I always feel SO wrong writing and posting smut. I love smut, but I feel like I should spend the rest of my day doing Hail Marys and I'm not even Catholic.
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2
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She was physically weaker than he was by a long shot. By all means he should have put her in her place right from the start, but he had allowed her impertinent lips to strike him with acerbic darts, one after another on more than one occasion and that seemed to embolden her further.
She prodded him in his bare chest. "If you think you can get away with talking to me like that, buddy, you've got some nerve!"
The muscles in jaw worked; the tension showing in his lean cheeks like many taut bow strings. She smelled vaguely of machine grease with a hint of ozone, indicating that she had been welding. As usual, when she was in this part of her workshop, she was wearing loose cover-alls. Gutted engines, robotic part littered the floor space and various human weaponry lined the walls here and there where there was room between shelving.
"To think, I invite you into my home and this is the thanks I get…" She went on. When she carried on like this, Vegeta noted, she heated up. He knew this because he could smell it on her. She flushed red and her blue eyes widened in wild rage.
He did it on purpose. Just to see her like this.
He smirked, a single inhumanly sharp fang showing. Busted. He had to fess up to himself then and there. That was why he let her get away with this. Any other man, he would have killed or at least severely beaten for such cheek.
But, she was no man.
As the woman drew in a deep breath and glared at him he let his eyes flick down over her form. She was a hell of a woman, from thick thighs that flared into wide hips and dipped into a slim waist up to her generous bust. He met her eyes, blue like the hottest stars in space. Her red tinted lips were screwed up in a tight, angry pucker.
Were other parts of her just and tight?
The errant though caught him off guard and he blushed.
"Oh!" Bulma goaded, "Now are you feeling contrite?"
Vegeta scoffed.
"You're lucky that, in addition to being the most beautiful woman in West City, I'm also the most generous and forgiving." She took this moment to roll her eyes and mutter under her breath, "You can ask Yamcha to attest to that."
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3
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She had to mention the weak human male.
Her mate, he assumed, based on the familiarity they shared. He didn't seem to be a suitable match for her fire. He was like wax that melted when she burned, or like brittle straw that burned to ash and blew off into the wind, to escape after a blaze. He had left "to train for the androids" a few months ago.
A woman of her magnitude need a male that would be tempered by the heat she emitted. She needed a Yang to her Yin. Vegeta wasn't sure if such a human male existed.
"Well?" Bulma prodded him to reply. She put her hands on hips, chest jutting out at him, like she was fucking daring him to challenge her. The action sent a thrill throughout him. He wasn't one to wilt and be cowed by paper tigers. That all she was anyhow. She put on a good show, but really, could she handle him? All of him?
He growled a deep rumble from within his chest. "Your insignificant human complaints have no bearing on me, nor do I care to be compared to your inadequate male consort."
Bulma stiffened, sucking in an indignant breath. "You heard that?"
"My sense of hearing surpasses that of you inferior humans."
"Inferior!" She huffed, "And what pray-tell, what is a superior specimen?"
"Obviously myself," Vegeta stated matter of factly.
Bulma allowed her eyes to roam over him, overtly. Vulgar, he thought, not realizing he was making a hypocrite of himself since he had been furtively inspecting her earlier.
"The overall package isn't bad, I'll give you that," she glanced at him through heavy lidded eyes, "mmm, and *the* package looks promising too."
Her tone set his cheeks a flame, he wasn't sure what she meant by "package" but her raunchy tenor told him it was some human innuendo.
"It's a bit unfortunate though," she with a mock sad face, "do you know how to put it to good use?"
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4
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He sputtered incoherent Saiyan curses. Stiffening straight he glared at her, suddenly feeling incomprehensibly indecent in his black spandex shorts.
Bulma giggled. "Mmm, touched a nerve, did I?" Her laughter chimed throughout the cavernous room.
"Vulgar woman!" was all he could spit out. Even if he had free rein to do her in like he should have the thought was far from his mind. All he wanted to do was right the injustice of her accusations.
"Guilty as charged" Bulma said, hands up, lips pouted and lashes batting.
He was seething. She reeled in whatever bait she had dangled; drawing in a deep breath and loosening the top 12 inches of her cover all zipper, revealing succulent cleavage.
"Look, don't think it hasn't been a little slice of heaven but, it's getting late, and even a night owl like me has to turn in some time."
She spun around, tossing tools into drawers, gathering up sheaves of plans into stacks here and there.
She had turned her back to him, essentially telling him he was no threat. The audacity! He struck then. Descending upon her and trapping her against her work table. He could feel her go rigid against him and the sweet, pungency of fear infused the space around her.
"I've let you take too many liberties for far too long, woman." His voice dropped in to a low and dangerous timbre. Vegeta took hold of her wrists and pulled them behind her back, forcing her chest to lean forward and her ass into his groin. He growled into her neck, scenting her fear and a hint of arousal.
