The next morning, Bulma hesitated about going down to breakfast. Her late night bath had been relaxing. More than relaxing…. her bath had been incredible! That was the best orgasm she'd had in as long as she could remember, and her headache was gone almost as soon as she began. What made her nervous now was the embarrassment she would undoubtedly experience seeing Vegeta at breakfast. How could she even make eye contact? How could she converse with him like nothing happened? In the span of twenty minutes last night she had gone from hating the very thought of him to wanting him to take her like a lusty mountain man.
"Human brain, you are crazy," she mumbled to herself as she padded into the bathroom to brush her teeth. Even looking at the tub as she brushed made her blush. That tub has seen some things….
She wrapped herself in her robe and followed the smell of grilled sausage down to the kitchen.
The only voices she heard when she entered were her mother's and father's, so she was surprised to find Vegeta seated in his usual spot filling his gullet.
"Good morning, dear!" Bunny cooed as she worked a spatula.
"Hi, mom." Bulma kept eye contact with her mother, not wanting to meet the gaze of last night's veritable 'lover'. She padded over to the stove and picked a piece of egg right out of the pan to eat. She just stood there, facing the stove, digging one pair of toes into the tile to alleviate her tenseness.
"Why don't you take a seat, hun!"
Bulma let out her breath through her nose and nodded, turning around to finally face the table. As she moved towards her chair, she allowed her eyes to come up and meet Vegeta's. He was already looking at her, and their eyes met. She sat down, but he just kept staring. She looked away, feeling flushed, and it appeared he did the same. However, after she took a pancake and a sausage link, she looked up again and caught him looking at her again, chewing silently.
"Bulma?" her father said.
"Hm?" she replied, breaking away from the intense Saiyan gaze.
Her father swallowed and repeated himself. "I said, why don't you take a stab at the gravity killswitch today if you're free?"
She looked over again at Vegeta who was still watching her over the rim of his glass.
"Sure," she said, and she swore she saw the corner of Vegeta's mouth arch up through the glass. But as soon as she thought she saw it, it was gone.
Vegeta stood up from the table without any of his usual bravado and simply left the building. Bulma looked down at his empty plate speckled with leftover syrup and suddenly didn't feel hungry anymore. She swallowed another gulp of juice and resigned herself to an awkward afternoon in the Gravity Room.
It was a hot afternoon already. Bulma donned a thin, low-hanging t-shirt under her overalls in preparation for spending the whole of it underneath a circuit console. There was no air conditioner in the Gravity Room. Dr. Briefs had offered countless times to install one, but Vegeta preferred the heat, calling it another challenge to press his limits.
She left the Gravity Room door propped open in the hopes of catching some afternoon breeze, but it only came sporadically. She could hear the huffs, puffs, and kicks of Vegeta training outside on the lawn and smiled coyly at her dirty thoughts. She might hate the man, but by that afternoon she had forgiven herself that innocent fantasy. After all, there were no other men around, Yamucha kept his distance, and Vegeta was certainly a specimen to behold. Why shouldn't she have some fun with him in her head, especially if it helped her unwind? She so desperately needed that orgasm last night, and now felt at ease in her element: navigating electrical wires. The heat was making her sweat through her shirt, but at least the fabric was thin and breathable.
Suddenly she heard footsteps in the chamber. She peeked up over the console to see Vegeta looking around at the equipment. She expected him to yell at her to "hurry up" or complain about the lack of progress he was making thanks to her "incessantly malfunctioning machinery", but he didn't. Silence. He locked eyes with her over the console, and she smiled before she said, "I should have it up and running by tonight maybe."
A light grunt came from his throat, which was his usual mode of approval. Bulma liked to pretend it was Saiyan for "thank you", but knew better.
She stood up and climbed atop the console, reaching with her tiptoes to pull down a wire from the ceiling. "Can you pass me the cutters?" she asked of Vegeta.
