomorrow. "I have other things to take care of tonight. She raised an eyebrow suggestively.
"Start by ridding yourself of that omnipotent stench, woman."
Her face fell.
She let out a flustered scream. Suddenly she didn't feel as accommodating.
He let out a howling laugh. It was almost, dare she say, sexy. It was so rare he genuinely laughed. Except..No. He was being a dick, so it was't sexy.
She started to give a dramatic exit when he grabbed her elbow and spun her around. He pulled her face to his, almost nose to nose. "How do you think I found you woman? You're pathetic ki wasn't enough for me to pick up on without using some energy.."
Her cheeks started to burn slightly as she looked towards the ground. He lifted her chin up with his thumb and index finger, forcing eye contact. "Tell me", he planted a quick kiss on her lips, "is your 'alone time' just a euphemism for touching yourself?"
He grinned a wicked grin.
Her chin still clutched in his grasp, she pursed her lips and flared her nostrils slightly.
He released his grip on her and threw his head back for a second round of cackling.
She prepared her finger as a dagger and just as she was about to impale it over his previous mortal wound's scar, he grabbed her hand. He slipped his other hand in the small of her back and she tensed up instinctively. He pulled her in and closed the gap between their mouths. Her fingers started to interlock with his, a rarity she mentally noted.
She leaned back slightly to try to read him, but to no avail. The man was a statue. Mentally, physically, emotionally.. The physical part seemed to be the most beneficial of course. Hell, she could just sit back and make sketches...
She closed her eyes briefly to think and try to gain some leverage but her brain ceased to function when she felt him lift up her shirt and run a trail of kisses down her stomach.
And there it was, the clenching in her stomach finally made its debut. And oh how she reveled in it.
Goose bumps started to form on her soft skin as he went lower. Just below her belly button, he stopped and looked up at her. 'Deja vu' she thought. Then..he smiled. 'Oh shit'. She wasn't quite prepared for the psychological intensity of a smile brandished by Vegeta. The unfamiliar taste of something rising in her throat. Bulma didn't like how her heart fluttered at the sight of it either. A traitor she called it.
She was expecting the usual predatory gaze he bestowed upon her when he was ready to pounce. She excitedly waited for the parodic grin that instilled enough fear to elicit the fight or flight response. That, she could handle. But this? This..this...this was wrong. She grappled for reasoning but her thoughts were ultimately cut short when strong, calloused fingers started tugging her shorts and panties down together. She would have to worry about the intent behind that smile another day. She was Bulma Brief and she was about to get the ever-loving shit fucked out of her.
Chapt 2: Ok guys, so this one was going to just be a one-shot..and it kind of still is but I want the readers to tell me how this should play out. Should it just be down and dirty rough sex and a foul-mouthed Bulma spewing out whatever comes into her head? Or do y'all want good old fashioned love making. Let me know and I'll get right on it.
Author's note**
Woohoo! I hope ya'll enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing. Sorry there really wasn't that much dialogue between them. I'm still trying to get good at writing witty banter for them. Hopefully the smut makes up for it. As for the asterisk. Really think about this guys. It truly is funny. If you're on your back and your man is doing his thing, look down. I did this once and it looked like my husband had a vagina for a mouth. Huh-larious.
As always R and R. Happy readings! OH BTW, no beta so please let me know about any major grammatical errors.