UNDISCLOSED DESIRES

Author's Note; This story was once known as 'Hate Me, Love Me'

He was a Saiyan prince, determined to be the strongest being in the universe. She was the daughter of a great inventor, and a genius in her own right. With his pride, her determination and their own fair share of stubbornness, how did they fall in love?

Disclaimer; I do not own Dragonball Z or anything DBZ related. Yes, the story is written during the show's own storyline, but this is based on my own ideas of the development of the Vegeta/Bulma relationship.

This fan-fiction also has a few sex scenes, so if this offends you, then please do not read.

If not, then please enjoy and remember, reviews are very much loved. :)

CHAPTER ONE

Bulma sighed and put her hands behind her head. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt this bored. With Yamcha and the rest of their friends busy training in preparation for the arrival of the androids in two years, she felt quite lonely. It had already been a year since they had met the mysterious youth from the future, who had come to warn them about the impending enemy.

Since that time she had housed a rather unusual guest, who never seemed to care about anything other than training, or food. She was often left wondering why she had coaxed Vegeta into staying at her place to train, he never seemed to be thankful for anything she did for him. She hardly even saw him as it was, and she tried to keep herself busy in the lab and spending time with Yamcha. But lately she hadn't seen him much at all, Yamcha had been training much more, and she had an inkling that it had a lot to do with Vegeta's own intense training.

She stood up from her chair and went looking for her mother, in need of a good gossip session – Bunny was never one to let her down when it came to the latest news of their social circle. Walking into the living room, she was mortified to instead find her long-time boyfriend perched in front of the large television, watching the screen intently, unaware of her presence. She looked at what he was watching, and immediately felt her face grow hot with anger.

She quickly moved in front of the television, putting her hands on her hips and blocking the screen. "You call this training?" she inquired, narrowing her blue eyes at him. Startled by her sudden appearance, Yamcha moved back and stood up, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I, uh, I just came in and found it on." he answered, but Bulma had been with him long enough to know when he was covering up for himself with blushes and humour. It didn't work on her anymore – they weren't children.

"You tell me we can't spend time together because you have to train, and instead I find you sitting here watching smutty aerobics?" she accused him, her voice getting louder as her anger grew. Yamcha scratched the back of his head, signalling his guilt – another trait Bulma had picked up on. "I haven't been watching for long, honestly! Do you want to hang out?" he asked her, obviously trying to change the subject.

Bulma let out a cry of frustration before stalking out of the room, followed by a flying blue cat. "Bulma, are you alright?" Puar asked her, looking at her with worried eyes. "I just... need to calm down." Bulma replied, knowing that she needed to control her temper. "Just keep on eye on him, and make sure he doesn't watch anymore tv." Nodding, Puar flew back to the living room, and Bulma stalked down the hall, her eyes on the ground as her thoughts began to run through her head.

Suddenly she found herself colliding with something hard and slightly slimy, and was pushed backwards before she had a chance to exclaim in disgust. She looked up to see stormy dark eyes, and sighed. This was the last thing she needed right now.

"Watch where you're going, woman." Vegeta ordered, crossing his arms in defiance. Bulma pinched her nose in disgust as she stood up and looked at him with glaring eyes. "God Vegeta, you stink." she told him, and he jolted slightly – her comment had caught him off-guard.. He unfolded his arms, and scowled at her. "Stop your pathetic whining. Honestly, have you never smelled sweat before?" Bulma closed her eyes. "Yes, but never this bad before."

Vegeta scoffed in reply. He had better things to do with his time then listen to this infernal Earth woman, and she seemed to have a certain knack for annoying him. "Whatever. I will need a fresh drying cloth and clean garments to wear." he told the blue-haired woman, before walking past her and stalking down the hallway to the bathroom, leaving Bulma to fume.

Letting out another yell of frustration, Bulma crossed her arms before making her way to the laundry. What was it with men these days? All they seemed to do was infuriate her. Especially Vegeta. She had been nothing but nice to the Saiyan prince, letting him stay at her house and helping her father build a gravity chamber and gadgets for him to train. But had she heard anything resembling a thank-you? At least he was attractive... No, she wouldn't think of him that way.

Meanwhile, as he stood under the cool running water in the shower, Vegeta mulled over his thoughts of what had happened recently, and what was to come. He had two more years to train to fight the Androids, two years to become a Super Saiyan, two years to surpass Kakarott. He knew that he had already advanced so much, but it never seemed like enough. His training had to get much tougher, and the gravity would have to increase more significantly. He would demand this to Dr. Briefs later.

"Here. A clean towel and clothes for you. You know Vegeta, a thank you once in a while would be nice." called out a voice, interrupting his thought. Vegeta rolled his eyes. The woman infuriated him on a regular basis it seemed, he had never met anyone quite like her. But there was something about her that he just couldn't explain, something that tugged at his curiosity. Whatever it was, Vegeta didn't like it, and wished for it to go away. He heard her leave, and his mind returned to training once more.

Bulma left the bathroom, and took in a deep breath as she closed the door behind her. She needed to chill out for a while, collect her thoughts and calm down. Her mind seemed to be going crazy, analysing everything, especially her fight with Yamcha. It seemed to be all they ever did these days, and she was getting tired of the same old routine.

