Healing
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EDIT Oct 28 2017: I have edited this version to comply with this website's rules regarding their M rating. This is thus the CENSORED version. For the full, uncensored version, please find me on Archiveofourown, under the same author name.
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Vegeta had been thinking about it for a long time. Perhaps a few months, but he was never quite sure if he should ask her.
He was also looking for a sign – any sign from the universe – to tell him that he was not insane to want to ask her for something like this.
He argued that it was logical to want such a thing. He had never experienced such an extended period of peace before… As much as he loved the thrill and devastation of battle, he apparently also appreciated quiet moments of contemplation, and partaking in meals that were much more palatable than military rations.
And as much as Vegeta was loathe to admit it, he discovered a part of him that was simply content with such a life.
Was it truly so ridiculous to desire a normal life after all the bullshit he had lived through? To not hate the dullness of days not filled with only war and gore?
Would he be considered sentimental if he admitted that he relished being able to slowly train a four-year-old son that was rapidly showing the potential that his future counterpart had already realized?
Would his brethren call him weak if they knew that he wanted to make Bulma his wife?
If Freeza had not destroyed Vegeta-sei, Vegeta knew that he would have been the planet's ruler by now. He was more powerful than his father, and the older Vegeta would have handed the throne to him as soon as he exhibited his full strength. He would have been king, and would have been given the full pick of all the females in the planet to find a suitable queen.
However, that wasn't how things had played out, but he did not regret not being granted a harem to choose from. There was only one female in the universe that he could imagine sharing a throne with, and that was the blue-haired hellion that shared his bed every night.
He knew that he wanted her. He wanted her to be there waiting for him at home whenever he left to train. He looked forward to talking to her, even during those times when all they did was bicker. He liked watching her when she was taking care of his son. And he certainly enjoyed their carnal activities far too much, a lot more than he was willing to admit.
He wanted her to be, unquestionably, his.
He knew that Earthlings had a ritual of sorts wherein they declared each other as formal mates before a crowd of gathered colleagues. A marriage, or wedding, they called it.
He had seen such a ceremony on the television before, on those "reality shows" that the Woman adored so much. They stood before a man in a large cloak and exchanged rings as a sign of their devotion.
He had not missed the slight sheen in her eyes as she peered at him out the corner of her eyes sometimes, after seeing such a spectacle unfold. She thought he didn't know that she glanced at him whenever a proposal was shown on her programs.
He knew she would say yes, if he asked her to marry him.
But should he?
The sign finally came to him one day, as he was leaving the gravity room and heading to the kitchen for a snack.
The Woman was in the living room, on her phone, excitement pouring out of her as she chatted with one of her friends. They were talking about one of her silly television programs. He was about to walk past her when their conversation struck his interests and he decided to listen in, swiftly concealing himself behind a wall.
"Oh it was such a sweet wedding, wasn't it, Launch?" she asked.
Vegeta heard the response through the phone, a soft timid voice. "Yes! It was so romantic! Jon was so dashing and Leslie was so beautiful! "
"Oh my gosh, yes! The flowers, the beautiful dresses! And the wedding gown, I would kill to be able to wear something like that. Though I'd bet I'd look better in it than her!"
Soft laughter came from the phone at that. "Oh you probably will! When you ever do get married, Bulma, it would be an even bigger wedding than that one!"
Vegeta did not need to see his Woman to know that she had sobered at those words. The voice that came out was still just as cheerful as before, though.
"Yeah… maybe. If I ever get married. I'd always dreamed of having a large, grand wedding. With blue flowers everywhere… I'd wear a white dress with blue accents, maybe blue shoes just to mix things up!"
"Oh yes!" the other girl gushed. "And your adorable little Trunks would be your ring bearer. And Vege- oh Chaotzu, put that cat down, you know I'm allergic! I- ah-ah…"
"Oh no," Bulma whispered.
"AAAHHH-CHOOOO!"
