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True Royalty

"If there is something on your mind it's better to tell me than to pretend, woman."

She always had a way with words, but she also had a way with emotions; crystal water claimed her pink cheeks, and he could see it run down below her chin. He had a clear view of her breast standing above her, now glimmering with wet trails of her tears below the moonlight. His throat made a rough noise that made more tears seep out of her beautiful blue eyes with the knowledge that she annoyed him. He came to her after hearing her unable to sleep during the night but obviously did not plan to witness all her childish emotions. She had enough of them, too, especially when they happened in front of Vegeta.

"If you won't speak, then I won't stay."

She slowly lifted up her head just enough to see him through her colored bangs. She sucked in a breath, then bit down on her bottom lip.

"Vegeta, wait."

He only turned his head to the side, his chin brushing his shoulder. His eyes were dark in the night, and his eyebrows casted a shadow over his face. She could never tell how this man felt, unless she asked him, which she never did; she never cared. All he cared about was his goals in his life, nothing more and no one else.

She choked on her thoughts, and Vegeta turned his head forward to continue back to his room. When he left, Bulma gripped the bed sheets to lift them off her thin legs and step out of bed. She had sat on the bed in front of him for an hour, the longest she ever saw him so patient. He never came into her room unless he needed his chamber fixed or updated.

She walked passed the bathroom mirror that reflected the moonlight from the slightly opened door. Before she insisted to continue on with what she was doing, she straightened herself up, pressed her flat hands upon her cheeks to roughly wipe her tear residue, and lifted the rim of her loose night gown to cover the line in between her breasts.

Her hand pressed against his unlocked door.

This would have never been taking place. The feeling of braveness she held would have never happened if he had not spoken to her without being demanding or rude in the morning before he headed off to train. Then, of course, she definitely would have never had the courage to enter his room if he had not entered her own.

Earlier in the morning, he managed to stop his training at noon, surprising her when he walked into the living room fully bathed. His hair stuck up barely, with the tips wet and heavy. He had his hands in his jean pockets, and his tight sleeveless shirt left his abs exposed nonetheless. She ignored his natural power of being noticed, and began making her way to him to make it known that she noticed other things.

"Did the Gravity Chamber break down?" He ignored her and took out a drink from the fridge, "You don't always have to be so rude, Vegeta."

"Woman, I can take a break. You, on the other hand, don't know when to stop talking." He pressed his eyebrows down as he spoke.

"You never seem to get out of that room! Whenever you do, you always have me repairing it! You think I can read you like a book? You're that special to request assistance through your thoughts? Well I can't read your royal thoughts or requests if you don't talk to me!"

He crushed his drink in his hands. The plastic landed on the counter along with its leftover contents. He scooted his chair back to get up.

"I am tired of you treating me like nothing more than your servant!"

"What more could there be to treat you as?"

She blushed, unresponsive to his comment. He turned his figure to look at her, now walking toward her. Her cheeks held a petal pink color while her eyes held fear, as her heart pounded with suspense. He reached his hand out to grip her arm, squeezing with his inhumane strength. She grabbed his wrists, doing her best to match his strength and pry her off him.

"If you want me to treat you better," he grabbed her hand that pounded upon his arm in defense in his, and threw it back to her side as he let go of her arm with a strong push, "then stop bitching, woman."

Her bottom hit the carpet, and she knew her hair she spent all day making look good for Yamcha was ruined. Anger fueled in her, motivating her to pick herself up. She walked fast behind Vegeta, and began pounding multiple fists into his muscular back. He merely walked on, good at ignoring her.

"I hate you, Vegeta! You inconsiderate, selfish, hideous beast!" She gave him one last pound before he climbed the first step on the stairs.

Her phone began to ring in her pocket. She took a deep breath and dug it out to see her boyfriend's caller ID. She flipped the phone open.

"Yamcha, I can't wait for-"

He interrupted, "Bulma, I don't think I can take you out tonight."

Her mouth hung open, then opened and closed, thinking of words to form. She laughed a bit, "What do you mean, Yamcha? Are you busy?"

"I just don't feel comfortable. Look, you're an amazing woman, Bulma," the name reminded her of the man, "I just don't want to pretend, anymore."

"Pretend? You must be joking, Yamcha. We've already established our love for each just the other night... I don't..."

"I did not know how to reject you then, Bulma. You were so beautiful, I did not want to hurt you..." He had not finished speaking when she took the phone off her ear and hung up.

