A/N: Hello everyone! I figured I would write a little one-shot since the sequel to "A Lifetime of Learning" is so far off. For those of you who do not know, this is set after the events in "A Lifetime of Learning" where Bulma and Vegeta eventually wed. This takes place during the seven years between the Cell Saga and the Majin Buu Saga, and I have tried to be as canon as possible. So, it can be read by itself. For those of you who have read "A Week Left Wanting" and "A Lifetime of Learning" this is a little treat for you. I do warn everyone that the naughtiness in here is a bit naughtier than my usual stuff, so please don't be afraid. Well, please enjoy.

Disclaimer: Dragonball Z belongs to Akira Toriyama

Warning: For Mature Adults Only.

Trunks' fifth birthday was coming up in a week. Why did he know this? The last time his son's birthday had come around, he had forgotten and Bulma had berated him for hours about it. At the time, he could have cared less about her comments and threats, as they were all idle anyway, but now things had changed: now he was married to that woman. Now she could deny him sex. Oh, she would be hard-pressed to refuse him, but she could find ways to make it unpleasant to enter into coitus with her. So, he had snuck into her office one morning and stolen a glance at her calendar, making sure he knew exactly when the date would be. The current issue, however, was exactly how to demonstrate his remembering of the event.

Finally, after hours of fruitless ideas, he decided to ask his woman what Trunks would like for his birthday—as gift-giving was customary on this holiday and would surely show he had not forgotten—so he could ask her to buy it and he could give it to the boy. It had never occurred to him that such a simple plan could become much more complicated.

He found the woman tapping away at her keyboard, probably doing something important. "Woman, our son's birthday is next week, and I would like to get him a gift. What does he want?" He thought she would be happy with him, but instead she sighed and crossed her arms. How hard was it to please the weaker sex? Give them all the intercourse they wanted and still they were not satisfied. The frustrations she put him through were part of the reason he felt so strongly for her, but they were frustrations nonetheless. "Did I say something inappropriate?"

"Do you really have no clue what Trunks wants for his birthday? He spends more time with you nowadays than he does with me. I would think you and your son would talk while training."

"No, he gabs on and on about nonsense. I understand the words, the complete sentences, and yet not a single thing makes sense. Not too much for me to learn from the boy." She laughed and he stared. Being married to this creature had gotten him absolutely nowhere when it came to understanding her or their son.

"Well, I think you should figure out what he wants on your own. He is getting old enough to realize the presents from 'Daddy' smell like me because his father was not involved in the selection process." He humpfed and placed his hands on his hips.

"You probably already know what he wants, so just stop playing games and tell me. I'll pick it up, so Trunks will never be the wiser." He was tired of their banter, but had little choice in the matter.

She put a hand under her chin and contemplated something. It was never a good sign when she decided to put thought into her words. "I'll make you a deal. Figure out, on your own, what Trunks wants for his birthday, and I will let you do anything you would like to me for one night." She bit down on a pen that had magically appeared in her hand and smiled coyly. The arousal floored him and he could barely process what she had said one sentence prior. "I think that got your attention. Here." She pulled out her wallet and grabbed some of the strange Earth currency and placed it in his hand. "Five thousand zeni should be enough. Now, the deal only stands if Trunks actually wanted whatever present you give to him; if you just buy him something randomly, no special sexy-time for you." We'll see about that.

Now it was a challenge. While the prospect of free-reign fornication appealed to him greatly, the warrior in him took her words as a personal challenge, one he fully intended to win. "Blue lace. When I take my winnings, you will wear your blue lace."

Damn child was going to be the end of him. For hours, his son had rambled on about television shows and things he was learning about it school, but nothing gave him any idea where to start looking. By the end of their training session all he had gathered was his son's favorite show, but at least it was a start. He grumbled his way through dinner, through his shower, and even when he slipped into bed. The boy had to want something. He liked the show with the ridiculous men dressed in strange outfits; that would have been cause for some alarm, but they fought monsters and roamed around innocently for women, in a juvenile fashion. Several mornings he had found it rather difficult to pull Trunks into training because he was watching that show. But after a quick survey of the toy-cluttered cave his son called his room, there was no way he did not already own every piece of merchandise available. Now what to do?