Bulma seemed hesitant when she spoke again. "Umm… Launch? You ok?"
"Bloomers?" a different voice answered, huskier than the one before. Vegeta wondered what happened to the other girl.
"Yeah, it's me," and Vegeta knew she was rolling her eyes.
"Hey, what's up?" the new voice asked again.
"Oh, nothing. Just called to say hello. Well, I gotta go now. It's about time for Trunks' snack, and he gets cranky if he doesn't get to eat."
"Well alright. Squish his cute little cheeks for me, will ya? And pinch your man's tight round cheeks for me, too."
"Launch!" Bulma laughed, scandalized, and Vegeta wondered why the other woman thought his cheeks were tight and round. As far as he knew, his face was rather sharp and severe.
"I'll see ya round, Bloomers."
"Yeah sure. Bye," Bulma replied as she put the phone down.
Vegeta decided to spy on her then, and as he peered at her through the side of the wall, he was taken aback by the dejected look in her eyes. She sat down on the couch and heaved a large sigh, and he could tell that the conversation she had with this Launch person had upset her.
He realized then that she wanted to get married. She dreamed of being a part of those celebrations with dancing and cake and large puffy dresses.
Vegeta knew his limits. He could not handle more than the bare minimum social interactions, but he still would like to have her become his wife.
He hesitated at the thought of a large gathering, but looking at how wistful she now looked as she looked out the window in the direction of his training room, he knew that she would be pleased if he asked her. That she would agree if he asked her.
A strong pounding rhythm started in his chest as he gazed at her, the sunlight streaming in through the window hitting her cheeks in just the right angle that she looked nearly ethereal.
He was not sure about what these nagging feelings of need, of want, were that kept pestering him to make her smile, but what he did know was that he wanted her to lose the apprehension in her eyes whenever talk of marriage rang within their vicinity.
The Woman lacked for nothing, and that was normally a good thing as he, Prince he may be, had nothing material to offer her. He had only himself to give, and he knew that if she had him, truly had him, she would be happy. He was not so daft as to not know that the woman wanted him, too.
All he had was his pride, his honor… and was it not dishonorable to keep a woman that was not his?
Right then, he decided... She will become his wife.
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A half-assed plan started forming in his mind right after they had their evening meal. Bulma was smiling again, patiently wiping at a belligerent Trunks who insisted on placing his food in and around his mouth.
She laughed at the boy's silly antics, and the sight of her happiness struck a nearly painful shard into his heart. She was so vibrant, so beautiful, so kind… she deserved to be happy at all times.
He excused himself early, and Bulma looked surprised as she looked up between him and his not-quite-empty plate.
"Is everything alright, Vegeta?" she asked in concern.
"Yes, everything is fine," he replied. When she looked unconvinced, he crossed his arms in front of his chest and added "I am simply tired from training today. I wish to retire early."
"If you're sure," she muttered." I'll just give Trunks a bath, then I'll be up there with you, ok?"
"Good night, Papa!" his son chimed in, waving at Vegeta as he stiffly climbed the stairs.
'The boy should have an official title,' he mused absently, knowing that a marriage would benefit him in that sense, as well.
He took a quick shower while Bulma was away, then quickly dried himself and put on a pair of soft boxers. Before heading to bed, however, he went into the closet and reached for a small box that he had tucked at the very back. He opened the box, and in it, he fished out the piece of cardboard that held his last absent-minded doodling of the royal Saiyan crest.
He looked at it intently, and he knew that he wanted Bulma to bear his crest after they were married. But how?
He thought back to all the things he knew about a human union, and he knew that he needed the crest to be discreet, but significant, in the ceremony.
'The rings,' he suddenly remembered, and he grinned as the solution came to him. He would have the crest emblazoned onto the rings. After all, the rings were to be the symbol of their union, and he wanted their marriage to be guided by the royal Saiyan name. An earthling union, taking over the Saiyan throne.