She made her way upstairs, flipping the switch to shut all the lights off from downstairs. She made it to her room, and had enough strength to change into her nightgown and lay on her bed. The tears that fell never seized, until Vegeta came into her room, leaning against her door for almost an hour with his arms crossed. Now, she was here, walking into his room.

She paused in her step when she saw him shirtless, elbow on his knee as he sat on the edge of his bed, and his chin resting on his closed fingers.

"Woman, you don't know just what I could do to you if you manage to annoy me further. You should not have come in here."

She could tell he did not look at her as she hesitated to walk forward. The night covered his face, and the moonlight only shown on her.

"I don't want to pretend, Vegeta." She covered her mouth to silence any noise from the sudden sadness that washed over her. Before she knew it, the tears returned to flood her eyes and fall on her cheeks, "I can't," she covered her mouth again.

"Leave, woman. You're weakness irritates me."

She ignored him, "I can't pretend, Vegeta. I don't know how to feel."

"Woman," he now deepened his voice, and she no longer needed to see his face to know how he felt. He was always annoyed with her.

"If you only knew the strength it takes to live with a man who hates you, you would at least listen to me." She looked at him, seeing his eyebrows rise then narrow down. He silenced himself, and she spoke yet again through her sadness, "He told me it was all an act."

Vegeta narrowed his eyebrows with much more definition, but she looked to the ground as she spoke.

"I was so confused, and that was the reason for my tears," she covered her gasp from the hard intake of breath from her tears, "and I thought that's what hurt," she choked out, taking some time to regain herself, "but I pretended, too. I pretended to love him."

"Woman, find your mother. I am not willing to hear anymore of your crying or-"

"And I pretended to hate you."

"Anymore of your..." She finally had the strength to approach him in his shock, climbing onto his lap as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Her cries came closer to his senses, and her wet lips landed on his own rough ones. He did not kiss her back.

She pressed her lips to his and left them there for a while, until she realized he ignored her kiss. She looked down to his abs, her hand laid on his bare chest, then she looked up to see his eyes looking back at her. She knew she was out of her mind to be in this position with the Saiyan Prince. It had all happened so quickly.

She felt her world ending when she knew Yamcha used her, and then her own heart died when she knew how Vegeta made her feel. It was a sudden realization, a sudden change of feeling. She hated Vegeta's royal ego, but she loved him. She could show her hate by complaining, but now, she wanted him to know that the expression of love would be there. Only if he wanted it.

His arm pressed against her back, pressing her into his body. He did not lower his head for her, and he did not make any hints at her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and she knew that he wanted it. He did not need to change his persona, but this was the best he could treat her. She placed her lips upon his own once again, lifting them to move her head to the side and press them against his own again, moving her hand into his spiked hair. He never put too much pressure into the kiss, but did place pressure on her back and thighs with his hands.

He gripped her bottom once her night gown was thrown to the corner of the room, and his sweatpants down to his knees. The door remained open, but she hardly made a sound, and neither of them wanted to get up. Her loose breasts fell on his chest, and tightened upward against his chest each time he pushed her down with his hand on her back, wanting to feel them glide up and down. His teeth scrapped and bit at her neck as her fingers tangled in his hair. Her smaller body made it easier for him to embrace her as they moved against each other.

He suddenly stopped his hips, and she took a breath and ran a hand up his forehead to wipe away the sweat that covered his eyebrows. He panted as silently as he could, before tugging on her bottom, now on his toes to deepen the feel. She placed kisses on his chin then up to his lips. She bit his bottom lip before kissing them twice. The second kiss, he put little effort into, for the feel he felt was overwhelming.

"Woman...," he breathed, but stopped his talking, feeling her tighten herself down below.

"You treat me like a princess," she whispered, slowly lifting herself off him, kissing his damp forehead. She still lay on his chest, no longer connected to him as she was once. She traced kisses down his chest as her knees bent to provide her with the ability to kiss him in between his legs. Her hands supported herself on his thighs before lifting herself up and out from his sweated body.

She put back on only her night gown, and walked toward the door.

"Woman...," he breathed once more, catching her attention, "You are no princess," she bit her lip, memories of her earlier phone call coming into her mind, "You're a queen."

(Thank-you for reading. This was inspired by Madonna's, "Frozen" track.

Have a nice day.)