Title: Artful Dodger
Author: Michika
Prompt: Chopstick
Genre: Fluff?
AU/CU: CU
Rating: M
Warnings: Infers sex.
Word Count: 2,833
A/N: I just started writing and this came out. I hate it, but its part of the process right? May 9-10, 2011
Summary: Bulma sneaks away from an event only to be caught.
Her smile was artful and dazzling, like the well honed professional that she was she perfectly exiting a bustling crowd of would be suitors without a single social misstep. Through the glass doors to the balcony and quickly enough she pulled off her heels, lept up to the railing, and then vaulted herself across to the next balcony.
Standing she tugged down her dress, wiped off the bottom of her feet and pushed her heels back on. It was just a matter of smoothing a wayward hair back into place before she was ready to go. She was being naughty and slipping out from a function being held in her home. It was a bad trick, later habit, she learned from Yaumcha, her ex. It involved slipping away for large periods of time and accounting for it by taking to everyone at the party briefly, giving the crowd the impression that she'd been in a different part of the party.
At 30 she still snuck around to smoke, especially in front of her mother, and always took care not to have any indications of doing so. It was a delightful opportunity to light one up and enjoy it fully, without fear of being caught. She thought she might even smoke in her room that night too, as tomorrow she was going to be repainting. A delicious grin spread over Bulma's pink lips, and a pleasurable shiver raced up her back. All she had to do now was relax for a couple of hours, have a drink or two to mellow out the sensory overload returning to the party would bring, and then she could excuse herself from the party for the evening. She'd be in bed by midnight and might even be able to catch a decent night's rest after those drinks. She sighed as she took another puff from her cigarette. "Alright Bulma get inside before someone sees you." She told herself while grasping the sliding door. "Ah fuck! Really?" the door to her bedroom had been locked. She'd checked it just before she left and it'd been fine. No matter, the window above her bed was open; it was just a matter of getting one of the chairs under window now.
Bulma pulled the window open fully. Then she carefully repositioned her cigarette. Finally she stretched her arms into the room and tumbled forwards falling in a perfect summersault to land flat on her back on the bed. She let out a contented little sight, inhaled on her cigarette, and kicked her shoes off. Then she set her watch alarm while she repositioned her pillows by squirming her shoulders underneath them. There was a long white ash hanging off the end of her smoking accessory. She quickly sat up and turned to the nightstand for the half finished can of ginger ale left purposefully there – it was gone. Bulma bolted, up from the bed, hand under her cigarette as she rushed into the bathroom to dispose of the mess.
Her room felt odd without all of her stuff and furniture. Her bed also felt really un-broken-in she decided. The pillow top felt plusher, and the linens were crisper. Bulma pulled up her dress until the hem was over her hips; she smiled at being able to move her thighs again. Crossing her legs she started to fiddle with on of the clasps on her garter. It'd been tickling in the side of her opposing thigh all night – a maddening experience. She absently rubbed the inside of her legs for a few moments before she reached behind herself to undo the top couple hooks of the closure of her dress, her bust line became move horizontal then vertical as she gave herself a bit of breathing room. The dress was beautiful; she'd give it that. It was a to die for cherry red dress, but she was really strapped in there giving her a bit of a claustrophobic sensation.
Quickly she leaned over the edge to find the bottle she'd hidden under there earlier. She pulled it up into her lap and grasped it between her thighs while working at the lid with her stronger arm. It popped off in her hand easily. She put the bottle to her lips, but was interrupted by someone clearing their throat. "Yes?" she mumbled around the bottle, still prepared to take that drink. When she realized that the sound was much closer then she'd originally thought. The bed moved and for the first time it occurred to her. Maybe she should have really looked around and thought this all through before she'd made herself at home so...casually.
She planted the bottle back in the circle of her crossed legs, the glass felt cool on her as it rested on her pubic mound. She licked her lips, and turned her head to the left. These funny little things always happened in slow motion for her, or at least she always came to remember them in slow motion after she'd analyzed the situation repeatedly. First her brain told her that the liquor on her lips was not the high end flavoured vodka she'd placed under her own bed, then it told her that she was in bed with what could possibly be a naked Vegeta. Immediately she swung the bottle in his direction while simultaneously dropping her head in utter embarrassment and pulling up her legs so she could rest her head and attempt to regain some vague dignity before he threw her out of what was obviously his, not her, room.