She made her way onto the upper floor and walked into her bedroom, surprised to find it occupied. Yamcha sat on her bed, wringing his hands together, a sheepish look on his face. Closing the door behind her softly, Bulma hesitated momentarily before she sat next to him, watching him carefully.

"I'm sorry." he apologised, turning his eyes to Bulma's. "I haven't been spending time with you, like I should." Bulma sighed in reply. She had been with him for so many years now, but lately the relationship had changed. It had been much different in the early days, when they were younger. But even through all the years, it had lacked stability. "What do you want out of this relationship?" she asked him slowly, her face serious. Yamcha blinked at her, obviously surprised. "Well, I don't know. I thought everything was going great!"

Bulma sighed. "Remember when Goku came back from Namek? You told me that it maybe it was time to start thinking about marriage, and a family. That was a year ago, Yamcha. And yet nothing has changed. And at this rate, it never will."

Yamcha's dark eyes trailed down to the floor. "Well, if marriage is what you want..."

Bulma put her hand under his chin and pulled his face so he was looking at her again. It took everything in her to keep her voice steady, she could feel her stomach churning and her eyes beginning to burn. "But it's not what you want. We've been together for so long now, and we've been through so much, but I can tell that we want different things. And maybe it's time that we go our separate ways."

"Has this got anything to do with... your guest?"

Bulma sat up straight as if she had been slapped. "What? No!" she exclaimed, feeling the familiar sensation of rage tingling under her skin. How could he suggest such a thing? Vegeta staying with her had no affect on this relationship, and Yamcha should have known that. "Vegeta is not in this relationship, therefore he has nothing to do with it. It's us, Yamcha. We're growing apart."

Yamcha's eyes trailed to the floor, and Bulma put her hand on his back. She did love him, and she knew that no matter what happened she always would, but she knew that the relationship was never going to work in the long-term.

It was at that moment that her bedroom door flew open, nearly falling off it's hinges, to reveal Vegeta, and by the look on his face both Bulma and Yamcha could tell that he was not very happy. But then again, he seldom ever was.

"What is it with you and your perchance for hideous garments?" he yelled at Bulma, indicating to the lime-green pants he was now wearing, matched with a yellow shirt that was equally as bright. Bulma had not been paying attention when she had selected the clothing, her mind too busy on other things. Normally Bulma would have simply laughed at him, but this was not the time. Instead, she stood up from her bed, and walked over to the angry man.

"We were in the middle of a private conversation, Vegeta. I couldn't care less about your clothes, and neither should you." she told him in a seething voice, before slamming the door in his face, leaving Vegeta bewildered in the hallway. Never had anyone done such a thing like that to him before.

Huffing, he made his way back outside to the gravity chamber, but as he pressed the button for the gravity to increase, he just couldn't seem to focus. As he warmed up with quick punches and high kicks into the hair, his mind was not concentrating on training as it should have been. His thoughts were instead with the infuriating blue-haired woman, and how she seemed to just push all of Vegeta's buttons. He had never met anyone remotely like her, and in a small way, admired her stubbornness.

Back in her bedroom, Bulma grabbed Yamcha's rough hand in her own. He turned his body towards hers, and wrapped his strong arms around her small frame, burying his head in her neck. Bulma stroked his black hair, not wanting to let go. She would miss this. Yamcha seemed to be feeling the same way. He moved has face to hers and gave her a soft kiss, which became harder with longing. Bulma moved her hands to his face, holding as the kiss became deeper.

Yamcha's hold on Bulma loosened, but instead of letting go entirely, his hands moved to the small vest she was wearing, pushing it down and off her arms. She broke the kiss off, looking at him intently. "Yamcha..." she protested, but he placed one finger on her lips to silence her. "One last time." he pleaded, and Bulma couldn't help but give in. Her mouth returned to his, this time with new eagerness. After so long together, it seemed like the right way to say goodbye,

Yamcha tugged off his wristbands, and Bulma pulled his shirt up and over his body, revealing his muscular chest. She ran her hands over his chest, and he quickly pulled her dress up and over her head, leaving her clad only in her bra and underwear. She tugged at his orange pants, and he stood up so they would be easier to take off.

Once they had joined the rest of the clothes on the floor, Yamcha laid Bulma down on her bed, moving on top of her. His lips left hers and trailed down to her neck, and then further to her chest, and Bulma reached her hands behind and undid the clasp, taking it off and flinging it across the room. His kisses travelled further once more, stopping just above her panties.

Together, they removed the last items of clothes that were between them at the same time. Bulma laid back and tried to control the tears that were building up in her eyes. She didn't want to end the relationship, but knew it was the right thing to do. But then why did it hurt so bad?

Suddenly she felt Yamcha sheath himself into her, and let out a low moan as he pressed his body against hers, his lips pressing against hers as he began to pump faster, and Bulma could feel the tears beginning to stream down the sides of her face. She gripped his back, holding onto him as hard as she could. He finally climaxed, and she followed only seconds later.

Yamcha rolled off her, panting heavily. Bulma moved closer to him, wrapping her arms around him and placing her head on his chest. As she tried to regulate her own breathing, she closed her eyes, taking in the warmth of his body, the perfume of his sweat.

When she awoke the next morning, she found herself alone in the bed, Yamucha's belongings and clothing missing.

He was gone.