He would proceed.
"Wh-What are you doing?!" Bulma demanded, words coming out in a gasp. Excited? Fear? Both, he was certain.
He gave an experimental grind into her, making a show of shifting his position. Her breath hitched and she jerked into him. His cock jumped. She was receptive.
He took both her wrists into one hand and grabbed her by the hip with the newly freed hand.
He growled into her ear, "I'm going to assume the dig you made prior was an attack on my masculinity. I may not have the emotional finesse of the human males you are used to but I assure you woman, I know the mechanics." Vegeta pushed his hardness into her and she whimpered. "Consider this long overdue punishment for your crimes of insolence.
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5
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The small wispy hairs at the back of her neck tickled his nose and trapped the heat of his breath, enveloping him in a pocket of her scent humidified by his hot breath. He licked at her nape, causing her to squeak suddenly. He nibbled further, along her hair line until he reached her ear, nipped and made his way back down again, working his now full erection against her rear.
She moaned, daring to push back into him.
He reached the collar of her cover-alls. That garment simply had to go!
Keeping a hold of her wrists, he reached up and unzipped her cover alls the rest of the way, pushing the loosened fabric to her waist. There, he deftly freed her wrists long enough to unfetter her top half from the dingy workwear, revealing a white cami. With his free hand he reached to cup her breast, thumb and index finger, rolling the bud of her taught nipple, first one, then the other. She was supple and pliant, almost as if she had already given in to him. Was it really so easy to put out her flame? Disappointment nearly convinced him to wrap this up.
"Don't think," Bulma huffed, breathy, "That just because you have me that you've won."
She flared to life again, hot, burning, indomitable.
"Tell me, woman, how, I have yet to win when I have you subdued?"
Vegeta reached his free hand to the garment gathered around her waist, and pushed until it bunched up at her knees. He licked the small of her back, nipped at her hip and lowered himself down until he was face to face with the fruit of her womanhood. He pushed his nose into her cloth covered cleft, drawing out whimpers from Bulma. Pushing the thin material to the side he revealed a succulent treat. She was pink, flushed, dripping wet and he just could not help but have a taste. Laving his tongue up her folds made her scream. Pushing his tongue past her threshold made her push into him, begging, needing. Free hand on her hip, pincer-like grip still on her wrists, he steadied her allowing him to lavish, to feast.
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1
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Vegeta slid his free hand from her hips to her soft mons, giving it squeeze and running his middle finger down the middle of her flesh. She jerked wildly when he rubbed her clit.
"It seems," he chuckled, pausing mid-sentence to lick, "I've struck a nerve,"
"Fuck you," Bulma panted, stubbornly.
He flicked his fingers over her clit in response, making her gasp and quiver.
"You dick!" She mewled, resolve cracking.
Vegeta rubbed circles around her sensitive bud, through her panties.
"Fuck!" Bulma rasped breathily. He wanted to break her completely
Reaching past the thin cotton of her underwear, he dipped his finger into her, stroking her in a come hither fashion, and slicked back over her clit. He carried on, flicking, slow, teasing, lazy figure eights all the while lick and sucking her nether lips from behind. Her whimpers rose and fell with his ministrations, punctuated with the occasional "oh!" and "Fuck!"
She lurched in his grasp, crying out to the empty lab, "Fuck me!"
She went limp, quivering, held up only by his steady grasp on her wrists. Vegeta lapped up her release, savoring her pungent taste.
The need to sheath himself into her bit at him, but he reminded himself this was only meant to be a one off torture.
"Fuck you?" He drawled, giving her a final lick, "Only if beg for it."
She wrenched against his grip, "You prick! You- you dick!"
He let her go and she whipped around, grabbing at her coveralls before they fell to her ankles and tugged them back up to her waist. Vegeta chuckled sinisterly as she glared at him, face red and hot with orgasm and anger. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, points of her nipple jutting out though the thin material of her white cami.
"Ask me nicely and perhaps I'll you have it." He turned to leave, then called out to her, nonchalantly, "I expect the upgrades I requested to be completed promptly."
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In the morning as Mrs. Briefs served breakfast he could see her trying not to glare at him. She seemed to be on a mission to stab her pancakes to death and drown them in syrup. As air headed as she seemed to be, Bulma's mother seemed to somehow pick up on the ambient animosity.
"Oh dear, Bulma, you seem to be in mood this morning. Don't tell me you and that sweet boy Yamcha are having another spat?"
Bulma jabbed at sausage link, impaling it with her fork. "Can it, mom." She shoved it into her mouth and shot out of her chair, stalking off, presumably to her lab.
"Oh my!" Mrs. Briefs exclaimed. "Vegeta, dear, what has gotten into her?"
Vegeta scoffed in reply, getting up and left to begin his day's training.
"What is wrong with those two?" Mrs. Briefs asked of the empty kitchen.