He pulled the bottle from her hand and placed it on the nightstand next to him. "Are you always this oblivious?" He snarled at her. She knew well enough that his tone was more along the lines of one he'd use to goad her into a verbal fight then it was truly a barb. Head still buried in her knees he could make out her mumble of "if you'd just stayed silent I would have fallen asleep, then snuck right back out at 11 and gone about my merry little way without this embarrassing encounter with you!" There was silence in the room and she took it as his silent agreement that he wasn't going to harm her for her intrusion. Carefully she sat back up and turned to face him, "I'm sorry Vegeta, I shouldn't have…well….dropped in on you like that." She searched for the words while keeping her eyes focused on the blanket in between them.
Four things happened in rapid succession; Bulma lost her balance as she leaned too far towards Vegeta, - she felt back while her legs tumbled into a cross. Vegeta caught sight of the shiny bottle lid and automatically reached for it, even if it was right at the boarder of her underwear and inner thigh. Mrs. Briefs pushed open the door, and the sheets around his waist maintained their shape, but didn't follow as he snatched the bottle cap up. Vegeta felt the cold, and thought he'd managed to cover himself just in time as the old woman barged into his room.
"Oh Vegeta dear! I just wanted to bring you some desert." She crooned. "Oh! Bulma!" she blinked, and for the first time in his stay the Prince noticed she had opened her eyes, and they were a dark blue. Mrs. Briefs smiled wider and turned back to the prince. She set the tray of deserts down at the end of the bed.
"Bulma! I know I taught you better then that!" She scolded. Bulma quickly pulled a loose edge of the blanket over her exposed lap, her blush of embarrassment from earlier coming back full force. "If you're going to seduce a man, especially one as ah…" Mrs. Briefs turned her glance their houseguest, "um worthy…as Vegeta here, at least wear matching lingerie. Cotton panties with a sheet garter belt? You can do much better then that, and I'm sure he'd appreciate it. Wouldn't you?" He heard her double entendre and hoped the humiliation for the night would end at that. First he'd inadvertently given her an eyeful, and now here he was being implicated as the reason behind Bulma's chastisement of her undergarments. He wondered if all peaceful planets were this bizarre.
"Oh I see you two found my hidden stash. Careful! It's strong! Although if it hadn't been for that then Bulma would probably have never been conceived." She smiled, and could see the protests forming on her daughter's lips. "I'll say your good-byes for you, and will expect you down late for breakfast." She smiled before closing the door leaving the would-be lovers alone.
She heard the liquid in the bottle swish, and then it was in front of her. She obliged and took her own swig. There were no words to explain the awkward sense of bonding taking place. The bottle passed between them until it was nearly empty. Bulma leaned forwards and slid the tray up the bed between them. She turned to face him, and once again her hemline was at her hips as she balanced a plate of pie on her knee and took another swig from the bottle. The liquor was hot and soothing in her belly – her mother was right, it was strong. It held her in place as she sunk into the mattress top, and helped her forget that she was sitting with her dress around her hips in bed with Vegeta of all people.
A dollop of whipped cream fell onto the strap of her garter and she was oblivious. Somewhere between the first and last drink she'd developed this curiosity. What better time was there to ask then when she was in Vegeta's bed eating desert and getting tipsy. She forgot her rather pertinent question when his finger darted out to catch the whipped cream.
"Why do these garments not match?" He spoke first. She sighed, like a small child he was going through a "what's that" phase. However, only Bulma was deemed worthy to answer his sometimes painfully awkward questions, or so it'd seemed. She supposed she should be happy he was opening up to someone. "Some people believe they should match so that everything looks like a set. My mother is one of those people."
"What exactly are these garments, and why must they match if they are never seen?" He was very inquisitive tonight she'd decided, probably the liquor. "Its lingerie, and this" she snapped the satin strap and clasp, "is a garter belt. Its just one potential piece in a whole ensemble of undergarments we humans wear for different occasions, or sometimes just to dress up and feel special." She added her empty pie plate to the small pile he'd stacked. "Why?" he asked again. Yes, just like an annoying small child she affirmed. "For rituals, for sex, for fashion, you know, the usual reasons!" His line of inquisition was flustering her; the setting was too intimate for such a conversation. It was especially so give that she was sitting with her own exposed underwear getting liquored in a strange man's bed. Bulma wasn't naïve and could certainly appreciate and see the various possibilities for how this night could end.