"If you keep focusing on that table, I think you might blow it up," the mocking voice of his wife trilled. He had not realized he was staring off into space.

He turned himself over to face her, a cold expression on his face. Still, she smiled. "You look so grumpy. Don't get frustrated yet. You still have several more days until his birthday. Now, relax and get some sleep."

He wrapped his hand around the back of her head, tangling his fingers in her hair. "I have a better idea," he said, ravaging her mouth and making her beg for more. When they finished, she mewled in contentment and fell asleep nuzzled against him. He too, found sleep.

The efforts of the day were far more taxing than they should have been. He decided it would be easier to coax his son into telling him what he wanted if they were not training. Little did he realize normal father-son time would be more tiring than training at one hundred times gravity. The boy had scrambled up to his room at the prospect of spending time with his father and had returned with a flat case. He recognized it as a movie disk that had to be inserted into some device to make it playback. Fortunately, his son had a working knowledge of the device and plopped down on the couch once the start-up screen appeared.

It was a movie based on the television show he liked. The storyline was insipid and the acting was horrible, but Trunks was entranced. By the end he had a mild headache.

"Son, I told you to pick one thing for us to do together. Why did you choose this?"

His boy looked up at him as he fumbled with putting the disk back in its case. "'Cause if I can't see them in town, at least I can watch them with you." There was that bit of nonsense again. He was still very young, and the young had quite an imagination, though his own imagination at five years of age had involved much violence and destruction. He never wanted that for his son, he realized. A child should not grow up wanting to kill. Yes, he would be strong and powerful, but not a killer.

He smiled imperceptibly down at his boy. "Alright. Now, go do your chores." Trunks gave him a toothy grin and vanished. If nothing else, the chores always got done. The woman could be soft on the boy, but he never failed to listen to his father.

Unfortunately, the goal of the day seemed unfulfilled. He finally decided to go to his last resort and see if he could make any sense of his boy's ramblings. The object was a bit foreign to him, but he had had to use it on occasion when his wife made him call the Son residence. He dialed the digits he had been forced to memorize and waited as it toned.

"Son residence. Gohan speaking." Thank god. The last time he had needed to speak with Kakarot's older son, his harpy had forbade him from doing so. Him, the Prince of all Saiyans. There was never any reasoning with her.

"Gohan, I have a question for you."

"Okay. What is it?" The teenage sounded apprehensive, most likely because this was a rarity indeed.

"I have been tasked with finding a gift for Trunks' birthday, but so far my attempts at discovering what he wants have be unrewarded. He keeps making mention of a show he likes, one I know he and your brother watch with great enthusiasm any time they are over here." Yes, not only did he have to deal with his own son, but Kakarot's younger son on frequent occasions as well. Why couldn't that brainless fool have kept his pants zipped? "He keeps telling me he wants to see them. Do you have any idea what he is talking about?"

"Hmm, now that you mention it, Goten has been talking about that a lot lately. He's been saying how he's jealous ''cause Trunks can see 'em' though I never really thought much about it. You know, now that I think about it, sometimes television shows do live-action performances. West City would definitely be the place to have one if it exists. Maybe that's what the kids are excited about."

He thought for a moment and concluded that the young man's logic was sound. "Hmm, goodbye." He had never been one for sincere thanks. Gohan's information was certainly helpful, but he had learned never to put himself into anyone's debt, no matter how small.

Because Bulma had been very specific about him having to do this on his own, he took off and began scanning the town, touching down now and then to get a closer look. After about an hour of searching, he found what he had hoped to find.

The day of Trunks' birthday was a cacophonous one. Several children, Trunks' age or younger, were piled into the living room. Having finished pizza and ice cream (his son and Kakarot's younger had decimated a few dozen pizzas by themselves), the brats gathered around the present-laden table. The custom of giving birthday guests "goodie bags" had seemed very strange to him until he saw the desire in all their faces when looking at the mountain of presents. "Goodie bags" prevented a riot.

"Alright Trunks, pick up the first present and read who it's from." His wife and her mother stood very close to the group, taking pictures each time a present was opened. It took several minutes after each present was unveiled to get his son to stop admiring it to go on to the next bounty. He was glad he kept his distance. Physically, he was no more than ten feet away, but that was enough distance to keep him firmly out of the festivities. By the time the boy reached the last present, he had a mountain of gifts and the oddest look on his face: the same look Bulma was giving him now.

