All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are my own. I do not own Dragon Ball(Z) nor am I making any money off of this. No copyright infringement is intended.

I'm hooked on these writing challenges. This one is also a prompt from the "We're just Saiyan" Google+ community.( If you haven't already, go check it out). This is part 1 of 4, the challenge is "Four Weeks of Contradictions" and this is my take on it. (Pleasure/Pain)

"Now, from tadasana bring your right foot up and behind your ear while tipping forward. Keep the four corners of your left foot grounded into your sticky mat, and remember your pranayama."

"Lady, have you lost your fucking mind? This defies the constraints, ugh, of the human body, oooh, and, I think the laws of, oww, physics. Yeah, 'cause breathing, pshhh, always helps." Bulma admonished the woman on her screen.

Vegeta walked into the bed room to catch a view of his woman's well toned ass stuck in the air and her foot being pulled, by her, in an unnatural position around her head. "The fuck are you doing?"

"Vege-oof" Vegeta watched his woman tumble to the floor in a heap of red lycra and limbs. She gathered herself to sit cross-legged in front of her new...well, she wasn't sure how to define him yet. The times were few when she caught him smiling, even rarer still were the times he actually laughed. "I'm flattered that you would find humor in my pain." She quipped. "I'm doing yoga. My guru is on vacation for the month and I can't miss my practice or I get stiff." She stood and stretched herself into a half moon posture, first to the right, then to the left.

"Why do you warp yourself into these positions knowing it will be painful?" he baited her.

"Ha! You think this body is natural, shit, sorry, I'm not chiseled perfection packed into a god-like alien body. I have to actually work at all this beauty." She winked as she walked past him and nabbed the towel from around his shoulders, headed for the bathroom.

"I should think that qualifies you as a hypocrite."

"I'm sorry, what?" She spun on him, eyebrows raised; she was sure she didn't hear him right.

"You bitch incessantly about the training I put myself through; and I come upon you wrenched into contorted positions, by choice."

"Oh hardly the same thing! Daddy isn't building a regen tank because I pull a muscle working the Cosmic Dancer. When you drag my unconscious bleeding body out of the yoga studio, then you can talk" she flipped his towel back to him.

This relationship was new, to both of them. Vegeta never felt compelled to give two shits and a damn about another person, and Bulma wasn't accustomed to a man who was her equal. They were still in the "exploration phase" of the relationship. He agreed to move into her room just a week ago. He had to admit, once he convinced her to clean the sty, it was a comfortable arrangement.

"On the contrary, I believe it's precisely the same thing." He playfully wrapped his arms around her from behind. "You push your body beyond its limits, however narrow those weak earthling limits are, for your own personal gain."

She spun around, still in his embrace, and slid her hands up and through his hair. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to enjoy her touch. "I push myself beyond my limits because I've discovered sex with a Saiyan requires one to be a contortionist." She kissed him lightly on the nose.

"Woman, you don't seem to complain." He dipped his head low and nuzzled her neck right under her ear. He found she tended to purr when he kissed her there. "In fact the only words you seem to be able to form are 'damn Vegeta, deeper'." His deep sultry voice rumbled in her ear.

Bulma felt her control slipping. She forced herself to gather her senses, and pushed away from her prince. She strode across the room to her dresser, (it was fun to have a distinction between 'his' and 'hers'), and pulled out a dark blue hoodie.

"What is this Cosmic Dancer you referred to?" He asked as he leaned against the desk.

"Oh! It's one of my favorites. Here look." She tossed the sweatshirt on the bed, and held out her arms, making sure there was enough room around her. Standing with her feet hip width apart, she held out her left arm straight in front of her for balance. "Now I lift my right leg up in an arc behind me, like this." Vegeta was impressed by the fluidity with which she moved. Like true warrior, this slight little earth woman flowed with the discipline of a tested fighter. When she gained control of her balance, she reached both hands up, arched her back and grasped her right foot, which by this time was almost touching her head.

Vegeta was mesmerized by the flexibility and development in her back and hips. She'd carry healthy cubs. He glided over to where she was posed. Her eyes were closed in meditation, so she wasn't aware of him studying her like a sculpture.

"What other forms can you assume?" He asked quietly, reverently. He pulled his hand away before he touched her.

She gracefully released the pose and resumed a normal stance. "Forms? Oh I guess these are like your martial arts forms, except I don't move much. There's a bunch of them. I've been doing this forever, but mom can do more of the guru asanas than I can."

The thought of the crazy old blond in those same positions suddenly made Vegeta fall limp. "Never mention your mother doing that ever again.' He shivered. "The image is going to take forever to fade now."

Bulma swatted at him with her hoodie. "Jerk. I meant Mom's been doing yoga since she was a girl. It takes as much pain and practice to get into those positions as it takes you to-" She stopped herself before she validated his original argument. It was too late, she realized, when she saw that self-righteous smirk. "OK, I get it. Sometimes you have to push yourself beyond your limits." She conceded.

Bulma met him half way across the room and linked her arms around his neck. His arms followed, slipping around her waist. "I guess I forget your threshold for pain and mine are worlds apart." She chuckled at her own double entendre. "I suppose severing a femoral artery isn't much different for you than if I tweek a hammy."

"Tweek a ham-" He began to question. "Pull a hamstring muscle." She clarified.

Vegeta smirked. "Your earth euphemisms amuse me. Fine woman, I will make every attempt to refrain from destroying the training equipment, " Vegeta was almost annoyed with himself for making deals with the woman, "if you agree to allow me to take you in any one of these postures." He chuckled a deep sultry laugh.

It was lost on Bulma how he didn't really promise to refrain from hurting himself, because a thousand tasty images filled her mind. Was he really that turned on by yoga postures? Before her head exploded with the sheer ecstasy of it all, she shook herself into reality. "You can take me in any position you want. And I will try not to bitch at you for dragging blood trails through the house." She closed the space between them and kissed him.

She broke their kiss when a thought popped into her head. "If you're really that into it, there's this practice called tantric yoga. It requires lots of training and discipline."

"I've 'surfed' the internet too, woman." He flashed a wry grin. "I know all about this Kama Sutra."