I don't own dbz or any of it's characters.
A hot sigh tumbled from the heiress, fluffing the hair of the man worshipping the column of her throat with his mouth.
She couldn't say how she got herself into this situation. She hadn't meant for this to happen, but now that it had begun she couldn't seem to stop herself. The guilt, the shame, all banished to the dark recesses of her heart where lie the source of her infidelity.
It just feels so good to be appreciated.
"We'll be caught." She panted, weaving her fingers into his dirty blond hair, urging him back. Heavy lidded eyes watched her ravenously, awaiting her command. So confident to have approached her as he had, he was little more than putty in her hands now. Grasping his arm with a bite of her lip and a glance of her cerulean eyes, she tugged him away from the lab, out into the night. Vegeta was long gone after the blow up they'd had that afternoon and may not be back for days.
They would have all night. One secret night of sweet release.
They stumbled across the lawn in the dark up to the main capsule building that was her home. Her parents would surely be asleep at this hour, but she pressed a slim finger to her companion's lips anyways.
"Shhhh. My room is upstairs."
She opened the door quietly, dragging the handsome scientist behind her. When they reached the staircase, she had to stifle a squeal of shock as he scooped her up into his arms and carried her to the second floor. It wasn't the easy gait Vegeta had the odd time he took her up. It was human. Clumsy. She could feel her own weight in his grasp, see the slight strain in his neck. Feel his chest expand with the effort. She wasn't heavy by any means, but this new addition to the lab was far from fit. He was naturally built in a way that makes men lazy and satisfied with the gifts they were born with.
She felt a bit sick.
"Now where?" He whispered, panting as he sought direction.
"I-"
She faltered, unsure of what to do. She hadn't thought this through. Was she really going to do this in her parents house? In the bed she had shared with Vegeta on more nights than she cared to recall?
She thought back to that afternoon. To his callousness, his sneering face, his ceaseless condescension.
Her voice came hoarse from the sudden dryness in her mouth. "Second door on the right."
"Okay."
He failed to juggle her with one hand and open the door with the other, so she eased herself down on to her feet and let him lead her inside. A hot ball of lead sat in her stomach, cautioning her against doing something she couldn't take back. Against betraying herself. But the need to be wanted for all the right reasons, the need for the kindness and gratitude of a man's touch was too strong.
With a quiet sob of defeat hidden in the darkness, she slipped into bed with the devil and road her way to hell.
Vegeta came home two days later.
To say she was disappointed would be an understatement. In the sex, in herself. It had felt good in the moment, but there had been no real passion. It was empty. She had used that man to fulfill a need that lingered long after he'd left in the morning.
So caught up in what she wanted, she had failed to consider that perhaps it wasn't so much this feeling she desired, but that it come from a certain person.
From the man she loved.
Bulma was perched at the kitchen island, tired eyes meditating on her untouched coffee when the door swung open behind her. She knew who it was without needing to see him. There was a type of silent, static energy that accompanied the Saiyan wherever he went, and it filled the room now, buzzing in her ears, filling her with anticipation.
He passed behind her without a word and went upstairs. Her shoulders sagged with relief and once she heard the pipes kick in signalling that he was in the shower, she slumped into her own arms on the counter and cried. She stayed that way for well over an hour, sobbing inconsolably until tired exhaustion overwhelmed her and she hopped off the stool. She hadn't slept in her room since 'it' happened, opting for the couch in the living room instead. She couldn't keep hiding from herself. She had tried to justify it. To be angry, to blame Vegeta. It was him, his fault, he drove her to it. But at the end of the day she was her own woman. She made her own decisions and lived by her own moral compass. Not only had she betrayed him, and she had - there was no other word for it, no matter the reason - but she had betrayed herself as well.
Climbing the stairs reluctantly, she made her way to that dreaded second door on the right and found it open. Paused. Listened. Maybe her mother had looked in to check on her and forgotten to close it? She couldn't hear anything from inside.
Steeling herself, she turned the corner and stepped inside to be greeted by Vegeta's naked torso. He was standing in a towel by her bed with his back to her, his head tilted down.
"What are you doing in here?" She asked, cringing at the shrill tone of her own voice.
She could see his tension all at once in the tight set of his shoulders. His hands fell to his sides, and she glimpsed something brown peeking out from his fist.
"Vegeta?" Her heart was pounding.
He kept his back to her, and without looking, tossed whatever he had in his hand onto the bed. The light from the window cut accusingly across the glass face of the designer watch, highlighting her shame.
"Brian Saunders?" He said at last.
The scientist's name had been engraved on the back.
This one's personal. R&R.