"Why was she upset with your choice?" Bulma emptied the bottle and set it between her legs again before focusing on the question. "Because," she felt the warmth fill her cheeks again, "because, someone of your…standing, according to my mother, deserves the best, and to top it off because I'm her daughter, and she likes you so much. Assuming of course that we were about to have sex, which is probably what it looked like to her. Besides if I was going to be doing such things then yes, I agree, I should be wearing something much more befitting of a Prince" The liquor helped her add a sultry emphasis to the P, and had dragged her voice down to the cusp between speech and whispers.
He snatched the bottle out of her lap and made a disappointed grunt when it came up empty. He nudged her leg with the empty vessel, "get the other one." She never questioned it, just flipped around on her belly and shimmied down so she could peer under the bed. As she reached under for the bottle she caught a glimpse of the corner of a glass jar squished between the bed frame and his nightstand. She'd know that container coloring anywhere, it was a jar of face cream, probably the one she'd noticed had gone missing yesterday morning, expensive and worth every dollar. She noticed the facial tissues too, also crammed in with the little glass jar. She gave a small smile, alien or not, Vegeta was still a man, one with needs. Something in the mundane discovery was endearing, maybe her houseguest really wasn't as different as he carried himself to be. Rising back up on the bed she presented the second bottle to the Prince. He twisted the top off with little difficulty and took a few deep gulps.
"I assume that is also part of the ensemble?" He asked gesturing with the bottle at her chest. While she'd been digging around under the bed she'd actually wiggled right out of the top of her dress. She tugged the sinking dress up over her exposed bra. "Something like that" she replied before taking another drink. She was coming to her limit now as clearly evidenced by her lack of realization about her dress. The bottle appeared before here again and she drank. The bottle was now only two thirds full, with Vegeta drinking three times as much as her.
"Alright, I think I've humiliated both of us enough for one evening." The bottle was there again, and again she drank. She stood smoothed her hemline down and passed the bottle back. "So thank you for the drinks, I hope my dropping in didn't disturb anything you had planned." She bent over to retrieve her shoes. "Good night Vegeta" she backed out of the room and shut the door.
The next morning at breakfast Bulma arrived down late as predicted. Bunny cheerfully set down a fizzing glass in front of her daughter and patted her on the back. "Drink up dear, I have breakfast for you, and then you can…." The hung-over heiress tuned out the rest. Her mother skipped back into the room with a thick bundle of flat pink boxes wrapped in bows. A singular black box at the bottom of the pile was the only outlier "From that place you like, the one you always rave about. I just asked them to send something on over" She offered. Bulma sunk her throbbing head into her hands.
Vegeta entered the kitchen for lunch looking very unlike having consumed a bottle and a half of hard alcohol last evening. He sat at the table with his arms crossed and a frown affixed on his face. "Oh Vegeta dear you're in early for lunch today. No worries, I have a snack to keep you occupied while the rest finishes up." She pushed a bowl of thick steaming noodles and vegetables in front of him.
"Bulma, could you come look at the disposal again? It's making that funny noise." Bunny's voice drifted to the table. He watched as the woman shoved her plate into the washing appliance and approached her mother. When their backs were turned he quickly pulled the tops off a handful of boxes before replacing them quickly and returning them to the tabletop.
Bunny served Vegeta's meal and Bulma left to put her purchases away. She was sure the black carton had been on the bottom of the pile. In her room she hastily opened the boxes and tossed the contents in her drawers. The boxes were full of the usual, but she liked the contents of the black box best; it was something different. It was a nice simple little dark blue panty and bra set, with sheer demi cups, and a semi-opaque low-slung lace thong. She tossed it in with the rest; it'd get its day eventually.
Like a dutiful daughter she did her part and gathered all the laundry, first from her room, then from Vegeta's. She gathered his laundry and the two empty bottles on his side table. The jar had moved since last night, it was now on his bedside table. She took that too and left. With a full hamper on her hip she went to start on the laundry. With the machine happily chugging away she moved to the kitchen to toss the empty bottles into the recycle bin. Vegeta was still eating but this time was alone.
She walked up behind him and placed her mouth at his ear to whisper, "Blue is such a more befitting colour…" he stopped eating, chopsticks poised inches from his lips, "…for a Prince." Satisfied she turned and left not needing to see the blush on his cheeks.