The woman's mother, who thrived in buying nonsense that she placed all around the house, should have the resources to ensure that the crest can be placed onto the jewelry.
He pulled the cardboard out before he closed the lid of the box and placed it back in its place as he felt Bulma's ki approach the bedroom. He stuck the drawing of the crest under the mattress of the bed, planning to retrieve it the next day, after Bulma agreed to become his wife.
After all, before planning the logistics of a wedding, he should probably ask her first, shouldn't he?
He sat down on the edge of their bed, trying his best to look nonchalant while just stiffly sitting and doing nothing.
Bulma entered their room, her eyes immediately seeking him out as her forehead furrowed in concern.
"There you are," she smiled, approaching him carefully, her hand already lifting to touch him. She was a smart woman, and Vegeta knew that she could tell that something irregular was going on.
Her gentle touch on his shoulder sent tingles through his whole body, her lips now pursed as she studied him from head to toe.
"Vegeta, are you sure you're alright? You seem on edge," she asked, her other hand reaching up to place itself against his bare chest.
The soft caress of her caring hands woke something primal within him as he looked up, a fierce possessiveness taking hold of him as he held her hand against his chest, looking up to gaze deeply into her eyes, looking for the reasons behind his desire to have her only to himself.
"I am fine, Bulma," he whispered, and one of her eyebrows lifted in question at his soft tone. "Go on and take your shower. I will be right here waiting for you to come to bed."
She looked quizzically at him but did as she was told. A few minutes later, a freshly washed Bulma emerged from their bathroom, wrapped tightly in a fluffy blue towel.
A strong pulse resonated from within Vegeta's chest as he followed her movements across the room with his eyes. He could feel his body begin to heat up as he stared at her, seeing her naked curves even through the towel as the image of her nude form was now irrevocably emblazoned into his mind.
She turned to head for the cabinets to fetch some clothes, but Vegeta quickly stood up, and before Bulma had the chance to open the cabinet, he had her pinned to the wall, her back against his chest, her arms trapped by his own as he turned his nose down to her neck to take a deep breath of her scent.
"Ve-Vegeta?" she asked breathlessly, turning her head to regard him out of the corner of her eye.
He caught her gaze as she did, and very slowly leaned down, deliberately making his now harsh breaths fan across the side of her lips.
"You don't need to get dressed, woman," he breathed out, and he felt a shudder run through her at his words. "For what I have planned for you tonight, you won't be needing any clothes."
He turned her then, making her gasp at the swift motion and ferocity of his movements. He swallowed any words she may have said with his hungry mouth, his tongue urgently sweeping in to dominate her own, while his hands moved to divest her of the towel and forcefully pull off his shorts, feeble barriers to his ardent attentions.
He grabbed her by the hips, hauling her up, not breaking their kiss. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck, as he brought one hand down to cup her buttock, pulling her flush against him. One of his arms wrapped possessively around her waist, his large hands spread wide across her back.
He pulled her away from the wall, stumbling towards their bed as Bulma began to cling longingly to him, her long nails leaving thin welts along his upper back.
He braced one knee against the corner of their bed before falling onto it back first, Bulma releasing a small "umph" against his lips when she landed on top of him.
He then rolled them over so we was atop her, his elbow bracing his weight while his hand remained grasping her back, hugging her close to him. He groaned into her mouth before pulling back from the kiss to look at the woman.
His woman.
He looked at her through hooded eyes, taking in her heaving chest and swollen lips, and he finally figured out the reason why he wanted her in his life for good.
He knew now, and the knowledge hit him like a ki blast straight to his chest. He finally understood, but saying it, even within the confines of his mind, seemed so ridiculously out of character for him that he had to physically shake his head to get rid of the thought.
But of one thing he was sure, and this much he was willing to admit: He wanted to make her his wife, because he wanted her to be his.