If looks could kill, hers would be doing so. He smirked and ventured over to the group of brats. He had specifically omitted his gift from the pile, for it was small and easily lost amongst the others. Reaching inside his pants pocket he retrieved a small envelope and handed it to his son. At first, Trunks appeared disappointed at only receiving a card: cards could not be played with and had no inherent value. Of course, his face changed drastically when he opened the envelope.

"Super-Powered Teenaged Wonders Live!!!" his son screamed, holding on to the tickets and jumping up and down. Once he finally calmed down his son ran over to him, barely able to stand still. "!" He did not wait for a response and began showing off the tickets.

Stealthily, the woman crept up to him and placed her lips near his ear. "I think you earned your reward." She kissed him lightly and moved away to take more pictures.

Finally his son had fallen asleep. It was fortunate the television event would not be for a few more weeks, otherwise that boy would never go to bed. And without his boy being sound asleep, he could not redeem his reward with his wife.

She sat upon their bed, a gossamer robe barely covering her body. There was a tinge of anxiety to her scent, for she did not know what he planned of her. Well, that was good. He undressed to his underwear and knelt upon the bed. Slowly, his hand cupped her cheek and brought her lips to his. The kiss was slow and lazy, but he felt her need. A hand grasped at his hair and pulled him deeper into the kiss, forcing him to lie atop her. Her breasts, still covered in gossamer, brushed against his chest: that would not do.

Propped on his elbows, he removed the thin robe and settled himself at her neck, delighting in the blue lace he found covering her sensitive areas. She mewled and arched her back, pressing her breasts closer to his mouth. The bra came undone easily and he teased the pink nipples with the tip of his tongue. The noises she was already making were very good. She attempted to rub her hand against his length, but he pinned the errant hand to her side, much as he would have loved her to play.

"Not tonight," he growled, taking her mouth to his once more. She moaned against his mouth, nearly screamed when his fingers played against her core. Even through the fabric she was soaked. "Hmm, turn over." She did as she was told, moving easily when he motioned her onto her hands and knees. He looked over her buttocks and took them in his hands. She squealed in embarrassment, but did not move away. There was certainly very little to do to get her ready. He pulled her panties down and felt his erection harden when her readiness clung to the fabric before breaking off when he tossed the article to the floor. He smiled.

"You are enjoying this. Well, enjoy this as well." He leaned over her, his head just above her shoulders, and one hand grasping a handful of supple breast. The other hand played with the wetness of her slit and moved upward. He felt her buckle.

"What are you doing?" she asked desperately as his moistened fingers toyed with her other southern orifice. She sounded afraid. Very good.

"Just taking my reward to heart." He pressed one finger against the hole and heard her protestations. Wetness dripped onto her inner thighs as he inserted the finger.

"Stop! Oh please, no more!" He laughed and continued. Moisture pooled on the sheets beneath her and he knew she was ready to be fucked. She screamed when he hilted himself, continuing sharper and louder with each additional thrust. Anytime he moved his finger her pitch also changed and her vaginal walls tightened. He removed the hand from her breast and stroked his fingers against the sensitive area between her legs. It was only a matter of moments before he felt her tighten violently against him and felt the contractions along his length.

"Oh Vegeta!" She climaxed tumultuously, taking him with her.

He rolled off her and stayed very still for several minutes as he caught his breath. No matter how hard he worked out, no matter how strong his Saiyan blood made him, sex was a tiring sport. His mate soon rolled herself against him, arm splayed over his chest.

"I didn't know you liked that. Perhaps…" He saw her blush and smiled inwardly. "If you want to do that again sometime…" This rash, loud woman that he called his own was now a shy little girl. He laughed.

"Your fear was more intoxicating than any lewd act we might perform. I have many ideas that involve not only that but other things as well." She gave him an incredulous look before giving him a coy smile.

"I will just have to lose to you more often."

Damn his forethought. He had bought Trunks three tickets to the live television event so that Kakarot's boy might accompany him and his woman would take them. But no, she had a conference that day and he was the only adult left to take them. Only a singular thought kept him sane during the day.

"We can do whatever you like when we get back." And she had not been talking about sleeping.

A/N: I hoped you enjoyed.