He complied silently, coming forward to pick up the tool and hand it to her. Their fingers met, and she again was surprised at his lack of admonishments. She performed the task and then decided he was acting too weird. She knelt down on top of the console, leaning forward on her hands to meet him face to face with a smirk of her own. "What, no whining today? Cat got your tongue?" she sassed him.
But Vegeta wasn't looking at her face, she realized. She followed his line of sight to her braless chest, which dangled in a sweaty heap barely covered by her pink tee's plunging neckline. As she realized he was ogling her, she sat back on her haunches and flushed a bright shade of pink that probably matched her tee. As she acknowledged that she loved his sudden attentions, she felt her nipples betray her thoughts and begin to harden. Her overalls did not come up high enough to hide them from him, she realized. He didn't look away, which frustratingly made her nipples harden even more beneath the fabric, and she gulped in embarrassment as she watched him devour them with his eyes.
Finally, Vegeta looked up to meet her eyes again. She cleared her throat awkwardly, unsure of what to say. Apparently she didn't need to say anything, because he clicked his heel, turned around, and left the Gravity Room.
An alarming thought shot through her. Did….he hear me masturbating last night? The sweat on her chest and forehead went cold. Of course his alien ears heard something; his room is right next to the bathroom! The looks all morning, the awkward silences…. Oh god, how am I ever coming back from this one? She grappled with deciding whether Vegeta was offended, disgusted, disappointed, or intrigued. Of course, she decided it must be a combination of the first three. After a stunned minute of mortifying immobility, she sighed, stepped down from the console, and went back to work. She would have given anything to trade this experience back in for the yelling version of Vegeta.
Just then, hard footsteps returned. Bulma looked up in time to see Vegeta coming straight towards her. Before she could even say anything, Vegeta grabbed her by the hips and lifted her to sit atop the console, facing him. Without hesitation or even making eye contact, Vegeta slid his hands through her neckline, picked up her breasts, and dropped them outside of her shirt. The sudden intimate contact made her gasp, but she dared not protest or even move her hands from either side of her. Vegeta clearly had one thing on his mind and went about fulfilling that desire systematically. He started by squeezing and brushing her breasts against each other. Through parted lips his breath was slow and heavy, like he had thought about this many times before. He looked up whilst continuing to massage. Bulma returned his gaze without comment, her spine slightly moving in time with his hands as she began to live out part of her fantasy from the night before.
Apparently finding the answer he wanted from her eyes, Vegeta brought his mouth to mirror his hands' motions. His kisses deftly traveled across the expanse of her chest with choice licks and bites before repeating. He paid careful attention to the whole of each mound's circumference, panting heavily as he did so. One thumb began to focus adamantly on a nipple as his mouth took the other. Bulma couldn't hold back moans, and he bit and growled in response. As his oral and tactile ministrations continued, Bulma's body reacted in kind, grasping Vegeta behind his head and roping her legs around his waist. Her hands played in his hair before sliding down to rest behind his ears. Heat rocketed through her body, and she gasped as his mouth continued its lip-smacking nippleplay. His kisses were purposeful, his suckling demanding. She began to feel as though her nipples had swollen to impossible magnitudes. Just when she thought one had reached critical levels, abused and slick with saliva, he would pull at it with his teeth or fingers, and she would cry out. He would trace his tongue in circles around the areola afterward in seeming apology before returning to suckle once again. He would pull her breasts together to compare nipples side by side, and if one had swollen more, he would torture the other with his mouth until they matched, laughing through her cries all the while.
Finally, his lips slowed, and his hands came to a standstill cupping her thoroughly worshipped bosom. When he looked up, Bulma was panting, her eyes fluttering open and then closed again. She knew he had to feel the swamp between her legs as it pressed against his abdomen and hoped he had no plans to stop here.
But he did. Vegeta stood up, hovered close to Bulma's face just for a moment, and then turned and left again.
Not a word had been exchanged.