He looked back into her eyes as she raised a hand to his cheek, the tentative touch, the soft caress of her fingers simultaneously destroying his barriers and strengthening his resolve.
He gazed at her face as he entered her, purposely moving as slowly as he could bear so he could relish each inch of her as he pushed in.
He was already breathless with longing as he observed her while she watched his body sink into her. Her eyes were narrowed, intent on watching them become one, watching him claim her body as he would soon claim her name.
As he secretly wished to claim her heart.
When he was fully seated inside her, she looked up at him again, and the look in her eyes at that very moment melted him from the inside. She looked so dazed, almost awed, her mouth open slightly, her throat pulled in as she took shallow breaths through the haze of pleasure that he was putting her through.
She looked so absolutely besotted by him that he had to close his eyes against the onslaught of feelings that swept over him.
He could do nothing but brace himself on the bed, hands planted firmly beside her head, as he finally began to move within her.
He started a slow and steady rhythm that had her mewling in delight beneath him. She closed her eyes, utterly vulnerable, entrusting her frail body to his powerful one.
He wanted to lose control, but the soft caress of her hands all over him made him calm down enough to take it slow.
He was straining against her, fighting an inner battle with the demons of his past as he tried to reconcile what he had come to feel for her with the evil man he had known himself to be.
The Vegeta he knew was not someone who cared… Not someone who delighted in long kisses and languid touches. He was not someone who patiently pleasured a woman as her sounds pushed him to arousal. He was selfish, angry, vengeful and malicious.
But as he moved with Bulma, writhed almost desperately against her softness, he began to understand that the Vegeta that he had known had changed.
That the Vegeta that he was, had been changed by her.
He should hate it. Should rage at how soft he had found himself becoming.
But as he watched her wail in agonized rapture beneath him, he knew he could never begrudge her for what she had done for him.
She had begun to heal him. The physical scars of his past would forever mark his skin, but the woman he was holding, loving with his body, was trying to heal the scars that had marred his spirit.
His heart pounded harder against his chest at his realizations, and he moved with her with a desperate urgency, wanting to reach her soul with his actions.
"Ah! Bulma," he gasped, leaning down onto his elbows so he could kiss her lips, her hair, her cheeks.
Her whole body was flushed a lovely shade of red, and the vision of such a beautiful creature straining against his body made his control snap.
"Vegeta!" she moaned, the end of his name muffled as she bit her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. One of his hands reached up to gently wipe the blood away, and he stuck his finger in his own mouth to taste the life essence of the woman who had shared his bed for the past five years.
Closer… closer… he wanted, needed, to be closer to her.
He strained against her then, and he heard her whisper encouragements and endearments into his ear as he raced to the finish, to join her in rhapsody.
"Vegeta… give it to me. Let me feel you. Come for me," she breathed.
And suddenly, he was lost.
He cried out, his head thrown back as he reached that amazing zenith that only Bulma could take him to.
His head was empty, but his heart was overflowing as he shuddered in a powerful orgasm. In that moment in time, there was nothing else that mattered except for her… Nothing except Bulma.
He was still shaking as he came down from his high, and he pushed up with arms that felt like jelly so he could move to lay beside her on the bed.
She too was still panting, but she turned to him with a grin.
"Wow! That was amazing!" she gushed, a dreamy smile on her face. "Really, that was something else! You have outdone yourself, mister!" Bulma added with a giggle as she turned on her side to rest her head on his chest.
Vegeta just grinned back at her, as one of his arms slowly snaked beneath her to hold her close to himself. He found himself unable to stop touching her.
His hands, so used to bringing pain and destruction, were now leaving reverent, soft caresses all over her arms, back and sides.
She curled up against him, her breathing already evening out as her exhausted body geared up to go to sleep, and Vegeta closed his eyes, ready to join her.
His last thoughts as he drifted off to slumber were, 'Tomorrow. I will ask her tomorrow.'
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End